Finnian had never had a proper lover before now, but he'd once read about them in the salacious romance novels that he'd been forced to hide in the back of his bookshelf (lest anyone discover them and decide to turn dinner into one big joke at his expense). Most men kept lovers—at least in those books—who were younger, wealthier, and supposed virgins. His experienced was different, but no less exciting.

He couldn't keep his eyes of Belle that night. Finnian was no fashion expert, but there was no denying that the dress she wore was tailored to show off her assets and compliment her lovely complexion. He rarely saw her in anything other than her healer's robes (or in the nude), and being in public rather than the privacy of her bedroom added to the allure.

At some point Finnian decided that enough time had passed by for it to seem as though he'd coincidentally happened upon her, so he slowly moved in her general direction until they came face to face.

"I've hardly been able to enjoy myself tonight," he said, just loud enough for her to hear over the music and idle chatter, "when every woman looks absolutely plain compared to yourself."

---

In the few months since things had escalated the primary thing Belle had discovered about Finnian – that she could think about in public, at least – was that his charm, though ridiculous at times, kept coming despite the fact that in many senses its mission had been accomplished. At some point she had thought a young man with reasonable prospects would become tired of an older lover with children but thus far he had been a constant source of private delight.

“Hush,” she replied, a smile breaking across her face regardless of her small chastisement. There wasn’t anybody in earshot exactly but Belle was quite aware that she had more than one family member amongst the crowd and it wouldn’t take much for her aunt’s ears to prick up. “I doubt your suffering has been that terrible,” she said, eyes raking across him quickly. “Dashing young men get the pick of the young ladies I’m told.”

---

It was unbelievable that they hadn't yet been caught. They avoided each other in public, but he was certain Belle's servants had discovered their relationship and Finny had nearly told his brother on one occasion. At least Belle's youngest boy, five-year-old Beckett, had not wandered into her bedroom room at the wrong hour of the evening. Then they would have been screwed.

He struggled against the urge to smile, but his facial muscles were not used to fighting a grin. He flashed a row of white teeth and gave a little chuckle. She had to know how gorgeous she was—or at least how gorgeous he believed her to be—but he couldn't resist flattering her every time she tried to downplay her own attractiveness.

"Oh, but I have suffered," he breathed, his eyes trailing down to her lips, then her neck, and stopping just below her collarbone. "How could a lion enjoy a mouse knowing there's a graceful antelope nearby?" he said in a low voice, his gaze once again raising to meet hers.

---

That smile was rapidly becoming her undoing so Belle purposefully turned her face away, hiding a grin of her own behind her glass as she took a, potentially unwise, sip of her champagne. He was becoming bolder with her – nothing she was especially opposed to – but in public she was still wary of them tumbling into carelessness with all the alacrity that they had tumbled into bed.

“An antelope?” She asked with a raised eyebrow, bemused by the comparison. Sometimes his youth came shining through quite startlingly and this was one such occasion: Merlin, she was having more fun than she had in years. Surely something was soon to go hideously wrong?

“It’s rather presumptuous to assume you were the predator and I the prey.”

---

He took a sip from his own glass and nearly spluttered at her comment. He managed to choke it back with only a cough and flashed her another smile. It wasn't exactly untrue. She was older and had returned his flirtations eagerly, even though he was the one who took the risk to see her first. In 1honesty, neither of the had made the move that brought them to their current predicament; it was magic—a curse, a memory spell, something—that had seen that they awoke one morning together in bed with no recollection.

"Need I remind you who showed up at the hospital that day?" he asked quietly. He remembered. He'd snuck into her office and cornered her behind her desk. (She might have invited him to see her, sure, but he'd been the one to take the offer, right?) "Unless you'd like to tell me how you had it all planned in advance...?" he added cheekily, taking another sip to stifle a laugh.

---

“A lady never reveals her secrets,” Belle responded coyly, casting a glance around the room to double check that they remained unobserved. To the majority of society their pairing was no more than a long-forgotten rumour born out of the expedition – a pairing that even Witch Weekly at its most nonsensical hadn’t pushed as being a rumour of any note – and yet Belle had little doubt that the combined powers of her mother and aunt would be more than sufficient to sniff out the truth.

Perhaps being in public had not been the best idea after all? She was struggling to keep her hands to herself and controlling where her eyes rested was more or less impossible.

“Perhaps, in the interest of keeping secrets, we ought to abandon this charming soiree?”

---