She scuttled past him and he continued toward the study. He didn’t stop to knock on the door but admitted himself. He startled, however, when he realized that Lord and Lady Ramsdale were present, as were Sophia, Claire, and their brother Marcus. Ronald and another woman Finn recognized as one of their servants occupied a space at the back of the room. Claire looked like she’d rather be presented to the guillotine than her parents.
“Robin,” Finn said. His brother smiled and embraced him quickly, and Finn shook hands with Lord Ramsdale and Claire’s brother. He bowed toward the ladies.
“Thank you for taking care of my daughter,” Lord Ramsdale said. “We hadn’t intended to stay as long as we did in the land of the fae, but there was a lot that needed to be taken care of.” He looked fondly upon his wife. Claire looked like being drawn and quartered would be preferable to standing next to them.
“No trouble at all,” Finn managed to say. Having them there was akin to having the rug pulled out from beneath his feet. Like tottering on the deck of a rolling ship. Like having his life snatched away. Like a great, yawning canyon had just been placed in the path between him and Claire.
Lord Ramsdale’s eyes narrowed at him, but he didn’t say anything more.
Claire looked down at her toes. He ached for her. This was painful, he could tell. “What are you all doing here?” she asked.
“We wanted to see you,” Lady Ramsdale said. “We had no idea where you’d gone. You just disappeared.”
“It’s a long story,” Claire began.
Finn interrupted. “A story best told over dinner, perhaps?” He turned toward Claire. “I came to collect you for our outing, Miss Thorne.” At her confused look, he continued as smoothly as possible. “You promised earlier today that you would accompany me to the art exhibit in town. Did you forget?”
Her eyes lit up. “Oh, how could I forget?” She smacked the heel of her hand against her forehead. “We have plans to visit the art exhibit. In town.” She laid a hand on Finn’s arm. Her touch shot straight to his heart. She was going to let him attempt to save her from the situation. Meaning she preferred his company to theirs.
“Art,” her father said. “An art exhibit, you say?”
“Yes,” Finn croaked.
“I happen to be a connoisseur of art. Perhaps we can join you?”
“Tickets had to be purchased in advance, I’m afraid,” Finn replied. “And it’s sold out. But I promise to have her home in a few hours.” He quirked a brow at Ramsdale. “She has so been looking forward to it.”
“Of course,” Ramsdale clipped out. He stepped back and Finn held his elbow out to Claire. She laid her hand upon it and let him lead her from the room.
***
Claire didn’t take a breath until they were out of the duke’s study and standing outside the closed door. Then she did the unthinkable and threw her arms around Finn’s neck and kissed him. Right there in the corridor. She embraced him and laid her lips on his.
Finn laughed against her mouth as he kissed her quickly and set her away from him. Apparently, he had more sense than she did. “I thought you were going to toss me over, there for a moment,” he admitted.
“Thank you,” she sighed. “Thank you so much.”
Finn’s tone softened. “You’re welcome.” He looked up and down the corridor. “What do you want to do for the next few hours?”
“Oh, you need not entertain me. I can take care of myself.”
“That’s not in question. But I did tell your parents we would be going off together. So, I think we should. Where would you like to go?”
“There’s not really an art exhibit, is there?”
“Of course not.”
“Oh.” Claire rang her hands together. But then she noticed the painting behind them. It was a painting of a sunny room, with a lady’s desk off to one side. On top of the desk rested a quill pen and several pieces of parchment. “Let’s go there,” she said.
“Beg your pardon?” Finn looked at her as if she was bound for Bedlam.
Claire felt for the magic paintbrush that was tucked into her garter. It was there. This should work. The question would be whether or not she could take Finn with her. She reached a hand into the painting and felt for the other side. It was there. Warm and safe. She leaned her head into the painting, much the way someone would dip their head beneath the water while swimming in the lake, and saw that the room was as pictured—quiet and serene.
Finn ran a hand through his hair as his jaw dropped. He blinked his eyes open, closed them, and then did it again. “Pick me up and put me into the painting,” Claire urged. She laid a hand on his shoulder and he lifted her in his arms.
“There has to be an explanation for this. I am not going to stuff you into a painting.” He held her there, suspended in the air.
“It’s all right. You can go with me.” She nibbled her lower lip. “Or at least I think you can.” She pointed toward the painting with her toe, which sank into the painting ever so slightly before he jerked her back.