Page 46 of The Seer

He didn’t know what she meant by the gesture. In her mind, she’d constructed a wall, blocking her thoughts, and on the outside, she masked her emotions with a tight smile. She was getting too bleeding good at shutting him out.

“Let’s get back to the subject we started before dinner. Why do you want me to introduce you to Micha Forsyth?”

Fintan hesitated as he considered how much he wanted to reveal. Directness could only help his situation, which Taryn required from friends and family. Still, tangling her up in his mess didn’t sit well.

“Just say it, Fintan. For fuck’s sake already,” she said, thoroughly exasperated.

Grinning, he picked up his utensils and cut into his steak.

“You’re not going to tell me?” she asked incredulously.

“Look, and I’ll be tellin’ ya, but when we are in private, yeah?”

Leaning forward, she glared. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m not sleeping with you for your magnificent library.”

“Sure, that would be a feckin’ shame, and it’s understandable, it is.” He nodded sagely. “I’ve a mind to gift it to ya anyway, but I won’t.”

She snorted, and her mouth curled before remembering that she was supposed to be vexed with him. “Keep your stupid B&B library.”

“B&B?”

“Beauty and the Beast.”

He waited. Once Taryn warmed to a subject, she would spill the beans. It didn’t take long.

“I’ve always thought it was the perfect story,” she said with a wry smile. “And I’ve had library envy my entire life.”

“And if I said I’m not familiar with the tale, what would you be tellin’ me?”

Her luscious lips curled into a genuine grin, and a sparkle entered her eyes. “Are you saying you’ve never heard of it or seen the movies? I’ll call you a damned liar.”

Fintan laughed. “I want to see it from your eyes.”

“Hm, okay. It’s about a woman who’s sick of her life in a small village. She trades herself to the wicked beast to save her father, only to discover Beast, that’s his name, isn’t as fearsome as he pretends. In fact, he’s a cursed prince and the biggest softie who ever lived. He cares for everyone around him.” She gave him a pointed look before resuming. “Anyway, Belle and Beast fall in love, but the horrid man who covets her decides to kill Beast. A battle ensues.”

“And?”

“Beast is gravely wounded, banging on death’s door. Belle, realizing too late that he’s the one, sobs over his lifeless body, declaring her love. Her tears break the curse on the castle’s occupants, Beast included, and he returns to his handsome-prince form.”

Her dramatic retelling amused Fintan. It was the small things. The way she leaned into him as she warmed to her story. How her hand flitted, and she touched his arm when she spoke of love. Her enchantment with the tale was relayed in the cadence of her speech, as was her enthusiasm to convey it.

“And the horrid man?” he asked.

Taryn’s eyes flared wide as if ready to impart a secret. “Well, Gaston, the clueless hunter, is vanquished.”

“As every evil scoundrel should be,” he agreed. “So you were in love with Beast as much as puir Belle?”

“What wasn’t to love? I mean, sure, he was grumbly initially, but his kindness came through in small ways, and he provided her with everything she could ever desire. They started as enemies but soon fell in love with each other’s inner beauty.”

“Like us?” he asked softly.

She hesitated, and he held his breath.

“I’ve never been your enemy, Fintan,” she replied, equally as soft. “Not once, even after you hurt me.”

“I’d take it back if I could.”

“But you can’t.” She picked up the fork she had abandoned. “And we’re not in love. We never were. Whatever feelings we experienced a half a lifetime ago were lust-related urges by kids just out of their teens. So let’s leave it in the past, okay?”

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