Page 53 of Savage Blooms
“That’s lovely,” Finley said, as though he were the host instead of Eileen. “Are you still working on your goblin book?”
Nicola began chatting amiably about the illustrations she was working on, which thawed Adam enough for him to eventually share more about the website he was building. Dinner passed more smoothly after that. Finley allowed Eileen to retrieve herself a pillow to sit on after it became apparent they would linger over the meal – her submission tonight was supposed to be pleasurable, cozy even, and he wasn’t trying to punish her with an uncomfortable position – and he let her speak of her own accord as well. But she mostly listened, pacing herself with her wine, and Finley was pleased with her on both counts.
Like a rare and precious metal, Eileen was at her brightest when Finley applied heat and force.
“I thought we might play a game, after dinner,” Eileen said, taking a prim sip of her wine as she stood to help clear the dishes. Finley had loosened the reins on the sceneonce the final bite was finished, leaning down to murmur that she could stand whenever she wished, but she still lingered close at his side, glancing over for his approval before picking up the sauce dish.
“A game?” Nicola asked, gathering up the silverware.
“Yes,” Eileen said with a smirk. Finley knew that look. She had mischief brewing inside her. “A game called Confession.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever played that one,” Adam said as he appeared from the kitchen.
“It’s one of Eileen’s favorites,” Finley said, a little apologetically. When he had agreed to power exchange with her tonight with an audience, he hadn’t thought she would want to playthatgame. He should probably nip this in the bud, or at least warn Adam that—
“It’s very easy to play,” Eileen said brightly, swirling her wine in her glass. “And, if played correctly, very illuminating.”
“I want to play,” Nicola chirped.
“Adam?” Eileen asked, pinning Adam to the spot with her eyes in that way that always made Finley feel breathless and panicked and so, so excited. Did Adam feel the same way, being looked at by her like that?
He should say something. He should tell them. But if he put up any fight at all, he would look prudish and boring and Eileen would win. And if there was one thing that Finley would rather die than allow, it was to let Eileen Kirkfoyle beat him at anything.
“I’m down if everybody else is,” Adam said, totally oblivious.
“Great,” Finley said, tossing back the rest of his wine.
Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Eileen
Eileen had abandoned her slingbacks somewhere between the dining room and the parlor, and now, as she stepped into her mother’s favorite room in the house, her toes sank into the plush carpet. The room reminded her so ferociously of her parents that setting foot inside usually elicited angry tears, but tonight, she wasn’t alone, and she was in high spirits. There was a light at the end of her family’s centuries-long tunnel, and that was worth celebrating in style, in the bohemian-style parlor with its fringed pink lamps and velvet loveseats.
“Oh my gosh, there’s got to be a hundred of them,” Nicola said, dazzled by the shelves crowded with chess sets, board games, puzzles and tins of antique playing cards. Jennifer Kirkfoyle was a former socialite with more of a head for matchmaking than competition, but she had always indulged her daughter’s voracious appetite forgames. She commissioned carved jade dice for birthday presents, wrapped riddle boxes to stow under the Christmas tree, and returned from every excursion away from Craigmar, as few as they were, with a new brainteaser in her purse for her daughter.
“There are seventy-two,” Eileen said with a fond smile. “I’ve counted. My mother had hoped to use this room to entertain her out-of-town friends, but not many friends came calling, so she turned it into a games library for me. I was always allowed to play in here as a child, even after I got too rowdy during a bout of checkers and broke a Tiffany glass lamp.”
“You’ve played all these games?”
“Yes, and I’ve beaten every one.”
Adam was looking at her with something between pity and marvel, and it made Eileen’s skin itch. He was looking at her like he understood something about her she didn’t even understand herself, and she wasn’t sure if she liked that. So, instead of allowing him to speak, she stepped into her role as master of ceremonies.
“The rules of the Confession game are simple,” she said, plopping down on the carpet and beckoning for Finley to follow. They sat like children, knee to knee and with their legs crossed. Nicola and Adam followed suit, if a little hesitantly, until they formed a perfect circle of four. “We go around asking questions of each other, one question a turn. The point of Confession is to tell the truth. If you lie, you lose.”
“How can you tell if someone is lying?” Adam asked, arching an eyebrow.
“I canalwaystell. The final rule is that, beyond telling the truth, there are no rules. You can exert any sort of influence you want over someone to get them to tell you the truth, and no one can hold it against you in the light of day.”
“She’s not kidding about that,” Finley said, pushing the cuffs of his sweater up to his elbows before yanking them back down again over his wrists. He was nervous. “She once held my head underwater in the loch until I told her the name of the boy I had a crush on.”
Finley’s eyes didn’t leave Eileen’s face, but she caught the glance Adam threw his way in her peripheral vision. Was this the first Adam had heard about Finley’s long history of falling all over himself over men? And why should Adam, who practically salivated every time Nicola walked into the room and did exactly what Eileen said with breathless delight, even care? She hadn’t taken him for someone with a very developed sexual palette. Yet he surprised her.
This, she decided, was interesting.
Moreover, it was something she could use.
