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Hugh’s favorite. What a treasure that man was, seeing to it that he had a small comfort during
an otherwise trying time. If he wouldn’t accept a raise, Hugh would have to start slipping gold
coins beneath his door.
When Astrid continued to be silent, Hugh elaborated. “By no means am I asking you to leave.
In fact, it would be a sincere pleasure to entertain you for as long as you wish to stay. However,
I must make it clear that I will be doing so as your host, and not as your potential mate.”
“I understand,” Astrid said, then fell silent again.
Hugh’s heart hurt for her, but he had no idea what else to say. When breakfast was over, he’d
seek out Finch, and together they’d make things right.
* * *
Hugh found Finch scrubbing the kitchen floor, which was curious, because every surface in
the room was already polished to a shine. He watched for a while from the doorway, then
cleared his throat politely, which startled the manservant so much that he struck his head on
the underside of the table.
“Finch!” Hugh said with a gasp, rushing forward to make sure Finch hadn’t been injured.
Finch winced and rubbed the spot where he’d been struck, and while it was perhaps overly
cautious, Hugh channeled some of his magic into him to undo whatever damage had been
done. “My apologies. It wasn’t my intention to harm you.”
Finch, usually professional to the extreme, looked at Hugh with gentle, partially lidded eyes
and leaned into his touch. How strange. Hugh had never seen his secretary in such a state,
but then again, he’d never channeled magic into him, either. Not that Hugh minded. This soft,
vulnerable side of Finch was charming, and Hugh found himself appreciating him in ways he
never had before. It was a crime that he’d previously failed to notice Finch’s long, slender legs
and his delicate facial features. Without his mask of impartiality to hide behind, Finch really
was quite stunning. His lips were modestly plump and glossy, tinted a soft pink that gave Hugh
the impression they’d taste sweet, and his eyes—god, his eyes. Two deep, inky pools that held
endless secrets Hugh couldn’t help but want to discover.
Pinpricks worked their way up Hugh’s arms, lifting the fine hairs growing there. Enamored,
Hugh gifted Finch with a little more magic. It was unnecessary—excessive, even—but he
couldn’t help himself. If it gave him even a few more seconds with this version of Finch, it was
