Chairs scraped on the floor and other glasses were raised.
“To family.”
*~~*~~*
Later that night, after brandy and tea had been consumed, and conversations had finally ended, Hecate led Finn up several sets of stairs to her very own private space.
She walked in—then smiled broadly, seeing that it had been kept clean and tidy, but untouched since she’d left it several months ago.
“This is it, Finn,” she turned to him. “This is where I grew up.”
He looked around, noting the paintings on the wall, the thick curtains covering not only the windows but some of the surrounding stone, and the assortment of rocks and other bric-a-brac that cluttered the tops of several chests of drawers.
There was one small mirror, and a fair sized bed, covered in the thickest and largest sheepskin he’d ever seen. “I’ll bet that creature provided mutton for half a village,” he observed, running his hand over the soft fronds.
“I don’t know. I inherited it from some long ago Ridlington Chase resident.” She walked to her bookshelf. “I must remember to pack some of these for taking back to Doireann Vale. My favourite stories.” She looked up. “My friends, if you will. I lost myself in these books when I was young. They were my way out.”
He pushed the sheepskin aside and sat on the bed. “You really were a magical princess in a tower, weren’t you?”
She chuckled, running her fingers over familiar surfaces. “I suppose I was, in a way. But I never saw myself as a princess. I read about them, imagined their adventures, but for some reason I never put myself in their place.” She walked slowly to stand in front of him. “I never dreamed of a handsome prince rescuing me. My future was one of those things that I couldn’t quite see as clearly back then…”
She put one hand on his shoulder and with the other she raised his chin. “And I never, ever, could have dreamed of anyone like you, Finn Casey.”
Slowly leaning forward, she kissed him, a sweet touch of the lips that rapidly turned into the fire that she knew would always burn between them.
His arms came up and seized her, lifting her off her feet and swinging her up onto the bed at his side.
“Your prince is staying the night, my Lady,” he whispered as he found her laces and pulled them loose. “I’ve obeyed the proprieties long enough.”
“Indeed you have,” she wriggled as he pulled her dress away from her shoulders and she tried to unfasten his breeches.
His chuckle was rough. “This is fun but frustrating.” He put his feet onto the floor and pulled her up. “Turn around, let’s do this properly.”
Obeying him, she felt that little shimmer of excitement elicited by the touch of his hands on her skin. She was down to her chemise in no time at all, with her dress tossed casually over a chair. Spinning around, she dodged his arms and reached for his clothes. “My turn.”
His jacket joined her dress, his shirt landed on the floor and she had to stop there for a moment, just to run her palms over his chest. He’d filled out so well. This wasn’t the thin, sick Finn Casey she’d brought back to Doireann Vale.
This was the true Finn Casey. Warm skin, muscles showing beneath, lovely copper nipples she had to admire with her fingers for a moment while enjoying his tiny moan of pleasure.
“Finn,” she whispered, letting the urge to taste him take over. Following her instincts, she moved close and ran her tongue over the tiny buds, loving his gasp and the way they hardened even more.
“Siren,” he muttered, pulling off his breeches. “You’ll drive me mad.”
Her hands dropped low and she found him hard, ready for her hands to curve and stroke the silk velvet.
He groaned. “Hecate…”
“I know.” She released him, stepped back and unfastened the ties of her chemise. “I’m here. I’m yours, Finn. Always.”
At that point she knew she had given him the power, and he took it, sweeping her off her feet and into bed in the best tradition of all Handsome Princes.
And continuing in that tradition, he made love to her wildly, joyfully and thoroughly, satisfying them both until they were limp and sated bodies slumped against each other.
“There’s something about this chamber,” he panted, “or maybe it’s the sheepskin…”
“Mmm. So it would seem,” she purred.
“We should see about building one at Doireann Vale.”
Hecate giggled. “I’m not sure about that. We might never come out of it.”
He hugged her close. “I know. Isn’t that a wonderful thought?”
