Claire looked up at him. He’d been trying for days to talk to her. He’d tried in the land of the fae, but she’d sent him packing. She’d even run away to escape talking to him. But she couldn’t run away now. She would have to face the challenge. She’d never backed down from a challenge before. Why was this one so difficult? Maybe because it was the first time her heart had ever been involved.
“How are you?” he asked.
She shrugged and ambled farther down the walk. He fell into step beside her. “You can run, but you can’t hide.” She glared at him and he continued. “Well, yes, you could. But it won’t do you any good. You have to marry him.”
“It was just a bug,” Claire complained.
“I know. But it didn’t look like just a bug.”
And it hadn’t been just a bug several months ago. But it was just a bug that night. It didn’t matter.
“Claire,” he said gently, before he tipped her chin up gently. “If you tell me you’ll be miserable with him, I’ll cancel the banns and we’ll deal with society.”
“You’d give me a choice?” she asked. She twirled the stem of a flower in her fingers, trying to fight the feeling of falling. Like a bird in flight that had suddenly lost its wings.
“I’ll give you a choice.” He pointed a finger at her. “But give it careful thought. Something tells me the man is deeply in love with you. You could do much worse than a love match.”
“What’s the something that tells you that?” Claire asked. This was the most words she’d ever shared with her father in succession.
“He told me that. Why do you think I plan to give him your hand?” She must have looked perplexed, because he raised his brows at her. “What’s wrong?”
“He told you what?” Surely he hadn’t told her father that he loved her. That would be ludicrous.
“I asked him if he loves you, and he answered in the affirmative.”
“Why would he do that?” Claire whispered. But a little piece of her thrilled at the idea.
“Because he does?” He heaved a sigh. “Claire, know this—it’s not easy for a human man to accept magic. He has accepted it and is aware of it, and he’s aware of the world from whence you came. And he loves you on top of all that. You couldn’t ask for more.”
“Was it hard for you to accept Mother?” Claire sat down on a garden bench, and he dropped down beside her. He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees.
“It was difficult. What was even more difficult was watching what your mother went through. She lost her wings. She lost her homeland. She lost all her family.”
“She gave up her children,” Claire whispered. She laid a hand on her belly. The very thought nearly broke her in pieces.
“She never gave up a bloody thing,” her father snapped. “We never gave up any of our children. They were taken from us. That’s a completely different situation. Completely.” His face reddened with anger.
“It was a choice you made,” Claire went on. “You knew the consequences. If you had fae children, you’d lose them. And you bet on love anyway.”
“Your mother tried everything to keep you. Sophia’s love for music—that was so she could find your mother later in life. Your love for painting—who do you think hid the magic paintbrush in your bedding after you were born? And that little painting of the door. Dulcis domus was written over it. Sweet home.”
He jabbed a finger at Claire again. “You were our heart’s desire. We thought with the paintbrush and the painting, you could walk right into our lives. The fae took our memories when they took you, but we left a way for you to get back to us, believing we would know you, no matter what.”
What? Wait just a minute. That was what the words over the door said? Sweet home? Her father had painted it and given her a magical paintbrush that would lead her back to them.
Tears pricked at the backs of Claire’s lashes. “You did try.”
Lord Ramsdale—no, her father—got to his feet and pulled her up, hugging her tightly against him. “We tried. We failed. But it finally did work. You’re here now. And so are we. There’s still time. Don’t waste so much energy hating us, Claire.”
Claire inhaled, a deep cleansing breath. She needed a moment to process this. “Could I have a moment, please?” she asked. “I need to think.” She scrubbed at her forehead.
“Come and find me when you’re ready to talk?”
Claire nodded and he left.
Claire needed to put the facts together. She needed to compile all this information into tidy little boxes and stack them on her shelves. She needed to understand.
She’d walked through the door of that painting just because it was there and she needed to get away. She hadn’t seen the magical paintbrush in years, and it had been an escape. What was baffling was that the sign over the door read, “Sweet home,” particularly since it had led her to Finn.
He was her heart’s desire? No. Couldn’t be. She barely knew him at that point, even though she already carried his child. He couldn’t possibly be her heart’s desire. He was just a man—and a human man at that.
Could it be that her parents had lived in a completely different world than the one she was in now? With the changes in the land of the fae, perhaps there could be a future for humans who married fae and produced offspring that didn’t include having those offspring taken away. Could it be that simple? It couldn’t possibly be, not with everything her parents had gone through, but she had to look at Sophia and the duke. They had a child on the way and they were not afraid of losing it, not in the least.
She laid a hand on her belly, which was just beginning to round with the new life growing inside her. Since the beginning of this journey when she’d found out about the baby, she’d assumed she would have to relinquish a human child to Finn’s care, but maybe that wasn’t the case. Maybe she could be free to love this child, no matter what its nature. Maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe not.
Claire wouldn’t get her hopes up. But the very thought of Finn loving her made her heart soar all the way to the clouds and back. Hope bloomed within her chest, swelling inside her, and threatened to rack her small frame. She relished the feeling of utter relief. What if it wasn’t true?
Goodness, there was so much to think about. Did it all come down to faith? Did it all come down to the Unpardonable Errors? Maybe the Unpardonable Errors needed to be rewritten. Maybe that would relieve her of this feeling of rocking on open sea with nothing more than a plank of wood beneath her.
The door to her heart’s desire. What was her bloody heart’s desire? She didn’t have a clue. But then she laid a hand on her stomach again and felt for the new life that grew there. Could this child have everything she didn’t? Could this child have two loving parents? Could this child move from one world to the other? Who knew?
The biggest question to be answered was: Could Claire accept that this was going to be her new life? She didn’t care about her own happiness. But her child’s happiness mattered more than the next breath she would take.
Ronald suddenly emerged on the garden path. The gnome had a way of insinuating himself into family matters. He’d been with the family for a very long time. And though he often vexed her, she gazed at him fondly. He was the only one who knew about her night with Finn. And he hadn’t told anyone. “Ronald.” She acknowledged him with a nod of her head, and he stepped out of the foliage.
“Miss Thorne,” he said with a bow. “I trust you are well.”
Claire rolled her eyes at him. “You know very well how I am at all times, Ronald. Don’t ask me questions you already know the answers to.” She brushed down a lock of hair on the top of his head. It had a tendency to stand up straight and always had. He smiled at her. “You heard the exchange with my father.”
“Your father, now, is he?” Ronald grinned.
Claire sighed heavily. “I suppose he is.”<
br />
“How is the babe you carry?” Ronald asked softly.
Claire placed a hand to her stomach. “How did you know about that?”
“Do you remember that I told you what’s done in the dark will always come to the light?” He nodded toward her belly. “I think your light is going to shine on you whether you want it to or not.”
Claire sat down and toyed with the leaves of a nearby bush. “Tell me what to do, Ronald.”
“Have you told him yet?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know how.”
“Why don’t you try this: ‘My dear husband-to-be, I have a surprise for you.’”
Claire laughed. “How do you think he’d take it?”
“How do you think he’d take it?” He glared at her.
“Do you think he’ll be angry?” She chewed on her lower lip.
“The man’s in love with you, Claire. You could stand on your head in the middle of crowded ballroom and sing ‘One Fae Night,’ and he’d probably join you.” Ronald gazed up at her. “Don’t let what happened with your parents affect your future. Your grandfather put the wheels of change in motion before he died because he wanted to unite the two worlds. Don’t let his efforts be in vain.”
“How’d you get to be so smart, Ronald?” Claire asked. Ronald was full of pride, and his chest puffed up even more when he received compliments.
“When you’ve lived a few hundred years, you learn a few things.”
“Why didn’t you ever marry, Ronald?” Claire asked.
“What makes you think I didn’t?”
Ronald disappeared into the foliage as quickly as he’d arrived. Ronald, married? It couldn’t be. She’d always seen him as solitary. Perhaps she was wrong.
Claire walked back to the house and asked a housemaid if she knew where she could find her father. Forming a relationship with him was as good a place to start as any.
“I believe you’ll find him in his paint studio, my lady. He goes there most afternoons.”
The maid pointed her toward where her father was located in the big manor house, and Claire went to find it. She stood in the doorway and knocked softly. “Father?” she said.
He smiled. “Did you need something?”
“Not really. I just wanted to see what you’re painting.”
He turned the easel toward her and showed her a family portrait he was working on. “It’s not done yet. But it’ll look like this when I’m done.” He held out a sketch drawing. It was Lord and Lady Ramsdale, her mother and father, she had to remind herself, and all their children. “I thought we might hang it in the grand salon.”
Claire sniffled.
“Do you want to help me mix some paints for it?”
Claire nodded. If she tried to speak right now, she would break. Into a million pieces. But he seemed to recognize that and pushed a mortar and pestle into her hands, instead of talking with her. He ran a hand down the back of her head, and they began to mix paints.
Twenty-Two
Claire looked up from the book she was reading when a knock sounded on the door. Her mother stood there in the corridor. And her younger sister Hannah and her even younger sister Rose. Rose was the sister who was fae and had lived in a human world with no magic her whole life. Her parents had found a way to keep one of their fae children. Hannah was human.
“Can we take a moment of your time?” her mother asked.
Claire laid her book to the side and moved her feet to the floor to free up the other end of the settee. “Of course.”
Claire hadn’t spent much time with her sisters, not in the days since she’d come to live at Ramsdale House. They were constantly about, but their governess and nurses kept them reined in well and didn’t let them bother the guests. Claire could assume she wasn’t a guest anymore. She was a daughter of the household, just like they were, for goodness sake.
Her mother motioned toward Rose. “Rose was just wondering if you might consider giving her lessons on the basics of faerie dust. She’s got a lot of catching up to do.”
Claire shook her head. She still didn’t have any dust. But then her mother held out a shimmering vial of magic, and Claire took it in her hand. “Where did this come from?”
“Marcus sent Ronald back to the land of the fae to retrieve it.” Rose held a vial in her hand as well.
“Be careful with that,” Claire warned.
Hannah giggled. “She’s been walking on eggshells all day.”
Claire turned to her mother. “Why didn’t you give her the lessons?”
“I can give her some, but it has been many years since I used mine. I’m afraid I’m a little out of practice.”
Magic was as essential to Claire as her right arm. She couldn’t imagine getting “out of practice.” But she couldn’t imagine being banished from the fae, either. It was still a possibility, so she had better not think too highly of herself. “What would you like to know how to do?”
“Can you really read people’s thoughts?”
Claire nodded. “You can, but be careful with that one. You might find out things you don’t want to know. The truth can be painful at times. Only use it on your missions, and never on your family.”
“Can you show me?”
“It only works on humans.” She motioned Hannah forward. “Hannah, will you permit me to show everyone what’s in your thoughts?”
Hannah nodded and nearly danced in place at the thought of it. Claire poured some faerie dust into her hand and closed her eyes. She said one single word. “Truth.” Then she gave a great heaving blow and blew the dust into the air above Hannah’s head. Flickering specks of magic began to take shape, like actors on a stage, except they were glimmery clouds of living, breathing dust. Apparently, Hannah was prone to thinking about biscuits and milk. And she often snuck to the kitchens in the middle of the night to get some.
“Hannah,” her mother warned.
“Sorry,” the girl muttered, but she was all smiles. “That’s some wonderful magic.”
“Can I try it?” Rose asked.
“We already know Hannah is thinking about raiding the kitchen,” Claire said with a laugh. She ruffled the girl’s hair, and Hannah beamed under her attention. “We need a human.”
“Could you use me?” a voice called from the doorway.
“Finn,” Claire said as she jumped to her feet. Her heart leaped as she walked over to him. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I know. I just stopped by to talk with your father. I heard you from the foyer and wanted to see you.”
Claire’s heart did that pitter-patter thing that was so common when he was around. Would she ever grow accustomed to him? To his presence in her life? Probably not. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said truthfully.
“Did you want to test your magic on me, Rose?” He sat down on the edge of a chair and tugged one of Hannah’s curls.
“That’s probably not a good idea,” Claire’s mother said nervously. She sent Claire a pointed glance. “Whatever has been in your thoughts most recently is what will display. Or it could be some deeply buried truth.”
He held his hands out to the side. “I have nothing to hide.” He nudged Rose’s knee with his. She quickly pulled the stopper on the bottle of shimmer and dumped a small amount into her hand. Claire reached for her arm to stop her. “The magic is yours. The dust is just the catalyst that takes the magic from you to the object. Do you understand?”
Claire’s mother said, “What she’s trying to tell you is that you need to think long and hard about what you want before you blow the dust into the air. Only by having a clearly defined objective in your head can you be successful. So, clear everything else from your mind, and you can give it a try.” She nodded in encouragement.
Rose closed her eyes tightly and cleared
every thought from her head. Then she concentrated on what she wanted, which was the truth. Then with a great exhale, she blew the dust into the air.
The cloud of magic suspended there in the air, not taking shape. But then Rose remembered and said, “Truth!”
The dust began to take shape.
Claire watched it closely, trying to figure out what the shapes were doing. There was a scene of Finn and Claire dancing in a ballroom. And then it morphed into a scene of Finn and Claire in a carriage, riding through the park. Then the scene changed into something else entirely. There was a bed in the middle of the room, and Finn and Claire stood next to it.
Claire’s mother jumped to her feet and swiped her hand through the air. The magic dispensed like clouds on a rainy day. Finn wore a bemused expression. “Sorry,” he murmured.
Heat crept up Claire’s face.
Her mother said, “His lordship must be thinking about how they’ll decorate the bedchamber in their new house.”
Finn grinned unrepentantly. “Most assuredly. I do like the color blue.”
“Why did you stop it?” Rose asked. “I had just done it right for the first time.”
“Darling, his lordship has a meeting with your father. He doesn’t want to keep him waiting. You can practice on him again another time.”
***
Finn highly doubted that she would let her daughters anywhere near him with magic dust again. He bit back a grin and tried to appear regal and calm as Lady Ramsdale ushered the girls from the room. Then laughter burst from his chest like water over a dam. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” he laughed. “I thought I could maintain my thoughts, but the longer I looked at you, the more they wandered. Then all I could think about was getting you back into my bed.”
He crossed the room quickly and jerked Claire to him. “I’ve missed you,” he said as he kissed her lips gently, his hands bracketing her face. She laid her hands on his chest, and when he would have pulled back, she jerked him back to her.