Finding Miss McFarland (24 page)

“Stop making me love you more,” she pleaded, aching with need to leap into his arms. The distance between them felt like a tide, pulling her to him. She didn’t know how much longer she could resist. She took a step back and then another. “Loving you has doomed me to a lifetime of misery.”

He recoiled as if her words were the lash of Dorsey’s whip. “Why would you say such a thing?”

“Because I cannot marry you, but I fear I will always love you and want to be with you.”

“Then be with me!”

“I’m too afraid, Griffin!” There. Now it was out. He had to understand. “You told your sisters that I’m fearless, but that was a lie. I’ve lived with this fear inside me since the moment I met you.”

Instead of the truth making him understand, he seemed only to grow distant and more incensed. “
That
is the real reason you want a marriage in name only. So that you never have to risk your heart.”

“I don’t want what happened to my parents to happen to us. We are already fighting! What happens in a few years, after I’ve given you an heir, and you stop loving me? Will that pain drive me away, compel me to abandon my children and live in another country? I would rather be alone and miserable than bring that pain to our children.” Like the last threads of a dream upon waking, her mind conjured an image of a small, perfect face sleeping peacefully in her arms . . . Then, it disappeared too soon.

“I am fighting
for
something, not against. There is a difference.” He took a step toward her, hands open as if to pull her into his arms. And then he stopped. “You cannot say that you love me, yet you don’t trust me with your heart or mine.” His hands fell to his sides.

“It isn’t about trust. Of course I trust—”

“I have ordered the carriage,” he said, cutting her off. “Go now, before I further strip myself of honor.”

F
rom the window, Griffin watched the carriage drive away. He stood there until it disappeared from view behind the old abbey ruins, and there his gaze remained, amongst the crumbled walls and barren landscape.

He felt just as desolate. He’d poured out his heart, felt that unspoken connection—only to learn that his love wasn’t enough for her. She would trust a stranger with her fortune, but she wouldn’t trust the man she claimed to love with her heart.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-T
WO

D
elaney lay in bed, listening to the steady beat of her heart. The resilience of that organ surprised her. She hadn’t thought something so mangled and broken would make it through the night. And yet . . . it was still there, beating.

“Only to mock me, no doubt,” she whispered to the empty bedchamber. Each double beat of her heart seemed to whisper Griffin’s name with longing. “To make me live for the next forty years, each day wishing I could take back everything I said.”

All this time, she was afraid of Griffin’s breaking her heart, but in the end, she’d done it to herself. Even when confronted with the fact that her fortune didn’t matter, she’d still refused him—which meant that the only thing truly keeping them apart was her fear.

But she already loved him—she couldn’t change that. She couldn’t go back to a time before she loved him, even if she wanted to. Terrifying or not, her heart, her mind, her entire being wanted Griffin Croft.

Was she willing to risk everything for him?

Yes!
And gladly too. It was as if the answer had always been inside her, without question.

However, before her heart could mend and rejoice, she thought back to yesterday. He’d been so closed off before she left him. She realized the instant he’d finally heard her. Those lake-water eyes had gone still, with no love or passion churning beneath the surface. Griffin was so proud and in control. And yet, she’d stripped him of his honor by refusing his proposal after they made love. She’d hurt him, the wound evident in his cold demeanor. Delaney didn’t think he could ever forgive her.

Thinking about it now, she was ready to curl onto her side and give in to another bout of self-deprecating misery, but just then, she heard a carriage not far in the distance.

She sat up quickly. “Griffin!” Perhaps he wasn’t through with her after all. Perhaps there was still a chance to tell him that she was ready to risk her heart.

Racing across the room to the wardrobe, she hastily dressed. Without even bothering to brush her hair or don a sash, she raced out the door and down the stairs. Sadly, it wasn’t Griffin she saw waiting in the foyer.

“Father?” Her heart shattered all over again. Tears flowed freely from her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I might ask the same of you,” he said, setting his silver-tipped cane and top hat on a bench by the door. When he looked up at her, his face hardened. “Why are you crying?”

Her face hardened as well. He was the last person she wanted to see. Everything was his fault, after all. “You’ve doomed Bree and me to a life without love. You only care about money, and that’s why Mother left.”

“That’s what you might think, but I won’t hear it,” he said, raising his voice for the first time in so long that she was taken aback. “Don’t you realize that I’ve done everything to prove that I didn’t need her money? I’ve so much wealth in land and trade that it makes her fortune a mere pebble in a quarry.”

Money. She hated that her life had revolved around it. “Then why did you heap so much on me, making me a laughingstock amongst the
ton
?”

“That was never my intention. I didn’t know any other way! That is what fathers do. I wanted to show them all that I didn’t care a whit for what they said about me or my reasons for marrying your mother. She, on the other hand, cared too much,” he said on an exhale that seemed to extinguish his anger. “Not only that, but I wanted them to see you, not the tragedy. So, I gave them something to gossip about. And I wanted to give you the chance to find someone worthy of you.”

She blinked. Was this conversation actually happening . . . and with her father? Gil McFarland sounded as if he cared. It sounded as if he’d been listening all these years.

Then his face turned ruddy again, as if in warning. “And if you think for a moment that I didn’t know about your idiotic scheme to marry a pauper, then you’ve underestimated me
and
the depths of my temper. I’ll have that blasted Montwood wetting his trousers in three seconds.”

Oh yes. It really was her father. “You came all this way because you thought I ran away with Montwood?”

“Buckley keeps me apprised of all your associations.”

Buckley!
All this time, she thought she had his devoted loyalty. “Where is the devious little scamp?” Then again, perhaps looking out for her was his way of being the most loyal.

“He fell asleep in the carriage.”

“You let him ride in the carriage with you?” She grinned. “Who knew my father’s heart was full of syllabub?”

“Never mind all that,” he blustered and made an impatient gesture for her to give him the daughterly embrace he expected. “If you didn’t come here to run away with Montwood, then why are you here?”

“Because”—she took a breath—“I needed to figure out what I really wanted.”

“And have you?”

After pecking him on the cheek, she nodded.

He shook his head. “A little more than a week away from London gave you the answer, yet over a year away hasn’t helped your mother.”

“I know what might help her.” Delaney recalled something Mrs. Shaw had said. “Give her fortune back. If it means nothing to you, then you have to prove it.”

“But if she has her own fortune to do with as she pleases”—he swallowed—“then I could lose her forever.”

It seemed that the fear of one’s heart being broken ran in the family. “Do you truly have her now?”

As the words left Delaney’s lips, a sudden sense of urgency filled her. What had she done to prove herself to Griffin? To prove to him that she would go any distance for his love? She knew what she wanted. So why was she standing here when Griffin Croft might be leaving Scotland at this very moment?

Delaney couldn’t risk letting him get away. “Father, I have to go.”

“What do you mean?” He frowned, turning blustery again. “I just arrived.”

“There isn’t time to explain.” Before her father could argue, she rushed through the open door. Mrs. Shaw had been right—Delaney needed to go to Griffin. He’d come all this way for her. Now, it was time for her to prove how much she loved him.

She only hoped she wasn’t too late.

Hurrying down the hill as fast her feet would take her, Delaney stopped short when she saw a figure emerge. Her breath escaped in a rush. There he was—Griffin Croft—striding up the hill and stirring the fog at his feet.

The moment he saw her, he smiled, and she knew that he’d forgiven her. She knew that she never should have let her fears speak for her. Instead, she should have let her heart speak all along.

Not hesitating, she ran straight into his arms.

He held her tightly and smoothed the hair from her face. “I never should have told you to leave. I know you’re frightened,” he said with kisses over her brow, down her nose, and across her cheeks. “I should have reassured you, told you that you never need to fear for the safety of your heart.”

“I know. I should have trusted you all along. The truth is, the only one I didn’t trust was myself,” she admitted. “I
have
been known to make rash decisions, after all. And yet, you were the only one I carefully plotted to steer clear of. If that wasn’t an admission of love from the first moment, then I don’t know what could be.”

He captured her lips, branding her forever.

“Mr. Croft!” her father bellowed from the top of the hill. “You’d better have plans to marry my daughter, or you’ll find yourself in a sorry state.”

“We are already married,” Delaney called over her shoulder. Then she turned back to Griffin and lifted her gaze. “Would you care for a walk to the nearest blacksmith, Mr. Croft?”

This time, she didn’t mind his arrogant grin one bit.

“It would be my pleasure, Mrs. Croft.”

A
CKNOWLEDGEMENTS

T
hank you to my editor, Chelsey Emmelhainz, for your uncanny ability to spot plot holes, for helping me keep track of the series details, and especially for the smiley faces in the margins.

Thank you to the entire Avon Impulse team for your hard work. And a special thanks to Emily Homonoff for your organizational skills and cheerful e-mails.

Thank you to my family and friends for laughing with me, just when I need it most. And thank you to my readers for all your support.

Don’t miss the other Wallflower Weddings!

Keep reading for excerpts from

DARING MISS DANVERS

and

WINNING MISS WAKEFIELD

Now available from Avon Impulse!

An Excerpt from

D
ARING
M
ISS
D
ANVERS

Oliver Goswick, Viscount Rathburn, needs money, but only marriage to a proper miss will release his inheritance. There’s just one solution: a mock courtship with a trusted friend. Miss Emma Danvers knows nothing good can come of Rathburn’s scheme. Still, entranced by the inexplicable hammering he causes in her heart, she agrees to play his betrothed despite her heart’s warning: it’s all fun and games . . . until someone falls in love!

“S
hall we shake hands to seal our bargain?”

Not wanting to appear as if she lacked confidence, Emma thrust out her hand and straightened her shoulders.

Rathburn chuckled, the sound low enough and near enough that she could feel it vibrating in her ears more than she could hear it. His amused gaze teased her before it traveled down her neck, over the curve of her shoulder, and down the length of her arm. He took her gloveless hand. His flesh was warm and callused in places that made it impossible to ignore the unapologetic maleness of him.

She should have known this couldn’t be a simple handshake, not with him. He wasn’t like anyone else. So why should this be any different?

He looked down at their joined hands, turning hers this way and that, seeing the contrast, no doubt. His was large and tanned, his nails clean but short, leaving the very tips of his fingers exposed. Hers was small and slender, her skin creamy, her nails delicately rounded as was proper. Yet when she looked at her hand covered by his, she felt anything but proper.

She tried to pull away, but he kept it and moved a step closer.

“I know a better way,” he murmured and before she knew his intention, he tilted up her chin and bent his head.

His mouth brushed hers in a very brief kiss. So brief, in fact, she almost didn’t get a sense that it had occurred at all.
Almost
.

However, she did get an impression of his lips. They were warm and softer than they appeared, but that was not to say they were soft. No, they were the perfect combination of softness while remaining firm. In addition, the flavor he left behind was intriguing. Not sweet like liquor or salty like toothpowder, but something in between, something . . . spicy. Pleasantly herbaceous, like a combination of pepper and rosemary with a mysterious flavor underneath that reminded her . . .
of the first sip of steaming chocolate on a chilly morning
. The flavor of it warmed her through. She licked her lips to be certain, but made the mistake of looking up at him.