To Love A Wild Irishman

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Five

"Dancin'?" Finnegan grinned and kissed Cassandra's nose. "Did ya not get your feet stomped on enough times the last time I twirled ya 'round a dance floor?"

Cassandra shook her head and Finnegan felt his heart swell when she snuggled closer against his bare chest. It was truly amazing what this woman had done to him, for him, in their lives. As children she had always been there for him. Truly that was why he had been so quick to open up to her and bare his soul when his mother had died. If he was being honest with himself, which he was more than willing to be now, it hadn't only been her presence during his weakness that had had him kissing her that night in the loft. It had been her. He'd loved her then but life, her father, his own insecurities and foolish beliefs had come between them.

Never would Finnegan let anything come between them again. He'd been blind, deaf, dumb and soft headed to live the way he had for so long. To spend his time doing whatever, whenever just so long as it brought him pleasure...and even when those things constantly put his life in danger. Truth was he hadn't cared. It wasn't that he'd been depressed or brooding; on the contrary Finnegan loved life and he had loved that life but he knew now that life had been empty.

Little Cass had given his life meaning and as long as he had her beside him he would be the man she deserved. It wasn't always easy. His legs had to be forced to walk past a good game of dice in a back alley. His hands twitched and itched to roll those tiny carved pieces of wood and his eyes and brain begged to run through the odds and place a few bets. Hell when he had seen a buggy race about to take place two days before he had nearly broken away from his traveling companions and gone straight to it... Only Cassandra and the thought of that babe in her belly had kept him sitting strong in the saddle.

And then there was the urge for whiskey. God, he wanted it terribly. He put a brave face on for Cassandra and did not let her know how badly he missed it but he had not had a sip in weeks--not since the night he and Cassandra had gotten into that fight and he'd ended up in the saloon. At times the thirst seemed to be in his blood and swimming beneath his skin....

In those times he would take Cassandra in his arms and let his addiction for her overpower the need for that whiskey. He was finding that it did get easier the more days that passed but he knew it would be something he struggled with a long time. That urge for gambling, betting and whiskey... but Finnegan knew they were things he needed to stay away from. He had learned the hard way that he did not know when to stop and even the smallest taste of his vices had him losing control.

Cassandra would become his only vice. She was already his biggest vice; his greatest addiction. Her touch, her laughter, her big green eyes, her wit, her kiss, her scent and her devotion were the only things he had to have. He had learned he could live with the whisky and the bets but he could not live without his Little Cass and he prayed that he would never, ever, have to.

He pulled her closer in the soft bed and kissed her golden curls. "Aye, Little Cass, we can go dancin' tonight."

Cassandra raised her head and glanced over toward the clock on the wall. "We should be getting ready then. We'll have to get something to eat before the dance begins."

"Is my little lad hungry?" Finnegan asked with a grin as he laid her hand over her stomach.

"I don't know about your little lad but your wife sure is," Cassandra replied dryly.

Finnegan nodded and slid from the bed. He took her hand in his and helped her up as well, pulling her bare body flush against his. Despite the love they'd just made, Finnegan felt his body heating anew and tingling with pleasure at the feel of her skin pressed against his.