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his body warmed Finch’s back, and the scent of his cologne worked its way into the air, making
Finch’s heart throb. Only two thin layers of cloth separated their bodies. Finch tried not to think
about that little fact, but it wouldn’t leave him be. Hugh was there, so close, less than an arm’s
length away in Finch’s own bed, yet Finch, bound by duty and inhibited by fear, couldn’t touch
him. It was torture, yes, but it was of the sweetest kind imaginable.
6
Hugh
“And so you see,” Hugh said to the pretty omega across from him, gesticulating with his
partially eaten breakfast scone, “it really was no fault of yours. The blame rests entirely on me.”
Astrid nodded mournfully, but didn’t look any happier.
Hugh supposed he couldn’t blame her. He’d been rude in the extreme. It hadn’t been his
intention to injure Astrid—rather the opposite, in fact—but it didn’t excuse the fact that injury
had indeed occurred. He hoped that this morning’s talk had helped rather than hurt, but he
couldn’t be sure. If only Finch hadn’t left his suite so early. Hugh had woken up in time to hear
the door click, and by the time he was up and out of bed, Finch was nowhere to be found. It
was a pity. Finch would have known exactly what he should say.
Well, there was no helping that now. Hugh was on his own, and he was determined to make
things right. Since Astrid didn’t look any more cheerful than she had before his apology, he
had more work to do.
“I do very much enjoy your company,” Hugh added with a sweet smile. “You’re a lovely woman,
sure to make a dragon very happy someday. I simply regret that dragon couldn’t be me.”
Astrid lowered her chin, her lashes fanning across her cheeks in a doleful, heartbreaking way.
Drat. What else was there to say? He’d issued his apology and affirmed her worth. That should
have been enough, shouldn’t it? All of this was so very confusing.
“Whenever you’re satisfied with your visit, my secretary will arrange for your safe passage
home,” Hugh continued. He set his scone down on the fine china plate in front of him. Astrid
hadn’t touched her meal. It was a pity, as Cook had gone all out this morning. The scones were
fresh and delicious, the clotted cream was a delight, and the jam was heavenly and rich, having
been made from fruits grown in the back gardens. It was Finch, Hugh was fairly sure, who’d
seen the bowl of halved strawberries added to the meal. He knew very well that they were
