Chapter 39
Thirty-Nine
A week later, Finn and the Hawks were settled back at Pell House, and Finn was bringing lunch up to Iris. To her delight, Iris wasn’t in bed where she’d spent most days. Instead, she was sitting in a rocking chair, looking out the window.
“You are looking well,” Finn said warmly.
Iris’s smile was wan. But it was a smile. “I am feeling less dreadful.”
“I’ve brought some of Mrs. Thornton’s pork pie and mashed turnips.” Finn set the tray on a table. “Will you have some?”
“I will—later. Come sit with me.”
Finn did what she’d done so many times as a girl, and what she’d feared she would never get to do again. She sat at Iris’s feet, her head in her friend’s lap. Her eyes stung when Iris gently stroked her hair. They didn’t talk, the silence as comforting as a warm blanket.
“I’m sorry.”
Finn lifted her head. “No, you don’t have to—”
“I do.” Iris’s gaunt features were set. “Let me say this, Finn. I must.”
Slowly, she nodded.
“You were correct all along—about Carver and how he was using me. It is stating the obvious, but I must say it. You were right, Finn, and I was wrong.”
“It doesn’t matter. All I care about is having you back.”
“It matters to me.”
The spark that returned to Iris’s eyes was painful and exhilarating to witness.
“When we parted, I said cruel things. I knew they were cruel, even at the time.”
Finn swallowed. “I know you didn’t mean them.”
“I meant to hurt you.” Iris’s voice throbbed with shame. “To push you away. Regardless, what I said was not true. You are wanted, Finn, and you are loved. Your past doesn’t change that. You are worthy of all good things in life and always have been.”
“I know.” Because now she did. “But thank you for saying that.”
Iris’s gaze glinted with amusement. “Catching yourself a lord made you cocky, did it, Finicky?”
“No,” she said with a smile. “Loving Owen did.”
“He is a lucky bloke.”
“So I keep telling him.”
Iris’s laugh, rusty and true, warmed Finn’s heart.
“I look forward to getting to know him. In the meantime, I have a favor to ask.”
“Anything, Iris. You know that.”
“The favor isn’t for me. It’s for Caleb.”
Finn scowled. “Oh.”
“He has a hard time with apologies.”
“You don’t say?” Finn couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her voice. “The entire time you were gone, he’s been a thorn in my side—”
“I know. He told me about it and about how sorry he is. Please, for me, Finn, could you make peace with him?”
“Fine. For you.” She huffed. “I’ll see what I can do.”
After ensuring that Iris ate some of the meal, Finn left her to rest. Xenia, Gigi, and Evie stopped by, and they settled at the kitchen table for tea and chitchat.
“How is Iris?” Evie asked.
“She seems better,” Finn said. “More like her old self. I think she just needs time.”
“Speaking of time.” Gigi leaned forward. “Has my brother proposed yet?”
“Gigi,” Xenia protested. “You shouldn’t interfere.”
“What is taking him so long? It has been a week since we defeated that cutthroat. Finn’s family is safe and sound—which means it’s time for Finn and Owen to get married and break the curse.”
Finn nibbled on one of Mrs. Thornton’s buttery biscuits, not at all concerned by the delay.
Knowing Owen, he wanted to get the proposal right.
In the meantime, she was enjoying his courtship.
He’d been called away to Thymehill, but before he left, he’d arranged a midnight picnic in the rose arbor.
There, he had made good on his promise, making love to her beneath the stars and fragrant blooms. The memory of his stamina and creativity sent a pleasant sizzle through her blood.
She dusted the biscuit crumbs from her fingers. “Has it occurred to you that the curse has been broken?”
“How do you mean?” Gigi tipped her head.
“After the village meeting where we shared Felix’s journal, everyone in Chuddums knows about Langdon Pearce’s villainy.
That same day, the villagers smashed his monument to bits and hauled the debris from the square.
Now they are celebrating the love story of Rose and Thomas.
And Felix is being remembered as a hero. ”
“That’s all true, I suppose.” Gigi pursed her lips. “But I was expecting some clear sign to mark the breaking of the curse.”
“A thunderclap, perhaps?” Xenia suggested. “Or a flash of lightning?”
“Or something truly momentous.” Evie’s smile was sly. “Like Grantley saying no to Gigi.”
They pealed with laughter.
“Fine,” Gigi said with a good-natured giggle. “Perhaps the curse is broken. The only loose end is what to do with the jewels.”
“Don’t they belong to Grantley, since he is a descendant of the Pearces?” Finn asked.
“He and I both believe the jewels belong to Rose,” Gigi said firmly.
Evie furrowed her brow. “Her descendants—if any survive—will be difficult, if not impossible, to find—”
She was interrupted by Owen, who came running into the kitchen. Finn’s heart thumped giddily; he was back earlier than anticipated.
“Finn, you’ll never guess—” He paused at the sight of his kin. “Oh, you’re all here too.”
“Gracious as ever, brother dear.” Gigi rolled her eyes. “If you need a moment in private—”
“No, it’s fine,” Owen said. “I’m glad you’re here for this.”
His excitement was palpable, and Finn felt her own pulse speed up.
“Does this have to do with Thymehill—” she began.
“I lied about that,” he said in a rush. “I was actually in London to see a jeweler who could fix your pendant. I wanted to restore the damage so that it would be worthy of you.”
Touched, she said, “That is so thoughtful—”
“Instead, the jeweler split it in half.”
Finn felt a quick sting of loss. Yet what did that piece of tin matter when she had Owen’s heart?
“Never mind, darling,” she said. “It was old and—”
“You don’t understand. The jeweler discovered that the pendant had a false back. The rust covered the seam completely, and when he cleaned it off, he found this.”
Owen removed a pouch. Taking Finn’s hand, he dumped the contents into her palm. The heart was now in two thinner pieces…and there was a lock of hair as well.
“The hair was hidden inside,” he explained.
Finn studied the hair in wonder, realizing that it was made up of twined strands.
“It came from two people,” she said in hushed tones. “One had dark hair, the other light.”
“Yes. And I think I know who those people were.”
Owen turned one of the pendant halves over, and Finn’s heart stuttered at the sight of the engraved words: Rosalinda the girl worth less than a tin heart; the woman who didn’t feel worthy of love.
Then they, too, vanished like ghosts.
For she had roots. The tin heart was proof. Most of all, she had love.
I have everything.
“Sweet heavens,” Gigi breathed. “Finn is Rose and Thomas’s descendant!”
“Do you like it this way, love?” Owen rasped.
Taking Finn’s sensual mewl into the pillows as an affirmative, he plowed her harder.
This was the first time he’d put her on her hands and knees, and he was thrilled that she was enjoying the position.
He traced his gaze over the graceful curve of her spine.
The sight of his tanned hands gripping her pale bottom and his cock spreading her pink petals filled him with primal delight.
The slap of her pert cheeks against his lap set his blood afire.
She’d spent already, and he wanted to feel it again—to feel her possession of him even as he possessed her.
“I cannot get enough of you,” he said hoarsely.
“Then take more.” She arched her back, taking him deeper. “Give me more.”
Grunting, he pounded into her snug sheath.
She moaned, pushing back onto his shaft, squeezing him with her velvety heat.
Pressure churned in his stones, his prick stiffening past the point of no return.
Reaching under, he found her pearl, fingering her as he thrust. The slippery friction made her tighten around his pistoning cock, and he knew they were both at the precipice.
He stretched over her, growling, “Give me your mouth, love.”
She did, and he captured her lips, swallowing her cries as she came and pouring his own groans down her throat.
Sighing with satisfaction, he flopped onto his back, pulling her atop him.
He held his beloved close as they exchanged sweet nothings and tender kisses.
With Finn’s head resting on his shoulder, her limbs tangled with his, there was no other place he would rather be.
But there was something he needed to do.
“I brought something back from London for you,” he said.
She lifted her head. “You mean besides my pendant and the truth about my ancestry?”
“Yes. I’ll be right back.”
He left to fetch the box he’d hidden nearby.
When he returned, Finn was sitting up in bed.
With her hair cascading in shiny streamers and her face glowing from the pleasure they’d shared, she could not be more beautiful.
He thanked fate again for putting him on that London street all those weeks ago—for giving him a gift beyond his wildest dreams.
Facing his beloved, he went down on one knee.
“Miss Kidd, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
He held out the ring. He’d gone to countless shops looking for the right one. When he saw the deep golden cabochon, he’d known his search was over. He’d designed the gold setting himself, using a floral motif on the mount and modeling the band after a leafy vine.
He heard Finn suck in a breath.
“I thought amber suited you,” he said huskily.
“While no stone can rival your eyes, this one came the closest with its warmth and vitality. Amber is the lifeblood of trees, as you are my lifeblood. It preserves life’s magic and reminds us of what is important.
See the leaf at the center of the stone?
It somehow fell into the resin this way, and now it is immortalized. ”
Frozen in amber, the leaf had folded upon itself to form a tiny heart.
“Oh, Owen,” Finn whispered. “I’ve never seen a more beautiful ring.”
“Will you wear it, then? Will you be my wife and my love forevermore?”
She gave a tearful nod, and he slipped the ring on her finger.
It was a perfect fit. Like her for him, and him for her.
He rose, and she leapt into his arms. He spun her around. They laughed and kissed, knowing they’d found their own immortal love.