“Sit then, Miss Hecate,” said Mrs. Trimmer, pulling a letter from her apron pocket. “This ‘ere’s jes’ come from Aunty. Lemme read it to yer.”
She squinted and put the paper flat on the table as Hecate sat, Finn behind her.
“There’s stuff ‘bout family, but I’ll pass on that…’ere we are.” She took a breath. “Yer asked ‘bout Willows. I remembers ‘im, a’cos Mr. Declan ‘ad them eyes yer never fergit. Blue as the tropics, they used ter say. Nice lad ‘e was. ‘Is sister used ter visit some, Moira ‘er name was. Pretty as a picture and ‘ad those same eyes.”
Hecate’s breath caught in her throat. “My mother. Good God, my mother stayedhere.”
“There be more, Ma’am, if’n yer ready?” Mrs. Trimmer looked at Hecate. “Yer all right then, are yer?”
“Yes,” she nodded. “I think so. Please go on. Let’s hear all of it.”
“Righty then.” Mrs. Trimmer resumed her squint. “As ter Mary Willes, I be thinkin’ she were a lass wot took care of t’children. Stopped in an’ kept an’ eye on ‘em fer when the parents were off someplace. She used ter live over by Bridgeby, ‘ad a nice cottage by the inn, she did. Dunno if she’s still there…”
She folded the paper. “An’ that’s ‘bout it, Ma’am. All she ‘ad to say ‘bout them names yer give me…”
Hecate reached for Mrs. Trimmer’s hand, and shook it. “I can’t tell you how wonderful this news is, Mrs. Trimmer. To know that my mother lived here, or at least stayed here for a while…that is truly astounding and it means so much to me. Will you make sure to thank your Aunt when next you write?”
Mrs. Trimmer blushed a little. “Well, o’course, Ma’am, ‘appy to’ve been a ‘elp.”
“You have. Very much indeed.”
Finn helped her up. “We have a place to start now. Perhaps a trip to Bridgeby to see if Mary Willes is still living next to the Inn?”
“Could we?” Her eyes beseeched him, even if her words were more casual.
He grinned. “Of course. Right this minute if you wish.”
“I’ll get my cloak.”
Finn hurried out to the stables, glad that the new gig was ready for them. It took a scant few moments to get the horse into its harness, and he was tightening the last strap when Hecate appeared, walking carefully from the house with one hand on her cane and the other on her bonnet. “Goodness, I should have tied this more tightly.” She laughed as the wind buffeted the straw on her head.
“Here, let me.” He neared her, tilting her chin up and reaching for the ribbons beneath. “This could certainly be snugged up a bit,” he muttered, distracted by the sheen on her lips and fighting against looking into her eyes. A man could drown there if he wasn’t careful.
But inevitably his gaze met hers, just as he finished off the tightened knot in the ribbon.
“That should do it,” he said, his voice catching in his throat.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Ah, dammit Hecate,” he lost his personal battle. Sliding his hands either side of her face he tugged her forward, lowering his head to hers, breathing in that wondrous fragrance of flowers and woman.
The kiss was inevitable, wonderful and oh so dangerous.
His lips slid over hers and as soon as his tongue licked along their seam, she opened her mouth and welcomed him inside with a tiny moan that rocked his soul.
He scarcely realised he had her crushed against his body, or that her arms were free of her cloak and wrapped around his neck.
He devoured her, eating at her mouth, sucking her breath and knowing his body was responding as well, hardening instantly as the taste of her filled his senses.
She slithered and writhed in his embrace, rubbing against him, sighing into his mouth and duelling with his tongue, all things guaranteed to land them both naked in the straw behind the gig if he didn’t stop thisnow.This instant.
Maybe in just a few more moments…
The horse whinnied and shifted, rattling the tack and moving the gig a little.
“Whoa,” Finn wrenched his mouth from Hecate’s, panting a little and fighting to regain his composure.
“Whoa, indeed,” she mumbled, her lips swollen and deep pink from his bruising kisses.
“Did I hurt you?” He ran a fingertip over those lush folds.
“Of course not,” she said, a smile moving them beneath his touch. “You could never hurt me, Finn. Ever.”
For a second he leaned his forehead against hers. “I pray to God you’re right,” he whispered. Then he let her go. “Come on then. To Bridgeby and Mrs. Willes.”
