Chapter Seventeen
“Oh Bub. What now?”
Hecate slipped from her bed and walked to the door, where the cat was sitting and staring at her after meowing imperiously. “You just came in. And now you want to go out?”
He gave her his bestof course. I’m a catlook.
She sighed, opened the door and then closed it again as he slipped through, a sleek black shadow vanishing in the darkness of the hall outside. She liked the comfort of his weight around her feet, but if he decided he wanted more, it got a bit uncomfortable, especially if he lay across her legs, pinning her to the mattress.
Restless, she walked across her room to the window, grabbing a shawl from the chair and wrapping it around her shoulders. Pulling the curtains aside, she stared out across the fields, realising that it must have started to snow sometime before. Everything was white, with the exception of some of the lower shrubs and under-branches of the fir trees.
It was magical, of course. There was nothing like snow to change one’s outlook on the world, since the pristine layer turned lanes into ribbons, fields into white blankets, and forests into strange and wonderful shapes.
She loved snow, but on this night her thoughts were elsewhere.
Hard questions thumped her brain endlessly. Questions about Finn, her emotions, his feelings…where was it all going?
Although Lady Augusta had become a friend, Hecate was hesitant to use her as a sounding board when it came to this particular matter. Always private, Hecate knew she could not discuss her dilemma openly with her, and thought it likely she’d be given advice based onher—Augusta’s—experience.
Given the lady’s previous notoriety in the Ton, it would not be a good match for the naive and cautious Hecate.
But the problem of Finn remained.
He filled her thoughts too often, brought light into her presence when he walked to her side, and when they touched? It was a sizzle unlike anything she’d experienced.
Her meditations, her talents, all the things that made her Hecate…seemed to have diminished in importance next to seeing Finn’s smile and hearing his voice. Even Bub was less of a companion and more of a casual visitor these days.
Her breath made little foggy circles on the cold glass as she stood at the window, and finally she shivered, drawing the curtains closed again, turning away and reaching for another log to bank up her fire for the night.
A knock on the door made her jump, and the log fell from her hands with a thud.
The door swung open and Finn’s head appeared around the edge. “Are you all right?” He saw her struggling with the log and came into the room, closing the door and walking to her side. “Let me.”
“Thank you,” she said, rubbing her hip and watching him efficiently stoke up a small blaze. “Dratted thing dropped and I bent at the wrong angle.”
He stood and looked at her. “Are you sure you’re all right? Bub was crying outside my door, and the first thing I thought of was that you were in trouble.”
He wore an old dressing gown that he’d procured from somewhere and a night shirt that was too short. It revealed firm legs and bare toes. His hair was mussed, and if Hecate had had a spoon nearby, she would have devoured him from spiky curls to naked feet.
“I’m fine, really.” The warmth from the fire took away her earlier chill. “I apologise for Bub. I just let him out of here a few minutes ago. He has no business rousing you from your sleep. I shall have a strong word with him.”
Finn shook his head. “I didn’t mind. I couldn’t sleep, anyway.” He gazed out of the window. “My family. Everyone gone, Hecate. It was…a horrid memory, but I know now I couldn’t have done anything to stop it.”
“You couldn’t,” she agreed. “Like so many, you lost what was most precious to you.” Her voice was gentle and soothing. “But you can honour their memory by living the best life you can. And keep in mind, you have a new family, now, here at Doireann Vale.
Unshed tears glittered in his eyes as he nodded. “In that, I’m blessed indeed.” He noticed her still moving her hand over her hip. “But you’re in pain. And don’t argue, I can see it.” He frowned. “Here. Get into bed and give me that shawl.”
She blinked.
“Go on. Do as your told.”
She huffed. “Well, yes sir. Whatever you say, sir.” Obediently she moved to the bed, admitting she was glad to get off her feet and ease the twinges.
He pulled a chair close to the fire and hung her shawl over it, and she realised he was warming it.
“My Gran did this years ago when my Grandad hurt his back. I do remember thinking what a good idea it was and sometimes she’d warm a bit of cloth for me too, just so I could be like Grandad.”
He smiled as he told her the story and she smiled back. Given all the bad memories he’d been hit with, at least this was a good one.
