To Love A Wild Irishman

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Sunlight shone on Finnegan's eyelids and he groaned lightly. He did not want to wake up when his dreams had been so pleasant. He'd dreamt of him and his Little Cass all curled up together. He'd dreamed of tasting her, touching her and seeing that undying devotion in her eyes that could make any man believe himself capable of moving mountains.

But the morning light let him know it had been exactly only that. A dream. His Little Cass did not have such a devotion to him. She doubted him just as the rest of the world doubted him--just as he doubted himself.

Finnegan heard a soft feminine moan and froze. "Shite," he whispered. There was a body curled up to him. A woman's body. "Shite. Shite. Shite."

What had he done?! The last thing he remembered was walking into that saloon with the intention of getting wobbly legged drunk. Clearly he had succeeded because he was in a bed, with a woman and he was....

Finnegan glanced down. The woman was completely hidden beneath the covers but he could tell that he still wore his shirt and a quick twitch of his leg told him his pants were on as well.

Thank the Lord!

But who was he in the bed with? Surely he had not gotten so drunk that he'd brought a woman to the hotel. Shite! He could forget about any future he might have still been dreaming about with Cassandra.

Finnegan had to get out of the bed, slip out of the room and run like hell that's all there was to it. A woman tended to get very grumpy when she woke up in your bed and you couldn't even remember her name.

Finnegan tensed, preparing to sit up. "Finn? Are you awake?"

Relief flowed through Finnegan like whiskey from a bottle. It was his Little Cass all curled up to him that way beneath the blanket. He hadn't been unfaithful! Just to be sure he tossed the blanket aside and there she was in her underclothes looking up at him sleepily. Her green eyes were swollen, probably from the tears she'd cried the night before, and her face was pale and tired.

"How did I get here?" Finnegan whispered. He clicked his dry tongue against the roof of his mouth and wondered exactly how much he had managed to drink the night before.

"Seamus and I carried you here," Cassandra replied. "Don't you remember anything?"

"No," Finnegan sat up as Cassandra moved off of him and pulled her knees into her chest.

"Finn, we need to talk."

"Can I get some water first?" he questioned. He got to his feet, swayed a bit as his head swam and then headed for the water pitcher. Cassandra was abnormally silent as he poured a glass and took several long swallows.

Finnegan wasn't sure he wanted to talk. He wasn't sure his heart could take it. Cassandra did not seem to realize the power she held over him and just how badly her doubts had ripped him apart.

"Can I talk now?" Cassandra asked quietly. Finnegan kept his back to her and nodded. "Finn, this got all turned around and I'm not sure how to but I want to fix it." Finnegan heard the rustling of the bed sheets as she rose from the bed and then her footsteps approached him.

When her arms slid around his waist and her face pressed against his back, Finnegan felt his resolve falter. God, this woman was everything to him.

"Finn, I love you. I have always loved you. You were always my best friend. The one person who never wanted to change me. The one person who liked me just the way I was. And Finn, I do have faith in you. Surely you know that? I think you are a strong, caring, warm, generous man full of life and spirit. I don't want to lose you, Finn. Please....." her voice broke. "Please, tell me I haven't lost you."