“Admit what?” She blinked innocently.
“Thank you.” He acknowledged her comment with a chuckle.
“One question before you go,” she remembered something. “The first time we met, when I found you in the forest, you looked at me and spoke a name. Do you recall that?”
He blinked, then shook his head. “I don’t. Sorry. I have no idea what I was doing in the forest. The most recent thing I remember is you…your face looking at me when I lay in bed, insisting I wasn’t going to die.”
“And I was right,” she added with a certain amount of smugness. “You didn’t die, did you?”
“No, ma’am,” he answered with amusement. “So what did I call you?”
She swallowed. “You called meMoira.” There was silence for a few moments as he stared into her eyes with great intensity. “Do you know someone named Moira?”
“I did,” he replied without hesitation. “A long time ago. She lived near to us and came to sit with us on the times our parents were called away. I was very taken with her. In fact, I think she was my first love.” He paused. “You have eyes like hers.”
Hecate did some rapid mathematics in her head. “How old would you have been?”
“Uh…four? Maybe five? I’m not sure…”
“What happened to her?”
He gave her an odd look, as if the question puzzled him. He shrugged. “I think she went away to marry some wealthy chap. All I can recall was my mother wondering if the lure of a title would sever the ties to her homeland.” He sighed. “Mother never appreciated the opportunities offered by other lands. She was all for Ireland and home. Couldn’t understand why anyone would want to go anywhere else.”
“Hmm.” Hecate thought furiously. The dates would seem to work… “How old are you, Mr. Finn? Forgive the question, but I have a reason for asking…”
“I will turn twenty-nine this year,” he said, his gaze once again fixed on her face.
“Then, sir, I believe you had the pleasure of being watched over bymymother.” She watched his astonished surprise. “Her name was Moira and she was Irish too.”
