Page 77 of Four Promises to Love

Her cheeky salute made him smile. She reached to her waist, unhooking some hidden fasteners that caused her dark skirts to fall to the ground. He swallowed when he saw what she wore beneath. The charcoal stockinet drawers were the sort worn by ropewalkers and acrobats and fit like a glove from her waist to her ankle. The way they showcased her shapely legs made the front of his trousers instantly tighter.

“What have you got on there?” he said thickly.

“You didn’t think I would climb in skirts, did you?” She winked at him as she removed her boots. “Now give me a boost.”

He wanted to boost her up against the tree and have his way with her. But he knelt, and she climbed onto his shoulders. Feeling her sleek thighs sandwiching his jaw was a unique kind of torture. Holding her steady by the hips, he rose slowly.

“The next part is more challenging. If you have difficulty getting to your feet, try steadying yourself against the trunk…”

He trailed off because his instructions were superfluous. Finn was standing on his shoulders with the poise of a ballerina.

“I’ll need an extra boost to reach the lowest branch,” she said. “On the count of three. One, two, three.”

He pushed her upward. The instant her feet left his shoulders he braced, ready to catch her—but there was no need. She grabbed onto the branch, then hoisted herself gracefully onto the ledge.

“I think I see the hollow.” She craned her neck. “I’ll be right back.”

Nimble as a squirrel, she dashed along the branch, leaping onto the next one. Her expertise was reassuring but didn’t prevent his chest from tightening when she vanished out of view. He glanced at the stream, noticing that the current had picked up pace.

“Remember the fragile branches,” he called. “And the water⁠—”

“I found the hollow!” Her voice was muted by the greenery. “I’ll have a look inside.”

The canopy rustled and swayed. She let out a string of colorful curses that made his brows rise.

“There’s nothing here.” Frustration laced her words. “I’ve searched the hollow thoroughly.”

He wasn’t surprised. After all, he’d taken a look himself.

“You’d best come down,” he said.

She grumbled something, and there was more rustling. Seeing movement on the side of the yew closest to the stream, he frowned.

“Be careful, Finn. You’re too close to the water⁠—”

At the loud crack, all the hairs rose on his nape. He acted on instinct, rushing to the edge of the bank, stretching out both arms. A branch plummeted the instant before he caught her. He saw her terror and felt his own as he held her, half-suspended over the water, her hair whipped by the wind. He saw the branch being swept away in the frothing water and felt the tenuousness of his grip.

An instant later, he yanked her to safety.

Twenty-Two

“Owen? What’s the matter?”

“Just need a minute.”

Yet several minutes had passed since he’d saved her from falling into the water. Now they were a safe distance from the stream, and he was sitting with his knees up, his head buried in his arms. He was shaking. Finn scooted closer, laying a hand on his shoulder. His muscles were bunched steel, and he flinched at her touch.

“Are you hurt?” she asked worriedly. “Did you strain yourself when you caught me?”

“I’m fine.”

It was obvious that he was anything but.

“Look at me,” she said.

When he didn’t comply, she drew his head up. Even in the deepening dusk, she saw his moist cheeks and reddened eyes. And his expression—her heart clenched in agonizing empathy.

“What is going on?” she asked.