First Dance
Chapter thirty-three
Warmth pooled in Finn’s abdomen at the sight of his wife braiding her hair, in his shirt.
She finished the plait, then picked up her long sword and walked across the deck wearing a smirk that Finn would follow straight off a plank.
Oh, he very well knew what her purposes in donning the garment were.
The problem was . . . his knowledge of her scheme did not stop it from working.
Lucianna was beautiful. Finn had not once thought any different.
She was the kind of pretty that required a man to muster all the confidence in his supply before speaking to her.
Yet until this moment Finn had not felt so thoroughly enamored by her.
They began to circle one another, assessing.
Or, Lucianna was assessing. Finn was admiring.
Her windswept brown hair was only marginally tamed by the braid she’d weaved.
She stood tall with the posture of a warrior, but she looked small, drowning as she was in his shirt draped over her yellow nightgown.
Her bare feet moved with careful steps over the wooden planks.
And the remnants of her blush lingered atop her cheekbones beneath sparkling hazel eyes.
“Tides,” he muttered under his breath, and shook his head, before shooting her a daring smirk. “I suggest you prepare your speech, wife.”
“For when I best you?” She smiled and rotated her wrist to swing her sword in a circle. “I do not need one, as my victory will speak for itself.”
He chuckled. “For when you lose,” he corrected. “I expect there to be a line about how you regret ever challenging the best swordsman in all the Seven Havens.”
Lucianna’s head fell back as she laughed.
Something shifted in the tone of her voice as she did, and Finn’s heart jumped at the sound.
He loved to make those around him laugh, but to hear Lucianna, who held him in contempt, giggle as she did was a victory in and of itself.
He had no plans on losing, but if somehow he did, this moment would be worth the bruise of defeat.
“You think far too highly of yourself,” she said once her laughter faded. “I look forward to changing that.”
Finn lifted his sword and fell into a ready stance.
Lucianna did the same. For a breath, neither moved.
A breeze came off the Tides and sent goose bumps over Finn’s bare chest. He prepared to make the first move, when Lucianna’s sword came swinging toward him.
Finn parried and grinned at her tenacity.
Thus began their first dance as husband and wife.
Finn advanced. Lucianna retreated. They moved about the deck to the tune of an invisible melody.
Swords crashed like cymbals and scraped like a bow on violin strings.
The wood planks were piano keys beneath their feet.
Every breath was a note. Each locked gaze the hit of a drum.
Finn’s pulse crescendoed as he backed Lucianna against the door to the captain’s quarters.
Their swords crossed, and he met her fiery gaze between the blades.
His attention dropped to her lips, which were parted with exertion.
She pressed against his sword, but he knew he had her.
All it would take was a touch more pressure, and her grip would fail.
He was stronger than her, though she had put him through quite the fight.
That was when the tune changed. Lucianna pushed harder than before and then did the unthinkable—she dropped one of her hands. In a blink, there was a different blade pressed to the column of Finn’s throat. His dagger. She’d stolen it from his belt and used it against him.
“I should have known better than to think you’d fight fair, little thief,” he whispered.
Lucianna grinned.
“Did I miss you dictating rules?” she asked in a falsely innocent tone.
Finn pulled his sword back and stepped away. Lucianna spun his dagger in her left hand.
“Can this be my prize?” she asked as she watched the blade cast little specks of light about the deck. “I quite like it.”
“Are you asking my permission to keep that which you stole from me?” he asked wryly.
Her smile widened. Finn couldn’t help but enjoy the sight.
“You’re right. We are on the Heartless Tides, so let us abide by pirate rules. I stole it, therefore it’s mine.”
He let out a chuckle. This woman would be the death of him.
“I have not ever seen you this happy, I think,” he commented, and watched her expression dim a little. “I mean to say, I am happy that you are happy,” he added quickly.
Though not as bright, her smile held, and for that he was grateful. Finn enjoyed riling Lucianna up, but he did not wish for them to spend every day of their marriage arguing.
“What can I say? I enjoy winning, especially against you.”
Finn raked a hand through his hair. Lucianna’s gaze tracked the movement.
“When you look at me like that, I feel as though I’m the victor,” he rasped.
Lucianna rolled her eyes and stepped around him.
“Again I say: you think too highly of yourself, Lord Valengard,” she said over her shoulder as she started back toward Castien and Wren, who had started to applaud.
He caught her wrist.
“I’d like my shirt back, little thief,” he said in a low voice. “Unless, that is, you’d like me to abide by pirate rules and steal it.”
She turned just enough to be able to meet his gaze. His pulse hitched at the challenge written in the depths of her hazel eyes. But then, something flickered across her expression. Fear? Indignation? He didn’t catch it before it was smoothed away.
Then Lucianna tugged her wrist out of his grip and continued toward the table.
Finn’s brows rose. He watched her walk away.
Did she truly mean for him to take it from her?
His pulse raced at the thought. But then he saw that she merely meant to set down the weapons she was carrying on the table.
She accepted the congratulations from Wren and Castien, then turned her back to them to remove the shirt and replace it with her coat.
After she was covered, she dropped the shirt.
It pooled on the deck. She stepped over it and walked up to where Cora and Petals stood.
Finn approached his friends and mentally prepared for whatever loathsome teasing he was about to endure. Wren was seated, smiling over the rim of a teacup. Castien stood at her side, wearing a rare grin.
“You know, I read once in a book of poems—” Castien started.
“Don’t,” Finn gritted out as he swiped his shirt off the deck and pulled it over his head.
“That the greatest of men often fall folly to the whim of a beautiful woman,” Castien finished.
His words were Finn’s own, from back in their academy days. Finn had teased Castien about his affections for Wren long before Castien admitted to having any.
“Now, did you really think he wouldn’t repay you in kind, darling Finn?” Wren asked with a playful expression.
“I should stop expecting you to be above torture,” Finn grumbled, and plopped down into the remaining chair at the table. “You used to be so nice before my cousin corrupted you.”
Wren giggled. Castien tipped Wren’s chin up with his finger.
“Is my theatrical cousin right? Did I corrupt you, my love?”
“If you did, I can’t say that I mind,” she replied.
Castien bent down and pressed a smiling kiss to her lips. Finn turned to look for Lucianna. She stood with her back to him, speaking to Cora while Petals watched on silently. Finn raked a hand through his hair.
“I must say, I was genuinely surprised at your loss,” Wren said.
Finn reluctantly tore his gaze away from his wife.
“She did not best me in earnest, not the way that I did Cas, anyway.”
“You are not usually a sore loser,” Castien remarked.
Finn glared at his cousin.
“I am not denying her win. I am merely pointing out that I did not have to steal a dagger off your belt to beat you.”
“No, but you taunted me out of my mind. We all have tactics we use in battle.” He shrugged. “Besides, I think you and I both know that she did not win on account of the dagger.”
The shirt, Finn thought. That must be what Castien was referring to, but Finn refused to agree aloud. His cousin and Wren had plenty to tease him about already without his confirmation.
“How did she feel when I walked over to her?” Finn asked quietly.
His curiosity on the matter was insatiable.
He considered himself adept at reading people.
Never did Finn rely solely on his Gift to complete an assignment.
He observed, took note of people’s behaviors and desires, then applied that knowledge in tandem with his Gift.
This practice strengthened his abilities.
But Lucianna seemed to vacillate so often that he could not keep up.
Wren’s reply was a gentle rebuke: “Finn . . . you know it would be unkind for me to dictate all of her emotions to you when she does not know I am capable of such a thing.”
Finn scrubbed a hand over his face.
“You’re right. I’m sorry for asking that of you. I’m just—” He heaved a sigh. “I feel a bit lost, is all. But still, I shouldn’t have asked.”
He didn’t want Wren to think of him as someone who wished to use her for her Gift.
That was, in part, why it was kept a secret from most people.
The other reason was that her Gift was more powerful the less people knew she could use it.
No one could know that the gentle, amiable princess knew what they were hiding beneath their practiced political smiles.
“It’s okay.” She gave him a soft smile. “I understand.”
Finn bit back the urge to say that she did not. Wren had been through a great deal in her life, and her Gift made her capable of empathizing beyond the normal amount. But that did not mean she comprehended why he was so desperate to understand his wife.
His gaze drifted back up to where Lucianna stood on the forecastle deck. He felt the all-too-familiar sting of insecurity in his chest.
It would have been nice to have Wren tell him Lucianna desired him in some manner, but deep down, Finn knew that even if she had told him, it wouldn’t have made a difference. Because in the back of his mind there would always be the question:
Was it him, or was it his Gift?