Breathing as heavily as she, he pressed his forehead to hers. “I thought I would go mad waiting for you to grow up.”
A burst of laughter escaped her. “Had I known what awaited me, I’d have grown up more quickly.”
He moved back but took her hand as though he still needed the contact. “Come on. I want to see you have a proper ride on Sophie.”
He’d been a fool to kiss her, but he’d felt a need to demonstrate how much he didn’t want to be her friend, even though he knew he could never be anything more. No lord was going to give him leave to marry his daughter—not that he was considering marriage, but he certainly wouldn’t object to a few more kisses.
The taste of her was still on his tongue as he leaned against the fence, arms crossed over his chest, and watched her trot her mare up and down the road. The saddle had cost him a fortune, but it had been worth it to see the delight mirrored on her face, to know she was pleased with his gift. He’d considered saddling one of the bays in the paddock so he could ride beside her, but the geldings were built for hauling heavy loads, and while they were magnificent in their sturdiness, they weren’t made for prancing. He knew everything about all the different types of horses used throughout London. They were each bred for a particular purpose and at one time or another he’d spoken gently to every breed before wrapping a cloth about their heads, covering their eyes, so they wouldn’t see what was to come. They all left this earth with as much dignity as he had the power to grant them. After that... well, he’d never had much stomach for what came after: the hiding, the slicing off of the meat, the grinding of the bones for fertilizer, and so many other indignities. The one thing he knew for certain was that he’d never have horsehair furniture in his residence.
In the beginning he hadn’t put Sophie down because he wanted Vivi to see he wasn’t the coldhearted monster she’d claimed him to be. He had wanted to close himself off from the task that awaited him, as he did each time he had to swing the axe. He told himself he was showing mercy, but nothing ever made him feel quite as whole as she did, nothing ever made him believe he was meant for greater things, was capable of moving beyond his humble beginnings to something grander. But Vivi’s faith in him did.
Mick believed he could make something of himself, that with wealth and power he could shed the circumstances of his birth and find a place among the aristocracy. Finn had begun to wonder if the same might hold true for him, if with enough work and effort he could forge acceptability—in spite of being a bastard, in spite of knowing who his father was and still being labeled no man’s son. That was the lot of those born on the wrong side of the blanket. They weren’t even considered persons.
It had never bothered him before Vivi, before the kiss. He never should have taken that liberty, but how could he regret it when it had been the most fulfilling experience in all of his twenty-three years?
Unlike his brothers, he’d never lain with a woman. Once or twice he’d come close, when the urge was so powerful and his body ached for surcease, but always in the back of his mind was the knowledge he could leave behind a bastard, could condemn a woman to a life of shame or a life as his wife, that if she chose the former, he could be responsible for giving a child a life not to be envied—if he even knew about its existence.
His father was an earl who had delivered Aiden to Ettie Trewlove’s door one night, not even bothering to hide the crest on his coach. Six weeks later he’d done the same with Finn. His sire was a disgusting man who used women for his own pleasure with no thought to the consequences.
Finn was always aware of the consequences. He knew without doubt if he continued to spend time with Vivi that heartache was in his future because she wouldn’t be, not when it came right down to it. She might fancy him now, but a time would come when she’d want more, when she’d realize he didn’t fit into her world and she wouldn’t be happy in his. But it was difficult to imagine not being with her.
She brought her horse to a halt in front of him and Finn took hold of the bridle.
“Oh, Finn, I’ve missed so much giving her a proper ride. Even though I have another mare now, Sophie was my first and will always be special. Thank you for the saddle. Thank you for her.”
He almost told her he would give her everything if he could, but saw no point in admitting what he couldn’t give her. Reaching up, he placed his hands on her waist, such a tiny waist, and lifted her down. Holding her aloft had been his favorite thing to do until he’d kissed her, but it was now eclipsed by something much more powerful between them.
He didn’t know where he found the strength to release her after setting her feet on the ground, but he did. The months she was away at the country estate were always the most difficult, the most excruciating—to have no contact with her at all, to not know what she was doing, if she was well and happy. To walk by the London manor every night hoping for a glimpse of light to herald her return—and then to keep vigil until he finally caught a peek at her.
He understood their need for caution, encouraged it. But was growing weary of it.
Taking the halter, he led Sophie back into the paddock, removed the saddle and bridle, and stored them away so they could be used again in a sennight. The time of the year had come when his life would be reduced to waiting out six nights of mediocrity for one of bliss.
When he was done, he placed Vivi back on the wagon and climbed up beside her. With a snap of the reins, he set the horses into motion. “I meant what I said, Vivi. I want more than this.”
“I know. I do as well. But my father is a powerful man and he’d not approve of my seeing you. Although I have gotten quite skilled at sneaking out.”
“If we were to go to my sister’s tavern, you’d have to steal away earlier, perhaps around ten as it closes at midnight.”
“I think I could manage that easily enough. My parents retire around that time, around ten. I usually retire at nine. If I were to take my maid into my confidence, she could assist me in leaving undetected.” She heaved a heavy sigh. “I’ll have to take her into my confidence anyway as I’m not wearing this in public, and I’ll require her assistance to wear something proper.”
“What’s wrong with what you’re wearing?”
Her laughter floated on the breeze. “No petticoats for one thing. And it’s just a plain frock.”
Although he didn’t care what she wore, he had to admit to being pleased that she wanted to wear something fancier when going out with him. “Will you do it? Will you let me take you to my sister’s tavern next Tuesday?”
“Yes.”
He heard a measure of excitement but hesitation in her voice. “We won’t get caught,” he assured her, even knowing he was tempting fate to prove him wrong.
Chapter 5
Standing before the cheval glass, Lavinia couldn’t be more pleased. She’d chosen a lime frock with a high collar that buttoned up to her chin and long sleeves that buttoned at her wrists. The flounces on the skirt made it a bit more festive than anything else she’d worn around Finn. Her hair, always braided when she was with him, was flowing down her back, the sides plaited and secured at the back of her head with emerald ribbons.
“I know it’s not my place to say, but this adventure involving a commoner seems most unwise to me.”
“It’s only unwise, Miriam, if my parents discover what I’m about.” She swung around to face her maid, with her red hair and constellation of freckles, who wasn’t many years older than she was. “I’m trusting you to hold your silence on the matter. You’re to tell no one, not even the other servants.”
