She didn't dare give him the shawl she'd just been given, and he had no use for her hairpins or her earrings. Of course! Her fingers tore at her collar. She yanked at the silver chain about her neck until the medallion came loose. Then she kissed the medallion, hoping the saint would understand, and gently laid the medallion in Finn's burned and blistered hand. "An offering," she told him. "I'm offering it to you."
He instantly seemed to breathe easier. His fingers curled about it, an action that looked painful to her. He spoke louder this time. "What is it?"
"It's my Saint Anne medallion," she told him. "I've had it since my confirmation."
"Which one's Saint Anne?"
Tears stung her eyes. How could giving him an old piece of silver help? "She's the Virgin's mother. The patron saint of horsemen."
He chuckled, and that turned into a cough. When it stilled, his eyes remained closed. His muscles fell slack. He'd fallen asleep.
The burns from the rope seemed less violently red now. The burns to his lower legs--from the ring of fire that had surrounded them--were blistered though, and did look terribly painful. His left hand was equally burned, but when she looked at his right, the one that held the medallion, she saw that his fingers looked almost normal. She saw no sign of the blisters that had been there a few minutes before.
She wanted to open out his hand to check his palm, but was afraid to interfere. She laid her hands on her thighs and watched him instead. His breathing was slow and deep. She closed her eyes and made a wordless prayer of thanks, unsure whether Saint Anne was the one who sped his recovery. He had healed quickly in her hotel room without any interference from the saint.
Cool wetness brushed her face. Lourdes opened her eyes. All about her, snow had begun to fall again. She had seen little snow in her life. Her travels through Spain had been during summer months, and South Texas wasn't known for its cold winters. She watched heavy clumps of snow fall from the sky. She held out her hands, gasping with childish pleasure when she caught some in her palm. She held her hand close to her eyes to examine the delicate flakes. "Beautiful," she breathed.
The flakes melted in her hand. She stuck out her tongue and caught a flake on the tip of it. It had almost no taste, but suddenly her thirst was assuaged, as if she'd drunk a canteen full. She hadn't realized until then how thirsty she'd been, worried as she was about Finn.
She turned back to him. The snow settled on his skin, melting the same as it had on hers. What should she do? She didn't know if this would help him or not. Was it too cold? She chewed her lower lip, and then made up her mind.
She settled on the ground next to him and shook out the oversized shawl so that it fell over both of them. Somehow it was exactly large enough to cover them both, and she felt as warm as if she were in her bed back on a sultry summer night in Texas.
Lourdes closed her eyes and slept.
Part 7
Lourdes woke to Finn's lips on her neck. She felt languorous, voluptuous, with this large man cradling her in her arms. She felt desired. When he pulled away, Lourdes reluctantly opened her eyes. His dark eyes were heavy lidded. His hand slid up her side and one dark brow quirked upward, his question clear.
Gasping, Lourdes pulled away to see Finn better. The burns across his face were gone. She reached for his hand and tugged it out from under the shawl that covered them. They looked just as they had when she'd first met him--perfectly normal. "The burns are all healed," she protested. "How is that possible?"
His hand slid out of her grasp and returned to caressing her hip. "Is that important just now, my dear? Now, this isn't the dinner I had planned, but you did promise me a decision."
She'd worked out a nice speech in her mind, listing all the conditions she wanted. But it seemed like an eternity had passed between then and now, and her recollection of her terms had faded. She pushed away the overgrown shawl, got to her feet, and gazed down at him. First, the list. "I have three conditions, and if you agree to them all, I will be your wife."
He sat up, the shawl covering his lap, saving her blushes. "I'm listening."
"If there are children," she began, "I want them raised with a respect for the Church."
"Hasn't killed Imogen," he said with a shrug of one shoulder. "I can accept that. They may not be able to go inside one, though."
Diantres! Was there some prohibition against that for fairies? Like the iron? "Can you not?"
His lips twisted wryly. "I step over the threshold, I'll turn up sick as a dog."
So there would be no wedding in a church. Lourdes mentally crossed that off her list. "Very well. Secondly, there will be no other women."
His dark lashes lowered. "You wasted that condition, my dear. Should I make an oath to you, I could never break it. But I agree anyway."
She should have thought of that. She swallowed anxiously and dared to add, "You will not lay hands on me in anger."
"I have never struck a woman," he said, sounding offended. His eyes narrowed. "Who hit you?"
She felt color rising in her cheeks. "My brother lost his temper sometimes. He…"
Finn rose gracefully, shawl clutched in one hand, and came to stand only a foot from her, an intimidating presence. His nostrils were white. "Did he hurt you?"
Lourdes looked down. "He only hit me once, but I have seen how that can go if unchecked. I will not put up with…"
"If he ever comes onto my land, I will break every bone in his hands."
She would have to write to Chuy and tell him so. That would keep him away. She lifted her eyes to meet Finn's. "Thank you."
"So do we have a deal? I will agree to your conditions," Finn said, "if you will marry me."
She had no doubt in her heart that Finn meant those words. Those three conditions were far more than most women got when they married. By his very nature, Finn must honor them, although he might follow them to the letter rather than honoring their spirit. Lourdes nodded firmly. "I would like you to ask me properly," she told him. "To marry you, I mean. I would like you to propose to me."
His eyes narrowed. "You said you had three conditions," he pointed out. "Not four."
"You said the second one didn't truly count."
"I said it was wasted, my dear. That doesn't mean it doesn't count."
She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin. "Shall we begin negotiating when and if I'll allow you into my bed?"
His smile broadened and he promptly dropped to one knee. He took her hand in his. "A woman after my own heart, you are. Lourdes Medina, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?"
She was hearing a proposal from an unclothed man in the middle of a meadow. Well, an unclothed puca, for whatever that was worth. There was something so ridiculous about this entire situation that Lourdes was tempted to laugh. She kept it in, though--he wouldn't appreciate it. "Yes. I merely wanted to hear you ask."
He rose again and grinned down at her. He flipped the oversized shawl over her head and used it to draw her against him. "Now, my dear, shall we seal the bargain?"
With his hips snuggly pressed against her stomach now, there was no doubt exactly how he meant that. "We'll wait until we're married."
"I don't think I can wait, my dear," he said with a rueful shake of his head.
"Men always say that sort of thing," she said. "If your mother were to reappear at this moment, I suspect you'd find that you can wait. I'm willing to have a judge marry us quickly once we return, and then…"
"'tis not what I meant, my darling," he said. "No matter how enticing you are, I could wait to bed you…if only it weren't my life in question."
Now she didn't know whether he was telling her the truth. "Your life?"
"Back in the human world, I don't know what day it is. If we return unwed and 'tis past Friday, I will have broken my word to my mother."
"It's only been a day." She hadn't had anything to eat or drink since she'd come through the door between here and there. Since she wasn't starving, she didn't think t
oo much time had passed, no matter how long it seemed she'd been walking. "Not even that, I'm sure."
"Here, perhaps." He caressed her cheek, and Lourdes felt her braid come loose, even though he'd not touched it. "Time isn't the same here," he told her, "whoever controls the realm shapes time to their will. Could be a day has passed, my dear, but it could be a year, too, with my mother pushing forward the clock."
Lourdes recalled Brighid's ragged child who looked a century out of date. She wondered if the boy had no idea how much time had passed, thinking it only a day or two. "Is that the truth?"
"I swear it on my blood," Finn said. "When we get back, I will stand through the judge's words and not say a single thing amiss, if you will lie with me now."
"Are you offering me a bargain?"
He smiled. "Yes."
He would be bound by that, just as he was his promises to his mother. "And that will count as marriage in your mother's eyes?"
"It will in my eyes, which is what truly counts."
She didn't know enough about the rules that governed his world to debate his reasoning. Given the bargain he offered, she was willing to bend her own rules. Of course it was daylight now, and they were out in the middle of a meadow. She had never done anything so brazen in her entire life. But she wanted him--no point in lying to herself about that--and she simply couldn't think of any reason to argue further. "Then I'll accept your offer."
He sank to his knees, carrying her down with him so that she ended up straddling his thighs. It brought his face level with hers. "I promise I'll try not to disappoint you, my darling."
The word 'try' bought him a great deal of leeway, but she considered the promise a great gift. His arm slid around her waist, and she felt the button at her skirt's waist come loose before he even touched it. She began to jerk away, but his lips brushed hers and all thought of modesty fled. Lourdes wrapped her arms about his neck, and did her best not to disappoint him.
***
He had found a stream for her to wash in, although he'd warned her not to drink the water. She wasn't thirsty, even having been involved in such exertion as they'd just shared, so she wasn't tempted to ignore his warning.
She smiled to herself. He had pleased her in every way, a far cry from her first encounter with Diego which had been awkward, if ardent. She had loved Diego with all the passion of her eighteen-year-old heart. She'd never thought to feel that again.
She paused, the end of her braid in her fingers, not yet pinned up. She had fallen in love with Finn. She hadn't meant to. She had made up her mind to marry him, believing that mere attraction and friendship would suffice. Many marriages didn't even have that. But she could hope for more. Perhaps he would return her feelings in time.
"Your hair is lovely down," Finn said in her ear, startling her. He'd come up behind her without her hearing him.
"And if I put it back up now," she said firmly, "you're the only man who will see it that way."
"Hmmm." He was nuzzling the back of her neck again, one hand on her hip now. "I can see the value in that." He turned her loose.
Diantres! He'd caused her hair to fall out of its braid again. She had to start over. She sighed, slid her hairpins into a pocket and began braiding, resolutely not looking at him. He was still nude, and Lourdes felt heat surge up her face on seeing him there. She might have gained some familiarity with that body, but that didn't mean she was as comfortable with his nudity as he clearly was.
"Still think you've made a good bargain?" Finn asked, one brow arched.
"Yes," she responded as calmly as she could manage. "Now, where is my shawl?"
He took a few steps and retrieved it from the rocks where she'd laid it at the stream's edge. "Shawl?"
She took it when he held it out. It was still the size of a blanket, so she grasped one edge in both of her hands and shook it. The black cotton flapped, sounding like the wings of a dozen birds, folding and converging on itself until she held a shawl in her hands. Lourdes held it away from her body for a moment, eyes wide. She hadn't expected that. She took a deep breath to calm herself, settled the thing about her shoulders, and knotted it.
"I know you're a witch," Finn said in a cautious voice, "but that's not your sort of talent. Where did you get that?"
Lourdes paused. Had she told him of his mother's visit? Would he be angry, since he didn't seem to care for his mother's interference? She straightened the ends of the shawl. The topic hadn't come up, now that she considered it. They had been involved with…other things. "She was here," Lourdes admitted. "She gave it to me."
"Who?"
"The Lady of the Snow," she said hesitantly. "My abuela made this shawl, but the Lady did something to it."
His face remained impassive, as if he wasn't sure of his reaction either. "It was a gift?"
"Yes."
"You talked to her?"
Lourdes chewed her lower lip. This didn't seem to be going well. "Yes."
"What did you promise her? What did she offer you?"
Lourdes pressed her lips together then. The exact words were important. "Nothing. I had captured Brighid, and she took her."
He grinned. "I saw that, my dear, before I collapsed. I've never seen a rope used quite that way before. Will you teach me?"
"Later," she said.
His grin faded. "Did she force you to come here?"
"To this place?" Lourdes opened her hands to indicate the forest about them. "No, I followed because I was worried for you. I heard you. You were frightened, in pain."
His head lifted. "I was not frightened."
Vain man. She folded her arms over her chest. "Then why could you not escape the grasp of a boy who surely didn't weigh sixty pounds?"
"I didn't have much choice, did I now?" He folded his arms over his chest, and she didn't think he'd done so to mock her. He must feel defensive about being captured. "I could let him put that noose around my neck or I could trample him to death. I'm not so fond of killing children as you must think, even those who are fairy minions."
"You walked into a trap," she guessed.
"I did." He actually flushed. "I like children."
Perhaps he should take up a career as a circus horse. Lourdes didn't suggest that, though.
"Thank you, then, for coming after me." He reached over and touched the edge of her shawl. "This is very valuable, so be careful of it. It's a gift fit for a queen."
It simply looked like her old shawl now. "How so?"
"I suspect that with it you will never be cold and you will never lack for shelter," he said. "It will grow to any size you need and, if I'm not much mistaken, my dear, it will come to your call."
An impressive list. "Can she just make things do that?"
He chuckled. "She's powerful, my mother. You've no idea what she can do."
She was beginning to have an idea. Lourdes gazed down at the old black shawl, its flowers embroidered in vivid wines and pinks. Hadn't it been a touch faded before? She'd always had trouble with the silk embroidered flowers snagging on everything about her. But now she couldn't see a single snag among the threads. She felt her brows drawing together. Was this even her shawl? Or something made to look like it?
"Don't worry, my dear," Finn said. "It's protective. It won't harm you."
Now he spoke of the shawl as if it were alive. Lourdes felt a chill run down her spine. She would have to become accustomed to the thing, alive or not.
Finn laughed at her expression. "She must like you to give you such a grand gift, my dear."
Lourdes suspected the fairy had given her a gift more because she cared for Finn than for any particular liking of Lourdes Medina. She smoothed shaking fingers over one of the embroidered roses. Time to focus on getting home. "How do we get back, Finn? To the farm?"
He grinned. "I suspect you shall have to ride me, my dear, as I can think of no polite way to explain my lack of clothing." He took her medallion and pressed it into her palm. "Keep this for me. I cannot carry it through the cha
nge."
She lifted the chain and settled the medallion about her neck as he stepped back. "Will you tell me one thing?" His eyebrows rose, so she added, "Will you tell me your true name?"
That gave him pause. She could see his hesitation. So it would give her power over him. That was why Brighid had asked if she knew, a way to determine whether Finn trusted her or not. "You don't need to tell me," she said quickly. "I understand."
Without warning, a wind whipped past her, and suddenly Finn stood before her in horse form. The stream had frozen over near where he waited. But even though her breath steamed on the air, she didn't feel cold. Had the shawl kept her from feeling that?
Lourdes lifted her eyes. His wounds were healed, his chestnut hide sleek. He knelt down in the grasses, unblemished, lowering himself so that she could mount. She settled astride his back, knotted her fingers into his mane--which felt exactly like his hair, and held on as he pushed himself to his feet. She felt muscles surge as he broke into a smooth gallop and felt her face flame as she thought of those same muscles on him as a man.
He took off across the meadows at a steady pace, the grasses flying past under his feet. Her spirits soared with the sudden sense of freedom. This time they weren’t running for their lives. They were going home.
They had come some distance when a hole opened before them, like that one she'd seen in the stable back on his farm. Finn paused before it. There was darkness on the other side, but surely…
The Folly, Finn told her. Imogen's farm.
Home, Lourdes realized. He trotted toward it, leaping at the last moment.
And Lourdes came off his back, landing in the meadow grasses with a thump that would leave bruises all along her other side. She groaned and, when she pushed herself up, she saw that the hole in the world was already gone. She was trapped here, without Finn to take her home.
She took a deep breath and wiped a weary hand across her face. Diantres!
No, this called for something stronger. "Qué diablos?" she shouted, stamping one foot on the soft earth. It wasn't satisfying, but she felt better.
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