Page 39 of For Love of Liberty

“No!” Libby quickly interrupted, smiling her thanks when Mrs. Poppy topped her cake with ice cream. “If it’s all the same to you and the pastor, Mrs. Poppy, we’d rather keep it quiet for a while for a number of reasons.”

“What?” Finn almost choked on the ice cream he’d just shoveled in, lunging for his tea when he began to hack.

“As you know, my father has never been overly”—she sent Finn a feeble smile—“fond of Finn, so I think it’s best if we just lay low for a while—”

“Lay low?” Finn’s jaw practically came unhinged. “Now look here, Libby, there’s no way I’m going to court you behind your father’s back—”

“It’s just for a while, Finn,” Libby pleaded, “till I can ease him in slowly that you and I have fallen in love. Besides, you said it yourself—it will give Jo Beth time to adjust and you time to pay off your loan.”

Finn began to grind his jaw, pretty sure Libby was right, but not one bit happy about it. When he’d been angry with her, waiting had seemed like a viable option, but now that he knew he wanted to marry her and she wanted to marry him, he just wanted to get on with their lives and the loan be hung. “We tell your father and everyone else by August 1st then.”

Libby was shaking her head before he’d uttered his final word. “I really think we need to wait longer, Finn, at least three months.”

He bounded up. “Three months! Confound it, Libby, I love you, and I don’t want to wait.”

She rose and took his hands in hers, eyes gentle. “And I love you, too, but it will give you more time to accomplish all we need to do—prepare my father for the news, ease Jo Beth’s heartache, pay off your loan …” She lifted on tiptoe to brush a soft kiss to his cheek. “Ready your cabin for a wife …” Her eyes sparkled with promise and tease. “Plus more time to see if you and I are a ‘good fit.’”

It took everything in him not to haul her back into his arms and prove the fit was plum perfect. Unleashing a weary sigh, he kissed her nose instead. “All right, Miss O’Shea—you win.” He arched a brow. “This round, that is. But ready or not, come October 1st, I plan to court you true and proper in front of God and everybody, understood?”

“Yessss, Mr. McPain,” Libby said in a sing-song tone while she sat back down to sample her ice cream.

Finn tweaked the back of her neck, prompting a giggle from her lips as he joined her. “I wouldn’t be making too much fun of that name, darlin’, because if I have my way, you’ll be wearing it for a long time to come.”

“Oh, I just love weddings!” Mrs. Poppy clapped her hands, her manner almost giddy. Picking her spoon back up she sent Finn a wink, obviously ready to begin the celebration with ice cream and cake. “And three months may seem like a lifetime now, but you mark my words, young man,” she said with a wiggle of brows, “I have a feeling it will go by in a blink.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Blink. Liberty squinted through sleepy eyes, near blinded by the sunshine washing her bedroom with its glorious light. Mmm … what a wonderful dream, she thought with a lazy stretch in her bed, eyelids sinking closed as memories of Finn’s kisses heated her body more than the shaft of daylight warming her skin.

It was official—Finn wanted to court her, and although it would be her father’s worst nightmare—which he’d surely fight till the end—for Liberty, it was a life-long dream come true.

Mrs. Griffin McShane.

A dreamy sigh wisped across her lips as she replayed last night at the Poppys’. Yes, they had some issues to work out, certainly, but this was the man she had pined for since the age of twelve, and Liberty had never been surer of anything in her life.

Breathing in the crisp morning air, she reveled in the heady scent of leather and lime as more memories fluttered her stomach. Besides, keeping their relationship secret for three months would be fun, she’d argued last night, as long as they could still meet to wrap up festival business and propose a plan for next year. A slow smile wended its way across her lips as she thought of the possibilities. Innocent meetings that would benefit both the city and them, affording valuable time to iron out any kinks in their relationship. With another languid stretch, she turned on her side.

After all—what could possibly go wrong?

A strong arm looped her waist, dragging her close. “Mmm … mornin’, darlin’.”

Libby froze before she screamed and vaulted from the bed, body shaking while she snatched the sheet off of Finn McShane. “Sweet m-mother of mercy,” she rasped, body woozy and mind even worse, “what are you doing here?”

Bleary-eyed beneath a haphazard quilt, Finn lumbered up with a hand to his head. “What the—” Rubbing his eyes, he blinked up at Libby, groggy gaze spanning wide at her state of undress. His face leached as pale as the sheet she clutched to her chest. “Blue blistering blazes … it’s not a dream!” he whispered in a hoarse morning voice as rough as the dark stubble shadowing his jaw. His Adam’s apple ducked hard while his gaze wandered from her disheveled hair spilling over bare shoulders down to her bare legs and back up, his grin growing along with the whites of his eyes.

Libby faltered back, fingers quivering as she clutched the sheet around her body. Her gaze darted frantically around the room. “And this isn’t my room—it must be the Poppys’ guest room, so what on earth happened, Finn?” Her throat convulsed as she stared, cheeks on fire while she wagged a trembling finger between them. “Oh, sweet mother of mercy, we didn’t … did we?”

Finn lumbered up to sag against the headboard, muscled chest bare and eyes closed while he kneaded the bridge of his nose. “Well, it sure seems like we did in my dream, darlin’”—he lowered his fingers to stare at his left hand where a wedding band gleamed bright in the morning sun. Glancing up, he managed a wince of a smile—“so maybe so?”

Her hands flew to her mouth in horror, belly quivering at the thought she’d just spent the night with Finn McShane. “Holy heavenly host—what are we going to do?”

He scooted to the edge of the bed with a sheepish smile, wrapping the quilt around his middle before tugging her to sit on his lap. “Well, for starters,” he whispered, voice husky while he lifted her hand to graze the wedding band on her finger, “I’m going to kiss my wife.” And before Liberty could utter a single word, he disarmed her with a playful tug of her lip while slowly easing her back on the bed, devouring her with a kiss that swirled a dangerous heat in her middle. “Great day in the morning, but I love you Mrs. Liberty Margaret McShane, and Mrs. Poppy was right—that three months did go by in a blink.”

Liberty gaped, confusion fluttering her lashes as much as Finn’s kiss fluttered her stomach. “But … but … I don’t understand—how did this happen?”

Chuckling, he settled back against the headboard again, hooking her close to his side while he feathered the strands of her hair with his fingers. “Not exactly sure, Libs, but I have a sneakin’ suspicion an excessive amount of poppy seeds may have been involved.”

Liberty spun around to face him, eyes wide. “Oh my goodness, that’s it! I remember reading an article at Vassar once, about certain poppies that are harvested for opium, and I think it said poppy seeds from Spain were particularly powerful.”