Page 11 of The Gods Time Forgot

Eleven

Finn glanced once more at the woman on his arm and wondered what in the hell he was thinking as he led her out of the dining room.

“Finn,” Rua started, as if testing out the use of his first name. “Care to explain what is happening here? While I do appreciate it, I’m not sure I understand.”

Hell if he knew. It had all happened so quickly. One minute Rua was putting Crowley in his place, and the next he was certain she was thinking of marring him with the spoon in her hand. Her eyes were glowing, and his instinct took over.

“Well, I was trying to deescalate the situation, though now I think I might’ve made things worse.” He thought of Mr. Fitzgerald and how sour Annette would be. Christ. He’d have some amount of explaining to do.

“On the contrary, my lord, you might’ve just saved a man’s life,” Rua said with a laugh, but somehow he didn’t think she was kidding.

“I am a hero, then?” he asked.

“Yes, and I the villain,” Rua said.

They walked to the veranda with a maid on their heels. He presumed Mrs. Harrington had sent her out after them to chaperone. The back doors were open, letting the warm evening air envelop them.

The terrace was longer than it was wide, being no more than two yards in width. The edge of the property was backed up against another mansion.

Rua moved away from Finn’s side.

Like a siren, she called to him, luring him in with the sweet sound of her voice. Herein lay the path to destruction, and he was walking it willingly.

“You can go back inside if you like. I’ll be all right.” Rua was pensive as she stared at the small patch of grass below them. “I’d say it’s not too late for you to return with your reputation intact.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said. But would he be?

He felt like he’d dived headfirst off a cliff without checking to see what lay below, and the chances of him coming out unscathed were near zero. But something about Rua had done this to him. There was a mysterious pull to her presence, wild and challenging, and he couldn’t resist.

She smiled. “I’m certain you will be. Me, on the other hand?” She gave a delicate shrug of her shoulder and walked down the steps.

That was his out. His chance to leave her there and return to the dining room with some semblance of his mind intact. He should do just that. He knew he should. He was teetering on the point of no return.

She was at the bottom of the stairs, fading from his view, taking with her all the adventure and clarity. A clarity borne of chaos, but it was clarity nonetheless, because as he watched her disappear, the familiar fog of his reality returned.

Rua set his careful world on fire, and he wasn’t ready to let that wane.

He followed her down the steps and walked up beside her, wondering if she felt it too.

He watched her looking up at the moon, wishing he could tell her that the orange of her gown made her look like his favorite part of a sunrise, the part that burned the brightest. But he wouldn’t dare. She had no need for his reassurances.

“Rua?” he asked.

She looked at him, her eyes bright. “Yes?”

He had nothing to say. He only wanted to be near her.

A crinkle formed between her brows; she was searching his face for answers. “Truly, what are you doing out here? If you wanted me alone in the garden, surely there were less dramatic ways you could have achieved that.” A slight smirk played on her mouth.

“I wasn’t trying to get you alone,” he countered, looking over his shoulder for the maid who had scurried after them only moments before. She was nowhere to be found. “Where has the maid gone?” He looked around the would-be garden.

“My company is not for the faint of heart,” she said.

“I’d wager Crowley would agree. I doubt he’ll speak to another woman again,” Finn said.

“Nor should he,” Rua said.

He laughed. “At last, we are in agreement.”

Finn wondered if she was aware of the rumors circulating about her—that a man was dead and she was to blame. Surely, if she knew, she would have refrained from saying anything to that imbecile Crowley. But as it was, he couldn’t tell. She seemed the defiant type.

She smiled at his answer. The sight warmed him to his core. And damn if he didn’t want to pull her mouth up to his. One taste was all he needed. One taste, and perhaps the spell would be broken. What other explanation could there be for his ability to lay his careful plans aside, all so that he might breathe the same air as her?

She took a small step forward, teasing him with her proximity, daring him to reach for her. They were truly alone now. In one quick movement, he could have her body wrapped in his arms. What must that feel like? Her body pressed against his, intoxicating him with her scent. It’d be like catching lightning.

A gust of wind passed between them, blowing wisps of her hair in her face, blocking the only view he’d ever wanted. He lifted his hand to brush them aside, stopping midway when he realized what he was doing.

Rua watched his hand fall away, her expression inscrutable.

He took a step back. “Perhaps we should return.” It wasn’t a suggestion but a necessity. Her nearness left him vulnerable. Vulnerable to the deep recesses of his mind where he felt like he knew her.

Without waiting for him to offer his arm, Rua went back upstairs. He followed close behind, thankful for the slight reprieve.

The disaster of a formal meal had ended, and the party shifted to the salon.

“There you two are,” Mrs. Harrington cooed as she approached, dragging her husband behind her. Ned was busy apologizing to all the people his wife had knocked into on their way over.

Rua smiled, but it was forced. Finn sensed the shift in her posture, tense and braced for a fight.

“My daughter’s dance card.” Mrs. Harrington stuffed the card into Finn’s face. “Before it’s full.” Unlikely , he thought.

This seemed to relax Rua a bit, but still she stared into the unforgiving crowd. Only a fool would miss the virulent whispers, and a fool Rua was not.

Finn opened the empty dance card and put his name down.

He would prefer never to dance at all. If you danced with one, then you must dance with them all. As he handed the card back to Mrs. Harrington, he noticed the steady encroaching of the mothers, licking their chops, their own daughters’ dance cards in hand.

“Appreciate it, Donore,” Ned said. Finn acknowledged him with a nod.

Ned was a nice man who didn’t seem to grasp how much trouble he was in. Mr. Fitzgerald was certainly not going to take kindly to Rua’s outburst at dinner. The ice she was skating on was paper thin.

“Please excuse me,” Finn said to the Harringtons. He needed to find Mr. Fitzgerald and assess the damage. His situation was not dire like Ned’s, but he still had his reputation to consider. He cursed, thinking about how rash he’d been in whisking Rua to the garden. What must that have looked like to everyone? And now the dance card. He was well on his way to ruin.

“Don’t forget.” Mrs. Harrington shook the card in the air. Finn looked to Rua once more, but it was clear that her mind was elsewhere.

“I won’t,” he said, offering a polite smile.

Finn found the Fitzgeralds at the center of the makeshift ballroom. All three of them looked like they wanted to shout at him, and he didn’t like it one bit.

“Donore,” Richard said.

“My lord, I must warn you, your stunt at dinner was not looked upon favorably,” Mrs. Fitzgerald said.

“My stunt?” Finn bristled.

Richard put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “What my wife means to say is that you must consider the situation. Look at the scene that girl caused. Why get tangled up in it?”

Finn couldn’t argue with that, though no one was reprimanding Annette for her spiteful remarks. Perhaps because Rua had well and truly put her in her place.

But it was true: there was no reason at all that he should’ve inserted himself into that mess, and yet he had. He was so bloody tangled.

“You’ll be written off if you’re not more careful,” Richard warned.

“Well, it’s a good thing I’ve got my affairs in order, then.”

“Never underestimate the importance of an opinion. Now, why don’t you two go and have the first dance?” Richard said to Finn and his daughter.

Finn wondered how much Richard’s concern had to do with the hotel and how much with his interest in having him marrying his daughter.

Rua wasn’t dancing with anyone this evening, especially not Finn. He’d been pressured into dancing with her at the Fitzgeralds’ ball, and she didn’t have the stomach for it to happen again.

The reception upon their return from the garden was icy cold, though the lord was in the process of being thawed. He was at the center of a small group of women, Annette being one of them, and they were discussing whether or not tomorrow’s promenade would be washed out by the rain. Annette scowled at Rua before turning back to Finn.

How Flossie thought Rua would even be allowed on the dance floor after what she’d said in the dining room was beyond her. Life in the matriarch’s head must be something to behold—too dense to notice or too stubborn to care. Either way, Rua wasn’t going to be the pawn.

Flossie had slipped into conversation with another woman about an event coming up next week, leaving Rua the chance to quietly disappear.

Making sure to keep her steps slow, she edged along the wall of the salon, pausing every time she’d catch someone watching her. She tried to wait them out, for their attention to divert elsewhere, until she realized they would always be watching her.

Then she spotted Lily Stevens, who looked every bit as fashionable as the other women, with her royal-blue gown and layered polonaise. Her dark-brown hair was pinned back from her porcelain face, bunching in tight ringlets at the base of her neck. They made eye contact and Rua stilled, half expecting Lily to look at her with disgust, but instead she smiled and walked over.

“I wanted to tell you that I think your dress is lovely. You mustn’t let what Annette says bother you,” Lily said.

Easy for you to say , Rua thought. But she responded with a thank-you.

“Have you given any more thought to my invitation?” Lily asked, keeping her voice low. “After tonight’s performance, I must admit, my instincts were right about you.”

Rua smiled, not wanting to hurt Lily’s feelings, but it wasn’t exactly what Rua wanted to hear. And she wasn’t interested. She had enough on her plate, never mind aligning with a women’s group that allowed their friends to torment other women.

“The location changes each week, but we discuss everything we’re not allowed to talk about in public. The next meeting will be here in no time. I’ll send you the details.”

Before Rua had the chance to object, Lily walked away.

Rua resumed inching toward the hall, the area tempting her with its lack of people and proximity to the front door.

The salon behind her erupted into a fit of laughter. She turned and saw Mr. Fitzgerald and another man at the center of the commotion. It was hard to imagine this was the same crowd that had glowered at her through dinner.

Rather than trying to hide, she ought to make nice with the party guests. Let Flossie see her efforts succeed, if only to keep her threats of institutionalization at bay for the moment.

But of course, that was what she ought to do, not what she wanted to do.

Unobstructed, Rua slipped into the foyer, with no real intention of leaving the party, but then the servant opened the front door for her.

“Thank you,” she said as she walked out. The door shut behind her with a slam, and she wondered if she’d be let back in.

Finding no other guests outside, Rua walked down the front steps and entered the Randalls’ front garden. It was small, not much of a garden at all, more like a strip of grass behind a midsize limestone wall.

She opened the little gate and walked through it. The smell of smoke wafted in the breeze, despite the lack of any fires that she could see.

Fall would soon be here. Rua wondered if she would still be living this life by then. Or would she have made her way back to where she belonged?

She rested her elbows against the wall as she gazed into the night.

What she really needed was another look inside the books she’d found in Emma’s room. If she could understand why Emma had gone into the hellmouth in the first place, maybe she could figure out why she was the one to have come out.

She thought of the triskele on her ankle. Was she devoted to the Morr í gan the way Emma and Mara were and she simply couldn’t remember? Though she had a hard time believing she would feel so moved by a deity as to have their insignia branded onto her skin.

And then there was Finn. A piece to a different puzzle. There was a pull there, even with all their differences. But there was something else too: a boundary, or a line, that she was afraid to cross. Like if she opened that door, they might never be able to close it.

“A word, Donore?”

Rua whipped her head around at the sound of the man’s voice. Her heart thundered as she ducked and slumped behind the wall before they could see her.

“Enjoying yourself?” Mr. Fitzgerald asked Finn as they walked closer to where she was hiding.

“Enjoying well enough,” Finn said, sounding annoyed. His voice was so close, she presumed he was just on the other side of the wall. If he looked over, he’d catch her huddled in a ball on the ground, trying not to be seen.

“I’ll get right to the point so we can enjoy the rest of the evening’s festivities. What the hell were you thinking?” Mr. Fitzgerald barked.

Rua winced.

“I beg your pardon?” Finn responded.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Donore. Taking that disturbed girl out to the garden? What kind of harebrained act was that?”

She listened closely, equally as curious as Mr. Fitzgerald, though she didn’t take too kindly to his description of her.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Finn’s voice was strained. “I felt bad for the girl. It was hard to watch.”

Rua frowned, feeling the sharp prick of embarrassment.

“A bloody disaster, but now you’re in the middle of it and you’ve insulted my daughter. I cannot have you picking sides.”

Poor Annette. Rua rolled her eyes.

“Picking sides? What are you on about?” Finn asked.

“You have a choice to make. If you want my daughter’s hand, you’ll have no more to do with that heathen Harrington girl.”

Rua took the “heathen” comment in stride; it was the insinuation that Finn would marry Annette that left her breathless. It wasn’t a shock to her—she had presumed as much given how much time they were spending together—but hearing it aloud made it feel real.

“Do I have your word that you’ll stay away from her?” Mr. Fitzgerald asked.

Rua waited with bated breath for Finn’s answer. She didn’t understand how she had come to care so quickly. She shook her head. She didn’t care; she was merely curious. Curious because when they were together, she felt a glimmer of what it’d be like to be whole.

A long moment passed. Rua’s heart lifted when Finn didn’t respond, pleased that Mr. Fitzgerald would know someone as esteemed as the Lord of Donore was not so readily discarding her.

“If you cannot bring yourself to answer, Donore, then I’m afraid that’s answer enough.”

“Bloody hell, Richard, I’m not interested in the Harrington girl, but I’ve had enough of your vague threats. If you’re going to do something, do it.”

Crushed. The way he said the “Harrington girl” snatched the wind out of her sails. Like she was nothing more than a nuisance. A social oddity that had interrupted all of their lives.

“Very well, Donore.”

Rua listened as the footsteps moved farther away and the front door opened and shut.

Keeping her head below the wall, dejected, she turned herself around. With just her fingers exposed, she pulled herself upright to peek over the ledge.

Before she even had the chance to rise to her full height, her view was blocked by a hulking figure.

“Why am I always finding you in places you shouldn’t be?”

Rua let out a startled yelp, falling backward to the ground.

Without delay, she rose to her feet and dusted herself off. “Why does it seem you’re always looking for me?” she countered, hurrying toward the gate.

Finn moved in sync, blocking her exit.

“Please, move,” she said.

He didn’t budge. “Were you listening to my conversation?”

Of course she was listening. She had no other option but to listen. Rather than answer, she turned sideways, trying to fit between the gate and his massive frame. The space was so narrow, there was no choice but for them to touch. She heard his intake of breath as she accidentally rested her hand on his torso for balance.

The desire to linger there a moment with their bodies pressed closed together under the starry night sky overwhelmed her. All she could see was his chest; all she could smell was his cologne. She was overcome with the thought of him.

Needing more, she glanced upward, finding his eyes already on her. Her breath was shallow, his the same.

“Rua,” he whispered, his voice thick with longing. The flutters in her stomach were unbearable. She felt warm all over, insatiable, her body showing all the telltale signs of betrayal, its new constant state when he was around her.

She brought her other hand up to his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the fabric of his dress shirt. “Yes, Finn?” She toyed with his collar, her fingers brushing against his neck.

He reached his arms behind her back, pulling her tighter to him, and then a terrible shredding sound tore through the air.

“No,” she cried, sliding out from between him and the wall. She reached for her skirt, feeling that it was torn from her backside to her knee, exposing the bustle beneath.

“No, no, no. How will I go back inside?” She dropped her hands to her side. “I can’t go back inside.”

Finn looked abashed. “What can I do to help?”

“I don’t know, can you sew?” She looked at him, incredulous. “Flossie is going to kill me.”

“Why do you call your mother Flossie?” he asked, brow raised.

“This is your fault!” she shouted, bringing him back to the matter at hand and away from her slipup.

“My fault?” He gaped.

“Yes! Why didn’t you let me pass?”

“Why were you in there in the first place?”

“None of your concern, my lord.” She felt the skirt again. “Oh god, what am I going to do?” She groaned, trying to put the dress back together, as if the fabric would just magically stick at the seams.

She weighed her options. Running home was preferable to asking Finn for assistance, but could she just leave? Would Flossie punish her for it? Well, it was that or going back inside and feeding herself to the wolves.

“Please, Rua, take my carriage,” Finn offered, sounding apologetic.

“But what will I tell my mother?”

“I will take care of it,” he assured her, hurrying her toward his carriage.

She wasn’t sure he realized he was touching her. Again. The palm of his hand covered the small of her back. It was subtle, delicate but protective, and it filled her with butterflies.

More butterflies that she did not want. But she’d heard what Finn had said. He wasn’t interested. She was the “heathen Harrington girl.”

He opened the carriage door, and she walked up the steps. “I will return in a moment,” he said, before returning indoors.

Though Finn would have preferred not to reenter the Randalls’ home at all, he had told Rua he would handle the situation, entangling himself further.

She hadn’t been wrong earlier: he could have let her pass in the garden, but he didn’t want her to go. There was something about her, something he couldn’t resist, and he didn’t know how to make sense of it.

“My lord, there you are.” Annette approached him the moment he walked into the salon. The room had been converted into a makeshift dance floor. A lively tune played in the background.

“I’m looking for Ned,” he mumbled, pushing his way into the room.

“Join me.” Annette held out her hand and smiled. Finn hesitated as he glanced around for the Harringtons. Instead, he caught Richard’s eye. A few others turned to see Annette’s offer hanging in the air. He couldn’t rightly refuse her now.

Frustrated, he took her hand, and they made their way to the center of the room.

He hoped Rua had the patience to wait, though he doubted it.

His mind was in pieces—she had him in pieces. When he was near her, he could think of nothing but the desperate ache in his chest. So consumed with his longing, he was free of all his earthly endeavors. When he was with Annette, he could see his future, the one he had planned for. Was he really so irresolute in his choices?

As the music changed, so did the tone of the room. Everyone’s focus turned to Finn and Annette. The smiles and the laughter were infectious. He gave in to it, allowing himself a moment to understand what it might be like to truly be “in” with these people. It was what he wanted, after all.

Rua was nothing but a beautiful temptress leading him away from the scrupulous life he was trying to lead. Her presence filled his mind with mayhem and left him wanting. He could not sustain her willfulness without succumbing to it entirely. And he would not do it. He would not throw it all to ruin.

After the dance, he would find Rua’s parents, as he’d said he would, and he would send her home and be done.

Mr. and Mrs. Harrington were outside on the terrace, speaking with a couple he hadn’t yet been introduced to.

“Good evening. A word?” he said to both of them. A glassy-eyed Ned looked at Finn like he’d never met him before.

Finn turned to Flossie. “I am afraid there’s been a bit of a mishap and I’ve spilled my drink all over your daughter’s gown.”

“Good heavens, is she all right?” she asked, as though Rua had been wounded.

“Perfectly fine. I’ve offered my carriage to take her home; I hope that suits. She’s outside.”

“Yes. I’d like a word with her before she goes.”

“There’s no need,” Finn said, but Mrs. Harrington was already hurrying toward the door.

He wasn’t sure how to explain that he’d lied about Rua’s dress. It was a stupid lie, but he preferred that to telling Flossie the truth.

He caught up to Flossie when she was outside. The heavy smell of smoke floated around them.

“Where is she?” Flossie asked, looking around for his missing carriage.

The cheeky rascal. She’d taken his transport.

“She’s on her way home,” he said, hoping it was true.

“I thought you were going to be with her,” Flossie said, her eyes narrowing.

“I didn’t think it would be appropriate without a chaperone,” he said.

Flossie eyed him suspiciously, then she nodded. “Well, seeing as you’re without a transport, we can drop you on our way home.”

Before Finn could object, a wobbly Ned hurried out the front door.

“Leaving without me, my dear?” he asked Flossie.

“Hardly.” She smiled at her husband. “But since you’re here, why don’t we pull the carriage around? It’s late.”

And Ned had drunk his fill.

“Well, good night, then,” Finn said to the couple, slinking toward the door. He had no intention of being cajoled into a carriage ride with the mother of the woman who spoiled dinner.

“My lord, I will not take no for an answer. The party is over. My daughter has taken your carriage; allow us to repay the favor.” Flossie turned to her husband. “Ned, stay here; the lord and I will be right back. We must thank our hosts.” Finn suspected she wanted to parade him in front of the others.

“I’ll be fine out here with your husband,” Finn told her. The Randalls were so deep in their cups that in the morning they wouldn’t remember who had or hadn’t bidden them farewell.

“You’re right; let’s just leave. I’ll send Beth a note in the morning,” Flossie said, and he was positive it was because she didn’t want to risk letting him out of her sight.

Flossie sat beside her husband and across from Finn. Ned was snoring within seconds of entering the carriage.

“The Madison Hotel is a fine establishment, my lord, but what are you doing staying in hotel apartments? Surely you would prefer something more permanent?”

Flossie really was the nosiest person he’d ever encountered. This was the last conversation he wanted to have at this hour of the night.

“Indeed I would,” was all Finn offered. He turned his attention to the orange glow cast over the night sky.

“That’s odd,” Flossie remarked as the carriage rolled to a stop.

Not bothering to wait for the driver to open the door, Finn jumped down from the carriage.

“Can’t get any closer. Road’s blocked off, my lord,” the driver said.

And Finn could see why. The Madison Hotel was up in a blaze.

“What is the meaning of this?” Flossie shouted, but at the sight of the burning hotel, she gasped. “Is that the hotel?”

Finn nodded.

“Why, you’ll need somewhere to stay!” Flossie exclaimed excitedly.

“What?” Finn looked at her. Everything he owned was in that hotel, everything of importance. Panic struck him at the thought of one item he couldn’t replace. He shoved his hand into his pocket, rummaging for the coin, hoping he had it with him.

Relief washed over him as his fingers wrapped around the coin in his left pocket. He held tight to it, unsure why it meant anything to him. It was a half dollar, the one he’d tried to pay Rua with and she’d given back.

“Get back in. You’ll come and stay with us,” Flossie said. “We’ve plenty of room.”

His lodgings were the furthest thing from his mind. “I’m going to see what I can do to help.”

“Help? Good heavens, you can’t,” Flossie shrieked.

Finn ignored her. He was already on his way.

The last thing he heard from Flossie was her yelling out to him, “We’ll see you tonight. Forty-Ninth and Fifth!”