The Magic of I Do Page 12

  “The children,” she finally said, sitting up and moving off him. “It’s because of the children, all right?” She suddenly sounded peevish.

  “I don’t understand.” Thoughts roiled in his head like a boiling cauldron, yet he couldn’t make sense of any of them. “Why would children be a problem? Your kind and my kind can procreate. That has been proven. Look at you. Look at your brother and sister.”

  “And look at what happened to us. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. It’s not an easy life, Finn, not knowing where you came from. It’s damn hard.”

  He reached over and pulled her back into his arms. She went, but not willingly, until at last she softened against him. “Can we table this discussion and go back to it later?” he asked.

  “I will not change my mind.”

  “I think I liked it more when you were asleep,” he said, as he pulled her head back down to his chest. “Go back to sleep, and then let’s wake up and do this all over again with a different outcome.”

  “What kind of outcome did you have in mind?”

  “The kind where you scream my name and swear you can see God.”

  She chuckled against his chest. It was a lovely sound, really. Like the bells of St. Andrews. She didn’t do it often, but when she did, the effect was jarring. “I could make you happy, Claire,” he said softly.

  “I have no doubt that you could, Finn.” She stilled against him, until suddenly he flipped their positions. She seemed surprised to find herself beneath him. “Goodness, Finn, that was fast.”

  “I do everything fast, apparently. Think back to that first night.” He kissed her softly as he settled between her thighs, pushing her knees apart with his legs in her skirts. He rocked against the center of her, and she arched to meet him, a moan leaving her lips to tickle the air between them. “Does that feel nice?” he asked as he adjusted to rock a little harder against her. Her mouth fell open and she nodded.

  “Just imagine how it would feel if I was inside you again,” he said, punctuating his words with short licks across her lips.

  “Remind me,” she urged.

  But he did something he’d never done before. He stood up and moved away from her. “We had better get back. People will be looking for you.” He adjusted his clothing.

  “Now?” she squeaked. She sat up, her face flaming. He wasn’t certain if it was desire or anger he saw there, but he’d be willing to bet on anger.

  Finn pulled his watch fob from his pocket. “We have been gone for four hours. That’s long enough to have seen all the paintings at the exhibition that didn’t exist. We should go back.”

  She was stewing. He could tell. And a tiny part of him was immensely comforted by the fact that he could make her so angry by not giving in to her physical demands and demanding an emotional response instead.

  He was still hard for her. But he wouldn’t give on this point. He picked up the pins that he’d taken from her hair from the side table and called her to him. “Turn around. I’ll try to make do with your hair.”

  “It’s fine the way it is.”

  “It’s fine as it is if we don’t bump into anyone until you get to your chambers. But if someone sees you looking like that, they’ll think I just tumbled you.”

  Her face flamed again. “Then I can assure them that you didn’t, can’t I?” She shot him a look of exasperation that made him chuckle. “I’m glad you find this amusing.”

  If he didn’t laugh, he didn’t know what emotion he might be forced to deal with.

  Finn lifted Claire in his arms and pushed her feet through the portal, but he didn’t let go of her hand when he set her down. She was just angry enough to leave him there, stuck in that room. With her gripping his hand tightly, he climbed over the edge of the painting as if it were a windowsill. It was much easier than going through the painting headfirst.

  When he got to the other side, Claire still glared at him. But then a voice barked from the other end of the corridor. “What the devil have you been doing, Finn?”

  ***

  Claire peeped around Finn’s shoulder to find Sophia and the duke glaring at them. The duke’s face was alight with anger, and Sophia laid a hand on his arm to calm him. It didn’t work. He turned on his heel and bellowed back over his shoulder, “I’ll see you in my study, Finn. Now!” He didn’t look back. He just kept walking.

  Finn groaned low in his throat, then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Claire’s forehead. “Don’t worry. His bark is worse than his bite.”

  “Do you want me to go with you?”

  He laughed. It was a loud sound and it bounced around the corridor. He was so amused that she couldn’t help but smile along with him. “No need.” Then he whispered. “Go fix your hair.”

  He pressed her hairpins into her hand and turned. He bowed to Sophia and followed the duke toward his study.

  But then Claire was left with Sophia. “Claire…” she began.

  Claire held up a hand to stop her. “Don’t Claire me, Sophia. You are not my mother.”

  “No, I’m your sister, and I’m your friend.” Claire turned to walk away but Sophia followed her. “Talk to me, Claire. If you won’t talk to me, talk to Mother.”

  Mother. Claire snorted. Some mother she was. She’d allowed Claire to be taken back to the land of the fae.

  “I know how you feel about her. I felt the same for a time. But then I got to know them. You should give them a chance.”

  No chance in hell.

  Sophia rushed on. “They tried to keep us. To keep all of us. They left a token within each of us.”

  Finally, Claire looked up at her. Sophia rushed on to explain. “My love of music. It was a gift to me so that I could recognize the song of a loved one. They didn’t realize that Ashley would be in love with me and that I would recognize his song as easily as theirs, but they did try.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  Sophia looked at the painting they’d just stepped through. “The painting. Our father is an artist. It’s his favorite pastime. You think you can step into paintings when no one else on earth, or any other realm, can do so just because? No. It’s a gift from them. Marcus has one, too, although I don’t know what it is yet.”

  “Sophia, I don’t want to discuss this right now.” She feigned a yawn. She needed some time alone. Some time to think.

  “When will you be ready to discuss it? And to discuss what you were doing with Lord Phineas?” Sophia tapped her slippered foot against the floor.

  “Nothing happened with Lord Phineas.” Not this time, at least. “He just went along with me to keep me safe.”

  An unconvincing grunt was Sophia’s only response.

  “Where are Lord and Lady Ramsdale?”

  “Mother and Father went back to Ramsdale House.”

  “Good.” She knew she sounded like a petulant child, but she couldn’t help it.

  “We’ll see them on Friday. They’re throwing a ball to launch us into society.”

  “I don’t care to be launched.”

  “They’re acknowledging us as their legitimate children to the ton.”

  Why would they do such a thing?

  “It was their idea. They wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  Of course they wouldn’t. They suddenly wanted their fae children in their lives, when they hadn’t wanted them for such a very long time. Well, too little too late.

  ***

  Robin paced back and forth in front of the fire in his study, and Finn feared his brother would wear a groove in the rug if he didn’t stop soon. “How could you?” Robin spit out.

  “How could I what?” Finn snapped. “Be specific, Robin. Very specific, so I’ll know if I have good reason to hit you when you say the wrong thing.”

  Robin took a deep breath. “What were you doing with Claire?” he asked.
>
  Finn yawned into his hand. “Taking a nap, if you must know.”

  Robin’s jaw fell open. “A nap? Is that what’s you’re calling it now?”

  Finn got to his feet. “When that’s what it was, yes. A nap.” He balled up his fist. If Robin said what Finn expected him to say, the duke would be missing several teeth before the night was through.

  “A nap,” Finn repeated.

  “A nap,” Robin said, nodding his head. “You’re certain that’s all it was.”

  “Quite certain.” He still had the ache in his stones because it hadn’t been more than a nap.

  “Then why did she look as though she’d just been tumbled?” Robin flinched when Finn charged him. He held up a hand to stall his younger brother. “Perhaps a nap is that pleasant for her,” he rushed to say.

  “It was quite pleasant,” Finn agreed, letting his fist fall back to his side.

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?” Robin asked, his mouth falling open as Finn nodded. “Well, bloody hell.”

  “I’m in love with her,” Finn blurted out.

  Robin’s mouth snapped shut. “Is that so?”

  “Yes.” Finn scrubbed at his forehead. “I don’t know how it happened, but I am. There. Are you happy?”

  “Ecstatic,” Robin said glibly.

  “I knew I liked her a lot.” Liked being inside her a lot. Like spending time with her a lot. Liked looking at her. Liked her sharp tongue. “Then she took me into that blasted painting and fell asleep with her head in my lap. I took the pins out of her hair and held her while she slept.” Finn began to pace. “Well, I slept a little, but it was difficult.” He stopped in front of Robin. “I want to marry her.”

  “And?” Robin said. His mouth lifted in a grin. “What’s the problem?”

  “She said no.” Finn began to pace again.

  “Oh, it must run in the family. Sophia did the same thing. Why do you think I had to go to the land of the fae to bring her back home? Hardheaded woman.”

  “Claire is too.”

  “Claire, is it?”

  “Yes, it’s Claire.”

  “So, you’re already on a first-name basis?”

  “She usually calls me a dolt, honestly.”

  Robin threw his head back and laughed. Loudly. “It’ll all turn out for the best.” He clapped Finn on the shoulder.

  “How so? She declined my proposal.”

  “We need to make a plan.”

  A plan. Yes, that was what they needed. A plan.

  Nineteen

  Blast and damn. She should have known he would be there. That he would come to this event. Finn was across the ballroom from her, tucked neatly behind some potted palms with a yellow-haired nymph of a woman he’d just danced with. Did he prefer blondes? Claire picked up a curl from her shoulder and lifted it to look at it more closely. Perhaps he did like the fair-haired.

  Claire wished she’d worn a different color of gown. The nymph was stunning in pink. Claire should have worn a pale green dress to match her eyes, instead of white. Something with a swooping neckline that showed more of her décolletage than she’d ever shown before. She glanced down at her almost-virginal gown and grimaced. She couldn’t compete with the women of Finn’s acquaintance. Why did this matter? There could be no future between them, no matter what.

  “Hullo, Claire,” a low voice said by her ear. Claire steadied herself. The sound of his voice skimmed over her skin and made her bite back a shiver. Would he always affect her like that? She hoped not. He’d been scarce since the night they’d stepped back through the painting. It had been a sennight since she’d been this close to him. Since she’d looked into his sky-blue eyes.

  “Lord Phineas,” she said. She acknowledged his presence with a small nod in his direction. “What brings you out from behind the potted palms?”

  She’d wanted to march across the room, grab the chit by her hair, and fling her outside of Finn’s reach. A lazy grin quirked at the corner of his mouth. “The palms don’t hold as much interest for me as you do, darling.”

  Her heart tripped a beat. Darling. An endearment from this Phineas Trimble was as commonplace as the light skirt he’d been talking with behind the palms. “You can put your silver tongue away, my lord. It’s not enough to get my attention.” Not tonight. Not when all of her family was in attendance.

  He leaned down close to her ear and said softly, “If I got my silver tongue anywhere near you, I promise I’d have your complete and undivided attention.” His breath teased the shell of her ear and a shiver crept up her spine. He chuckled lightly at her response.

  “Did you enjoy your time with the chit behind the foliage? Did you learn anything about her? Aside from whether or not her breasts fit your hands?” Claire heaved a sigh.

  “Are you jealous, Claire?” He made a tsking sound with his tongue.

  Was she? Dreadfully and completely. Yes.

  “Jealous?” She forced a laugh from her lips, although it was the last thing she felt like doing. “I have had you in my bed, my lord. It’s not an event I have any desire to repeat.”

  Finn’s lips pressed together tightly. “Shhh. It wouldn’t do for anyone to find that out. You’re supposed to be Ramsdale’s very wealthy, very innocent, very complacent daughter.” He shrugged and cocked his head to the side. “The wealthy part is true, at least.”

  She was Ramsdale’s daughter, though this was the first time she’d been in their home, and she’d met their other children for the first time on this night. They had two daughters and a son. The reception had been somewhat lukewarm by the boy, but the daughters had been overjoyed at getting two new sisters and a brother.

  “You are lovely tonight.” He said it quickly and quietly, as he nodded to an acquaintance and kissed the hand of a lovely lady who had the audacity to lay one upon his arm in passing.

  Claire held back a snort. “I bet you say that to all the ladies.”

  “I don’t ask all the ladies to marry me, though.” Claire’s belly dropped toward her toes.

  He waited for her response during the pregnant pause. “I could just announce to one and all the nature of our relationship.” He bobbed his head from side to side, like he was weighing his options. “I wouldn’t even have to announce that I have been inside you.” He leaned close and chuckled at her flinch. “I could just ask you to dance two or three times. Or touch your arm inappropriately. Or drag you out into the garden for a nice, long walk.”

  “Try it and see what happens.” She ground her teeth together so hard that he could probably hear them. But a tiny little part of her thrilled at the idea of having her will in this matter taken away. Then she could just be free to enjoy courtship and marriage. Until the baby arrived, that is.

  “Don’t tempt me,” he warned.

  ***

  The little sprite had done nothing but tempt him since the day he’d met her. She smelled like a meadow in summer mixed with the sweetest lemonade. The scent of her reached up to tickle his nose as the pulse at the base of her throat began to jump. Finn already knew that she was a sight to behold when she was in a temper. Or in the throes of passion. He had a feeling he wouldn’t see the latter again anytime soon. But a man could hope, couldn’t he?

  Finn held out his hand to her as a waltz began to play. “Come and dance with me.”

  “Why should I? A blink ago, you were behind the potted palms with Miss Horse Teeth.”

  “Miss Horse Teeth?” Was she really jealous?

  “She could eat corn through a picket fence.”

  He pasted a grin on his face. “You should dance with me because people are beginning to stare.” He took her gloved hand in his and dragged her onto the dance floor. “You do know how to dance, don’t you?” he asked. Her face flushed slightly. “Don’t worry. Just let me lead.”

  She nodded tightly as he raised her
hand to his side and placed one of his hands on her waist. She flinched at the intimate crawl of his fingertips as he readied himself and nudged the hand at her waist a bit higher.

  That was odd, he thought. He shook the thought of how good she felt in his arms from his mind. Lusting after Claire Thorne was not in his best interest. Making her fall in love with him was. He forced himself to concentrate and took a step.

  Miss Thorne took one at the same time, but it was the wrong one, and she trod upon his toes. He winced and steadied her in his arms. “I said, ‘Let me lead,’” he warned with a quirk of his brow. She nodded quickly, her face flooding with color. “Can you give up control for a moment? Just for one simple little dance?”

  She nodded again and he took a step. This time, she followed and stepped back. He began to lead her in the steps of the waltz, her hand quivering in his. Her uncertainty was almost enough to tug at a man’s heartstrings. But he couldn’t think about his heartstrings, not tonight.

  Her strawberry blond hair hung in wisps around her slender neck, the majority artfully arranged in an upswept style that looked destined to tumble. God, he could just imagine pulling the pins from her hair and letting it fall across his body while she rode him. Such thoughts would get him nowhere, aside from on Robin’s bad side. Claire Thorne was to be protected, and from the moment she’d tumbled into his bedchamber, she’d been on his mind.

  “You’re doing well,” he encouraged. “Breathe.”

  “I am breathing.”

  Finn knew of every breath she took, because her breasts grazed his chest with the intimacy of the waltz. Her skirts swished around his legs, and he felt her every movement in his… entire body.

  “Who is that man there in the corner?” Claire asked. “The one with the brunette on his arm.”

  Finn held back an oath. “That’s the Earl of Mayden.” Robin would not be happy that the earl was there. Not at all. It must have been an oversight on the guest list for him to have been invited.

  “He’s the one you think killed Robinsworth’s wife?”

  “I don’t think it,” Finn clarified. “I know it. I have never been more certain of anything in my life.”