by Piper Scott
Finch did not have freckles. He did, however, owe thanks to the Dragonet Club. Not only were they giving him a chance to compose himself, but they were actively working to keep his secret. It was a shame they had to mention the Pedigree to do it, since Finch had been trying his best not to mention his enrolment at all in the hopes Hugh would simply forget he’d ever been a part of it, but he’d rather his involvement with the Pedigree be fresh in Hugh’s mind than his secret come to light. With some luck, sweet, gullible Hugh would eat up their every word and forget anything was amiss.
Which was exactly what happened.
Hugh made a moue of distaste. “How ridiculous. Finch, I’ve never seen a freckle on you, but I assure you if there were any to be seen, I would still hold you in the highest regard.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Other Drakes were filing into the room now. Grimbold entered, followed by Ian and Geoffrey. Alistair, Everard, Reynard, and Sebastian trailed behind. There was no sign of Bertram, but that was to be expected. He seldom attended family functions.
“I think everyone has arrived,” Hugh announced. “It’s high time we eat cake. Finch, what do you think? Will you come share some with me? I find myself ravenous, but I would like your company, if I may.”
“I would be glad to, sir.” Finch whispered his thanks to Peregrine and Misha, then stepped out from behind them to join his employer. “And thank you again for not minding my freckles. I always strive to be the best for you, but some things simply cannot be helped.”
“Think nothing of it.” Hugh took Finch’s hand and led him through the crowd. With almost thirty nephews between the ages of five and eight, one lizard in a party hat, seven grown dragons, and six Disgraces—not including themselves—it was no easy feat.
“Isn’t it amazing, Finch?” Hugh asked when they were in the thick of it, the ghost of his lips moving against the shell of Finch’s ear. A shiver coursed down Finch’s spine, and he leaned into the touch. It was only so he could hear Hugh better, he told himself, but it was a lie. Being close to Hugh was a delight unlike anything else he’d experienced in life, and he’d take any excuse he could to partake in it. “Seeing all the children together like this puts all my fears to rest. Disgraces are dragons. They have to be. There’s never been a time when so many clutches were born in such rapid succession. Harrison really has figured it all out.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I can’t wait until we can put his theory to the test and add to the chaos at the next Drake family function.”
A new kind of pleasure coursed through Finch. Hugh had said “we.” It was a slip of the tongue, to be sure, but after his discussion with the Dragonet Club and so many years of repressed desire, Finch couldn’t help but imagine how wonderful it would be to carry a clutch to term for his dragon.
“Yes, sir,” Finch said again, not trusting himself with anything else.
But like all dreams, the fantasy ended all too soon. Hugh parted from his side and shooed away his nearby nephews. “Step aside, children! Save some cake for your uncle Hugh!” he bellowed.
Finch stood where he’d been left, eyes on Hugh’s back, as he convinced himself over and over that every other Drake mating had been a fluke. Disgraces were not meant for dragons. Even were he to try, he would never have a clutch with Hugh, and it would break his heart. A lifetime spent at his side longing for what he couldn’t have was better than taking a risk and having it end in catastrophic failure. At least, as his secretary, Finch would be able to serve him all his life.
He could not come clean about who he was.
Not now.
Not ever.
“Finch!” Hugh called as he looked back over his shoulder. “Come along, now! We don’t have long before these little beasties crowd the dessert table again, and I need you by my side before that happens. We’re a team, you and I. I can’t have us apart. I need you.”
The problem was, Finch needed Hugh, too, more than he could hope to say.
15
Hugh
Cake should not have been so delicious. Hugh ate his first piece in large forkfuls, shoveling the next into his mouth as soon as he’d swallowed the one before it. Magic had to have gone into this wonder of a dessert. There was no doubt in his mind. Flour and sugar alone could not come close to achieving such confectionery perfection. This was a dragon’s doing.
Or maybe Perry’s.
Hugh looked toward the children’s table, where Perry was seated on the floor surrounded by his brood, and decided that, yes, Perry had to be involved. His brother-in-law was pretty, but to wrangle a dragon like Sebastian took all kinds of wit and cunning. And cake. The secrets of this year’s birthday offerings were hidden somewhere within his crown of blond curls. Hugh was sure of it.
“Sir?” Finch asked in a low voice as Hugh lurched up from the table. “Are you well?”
“Yes, yes. I’m fine. For whatever reason, the floor here is uneven and I can’t seem to find my footing. I’m sure Sebastian will have it fixed…” A time frame eluded him, so Hugh waved a hand, dismissing the thought. “There are more important matters at hand, anyway. Finch. Finch! Have you tried the cake? You must try the cake. I’ve never had anything like it in my life.” He caught the back of Finch’s chair to steady himself, then dipped down and whispered, “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m embarking on a mission to find out who baked it, because I simply must have them cater the ball. Can you imagine? You and I, feasting on total decadence while we’re serenaded with live music and plied with the finest wine?”
Finch blinked. “Sir… this is a Funfetti cake.”
Hugh jerked back from Finch, eyes wide, and cried in delight, “Funfetti!”
“Sir, please calm down. Your family is staring.”
“Never mind them, Finch! You’ve unraveled the mystery. Now, how do I get in touch with this Mr. Funfetti? Or is it Mrs? Ms? Lord Funfetti… now there’s a name with a ring to it!”
“Sir—”
“Or would you call someone who bakes cakes for a living ‘Chef’? It seems more appropriate. What bits they have between their legs doesn’t matter as much as what they do with their hands, which are clearly magical. In any case…” Hugh trailed off as he locked eyes with Everard, who was seated on the opposite side of the table. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, and a moment later he rose from his chair. The bastard. It was just like him to snipe Chef Funfetti out from under Hugh while Hugh was otherwise distracted.
Well, not this time.
Hugh narrowed his eyes challengingly. “Don’t you dare.”
Everard leaned in to whisper something to his mate, Harrison, no doubt instructing him to join his evil mission. As a team they’d have an advantage Hugh wasn’t sure he could beat. If the best cake he’d ever tasted was going to be his, he needed to up his game.
“Finch,” Hugh whispered. “My brother and his mate are teaming up against me to steal the secrets of Chef Funfetti. I need your help, or they’re sure to succeed. If you have Chef Funfetti’s contact information, you must tell me, because if not we’ll need to mobilize and get to Perry at the children’s table before Everard and Harrison do.”
“Sir, I don’t—”
“Then it’s imperative we make haste!”
Everard was already on the move, although strangely he was headed away from the children’s table. It seemed an awful lot like he was trying to get to Hugh. But Everard was nothing if not sneaky, and Hugh saw through his ruse. While he faked Hugh out, Harrison would use the distraction as cover to slip unseen to the children’s table and vow Perry to secrecy. Such terrible trickery could not be allowed to happen. It was time to take action.
“Brace yourself, Finch!” Hugh declared.
Finch’s eyes widened. “For what, sir?”
Hugh answered by lifting Finch out of his chair and swinging him over his shoulder. Finch gasped.
“Brother,” Everard warned, but Hugh wasn’t swayed. He held on to Finch with one arm, grabbed his plate of partial
ly eaten cake with the other, and rushed in the direction of the children’s table. The floor was no better there than it had been where Hugh had been sitting, but he made do as best he could, only stumbling once or twice, and never enough to endanger his beloved Finch or his faithful cake.
Or was it supposed to be his faithful Finch and his beloved cake? He couldn’t tell the difference anymore. Both were precious treasures meant to be protected at all costs.
Children swarmed him upon his approach, but all of them were smart enough to stay out from beneath his feet. It did make progression more difficult than it had to be, but with Everard and Harrison likely hot on his heels, it was a blessing in disguise. With a protective barrier of nephews around him, he needn’t worry about any of Everard’s more underhanded tactics. As long as he got to Perry first, he’d win.
“Uncle Hugh!” Maxime said. “May we please have some candy?”
A chorus of so many pleases followed that Hugh couldn’t hear himself think, but thankfully the hubbub didn’t seem to affect Finch. He wiggled and squirmed until he’d sunk an inch or two lower down Hugh’s back and dug into Hugh’s pockets. From there, the details were a little foggy, but from what Hugh could ascertain, Finch took the candy he carried on him and threw it at random across the room. The effects were instant. In a flurry of shouts and screams, the crowd of young Drakes bolted across the room.
A second later there came a startled cry from Everard.
It gave Hugh a brilliant idea. “Use the children, Finch! The children! Throw the candy at my brother!”
“Already done, sir.”
“You are a treasure.” Hugh came to a wobbly stop next to a baffled-looking Perry. “Hello, Perry. Would it be an inconvenience were I to temporarily kidnap you?”
Perry tilted his head to the side in thought, the golden chains of his ear cuff brushing his delicate shoulder. “Will Finch be there?”
“Certainly.”
“Then no.” Perry smiled prettily. “Please, kidnap away.”
It was a struggle to kidnap an omega with one already slung over his shoulder and a precious piece of cake in hand, but Perry helped by raising his arms and allowing Hugh to lift him from the chest. Perry and cake on one side, Finch on the other, Hugh fled the room before his brother or his nephews could stop him. The secrets of Chef Funfetti were so close, he could taste them.
Sebastian’s atrium was a place of wonder. Hugh set Perry down gently in a patch of its lushest grass, then lowered himself to one knee to let Finch off his shoulder. Perry, ever the vision of beauty, tilted his head to best catch the light and lounged in a way that would have made Venus herself pale in comparison. Finch…
Hugh blinked, then stared.
He’d expected Finch to be far more clunky and awkward, but Finch held his own, stepping back from Hugh gracefully before sitting next to the omega beside him. His dark hair and eyes were in direct contrast to Perry’s fairness, but the difference didn’t minimize his beauty. Rather, it amplified it. Hugh was speechless.
“What an exciting turn of events,” Perry said, breaking the silence. “I never imagined I’d be kidnapped from a children’s birthday party. It goes to show that one can never be certain what life will throw one’s way. Is this your first kidnapping, Finch?”
Finch cleared his throat. “Yes.”
“Oh, how wonderful! They’re not always as nice as this, you know—you really are quite fortunate the dragon who decided to stake his claim on you is civilized. There was one time shortly after Sebastian took me from my cloister that I…” Perry laughed, the sound as bright and crisp as ringing bells. “Well, perhaps that’s a story for another day. We should focus on the present. Hugh, why have you brought us here? I can assure you that you won’t be getting a coin out of our hoard.” Perry’s eyes twinkled. “We’re stretched positively thin trying to set the children up with riches of their own. If you’re seeking ransom, you’re far better off kidnapping Harrison.”
If he was being honest, Hugh couldn’t remember why he’d whisked Perry off in the first place. The details had been lost the second he’d laid eyes on his secretary.
“Mr. Drake was moved by the quality of cake you served at the party,” Finch explained in his place, which… well, it did seem familiar, but Hugh couldn’t hold on to that thought no matter how hard he tried. How could he when Finch was sitting there in the sunlight, hair soft and gleaming, with the gemstone brooch Hugh had given him burning with inner fire? He was too tantalizing to resist.
“So moved,” Finch continued, “that he felt the immediate need to kidnap you so he could inquire as to who made it.”
“Oh!” Perry twittered with laughter. “I’m embarrassed to admit it, but Ignatius asked if there was any way he could contribute, and I couldn’t say no. I entrusted the cake to him. Chaucer was just telling me how much fun he had licking the spatula, so I assume it was homemade.”
“Chef Funfetti,” Hugh mumbled, nearly incoherent. He barely noticed when Finch took the plate from his hand. The world was moving more slowly than it had any right to, and he was having trouble following along.
“Hugh, darling, your eyes are awfully bloodshot.” There was a jingle. Hugh only clued in after the fact that Perry was patting his hand. “Are you well?”
The world started to spin, and even when Hugh closed his eyes, it wouldn’t stop. To protect Finch from being crushed should he lose his balance, he lay in the grass before him and closed his eyes. “My cake.”
“I have your cake, sir. I’ll keep it safe.”
“My Finch,” Hugh murmured sadly. He lifted a hand and grabbed at the air in front of him, but Finch was nowhere to be found.
“And I have your Finch,” Perry promised. “You needn’t worry. All will be well.”
Hugh couldn’t open his eyes for fear the universe would spin out of control, but he did feel the air move around him.
“I’m here, sir,” Finch said from close by. “I won’t leave you.”
“Never?” Hugh muttered.
“Never.”
“Finch…” Hugh reached for him again and this time found a wrist or an ankle. Whichever it was, it belonged to Finch. The pleasant, homey way the skin-to-skin contact made him feel could not be ascribed to anyone else.
Finch laid his hand over Hugh’s. “What’s the matter, sir?”
“Cake,” Hugh despaired. “My cake.”
“I will see to it that Emma bakes you one once we’re back home and you’re better.”
“No.”
“No?”
“You.” Hugh swallowed the excess of saliva pooling in his mouth. All of a sudden, he didn’t feel so well. “It has to be you. Will you make it for me?”
“I… I suppose, sir. I can try.”
“He’s awfully sweet, isn’t he?” Perry asked in a soft voice, prompting Hugh and Finch to simultaneously reply, “He is.”
Surprised, Hugh found the courage to open his eyes. The world was still spinning, but there was Finch, the tips of his ears pink, as beautiful as anything. It was a travesty he wasn’t a dragonet. Hugh would give away every last treasure in his hoard to make it so, but the world didn’t work that way. Saddened, Hugh closed his eyes. Amorphous shapes and colors twisted in the darkness, but the message behind them was clear—longing, need, and affection. The longer he focused on those concepts, the less firm his grip on reality became until he had no grip left at all and the darkness behind his eyelids lulled him to sleep.
“—but Drakes in particular can be clueless,” said Perry an indeterminate amount of time later when Hugh regained a semblance of consciousness. The inside of his head was prickly and he felt minty, like someone had turned his blood to menthol. “I wouldn’t dismiss him so quickly. If you were to just tell him the truth—”
“Impossible.”
“Why?”
“I’m afraid that if I did, it would destroy what we already have.”
Hugh lost track of the conversation and drifted back to sleep. When he
woke a while later, a new voice was speaking. It belonged to that cake stealer, Everard. “How much?”
“I’m not entirely sure, but possibly an entire nugget. Hugh seemed to be under the impression that was a small amount suitable for testing the… product.”
“Good lord.”
“It was my fault. I should have warned our hosts upon discovery.”
“Your fault?” Perry laughed. “Darling, this was the most fun I’ve ever had while being kidnapped. I imagine Sebastian will break down the doors any minute now and carry me off into the sunset, and—if I may be frank—I cannot wait.”
Hugh lost track of the conversation again. When he came to, no one was speaking anymore. The atrium was still and silent, but Finch was there. He’d positioned Hugh so his head was resting on Finch’s lap, which was a sweet gesture in and of itself, but was made sweeter yet by the way Finch was running his fingers through Hugh’s hair. He didn’t notice Hugh wake up—he was looking elsewhere, eyes distant.
“Finch?” Hugh asked in a hoarse whisper. “How long have I been asleep?”
Finch looked down on him and smiled, but it was a small, depleted thing that made Hugh feel guilty. “Four hours, sir.”
“What are you still doing here?”
“I promised you I wouldn’t leave.”
Oh, sweet Finch. Hugh frowned. His guilt grew. “I’m sorry.”
“Never be sorry, sir. It’s my choice to be here.” Finch’s smile gained sincerity. “I’m proud to be under your employ even when you kidnap the host of a children’s birthday party and demand his Funfetti recipe as ransom. Which I’ve obtained, by the way. When Ignatius stopped by to check on us, I asked him for it. He claims to have used the Pillsbury mix. I’ve already notified the staff. There should be several boxes of it waiting upon our return home.”
