“No changes.” Finn’s voice was steady. “It’s perfect.”
“Agreed.” Darragh stood and pulled Finn up with him. “Thank you, Helena. For everything.”
“Just doing my job.” But she smiled. “Though I’ll admit, this is the most pleasant contract negotiation I’ve ever supervised. Usually, there’s significantly more arguing.”
“We’re saving all our arguing for after the wedding.” Darragh kept hold of Finn’s hand. “It’ll be more like a typical marriage that way.”
“I’m sure.” Helena gathered her parchments. “I’ll expect you both back here tomorrow afternoon to sign the final contract. Until then, you’re dismissed.”
They left Helena’s office and made it approximately ten steps down the corridor before Darragh pulled Finn into an alcove and kissed him until he was breathless.
“Three weeks,” Darragh murmured against his mouth. “Do you think you can handle being engaged to me for three whole weeks?”
Finn laughed, dizzy and happy and still slightly terrified. “I’ll manage somehow. Apparently, I’m going to be consort in about twenty-four hours, so I’ll have to.”
“Good.” Darragh kissed him again, softer this time. “Because Helena’s right. You’re stuck with me now. Contract and everything.”
“It’s the best decision I ever made.” Finn meant it. He knew it was the right thing to do, and now he’d decided…
“I’ll remind you of that when you’re knee-deep in wedding planning and regretting everything.”
“Never.” Finn meant it. Marriage contract negotiations, three-week timelines, protocol expectations, and all - he wouldn’t change any of it. Not when it meant having full Thursdays with Darragh. That was a gift worth hanging onto.
Chapter Eleven
Darragh paced the length of his office for the third time, glancing out the window at the castle gates. Finn had been gone for three bloody weeks while the castle prepared for the wedding, and apparently, three weeks was long enough for Darragh to develop some questionable habits, like checking the front gates every five minutes.
“The carriage will arrive when it arrives.” Helena didn’t even look up from her ledger. “Your pacing won’t make the roads shorter.”
“I’m not pacing.”
“You’ve worn a track in the carpet.”
Darragh stopped mid-stride. “I have not.”
“The servants are taking bets on whether you’ll actually sprint down to the gates when the earl’s carriage appears.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Darragh resumed pacing. “I wouldn’t sprint. I’d walk briskly.”
“Your Majesty, with all due respect, you’ve been utterly useless for the past week.” Helena finally looked up, smirking. “Thomas had to repeat himself four times yesterday during the treasury meeting. You kept staring at an empty chair.”
“I was thinking about whether we needed to order new upholstery.”
“You were mooning about Finn sharing your office with you and sitting in that chair.”
“Kings don’t moon.” Darragh wasn’t going to admit to thinking about Finn sitting in that chair. It did no good to let Helena know how accurate she was.
“You were mooning, which proves you’re the exception that proves the rule.” Helena made a note in her ledger. “Though I’ll admit, it’s disgustingly sweet.”
Darragh opened his mouth to argue, then caught sight of movement at the gates. The Earl of Winrone’s carriage - dark wood panels with silver trim, the earl’s coat of arms on the side door - rolled through the entrance.
He was out the door before Helena finished laughing.
“I thought you said brisk walking, not running,” she called after him. “You’re supposed to be dignified.”
Darragh didn’t care if his movements were dignified or not. He hit the main stairs at what was definitely not a sprint - more of an enthusiastic jog - and reached the entrance hall just as Finn stepped through the doors.
Brown eyes met his and Finn grinned. “Did you miss me?”
