"Why have you never married before?" she asked. A stand of pine trees hid them from the road down which he'd run, so no one would see her talking to her horse, a fortuitous bit of privacy. She felt foolish anyway.
The horse walked on, hooves thudding in the soft earth, and for a long time he didn't answer. Lourdes wondered if she'd gone too far with that question. It was terribly personal, and she'd only known him for a few days.
It was not required of me, he finally answered.
He was only considering it because he no longer had a choice in the matter. That wasn't the most auspicious start. At least he was being honest with her. "What happens if you do not?"
I will die.
Lourdes cringed at that harsh statement. Would he suddenly drop dead at midnight on Friday? Or would it be a slow lingering death? Now she knew why Imogen had looked so stricken when she'd asked. It was almost enough to make Lourdes agree out of hand. She didn't want to see Finn dead, no matter how vexing he could be.
"You had a year, didn't you? This is your own fault for putting it off." Her voice sounded strident to her own ears. "Can you change back? I feel ridiculous talking to a horse about such matters."
Suddenly she was falling to the ground in a maelstrom of heat. Finn managed both to regain human form and twist about at the same moment. Lourdes landed atop his bare chest as his arms closed about her.
For a moment she struggled to breathe, her mind whirling. No one would ever discover it should she lie with him right now, here, should she allow him to have his way. And she was considering marrying the man. Surely God would forgive one slip after years of patience. Surely…
First things first, she reminded herself. "Finn," she said, managing to keep the tremble in her voice to a minimum, "do you actually want me for a wife?"
"Would I pursue you if I didn't want you?"
That wasn't much of an answer. She pushed away from him and managed to lever herself up into a sitting position on the grass. He rolled onto his side, apparently unconcerned about being naked before her. They couldn't be seen from the road, but she still felt uncomfortable. "Why me?" she asked. "Why not one of the women who lives in this town? You've had a whole year."
"You're not like the women here," he said. "Most of them are just trained to find a husband, and not much else. But you're a horsewoman, through and through. You have callouses on your hands that prove that's not just words. It's in your blood, too, else you'd not be able to talk to them as you do."
She felt her cheeks warming. The way he said it made it a compliment. "Is that important to you?"
"Yes," he said with half a shrug. "All I know of this world is horses. I cannot imagine spending my hours and days otherwise. And I would not want a woman who didn't understand that."
Ah, a man who didn't care for all those feminine arts she hadn't developed. While she'd had just enough training in dancing and needlework to placate Diego's family, she had never enjoyed either of those occupations.
Finn's lips curved upward. One of his hands slid along her side and he shifted closer to her hip. "And too, I would not mind bedding you at all. I like a woman with some softness about her."
Lourdes felt her face burning now. Was the man trying to embarrass her to death? She put a few more inches between them.
"Now come back here, my dear," Finn said in a soothing tone, his hand sliding back to her waist. "What harm is there? No one would know, only us."
Exactly what she'd been thinking a moment before. Lourdes lowered her eyes, unable to look at him. She wondered if he knew, like a horse could hear her. That would be grossly unfair, since she had no idea what went on inside his not-human head. "No. I can't. I need more time."
To her relief, he moved away from her. She breathed easier then. She hadn't been frightened of him, but was very aware she was at his mercy. She could change her mind if she wished. "I am running out of time," he said.
"I know that." She gazed at him a moment longer. "Is this what you truly look like?"
He made a grand gesture, encompassing the length of his body. "I am as you see me."
The man had no shame at all. None. And his answer didn't tell her what she sought. "Does a fairy not look different from a human? Is that something you can answer?"
"I take after my father," he said with a shrug.
Another useless answer. She gazed down at his face. "How old are you?"
His lips pressed together disapprovingly. "Now do you really need to know that, my dear?"
"I want to know," she told him. He wasn't happy that she'd asked. She could tell that much.
"I don't know exactly," he finally said.
More evasion. "Estimate, then."
His jaw clenched. "Time isn't the same there, so I don't know how old I was when I escaped my mother and came to the human world. Somewhere about two hundred and twenty."
Lourdes felt like she'd been kicked in the stomach. She had trouble getting in a breath. She pushed herself to her feet and walked a few steps away.
She had thought he would say sixty. Perhaps even seventy. Two hundred and twenty? That was impossible, wasn't it? She made some mental calculations. Two hundred and twenty meant he would have been born before 1700. He would have been born before her ancestors left Spain, long before Texas had won its independence. It was impossible, but…
She turned and saw that he'd risen but hadn't come after her, giving her some space. Horrified, she stared at his face, his unlined features and bright eyes. "You'll never grow old."
"I don't know," Finn said.
Her mind felt slow, like it was trapped in molasses. "You'll never grow old."
"It hardly matters, my dear. I can look as old as I want."
Lourdes wanted to cry, and she wasn't even certain why. The wind whispered through the pines as she tried to comprehend what was so wrong with the idea of marrying him.
It wasn't that he wouldn't grow old and die. That wasn't the problem. It was that she would.
She would grow old and die while he lived on, looking the same age he did now. Her abuela had lived past eighty, and the woman had been healthy until her heart gave out, but she hadn't been pretty any longer. She'd been handsome, and then stern, and then rather wizened. Lourdes suspected she would be much the same at eighty. She couldn't imagine being married to a man like Finn when she looked like her abuela. And while he'd said he could look as old as he wanted, that wasn't the same as being old. He wouldn't have the aching joints, the twisted hands. He would be a man in his prime, married to an old crone.
That was why his mother had chosen someone like Brighid for his bride. The red-haired woman was like him, eternally young, a far better match.
Lourdes turned back to face him, her answer on her lips.
He stood close enough to touch now. She had to crane her neck, but managed to keep her eyes on his face. "I can die, Mrs. Medina," he said. "I break one promise and I'll waste away, or perhaps I'll simply drop dead. I've never seen it happen, myself, but I've been thinking on that a great deal this last year, thinking it might be my best choice."
His best choice? "You'd rather die than marry?"
"I'd rather die than marry certain women." He sighed, and added, "Marriage is serious business for our kind. We cannot betray our oaths, so it's a decision we must live with until death. I'd not met any woman who'd caught my fancy this year, not one I'd want to stay with forever. So why not just let myself die instead?"
Madre de Dios, he meant that. She could see it in his eyes. How awful. She wondered if Miss Doherty knew that--that Finn would chose death before marriage to her. "But you only need to marry, don't you? Not to stay a day past the wedding."
He looked sheepish. "My mother demanded that I father at least two children."
She'd forgotten this was about children. She wasn't sure if she was appalled, or if she admired the pragmatism of his mother's bargain. This way he couldn't abandon his wife the day after the ceremony. "And then you can go on your way."
; His jaw clenched. "I wasn't allowed to have anything to do with Imogen's upbringing. I'd rather know any other children I have."
And that meant staying around. "Would you make the effort to be an agreeable husband?"
He crossed his arms over his bare chest. "Would you make the effort to be an agreeable wife?"
Until this moment, it would never have occurred to her to do anything else. Weren't wives simply expected to be agreeable? "I would if my husband did the same."
His eyes narrowed. "Are you offering a bargain?"
Bargains were important to fairies; she knew that from the book, so she needed to be careful how she answered. "I haven't even agreed to marry you yet."
His lips twisted, suggesting irritation. "I see. And when do you plan to make up your mind?"
Despite his destruction of her property, she'd been ready to say yes to him. She had…before he confessed his age. Now she needed to rethink her decision. She took a deep breath. "Give me one more day," she asked. "I will tell you what I've decided tomorrow."
Judging by his expression, he wasn't happy about that, but Lourdes wasn't going to back down. She'd only known the man for three days. And he had four more days left, didn't he? He could wait one more. She lifted her chin and met his eyes. "Now, please take me back to where my horse and your clothes are waiting."
One of his dark brows rose. "Well, as I'm working on being more agreeable, I'll do so."
Part 5
Imogen seemed startled to see Lourdes back in one piece from her lunch visit to Finn's farm. Lourdes assured the woman that her father had done nothing untoward, which wasn't quite true, but was what Imogen wanted to hear.
"I was worried he might try to seduce you," Imogen said. "I don't mean to imply you're a woman who would do such a thing, but his kind can be extremely persuasive."
His kind? "Like your husband?"
Imogen's lashes lowered and she flushed. "I have to admit my resolve wasn't as strong as yours."
Oh, dear. Lourdes laid her embroidered shawl on the guest room bed. "I have a great deal to consider before I give him my decision, and he was willing to give me more time."
"Amazing," Imogen said under her breath.
"He is very accustomed to getting his way, isn't he?" Lourdes sat on the edge of the bed and gazed up at her hostess. "Can you tell me how old your husband is?"
Imogen's lips pressed together. "He was nineteen when I was born."
That wasn't much of a gap, even if it made him almost old enough to be her father. Gorey--Finn had told her it was spelled Guaire, which couldn't possibly be right--didn't look much past thirty, even though he must be near fifty. "Finn said he's not sure exactly how old he is, but it's around two hundred and twenty."
"Ah," Imogen said softly. She sat on the bed next to Lourdes and reached out to touch the flowers embroidered on the scarf. "Gorey and I are aging. Not as fast as someone without…" She grimaced, reminding Lourdes that the woman still labored under a compulsion not to say certain things. "We're not aging as quickly as would normal people."
"Will Gorey age more slowly than you?" Lourdes asked. Imogen had explained that her husband had one human grandparent, making him only a quarter human, whereas Imogen was half.
Imogen shook her head. "There are precedents to his situation, and mine, but I don't believe anyone has done a study of the comparative rates of aging."
She'd said that with a laugh in her tone, so Lourdes didn't think she'd offended her.
"And with Finn I can't make any predictions," Imogen added. "He's not like his mother, but…"
"He's not human at all. It gives me pause now," Lourdes admitted. "I cannot begin to guess how I'll feel about it in a decade or two."
Imogen patted her hand and smiled wryly. "One never knows how one will feel about anything in a decade or two."
True. "Well, I promised to eat supper there tomorrow and give him an answer then."
"Heaven help you," Imogen said.
***
September 7, 1909
Tuesday morning the veranda at the United States Hotel was packed again, guests sitting in the many rocking chairs and watching the traffic on Broadway. By now they must all know of the destruction of her hotel room. Lourdes supposed it gave the gossips another reason to stare at the brown-skinned woman in the somber gray walking suit. She hoped they hadn't noticed it was the same suit she'd worn to mass two days before.
Her meeting with one of the hotel's directors and the house detective had gone smoothly. They hadn't figured out who had destroyed her property, nor did they know how, both of which were a relief to her. As the monies they'd offered her would more than pay for the comparatively worn clothing lost in the 'incident', as they kept calling it, Lourdes didn't quibble. The added funds would give her leeway when looking to purchase new garments.
As it was, she felt guilty taking the insurance company's funds, but if she refused they would ask questions she couldn't answer. How could she explain what Finn had done without revealing that he wasn't human? She wasn't going to expose him. He had, despite her qualms, become her friend, and…
She was going to accept his offer. She was.
She paused on the steps despite the curious eyes of the guests in their rocking chairs. She didn't need to accept Finn's offer to live tolerably for the rest of her life. She didn't need to marry at all. She could walk away from this now and never look back.
But there was a lot about his offer that attracted her, not the least Finn himself. She felt the corners of her lips turn upward as she recalled the risqué view she'd gotten the afternoon before. He certainly was an attractive man. She had no doubt that in his many years a goodly number of women had fallen willingly into his arms.
Of course, he hadn't actually offered. She was going to have to get him to do that first.
He would make a challenging husband, but he'd said he would try to be agreeable. And he had to uphold his bargains, didn't he? So surely she could deal with him if she made wise choices. And the issue of aging would have to be taken as it came.
Lourdes stood on the steps in the noontime sun and took a deep breath of the fall air. She was smiling rather foolishly, which must confound anyone looking up at her from Broadway. She felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders now that she'd made up her mind.
That feeling held until the motor car came around the corner to take her back to the O'Donnell farm. As she walked down the last few steps, a woman in a wide-brimmed hat approached along the walkway. She looked up, the hat tilting to reveal her red hair and pale skin.
Diantres! Lourdes managed not to cringe. Miss Doherty clearly had a knack for turning up where least wanted.
"Why it's Mrs. Medina," the woman said archly, loudly enough for the gossips near the steps to hear.
Lourdes inclined her head to the woman, unsure what trouble the creature intended to stir. "Miss Doherty."
The woman surveyed Lourdes' drab garments disdainfully. "Tell me, Mrs. Medina, has Mr. Finnegan tired of your company already? Or is he still pretending to admire your brown skin?"
Lourdes heard a gasp from someone nearby on the veranda, apparently appalled by such blatant rudeness. Lourdes didn't flinch. She'd heard it before. Was that the worst the woman had to throw at her? An insult about her appearance?
Miss Doherty stepped closer. "Do you really think his mother would allow someone like you to marry her son?"
Ah, the woman was trying to provoke a reaction. Lourdes kept her tone even. "I've no idea what his mother intends."
Miss Doherty regarded her with raised brows. "I would think she made her opinion clear enough when she visited your hotel room, Mrs. Medina."
She was trying to blame Finn's mother? How odd. Was it possible that Miss Doherty wasn't actually in league with Finn's mother? That Miss Doherty wasn't her choice? Being a couple of steps up still, Lourdes could actually look down on the woman. "I've not yet had the pleasure of meeting her, Miss Doherty. You must be mistaken."
/> "I sincerely doubt you'll ever have the…" Miss Doherty paused dramatically, as if seeking the proper word. "…pleasure of meeting her."
No, that didn't sound as if they were working together. "Time will tell," Lourdes answered cautiously.
Miss Doherty stepped closer, and a ragged-looking child peeked out from behind her skirts, a boy of no more than five or six. Something about his clothes struck Lourdes as wrong. He seemed oddly out of place next to Miss Doherty's elegant attire. Lourdes leaned to one side to catch a better look, but Miss Doherty spotted the child's hand clutching at her skirt. She quickly tugged it away and fixed the boy with a level gaze. He faded back behind her skirts, disappearing from view. Miss Doherty turned back to Lourdes. "Don't meddle in things that don't concern you, woman. I don't like being crossed."
If Miss Doherty intended to impress the audience on the veranda with her bad temper and rudeness, she'd done so. Lourdes didn't rise to the fight. Doing so would only provoke gossip about Finn he surely wouldn't appreciate. The driver still waited for her, holding open the car's door for her. Lourdes marched down the remaining steps. "Good day, Miss Doherty."
Miss Doherty grabbed Lourdes' arm as she passed. Lourdes stopped and looked up at the woman, noting the surprising strength in those slender fingers. Of the boy, she could see nothing.
"I'll get what I want," Miss Doherty said softly. "Don't be foolish enough to mistake that."
She was going to have bruises on that arm. "And he has no say in the matter?"
Miss Doherty laughed merrily, as if she'd heard a clever joke. Then she smiled sweetly. "Frankly, no, he hasn't."
She let go of Lourdes' arm and strode away down Broadway, her hand extended at her side as if she dragged along a child that Lourdes couldn't see. She didn't know what that woman had planned, but it didn't sound good for Finn.
***
She finally got some answers over lunch with Imogen O'Donnell. Apparently Finn had come over to the farm while Lourdes was in town, and he and his daughter had released each other from their promise not to speak of their unusual ancestry and its consequences. "He actually went back to the garden to talk to his mother," Imogen said. "He's never done that before."
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