So waiting on the doctor to give his diagnosis of Victoria’s condition was pure torture. Every nerve in his body pricked at him, making his heart race, and rendering him unable to sit still. As he stood at the window tapping out a frantic rhythm on the sill with his fingers, a tumbler full of amber liquid appeared before him. “I thought a bit of scotch might calm your nerves,” Tom said, as he set the glass down on the windowsill. “Thank you.” Fin lifted the glass and downed the scotch in one gulp. It burned a bit going down, but the calming warmth quickly spread through his body. “Better?” He nodded. “Much.” “I’ve never seen you quite so worked up, Fin.” Tom took his post again on the settee, lounging back and propping his feet on the end. “That’s because I’ve never actually been quite so worked up before.” He was treading on dangerous ground. It would be so easy to admit now how he felt toward Victoria. Or rather, how she made him feel. That kiss they’d shared yesterday was all he’d been able to think about.
