Chapter 22
Standing in front of the cottage where Shakespeare’s wife, Anne Hathaway, once lived, with its thatched roof and sweet garden,
gives me chills. Hesitantly, I reach out and place my hand on one of the exterior wood beams, rubbed smooth by the centuries.
Could he have once touched this same spot? This is where Anne lived before they married, and I can imagine the young bard
standing outside the cottage, fidgeting nervously, as he mustered up the courage to visit the older woman who’d stolen his
heart.
“Shall we go in?” Finn asks.
“I think it’s closed,” I say, pointing at the clearly marked sign. Finn gives me a look. “Oh, right.” Of course. We took a
helicopter here, for goodness’ sake. Obviously Finn planned on pulling some strings. He pushes the door open, and, once again,
I wonder if Shakespeare ever heard that exact squeak.
The house is empty. I imagine Finn’s handlers arranged for the night staff to lie low.
His security detail also does a very good job of remaining in the periphery. It reminds me of something I heard about security
at Disneyland: You can’t always see them, but trust that they’re there and they mean business.
Because the ceiling is so low, Finn has to stoop in places as we walk through the cottage.
“Finally, a home that’s my size,” I say as he avoids hitting his head on the doorway.
“It’s perfect for a Tinkerbell,” he agrees.
The house is beautifully preserved. There are dark wooden beams running along the white ceiling; the stone floors are sturdy
and clean. I can picture Snow White sweeping up in here.
“Historians have been unfair to Anne,” Finn says. “She and Shakespeare married when she was pregnant, she was several years
older than he was, and therefore she’s been depicted as a calculating shrew.”
“Imagine not knowing much about a woman and immediately assuming the worst,” I say dryly. “Thankfully, society doesn’t do
that anymore.”
We duck into a chamber. I point at the bed, which is the size of a twin. “They had to have a good relationship if that’s the
bed they shared.”
“I’m not sure they would’ve both slept here,” Finn says. “I have to check the timeline.”
“Do you have to be so literal? Just let me imagine the greatest English writer in history doing it in this room.”
“Doing it? I knew you were American. I didn’t know you’d teleported here from 1980s America.”
We sit on a wooden bench outside, even though the sky is continuing to darken and there’s a solid chance we’ll be rained on.
Still, I don’t want this part of our date to end yet. I inhale deeply, wondering which of these plants would’ve bloomed in
Shakespeare’s day. Which might’ve made their way into his work.
“ ‘I know a bank where the wild thyme blows. . . .’ ” I begin.
“ ‘Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows.’ ” Finn grins. “You know Oberon’s famous speech.”
“A Midsummer Night’s Dream is one of my favorites.”
“Did you have to memorize the passage for school?”
“Um, no.” I scoff. “I think that’s more of an Eton thing.”
“So how do you know it?”
I shrug. “I’ve just read it a bunch.”
“You’re really one of the most passionate people I’ve ever met, American Hannah. You do things because you want to. Not because they’re expected of you.”
“Maybe . . . in some ways. So what are you passionate about?”
“Besides you?” he says cheekily.
“Besides me. If you didn’t have all your family obligations, what life would you be pursuing? What sort of career would you want to have?”
Finn grows thoughtful as the wind picks up, swirling our hair like cotton candy. “If I could do whatever I wanted, I would’ve
studied medicine. My family members are patrons and presidents of various hospitals, but I always feel several steps removed
from the actual ‘helping’ part. Certainly, we attract attention and money for the organizations. It’s not the same as treating
the patients, though, is it?”
His confession reminds me of the day he found me crying in the alleyway behind the pub, when I was sure I’d have to fly home.
I never understood why he was so motivated to help me and chalked it up to an attraction. I see now it was more than that.
Finn feels at his best when he can help someone in a concrete way.
“You would’ve been a great doctor,” I tell him, and rest my head on his shoulder.
We’re quiet. I’m imagining a life with him. Us, living in an apartment; me writing novels while he goes through medical school.
An ache, a longing, for something we can’t ever have brews deep within me.
Our driver, Mason, enters the back garden, looking distressed. “Your Highness, I’m afraid the helicopter will be unable to
fly you back to Inveresk tonight.”
A storm we’ve barely noticed is rumbling around us. I’ve seen the stories on the news about helicopter accidents, and, even though I’m concerned about my shift at the gift shop tomorrow, I’m definitely not interested in getting in a death trap.
“Do we have a plan, then?” Finn asks.
Mason nods. “We’ve arranged for you two to stay at a hotel in the city center. The room is under my name—number 305. I’ll
give you the key card so you can enter through the back without being seen by staff.”
A night in a hotel room. With Finn. If I so much as look at him, I know I’ll blush.
“Thank you, Mason. We appreciate it.” Finn’s voice sounds strained—and not in a bad way. He also must be thinking about what
the privacy of this hotel room means.
Mason drives us to Stratford’s high street, then takes us around an alleyway and indicates the door our key will allow us
to enter through. He takes off his suit jacket so that Finn can hold it above our heads as we run through the rain. It’s a
warm summer storm. My arms and legs are covered in goose bumps that have nothing to do with the weather.
The hotel is an elegant stone building. Inside, the lighting is low and sexy; there are sconces on the walls and antique iron-and-rope
chandeliers overhead. We walk down a hall lined in restored wooden wainscot until we reach our room, which is up a small flight
of stairs and tucked away in a corner. When Mason promised us discretion, he delivered.
Finn swallows hard and opens the door to the room.
The walls are all burgundy with dark wood beams; in the corner, under ornate, black-and-white window treatments, are two modern wingback chairs and an antique-looking table.
Almost immediately, our combined attention goes to the plush king-sized bed with a silk canopy overtop.
“Did you plan all this to get me into bed?” I ask.
“You mean, did I summon the storm? I know the American education system leaves something to be desired, but surely you know
that humans can’t control the weather.”
“Royals can,” I tease. “There was a whole thread about it on Reddit.”
“What’s Reddit?”
I snort. “Are you serious?” He nods. “It’s a site with all these discussion topics. . . . You know what, never mind. Thinking
about internet nerds is kinda ruining the vibe.”
“Well, now, I am sorry about that.” He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me to him. “Let’s see what we can do about getting
something else on your mind,” he says, before leaning down and pressing his lips to mine.
My back arches in response. My mouth opens so our tongues can meet and explore. As the kiss deepens, so does the warm, exquisite
feeling of want pooling deep in my belly. I lift a knee, which he catches by running his hand down my back to my thigh. He
holds my leg up and presses himself into me. I whimper into his mouth.
“Oh, the things I want to do to you in this room. In this bed,” he says, walking us back toward the mattress. “But if you
want to stop at any time—”
“Yes, same, same,” I say, greedily touching him.
I’m so turned on, I want him—all of him—so badly, I can’t even make another joke about the canopy. Our clothes are damp from the rain, so I begin unbuttoning
his shirt, kissing him as he falls back onto the bed. I climb on top of him and start moving my hips. His eyes close as his
chest rises and falls in ecstasy. He hasn’t seen anything yet. This hotel room is an opportunity we may not have again, and
I’m determined to make the most of being tucked away in this little town where no one (save for his zipped-lips security team)
can find us. Especially since I already got a preview of how things will be between us the night Finn snuck into my cottage
back at the castle.
I lift my body off him to give him room to undo his belt and unbutton his pants. I climb down from the bed to slip his pants
off the rest of the way.
“Can I—?” I ask. He nods. I rub my palms up his legs and over his briefs. Tonight, I’m going to have all of him. Slowly, so slowly, I pull his briefs off.
“Hannah,” he moans. “You’ll be the death of me.”
I smile and drink in his naked body: the defined muscles of his shoulders and arms, his sculpted chest and abdomen . . . all
of him is beautiful.
However, I’m still very much clothed. It’s nothing I’ve ever done before with Dean, but I decide to turn undressing into a bit of a show.
Being with Finn makes me brave. He makes me feel safe with my vulnerability.
This is a guy who gave me a new job in a new place, who helped me get out of my head and enjoy the pleasure he can offer me.
Tonight, I’m ready to do something else new with him.
Leaving my dress where it is, I reach underneath and pull down the lace underwear I have on. The instant I step out of it,
his head drops onto the bed, and he moans again. I smile and clear my throat, reminding him my performance isn’t over. He
sits up, his weight held by his arms. His hazel eyes, which look like liquid gold, run over the length of me.
“More,” he commands.
Since the bodice of my dress is fitted enough that I didn’t need to put on a bra, the second I unzip it, I’ll be naked, and
where’s the fun of not teasing him a little more? I take off one earring and another while he drops his head in agony. As
soon as his chin lifts, I reach behind me to methodically unzip the dress. Before it can fall to my waist, I turn around so
he can only see my bare back and cheekily look over my shoulder. I never imagined feeling this safe with a partner. This free
to explore my sexuality and let him slowly take in my body.
Everything with Finn is different than I’m used to. Everything is better.
“More,” he says again.
The dress drops to the floor, giving him full view of my ass. He lets out an appreciative breath. I turn, feeling every bit
the sexy pinup girl he accused me of resembling the first night we met, and stand before him, fully naked. His eyes take in
their fill.
“I’m going to need you to come over to this bed immediately.
” The commanding tone of his voice is so seductive, but I use every ounce of willpower to cross the room slowly.
He’s sitting up now, his arms outstretched to receive me.
When I’m close enough, he buries his face in my breasts; he runs his hands up my legs to cup my bottom.
I’ve never felt this attractive, this worshipped.
“When you told me back at Anne Hathaway’s garden you were sorry that I never got to choose things for myself,” he says into
my skin.
“Yeah?” I’m breathing hard.
“You were wrong.” He lifts his head. “I do get to choose sometimes. And I choose you.”
Taking his jaw in one hand, I reward him with a heated kiss. His hands continue to explore my body, to run delicately, playfully,
over my skin. I climb up onto the bed, onto Finn. The intimate contact makes us hum in pleasure into each other’s mouths.
But it’s time. Foreplay is no longer on the menu: I need friction, I need us to move together, I need . . .
“More,” I say, pressing kisses along his jawline. “Please tell me you have a condom.”
“I came prepared,” he replies. “Hopeful.”
We stop long enough for him to slip off the bed and get a condom out of the pocket of his trousers. He rolls it on and checks
in with me before he comes back to the bed. I nod, Yes. As he fills me, something more than pleasure ripples through my core. It’s belonging. We belong to each other, Finn and me.
We move together; he touches me until I cry out, riding the most exquisite climax of my life. His body collapses on top of
mine. I hold him to me as long as I dare. I’m on the pill too, so I’m not that concerned. I want to lie like this with him
forever.
After a moment, he rolls over. When our eyes meet, his expression must mirror mine because what I’m feeling, what I’m seeing,
is love.
This could really be something. Us. Together.