Chapter 15
Fifteen
The sky was full of roses, and they were watching.
The feeling of intrusion during intimacy ought to have bothered her; instead, it sent a sizzle through her blood.
For so long, she had been hiding, running—and she was tired of it.
The freedom she’d yearned for was finally hers.
In the arms of her beloved, she could be who she was without embarrassment or fear.
He accepted and loved her as she was, and there was nothing disgraceful about showing him she felt the same way.
The expression of their love was as beautiful and bold as the surrounding rose arbor.
The tender plants were in their first bloom, green and fresh, their petals a rainbow of hues.
This garden felt simultaneously new and as old as the first one, for she and her lover were naked and unashamed.
His face hung over hers, the dearest sight she’d ever seen.
Love shone in his intelligent eyes, and she let her own love shine back.
As she ran her hands through his hair and over his broad, bare shoulders, she felt a possessive flutter.
He is mine as I am his.
“You are so handsome,” she whispered.
“They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” His smile was wry. “But in this case, I fear you may need spectacles, my dear.”
“You are handsome,” she insisted. “I could gaze at you all day.”
“As to that.” He traced a finger over the curve of her cheek, his touch making her tremble with yearning. “I was hoping you might be amenable to more than gazing.”
Oh, how she adored it when her gentleman turned lusty.
He lowered his mouth as she raised hers.
Their kiss was a tender collision that ignited desire in every part of her.
Her blood rushed hotly beneath her skin.
The tips of her breasts stiffened, tingling against his hard, hairy chest. Between her thighs, she was wet and wanting—aching with need.
“Come inside me, darling,” she whispered.
His eyes darkened with hunger, and in the next heartbeat he was pushing inside her.
Big and hard, filling her with his love.
He stretched her, opening her with steady thrusts, and she urged him on by scraping her fingernails over his back and spreading her legs wider.
All her life, she’d been called wild, and now she didn’t care.
Because she was wild—for him. As wild as he was for her.
“Bloody hell, I love being inside you,” he growled.
“Then take me,” she gasped. “I am yours.”
His eyes flared, and his thrusts turned savage. Her back thumped against the bed of petals, the scent of crushed roses filling the air. Pleasure mounted as they chased the plateau; she got there first, soaring over on wings of bliss.
“You are so beautiful,” he said in guttural tones. “Now it is my turn.”
When he pulled out of her, she whimpered at the loss.
But he turned her over onto her hands and knees, pushing a moan out of her as he hilted himself with a powerful thrust. His ferocious plowing rekindled her spent nerves, the fire in her belly.
He closed his hand in her hair, turning her head so that their gazes locked.
“With these roses as my witness, you are mine, and I am yours,” he said.
His declaration was fierce, his touch gentle, and the answer surfaced from her heart the way it had since the first time.
“Not only for ease, but for every trial,” she said.
He smiled. “This is the way of love.”
As if to seal their vow, petals fluttered from above.
When he came, she did too, filled with him and the scent of roses.
Finn opened her eyes, panting.
It took several breaths for the bed of petals to melt away. Several more for her to register that she was in her bedchamber at Pell House, the dawn’s light leaking through a slit in the drapes. Even as she recognized that she’d been having a dream, she smelled roses.
Was that a dream—or something else?
She scrubbed her hands over her damp face. Perhaps playing the role of Madame Seraphina was preying upon her sanity. First the woman in the woods, then the sense of déjà vu in the rose garden, and now this. This dream that felt like a memory.
Yet it couldn’t be a memory…because the events had never happened.
While she and Owen had kissed in the rose garden, they hadn’t made love there.
She knitted her brows, suddenly confused about the identity of the lover in the dream.
Had it been Owen? The details of the dream slipped like water through her fingers; she couldn’t picture the man’s face.
She had only impressions of him—of his devoted love and raw passion.
Likewise, she didn’t know if she’d been herself in the dream… or someone else.
You are mine, and I am yours. Not only for ease, but for every trial. This is the way of love.
Finn groaned, flinging an arm over her eyes. “I do have bats in the belfry.”
She shut out the ghostly vow and tried to gather herself. It wasn’t easy because her body was humming, and her skin itched with need. How she wished Owen was here—but he wouldn’t be back in Chuddums for another three days.
Not that she was counting. Or thinking about him. Or missing him.
“Blooming hell, Seraphina Kidd,” she muttered. “Pull yourself together.”
Throwing the covers back, she stomped to the washstand to get ready for the day.
A productive morning improved Finn’s mood.
She had several sittings, and with the help of the Hawks, they went off without a hitch.
Amongst the satisfied patrons was Mrs. Thornton.
After several appointments, Finn knew what the good lady desired: to make peace with her older sister.
Apparently, the two had been the best of friends until they both set eyes on the same fellow.
Mrs. Thornton won the bloke but lost her sister Imelda.
Unfortunately, Imelda passed before the two could reconcile.
While many would accuse Finn of being a charlatan, she believed she was providing a service.
She listened as Mrs. Thornton confided her grief and regrets.
While Finn might not have channeled Imelda’s spirit, she provided the messages that Mrs. Thornton needed to hear: that Imelda had forgiven her and was in a better place, one where bygones were forgotten and there was nothing but peace.
If this was fraud, Finn reckoned that any man of the cloth could be accused of the same.
Mrs. Thornton wept during every session, but Finn thought they were necessary tears.
The lady was able to remove her armor and show her softer self.
If sitting with a seer made her comfortable doing so, then Finn was glad to be of help.
Mrs. Thornton, for her part, showed her gratitude with baskets of treats.
After a tasty luncheon of cold steak pie, pickles, and cheese, Finn and the Hawks found themselves at loose ends.
Their appointments were done for the day, and their mission to find the treasure at Bottoms House was on hold until Owen’s return.
They decided to make the most of their rare leisure by shopping in the village.
To keep up her mystique, Finn wore her usual ensemble, including her veil.
Yet this did not prevent the villagers from calling out hellos.
Tansy waved back, her face sticky from the column of barley sugar that she’d received from a friendly spinster.
Simon proudly wore a hat given to him by the haberdasher, who’d taken pity after seeing the lad squinting in the summer sun.
It was a cheap straw topper with a floppy brim, but it was the first item Simon owned that hadn’t been handed down to him, and he wore it as if it were a crown of gold.
Finn came to the astounding realization that the Hawks were benefiting from the stay in Chuddums. They were clean and well fed, with a solid roof over their heads.
Instead of being chased by Peelers, angry mobs, and rival gangs, they were welcomed here with open arms. They were treated as if… as if they belonged.
I wonder if Iris would like it here, Finn mused. If we succeed in finding the treasure with none the wiser, perhaps we could return here with Iris. Make a life for ourselves—
“Well, haven’t we all turned disgustingly domestic.”
Caleb’s sneering comment popped the bubble of Finn’s fantasy.
“Must you complain about everything?” she asked.
“I am merely pointing out a fact. We’ve been here a fortnight and aren’t any closer to rescuing Iris.”
“That’s not true. I got us into Bottoms House—”
“That ain’t going to satisfy Carver.”
“I wrote him that we’re making progress,” Finn rejoined. “There’s nothing else I can do. Owen will return soon, and we’ll have another go at finding the jewels.”
“Until then, we’re just going to get fat and jaw with clodhoppers?”
“I like the clodhoppers,” Tansy said. “They’re nice.”
“They’re bribing you with sweets like you’re some babe,” Caleb shot back. “They are making you soft, and you don’t even know it.”
Tansy’s eyes flashed, her hand gripping the stick of barley sugar like a dagger. “I am not soft.”
“Stop it, both of you,” Finn ordered. “Hawks do not fight with one another.”
“Are we still Hawks?”
Through her veil, Finn narrowed her eyes at Caleb. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means we are not acting like Hawks. We should be focused on rescuing Iris. Instead, we are turning into a herd of sheep.”
“Flock,” Simon said.
“What?” Caleb glared at him.
“Sheep, flock,” Simon explained. “Cow, herd.”
“See what I mean?” Caleb threw up his hands. “Simon is turning into a bleeding shepherd; Tansy eats sweets all day. And Nell is—where is Nell, anyway?”
They all looked around. Finn spotted Nell several feet away, standing beneath the large bare-branched tree in the village green. She was talking with a strapping lad with wheat-colored hair, and even from a distance, Finn could see that somber, practical Nell was blushing.
“Bugger this,” Caleb growled. “I’ll not stand by and watch us fall apart.”
When he stalked off, Tansy made to follow, but Finn stopped her.
“Leave him be,” Finn said flatly. “He’ll come back after his head is cool.”
She waved at Nell. The girl hurried over, her spectacles slightly askew, and they continued their walk.
“Who were you speaking to?” Finn asked.
“No one important.” Nell’s denial came a bit too quickly. “He’s the son of a farmer.”
“How did you meet him?”
“Oh, um, on market day. When I paid for some apples, he gave me too much change. I told him, and he seemed impressed that I have a head for numbers.”
Glancing back, Finn saw the lad staring after Nell. “I think he is impressed by more than your mathematical ability.”
“It’s nothing,” Nell insisted.
“All right, but you must have a care.”
“Like you are being careful?”
The barb caught Finn off guard. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Let’s just say the pot should stop calling the kettle black.”
Shoulders stiff, Nell strode over to look at the window of a dress shop.
Blooming hell. What is wrong with everyone today?
Seeing Tansy and Simon’s curious gazes, Finn sent them off to amuse themselves. Drawing a breath, she joined Nell.
“Don’t be cross,” she said.
“I’m not.”
Nell kept her gaze trained on the shawl in the window. While Finn was no arbiter of fashion, she could see that the sprigged muslin wrap was lovely, simple yet practical for summer.
“You are, and I am sorry for it.” Finn sighed. “I shouldn’t have said anything, all right?”
“I never get attention.” Nell’s voice wobbled. “What is wrong with enjoying it for once?”
“There is nothing wrong—”
“You don’t seem to mind Lord Owen’s attention.”
Sweet Jaysus.
Finn thought about denying it. But it was one thing to lie by omission and another to contradict what she knew to be the truth. She realized she was tired of it—of hiding her small piece of happiness from her family.
“I don’t,” she admitted. “But I also know that it will not last.”
Nell slanted her a look. “You are fond of him, though?”
“He’s a toff, and I am…me.” Finn shrugged, as if the fact wasn’t widening a crack in her heart. “I’m masquerading as a medium in order to steal from his family. One doesn’t need a crystal ball to see there is no future for us.”
Nell chewed on her lip. “What if there was a way? For you to be together, I mean?”
Hearing her fantasy spoken aloud hurt because it sounded so impossible.
“Iris must come first,” Finn said firmly. “We need to find that treasure and ransom her before that bastard Carver hurts her more than he already has.”
After an instant, Nell nodded, reaching for Finn’s hand.
“Can’t we still enjoy happiness while we can?” she asked.
Finn gave her a squeeze. “Yes—which is why I am buying you that shawl.”
Nell’s eyes widened behind her spectacles. “Oh, you mustn’t. It is far too much—”
“With all the sittings we’ve been conducting, we deserve a treat.” Finn tugged her toward the shop door. “And no one deserves one more than you.”
Much to Finn’s relief, by the time the Hawks headed back to Pell House, everyone seemed in better spirits.
Even Caleb was boisterous. Having stumbled upon a card game, he’d relieved the other players of their winnings and couldn’t stop crowing about it.
Finn wanted to warn him against cheating the villagers but decided she’d rather keep the temporary peace.
All in all, she felt lighter. True, they hadn’t accomplished their mission yet, but they were once again a team.
Tansy was perched on Simon’s shoulders, singing while he whistled, and Nell couldn’t stop stroking her new shawl.
As for Finn, she’d confided her attraction to Owen—and the sky hadn’t fallen.
Maybe there was hope after all.
Taking out the key, she was about to unlock the door—and froze when she saw it was ajar.
“Someone’s inside,” she whispered.
As one, the Hawks fell into formation. Tansy jumped down from Simon’s shoulders, landing gracefully, her small blades at the ready.
Caleb slipped on the metal knuckles he always carried, and Simon took out his cudgel.
Nell removed a small pistol from her skirt, and Finn slid the dagger from her boot.
She made hand gestures to indicate the plan, and everyone nodded their understanding. Simon and Tansy posted themselves on either side of the door.
“One, two, three,” Finn mouthed.
She shoved the door open, going in low, with Caleb and Nell up high, flanking her.
Silence greeted them. The only movement was that of dust motes floating in the afternoon light. Her breath hot in her lungs, Finn surveyed the entry area. Nothing out of place—
“There’s a note.” Nell pointed at the folded paper nailed to the back of the door.
Cautiously, Finn tore the note from the door. She unfolded it, and her blood turned to ice.
Time is running out. You have a week to bring me what I asked for—or Iris will suffer the consequences.