Finn wanted to get out of bed to go and look at her work, but he needed a moment to compose himself. It was morning, and she looked damned fine sitting there across from him. He was hard as a rock, and it wasn’t getting any smaller. “What are you painting?”
She pointed to each one in turn. “That’s the house I grew up in.”
It was a manor house, much like the ones in his world. “That’s in the land of the fae?”
“That world looks a lot like this one,” she said. “Except we have fantastically odd things happen in my land that seem completely normal.”
“Will you take me there one day?” He wanted to see where she came from more than anything.
She shook her head, a sadness overcoming her features. “I don’t think so. It’s forbidden. Or at least it was for a long time.”
“Your father and Robin got to go.” He was hurt by her refusal. And hated that he was, but so be it.
“Special circumstances, I think. I doubt they’ll admit humans on a regular basis.”
Finn sat up. “What if our child is fae? Wouldn’t they make an exception?”
“They never have before.” She went back to painting.
Finn was disturbed. Very disturbed. “But you plan to visit the land of the fae with our child, should that child happen to be fae.”
She looked back over her shoulder again. “How else will he or she learn about my life and my beliefs? And magic, for that matter.”
Finn tossed the counterpane to the side and got out of bed. He no longer had to worry about surprising her with his raging manhood. That had been sufficiently doused, as though with a cup of freezing cold water.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he bit out.
“It’s not nothing,” she said, rising to her feet. “Talk to me.”
“Why should I? You have the fae to talk to. And my child, for that matter, if he or she happens to have pointy ears and wings.” He knew he sounded like a petulant two-year-old, but he didn’t like the idea of her taking his child to the land of the fae. Or to any place where he couldn’t accompany them. Not one bit. He jerked on his trousers and pulled a shirt over his head. Then he quit the room. It was either quit the room or let her see how hurt his feelings were. And that just would not do.
“Wait,” Claire called to his retreating back. He didn’t stop, so she jumped to her feet and followed him down the corridor. “Wait!” she called again.
Finn heard her call to him. He just didn’t want to hear her. He didn’t want her to try to explain away all the differences between her world and his. He didn’t want her to try to justify it. It was what it was. And what it was was damn hard.
Her bare feet pounded down the corridor behind him. It was then that it sank into his brain that she wasn’t even supposed to be out of bed, much less upset with him. He turned around and pointed his finger at her. “Go back to bed.”
She tilted her head to look at him. “You go back to bed.”
“I am not the one who has been confined to bed rest.”
“I am not the one who has his short pants in a twist.”
Good God, she was maddening.
“Don’t walk away, Finn,” she said softly. “Come and talk to me.”
“I don’t want to talk. It’s not going to change anything.”
He stalked toward her and she stood her ground, just lifting her nose higher in the air and squaring her shoulders. She did squeal, however, when he scooped her up in his arms and started for the bedchamber. “Put me down,” she cried.
He lowered her gently to the bed, but she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him down there with her, until he gave up and sat on the bed beside her. “Claire,” he warned, as he scrubbed a hand down his face.
“Talk to me,” she said, rubbing a hand down the side of his face. She scuffed her hand against his beard stubble.
“I don’t like the idea of you taking our child to the land of the fae, where I can’t go.”