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That summer, he’d come to the stream every day to test his luck, and little by little, his skills
improved. Three weeks after first spotting the coin, Hugh bested the current. Heart pounding
hard from the anticipation of victory, he’d darted all the way down and plucked his prize out of
the silt. Alight with excitement, he’d shot back up to the surface and caught his breath on the
shore while examining his new treasure. It was an old coin, like the ones he’d seen in his
father’s hoard, but it was even better than any of his father’s treasure, because it was his. At
least, it had been until later that night, when Everard had tricked Hugh and run off with it. The
ensuing scuffle had injured them both and been so violent that not even their beta nursemaids
had dared interfere. In the end, their father had been forced to step in and put a stop to it, and
as punishment for being so naughty, he’d taken the coin away.
Hugh had learned an important lesson that day—guard the things you love, because you never
know when they might be taken from you. Only now the thing he wanted to keep wasn’t an
object, but a man.
It was strange, Hugh thought as his gaze traced the arm of Finch’s suit jacket, that his dragon
would insist he add a man to his belongings. Heaven knew his brothers would laugh if they
found out he was considering it. It was simply not done. The purpose of a hoard was to
demonstrate wealth and, through it, accomplishment. It was a reflection of a dragon’s success,
intelligence, and cunning. Priceless artifacts, expensive jewels, and humble gold coins
conveyed that quite nicely. Human beings did not.
But Finch…
Finch was a treasure. Hugh had been saying it for years now. Seeing him in his hoard chamber
drenched in riches only confirmed it. The man was meant to be cherished, and Hugh was just
the dragon for the job.
“The caterer is asking for our final selections from the wine list, sir,” Finch announced, stirring
Hugh from his thoughts. They’d assembled in Hugh’s study, Hugh seated at his desk while
Finch stood at his side, cradling a thick folder of documents in his arm. Finch produced one of
the documents and laid it in front of Hugh. “I’ve gone ahead and made a list of the ones you
reacted positively to during the tasting. There was only one champagne you enjoyed, so with
your permission I’ll confirm it as your selection, but I’ll still need you to choose from amongst
the reds and the whites.”
