Page 53 of Legacy of Thorns
“Daphne,” he breathed, unsure how to put everything in his mind into words.
“Fin,” she said back, her voice tinged with affection. His heart leaped and thumped painfully in his chest.
“In the forest that day,” he began, and Daphne sighed softly.
“I’m sorry I ran away from you. I told myself I needed to protect you, but I was also confused and anxious. I’d spent so many years expecting to return to Oakden and reclaim my true self. The reality has been…different.” He pulled her closer despite the conventions of the dance, and she gave him a dazzling smile that momentarily robbed him of words.
They came back to him slowly, driven by the most concerning part of her confession. “You thought you were protecting me? From what?”
“The Legacy. After everything it has done to me—is still doing to me—I didn’t want you to get sucked in as well.” She shivered in his arms, and he swung her toward the edge of the dance floor, positioning them behind a potted tree so that he could pull her all the way to his chest and hold her there.
“I already told you.” His voice was rough. “I won’t abandon you to the Legacy, no matter what.”
For a blissful moment, she sunk into his hold. But within mere seconds, she pulled back, an indignant expression on her face.
“I appreciate that you want to protect me, but that means you should understand that I want to protect you too. The Legacy is building toward something, ensnaring me deeper.” A shadow passed over her face. “I can feel it. And there’s no reason for you to get sucked in as well.”
Finley smiled down at her. “I think it’s a little late for that.”
Could she see the love blazing in his eyes? She must have sensed something because a flush appeared around the edges of her mask.
“I should warn you that I’m finished running away from the Legacy,” she said. “I have to accept what it’s made of my life and find my way forward despite it. And to do that, I have to face whatever it throws at me next. You’re finally on the road to answers and freedom yourself. Are you sure you want to be part of more chaos?”
“If it’s your chaos—always,” Fin said without needing to think. “If you’re ready to stop pushing me away, that is.” His chest squeezed painfully. “Are you ready for that?”
Daphne’s radiant smile released the pressure inside him, warmth flooding through him in its wake. She leaned into him, her lips hovering near his ear.
“I can live with the naps if I have to, Fin, but I don’t want to live without you.”
He stared down into her eyes, drinking in her mischievous smile and the sincerity in her gaze.
“Blast that mask,” he growled, and then his lips were on hers anyway, and the rest of the ballroom had faded into irrelevance.
When they finally broke apart, he scooped her up and spun her around, nearly colliding with the tree as his laughter enveloped them both.
“My one worry,” she said when he put her down, “is how we’re going to break the news to poor Archer.”
“Ugh, Archie.” Finley shook his head. “My patience with that boy has been wearing paper-thin.”
“But it’s not his fault, poor thing,” Daphne said. “It’s the Legacy.”
“Is it?” Finley’s eyes narrowed. “I notice your control over brambles wore off weeks ago. If you ask me, he’s been using the Legacy infatuation as an excuse—because otherwise he knows I would have dumped him in the creek by now for the way he moons over you.”
Daphne laughed. “In that case, he’s probably doing it to rile you up. The poor boy hasn’t had any other entertainment for weeks.”
“I’ll give himentertainment,” Finley growled, but Daphne laughed again, and his irritation melted into a smile. He was too full of joy to remain irritated with anyone, even Archie.
“Young love,” an urbane voice said from the other side of the potted tree. “It’s enough to warm anyone’s heart.”
Finley instinctively stepped in front of Daphne, trying to shield her from the stranger’s view. But when the man stepped around the tree and he recognized Lord Barlowe, his mind went completely blank.
“As touching as this display is,” Lord Barlowe continued, “I’m not sure it’s appropriate for a ballroom. On behalf of my good friend, Lord Castlerey, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Finley stared at him, his mind racing. Did the man know who they were? Was he?—
“Ah, before you consider protesting your right to remain,” Lord Barlowe said, flicking a nonexistent speck of dust from his sleeve, “I should perhaps mention that I was privileged to witness your very…ah, creative entry to the ball.”
Finley and Daphne remained silent, and Lord Barlowe smiled. “Very wise. You have had your fun, and if you leave quietly now, no harm has been done. Do you not agree?”
