Chapter 4 #2
Heady with success, Finn fought not to let her triumph show.
Owen’s look of astonishment was priceless—and she had Nell to thank for it.
Prior to their arrival in Chuddums, Nell had spent time at the Leaning House, the village tea shop and hub of gossip.
She’d gone in various disguises and eavesdropped on conversations, including those of the Harrington ladies.
It was amazing what women shared over tea (and when they didn’t realize they were being surveilled).
Nell had learned about Thomas Mulligan and his lover Rosalinda.
Most importantly, she’d overheard the ladies saying that they believed they were having visions from Rose’s past. They’d discussed how these “memories” might help them break the curse.
Nell had picked up other tidbits, too. As a result, Finn knew far too much about the sensual prowess of the Harrington brothers.
Suffice it to say, the ability to satisfy a bedpartner apparently ran in the blood.
Yet she couldn’t let herself get distracted by Owen’s hot-blooded heritage.
Right now, she had to focus on convincing him that she was a medium who offered exactly what his family needed.
He cleared his throat. “Rosalinda, you say?”
“Yes.”
She furrowed her brow, as if she was concentrating very hard. Which she was. It was taking all her restraint not to laugh at how uneasy he looked.
“But she has another name as well,” she went on. “In the visions when she is with her lover, he often calls her Rose.”
“Confound it,” he said under his breath. “Go on. What else have you, er, seen?”
“The visions are difficult to fully grasp. When one is given a glimpse of the world beyond the veil, one is left with impressions only. I remember her name and that she had a lover—a man named Thomas. She is searching for him, yearning for him. I think that night when I saw you, I felt his presence, and it was somehow…somehow connected to yours.”
I have you now, Owen Harrington.
He was pale enough to pass for one of the ghosts she could supposedly channel.
“I was drawn to you the way Rose was drawn to her Thomas,” Finn said in a lulling, hypnotic cadence. “Her spirit guided me to you that night.”
He drew his brows together. “What did she want from me?”
“That is not knowledge I possess. I wanted to ask you about Thomas, but then things became…overpowering.” This time, her blush was appropriate.
“Realizing that I had put myself in a compromising situation, I knew the only solution was to flee. But the spirits had more planned. For I felt myself compelled to come to Chuddums…and here we meet again. It feels like the hand of destiny, does it not?”
“It feels like someone’s hand at work,” he said.
Blooming hell. Just when I thought I had him.
She feigned innocence. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“What you shared may not be common knowledge,” he allowed. “However, the doomed affair between Rose and Thomas has been fodder for village gossip for months.”
“I am newly arrived. What would I know of village gossip?”
“I think you know a lot, Seraphina.” He looked her in the eye. “You are the sort of woman a man underestimates at his own peril.”
She liked that more than she should have.
Time to switch tactics.
“You are cynical, my lord.” She gazed up at him through her eyelashes. “Even if you question my explanation, do you doubt your own feelings?”
“What feelings?” he said dismissively.
“The feeling of connection.” She swayed toward him. “Between you and me.”
The moonlight couldn’t hide the hunger in his expression. His gaze dropped to her mouth; she parted her lips slightly, inviting him to remember how she’d tasted. Her ploy was working, for he swallowed. He clenched his jaw as if he were fighting his basest instincts.
This time, she was certain she had him.
When his mouth crashed onto hers, she realized she had a small problem.
Crikey…the cove can kiss.
Their tension ignited into passion. Their mouths clung, hot and wet.
He fisted his hand in her hair, holding her steady, and Sweet Jaysus—she liked that.
Liked the way he held her for his plundering, the way his tongue swept between her lips.
Liked the way he kissed her as if doing so was the only thing that mattered.
His maleness permeated her senses. He tasted of himself and peppermint.
He smelled expensive, like freshly pressed linens with a dash of spice.
Somehow, she ended up on his lap. His thighs were hard and firm, his arms steely bands around her.
Under normal circumstances, being confined by a stranger who was larger and stronger would have made her want to run.
But not now. Not with him.
Their tongues tangled, their breaths mingled, and her thoughts became hazy.
Drive became desire and purpose, pleasure.
She slid her hands into his rough-silk hair, relishing its unruly abundance.
He deepened the kiss, and greedily, she took him in.
No one had ever kissed her with such all-consuming need.
His intensity unraveled her; she had never felt so wanted…
When he turned his attention to her ear, she squirmed.
The flick of his tongue made her gasp. Who would have thought the ear was a sensitive place?
And she seemed to feel his licking everywhere.
Her nipples stiffened and throbbed against her bodice.
When he palmed her breast, squeezing gently, she moaned.
The ache between her legs turned into throbbing—a humid blooming of heat and need.
At least she wasn’t alone. Beneath her bottom, his arousal formed a sizeable ridge.
“I want you, Seraphina.”
His hot words entered her ear and made her shiver.
Her eyelids drooped. “I want you too.”
“Good. If you want to use me, I don’t mind. But I will not allow you to use my family.”
Her eyes flew open. Jerking back, she glowered at him. “I beg your pardon?”
His expression was hard, his gaze unyielding.
“You heard me. If you want to scratch a mutual itch, I am happy to oblige. But if you try to hurt my kin”—an unmistakable threat glittered in his eyes—“you will have to go through me.”
Shoving at his chest, she sprang off his lap. She felt the teeniest bit of satisfaction when he winced. At least he hadn’t been faking his arousal. Then again, neither had she—and the ache between her own legs worsened her temper.
“You are no gentleman,” she snapped.
He rose slowly. “At least I am not pretending to be something I am not, Madame Seer Beyond the Veil.”
With great effort, she refrained from kicking him in the shin.
“I am a medium,” she said through her teeth.
“Truthfully, Seraphina? I don’t care what you are. Just stay away from my family.”
He executed a sharp bow then turned and walked away.
Leaving her fuming…and aroused. Again.