Chapter Four
Finn awoke the next day
There was light, and he was in bed, warm, and not in pain.
That information made its way through his sleep-raddled brain and brought comfort in its wake. He wasn’t sleeping on the forest floor, or trying to avoid rodents in some drafty stable.
He wasn’tcold.
“You have joined us, Mr. Finn. That is a very good thing.” A man’s voice spoke softly, while a hand rested on his forehead. “And no fever to speak of. I believe you are now well on the road to recovery.”
Finn struggled to open his eyes again, squinting at the blurry sight of a dark and bearded face, topped by a turban and a jewel. He tried to speak, but his mouth and throat seemed not to want to work correctly. He managed a croak of some sort.
“Here, this will help.”
The man slid an arm behind his shoulders and lifted him, then held a cup to his lips. Finn automatically sipped, the liquid warm and sweet, slipping down his throat like manna from Heaven.
“Thank you,” he whispered, no longer feeling like his throat was lined with gravel.
“Once more, I think…”
The cup returned and this time Finn sipped eagerly, moistening the dry tissues of his mouth. “Good.” He pulled back, licking his lips.
“How do you feel?” The dark face watched him.
“I…I’m not sure.” He lifted a hand to his head. “Where am I? Everything is a little foggy…”
“Which is just what we expect, Mr. Finn.”
A new voice, a woman, entered the conversation. Somehow, she sounded familiar, but he still fought to focus his eyes and she stood at the end of the bed, a blur in blue with golden hair.
“Where am I?” he asked again.
“You’re at Doireann Vale, sir.”
Which told him nothing.
“He just woke, Miss Hecate,” said the man at his bedside. “He has had a drink of the honey water.”
“Excellent, Dal. Thank you. I will take over now.”
“If you need me, just call.”
“Of course.”
Finn listened as the rustle of clothing and the squeak of the chair springs told him that the man had risen and the woman was going to take his place. Perhaps now he could see her a little better.
“There now. I expect you’re worrying about many things, Mr. Finn.” She reached out and put her hand on his forehead.
He wished people would stop doing that. It was somehow rather undignified.
“Where am I?” He turned, seeing her face clearly for the first time.
She was…intriguingly beautiful. Those words were all he had, as he stared at the oval face, the delicate ivory skin with a touch of rose on the cheeks, and eyes that could have come straight from a fairy tale. Her lips were full and pink, her teeth white as she smiled at him. Surrounding her amazing features were tumbling curls of tawny gold, loose and free. He swallowed. “Who are you?” Then he blinked as a terrifying thought crossed his brain. “Am I dead? For surely you must be an angel.”
She chuckled, a sound that brought a similar curve to his lips. God, she was extraordinary.
“You’re not dead, let me reassure you of that. And I am the owner of this house. My name is Hecate. Hecate Ridlington, and I’m no angel. Just ask my family.”
