Page 51 of The Seer

“But then I started coming here to see Brenna, so how did you manage to remain unharmed?” she asked.

“They were a bit more lax after all this time. Likely knowin’ ya wouldn’t have me after no contact for over twenty years, but I can’t say with all certainty.” He stroked her hair, her jaw, her neck, anything he could touch, trying to convince himself she was really here, in his arms. “I tried to keep the feelin’s buried, hidin’ them even from meself. Any other way was misery.”

“But you said you thought about me every day. How did they miss that?”

“When you came to visit, I’d duck into this room or the changin’ room upstairs, where they couldn’t access my thoughts.” He gave a half smile. “I allowed meself forty minutes, no more, no less.”

“You really do love me,” she whispered with wonder, almost as if she could hardly believe it.

“Aye.”

Her smile was the summer sun in winter. “Good. Now tell me about this plan to retrieve Bloodstone’s necklace.”

“You aren’t going to say it in return?” he asked, experiencing a small amount of outrage that she hadn’t told him she loved him yet.

“No,” she said archly. “I said I forgive you for leaving me waiting, not that I’m ready to lay my heart at your feet to be trampled again.”

“Ouch.” Fisting her hair, he rolled on top of her. When his nose was less than an inch from hers and his body was cradled by her thighs, he said, “At least promise you’re bammin’ me about dating that bastard?”

She giggled.

He growled.

“I’m not above chainin’ ya to me bed, Taryn-Taryn.”

“I’m not above letting you, Fintan Sullivan.” A sly smile curled her lips. “Now, maybe you should prove that five-note orgasm claim.”

With a bark of laughter, he pulled away. “Not until you tell me you love me. I’m holdin’ that one in check.”

“Rude.”

CHAPTER17

Taryn was reticent to tell Fintan she loved him, and she didn’t need to examine why. Too many times in the past, she’d freely given her affection, only to have her soul battered and abused. Trusting someone to keep her heart safe no longer came as easily for a woman in her forties as it did for her younger self.

At nineteen, she’d viewed everything through romance-tinted glasses. A look, a touch, a sigh—they all sparked dreams. But later in life, longing looks were met with skepticism. She tended to overanalyze or dismiss overtures for fear of being wrong and appearing a fool.

“Men aren’t much different,aoibhneas mo croí.We fear rejection, too. Maybe more. Women are emotionally stronger because they’ve had to be, yeah?” Fintan said.

She silently cursed their damned link. It would be better to keep her worries to herself, but she was failing spectacularly at it.

“You’ll be better with practice,” he assured her, extending a hand to help her stand. Tugging her close, he touched his forehead to hers. “Sure, and it’s maddening now, but we’ll work on it. And if you’re absolutely opposed to Fate’s gift, we’ll find a way to sever it.”

He’d made it sound like rejecting Fate’s gift was akin to rejecting him, though his words were meant to be supportive. Why did she suddenly feel like the worst sort of bitch?

“I’m not one-hundred percent opposed, but I don’t necessarily love that you can hear my every thought either.”

“Do you want me to pretend I don’t hear ya, then?”

His compassion and understanding ran deep, and Taryn appreciated his unexpected kindness.

“No,” she said, resigned. “That would be worse and feel too much like a lie.”

“Let’s call Damian and ask for a spell to filter such things,” he replied. His lopsided smile zinged through her, but she ignored the pesky attraction because it came with commitment she wasn’t ready for.

“Do you think that’s possible, Fintan? That perhaps I can prevent your access to my deeper emotions?”

He frowned, and Taryn reevaluated her comment.

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