Chapter 11
HE WAS MORE THAN DONE WITH PEOPLE. AT HALF-TWO in the morning, far too many of them lingered in his house, cozied up as if they’d stay till spring.
He considered just going upstairs, shutting himself in, leaving them to it.
He was brutally tired, and more, that moment—that incredible moment with Branna had cross-wired his emotions so he didn’t know what he felt.
So it seemed easier all around to shut it all off and feel nothing at all.
She seemed perfectly content to sit, sip champagne, chat with whoever remained. But that was Branna, wasn’t it? Strong as steel.
The best thing for him would be a few hours’ escape in sleep. They’d be back to Cabhan in the morning—or later in the morning. And the sooner the better. Ending him would fulfill his obligations. Ending Cabhan would end his own personal torment.
So he’d slip away—no one would miss him by this point.
Then Iona stepped up, as if she’d read his mind, twined her arm with his, took his hand.
“The problem with throwing a really great party is people don’t want to leave.”
“I do.”
She laughed, squeezed his hand. “We’re down to the diehards, and we’ll start nudging them along.
Your circle won’t leave you alone with them.
Give it about twenty minutes. What you should do is go around, start gathering up the empties since the caterers left a couple hours ago. It’s a sign it’s time to go.”
“If you say.”
“I do.” To demonstrate, she began picking up bottles and glasses, gave Boyle a telling look that had him doing the same.
In moments a handful of those diehards readied to go with many thanks and wishes for a happy and prosperous New Year. And in the case of a few, such as Sean, heartfelt if somewhat sloppy hugs.
Party magicks, Fin decided, and started on discarded tea and coffee cups.
He carted them up to the kitchen, said good-bye to another handful. Two birds, he decided, he’d have the party debris dealt with, and move out the stragglers.
Though it took thirty minutes rather than Iona’s predicted twenty, he wouldn’t complain.
“That’s the last of them,” Iona announced.
“Thank the gods.”
“You gave a lot of people a fun and memorable evening.” She tipped onto her toes to kiss his cheek. “And you had one yourself.”
“I’m happy to remember it now that it’s done. And thank you for all you did.”
“Couldn’t have had a better time of it.” She glanced around the living room, nodded. “And we’re not leaving you with much of a mess. Branna, I can ride with you if you want, just leave my car here. I’m not taking Nan to the airport until afternoon tomorrow, so I can come back for it easily.”
“Best you ride with Boyle.”
“We’ll make a caravan of it,” Connor said as he shrugged into his coat. “A short drive for certain, but it’s still the dead of night. Branna can follow you and Boyle out, and Meara and I will come up behind.”
“I’m not driving home tonight at all. I’m staying here.”
Branna looked at Fin as she spoke. He wasn’t sure how he kept his feet when she’d rocked him back so stunningly on his heels.
“Well then!” Brightly, Meara smiled, and jammed her cap on her head. “We’ll be off. Good night, and happy New Year.”
“But,” Connor began as she all but dragged him to the door with Iona pushing Boyle behind him.
“Would you let me get my coat on?” Boyle complained even as Iona firmly closed the door behind the four of them.
Fin stood exactly where he was. Only one thought managed to eke through the logjam in his mind. “Why?”
“I decided for this time, this place, I wouldn’t think about yesterday or about tomorrow.
It may be we’ll both come to regret it, but I want to be with you.
I always have, likely always will, but this is only tonight.
There can’t be any promises or building dream castles this time around, and we both know that.
But there’s need, and there’s finally trust again. ”
“You’re content with that?”
“I find I am, and God knows I’ve turned it all over a hundred different ways, but I find I am content with that. We’re both entitled to make this choice. You asked me to stay with you. I’m saying I will.”
So much of the turmoil inside him settled into calm even as all the resignation he’d carried for years dropped away to make room for a tangle of joy and anticipation.
“Maybe I changed my mind on it.”
She laughed, and he saw the light sparkle in her smoky eyes. “If that’s the case, I wager I can change it back again quick enough.”
“It seems the least I can do is give you that chance.” He held out a hand. “I won’t kiss you here or we’d end up on the floor. Come to bed, Branna.”
She put her hand in his. “We’ve never been in a bed together, have we? I’m curious about yours. I resisted going upstairs and poking around during the party. It took heroic willpower.”
“You’ve never lacked that.” He brought her hand to his lips. “I’ve imagined you here a thousand times. A thousand and a thousand times.”
“I couldn’t do the same, as even my heroic will wouldn’t have held up against the imagining.
” Amazed at her own calm, she kissed his hand in turn.
“I knew when Iona walked into my workshop you’d come back.
You’d be a part of this, a part of me again.
I asked why, why, when I’d found my life, made myself content with it, fate should put you back into it again. ”
“What was the answer?”
“I’ve yet to get one, and still can’t stop the asking. But not tonight. It’s so grand, your home. All these rooms, and the all but heartbreaking detail of every centimeter of space.”
And none of it, he thought, so much home as the kitchen of her cottage.
He opened the door of his bedroom, kissed her hand again, then drew her in. Rather than turn on the lights, he flicked his wrist.
The fire kindled in the hearth, and candles flickered to life.
“Again grand,” she said. “A grand male sanctuary, but warm and attractive instead of practical and Spartan. Your bed’s glorious.” She moved to it, trailed fingers over the massive footboard. “Old, so old. Do you dream of those who’ve slept here?”
“I cleansed it so I wouldn’t feel I shared the bed with strangers from other times. So, no, I don’t dream of them. I’ve dreamed of you when I’ve slept here.”
“I know it, as I had a moment in that bed with you in dreams.”
“Not just then. A thousand and a thousand times.”
She turned to him, looked at him in the light and shadow of dancing flames. The heart she’d lost to him so many years before swelled inside her. “We won’t dream tonight,” she said, and opening her arms, went to him.
The nerves that had hummed just under her skin dissolved. Body to body with him, mouth to mouth with him, her world simply righted.
This, of course, the single missing link in the chain of her life.
For tonight, if it could only be tonight, she would give herself a gift. She would only feel. She would open herself, heart, body, mind, and feel what she’d struggled against for so long.
Tomorrow, if need be, she’d tell herself it was only the physical, only a way to relieve the tension and strain between them for the greater good. But tonight, she embraced the truth.
She loved. Had always loved, would always love.
“I’ve missed you,” she murmured. “Ah, Finbar, I’ve missed you.”
“Ached for you.” He brushed his lips over her cheeks, brought them back to hers.
She clung as they lifted inches off the floor, then a foot, circling. With a laugh, she flung her arms up, scattered stars above them.
“By firelight and starlight, by candle flame, tonight, what I am, is yours.”
“And what you are, is cherished.”
He lowered them to the bed, sank into the kiss.
With her, at last with her, free to drink deep and deep from her lips, free to feel her body under his, to see her hair spread out.
The gift she gave them both, too magnificent to rush. So he would savor her gift, and give all he had in return.
He took his hands slowly up her body, gently captured her breasts. No longer the budding girl etched in his memory, but the bloom.
New memories here to layer over what had been.
He pressed his lips to her throat, lingered over the scent of her caught there, just there, that had haunted his days and nights. His again, to take in like breath.
As he slid the dress down her shoulders, she arched to ease his way. Her skin, white as milk, caught the gold of his firelight, the silver of her stars. He undressed her as if uncovering the most precious of jewels.
Her heart fluttered under his touch. Only he had ever been able to bring her that sensation, one of both nerves and pleasure. Each time he kissed her, it was slow and deep, as if worlds could spin away and back again while he savored.
“You’ve more patience than you did,” she managed as her blood began to sing under her skin.
“You’re more beautiful than you were. I never thought it possible.”
She caught his face in her hands a moment, fingers skimming up into his hair, then she shifted to rise above him with stars sparkling over her head.
“And you.” She drew his sweater up, off. “Witch and warrior. Stronger than the boy I loved.” She spread her hands over his chest. “Wounded, but ever loyal. Valiant.”
When he shook his head, she brought his hands up, pressed them to her own heart. “It matters to me, Fin, more than I can tell you. It matters.” She lowered to press her lips to his lips, to press her lips to his heart.
She’d broken his heart, as he’d broken hers. She didn’t know what fate would grant them, even if those hearts could be truly mended. But tonight she wanted him to know she knew his heart, and valued it.
To change the mood she danced her fingers along his left ribs. Fin jumped like a rabbit.
“Bloody hell.”
“Ah, still a weakness there, I see. That one small spot.” She reached for it again, and he caught her wrist.
“Mind yourself, as I recall a weakness or two of yours.”