Page 31 of Four Promises to Love

“Fine.” He drew an irritable breath. “Come in, and we’ll see to your foot.”

And that is how one gets one’s foot in the door.

She remembered to hobble as he let her in.

Curious, she took in the cozy, single-room interior. Unlike the occupant, the fire in the hearth was cheerful. The rustic furnishings included a cabinet, table littered with papers, and a narrow cot in the corner. The bench at the foot of the bed held a pile of clothing, a single pair of boots tucked beneath. She noted that Owen’s feet were large and bare, aggressively planted on the flagstone floor, and had no idea why she found that attractive.

He gestured at the single chair by the table. “Have a seat.”

She complied. “This is kind of you.”

He crouched, reaching for her foot. “Let’s have a look.”

Hastily, she crossed her ankles beneath the chair.

“That is unnecessary,” she said. “Resting for a few minutes will suffice. But if it wouldn’t be too much of a bother, I could use a spot of tea.”

He gave her an impassive look, and for an instant, she feared he would call her out on her ploy. Instead, he rose and went to the cabinet. When he opened it, she saw it held cups, plates, and assorted foodstuffs. He set a kettle on the hob and added tea to a sturdy pot. She felt her eyebrows rise at the quantity of leaves he added. Completing the task, he poured out two cups, plunking one in front of her.

“As I was not expecting company,” he said, “I am out of cream and sugar.”

“I enjoy my tea plain.” It was a lie, but she was determined to be polite. “This is lovely, thank you.”

His reply might have been a snort. Leaning against the cabinet, he drank his tea and studied her. She took a sip—and nearly choked.

“Not to your liking?” he inquired.

It’s fine. If you like tea you can stand a spoon in.

“The tea is quite refreshing,” she said.

“That is the goal. To refresh you so that you may be on your way.”

Her façade of civility slipped a little. “That isn’t very nice.”

“Why are you here, Seraphina?”

The sharp edge of his stubbled jaw told her he was in no mood for games.

Do what you came to do. Make amends.

She set down her tea. “I told you. I came to apologize.”

“And I told you that is unnecessary. Yet you have done so, and now you may leave.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she blurted.

Pain flashed in his eyes, a quicksilver tell.

“You didn’t,” he said tersely.

Because that was clearly a lie, she rose and went to him. He set his cup down, crossing his arms as they faced one another. For a mad instant, she wondered how he would react if she told him the truth—about her desperate mission to save Iris—but she couldn’t risk it. If Owen or his family discovered that priceless gems were cached on their property, they would see the jewelry as rightfully theirs. Finn couldn’t think of a single reason why they would help a stranger and a member of a notorious gang at that.

No, she couldn’t reveal the truth. But as part of her apology, she could give him pieces of it.

“In my profession, I see what others do not,” she said. “That does not give me the right to expose the demons I see. Especially without permission.”

He curled his lip. “You expect me to believe that you saw my past?”