“So, I suppose you should be congratulated,” Cressida said.
“I suppose I should,” Octavia replied.
“Not only did you chase away the prince, but you stole Fortescue as well. You do like to get around.”
Stole was a curious word. It implied that he belonged to them, which had never been the case. And they certainly hadn’t charmed the prince. “I’m simply a difficult person,” she said with a shrug.
“I hope you’re pleased. You really are the most selfish of creatures.”
Octavia’s smile was barely more than a grimace at this point. There was no point arguing with this woman, she reminded herself. “I am very happy.”
Cressida’s smile was putrid. The hate was not going to end anytime soon, Octavia conceded.
“You do have a habit of bamboozling men. I wonder how you achieve that?” Lydia said tartly. It was a thinly veiled aspersion on her character. They would, of course, assume that she’d manipulated them in some way, because that was a tactic they expected would be deployed. It said more about them than it did about her. One could not steal a person, but there was no point haggling with these women. They would always see her in a certain light.
They would never understand that their beauty and inherent superiority weren’t the sole virtues by which they were considered. They would always believe that some kind of trickery was involved.
“I simply told him how handsome he was,” Octavia said with a shrug. “Can you believe it’s that simple?”
“I’m sure it wasn’t quite that simple.” They prevented themselves from going that one step too far and making accusations, even as they believed she’d done something unscrupulous. And how could she argue when the truth was that she wasn’t an innocent anymore? Obviously, that had happened after the engagement, but Octavia doubted the Forthill sisters would care.
As it was, however, Cressida had to be careful, or she would incur Julius’ displeasure. If that was something she would risk in aim of her vindictiveness remained to be seen. It would be to her detriment. Frankly, Octavia didn’t care if everyone knew there had been some degree of passion between her and her fiancé. Obviously, there would be disapproval, but Octavia was used to incurring disapproval. Finn wouldn’t care. Julius probably wouldn’t, but Caius was still touchy.
“Simple as that, I just stole him away.”
“He’ll never be happy with you. You’re too... ill-considered. Everyone thinks so. Even your brothers.”
That was downright unkind. “Yes, I’m sure my brothers discuss their opinion with you.”
Cressida’s displeasure showed the comment hit a mark. It seemed Julius refused to entertain her malicious opinions. And Caius would never speak to her about family, probably on any topic.
Leaving them behind, Octavia joined her husband-to-be as the men joined them. “I hope you haven’t run into any difficulties,” he said quietly.
“Nothing I can't handle. My thievery is both indiscreet and offensive. I hold you under some spell.”
“Then let’s hope it never ends,” he said and kissed her quickly. It was the first time they’d kissed in view of others, and Octavia blushed. “To indiscretion and offensiveness,” he said and held up his glass of whiskey in a mock toast.
Octavia smiled, but there was that slight worry in her for her brother. It seemed her worry had shifted from one brother to the other. Was there any point when she could stop worrying about them getting themselves into trouble? Hopefully, her fears were unfounded, but she was worried Julius had chosen very badly.
But tonight was not about her brother and his decisions. It was about her and Finn, and about this, she had no qualms whatsoever. Above all else, she got the love match she insisted on, and it was better than she’d dared hope. It was now a mere three weeks until they married, and she hoped it wasn’t the longest three weeks of her life.
“I love you,” he said into her ear and she felt nothing but deliciousness. All she wanted to do right now was kiss him as deeply as she could, but it would be scandalous. Would it be worth it, she wondered. No, best not to. Really, they could wait. It was a mere three weeks until they were married.
Epilogue
Octavia kissed Finn’s nose as he lay sleeping on her with their limbs entangled, completely naked. Dawn was cresting and it was time for him to leave again, down the perilous path to the garden where he snuck in at night to come to her. They hadn’t intended on this happening quite so often, but when night fell, all she wanted was him with her, and he couldn’t stay away.
The urgent desire between them only got better and better. Her body ached for him to arrive, and when he did, they just about ravaged each other.
So many days, she’d looked exhausted, taking long naps in the afternoons. If Eliza noticed, she didn’t say anything. As it was, sleep couldn’t compete with how badly she needed him to be with her, to touch her and to make her feel so utterly wonderful. She’d had no idea it could be like this between a man and a wife.
Come that afternoon, they would be married, and this sneaking into her window each night wouldn’t be necessary. They would be on their honeymoon and they could be together all day long, not having to pretend they didn’t spend all night together.
Finn stirred and kissed her neck. Heat soared in her again. It was a little like the madness the poets spoke about. Her want for him was incessant, and so overwhelmingly powerful. The feel of his skin to hers, them utterly naked like this, there simply wasn’t anything better. “It’s dawn,” he said, his voice gravelly with sleep.
“Would it be so awful if you stayed? We will be married today.”
Shifting up and laying down on her
