Page 57 of A Night of Forever
The litanyYou don’t want to let her goplayed over and over in his head. That he’d treated her as an enemy from the day he’d met her made any possibility that she might choose to go through with the marriage ridiculous.
He was being torn in two. One part of him wanted her with every beat of its heart, wanted to bury his face in her scented heat, taste the fragrance that was only ever Isobel. The other part of him was screaming in agony, begging to flee before it was too late…while the nauseating smell of burning flesh filled his lungs.
Frustrated, restless, he prowled the edge of the ballroom.
When he’d returned from Brazil he’d been too full of self-loathing and pain to think about the future. He’d achieved the wealth that had been his sole driving goal for so many years. But he had no idea what he wanted now that he’d achieved it. Perhaps he’d never believed he would restore his family’s wealth, and now that he had done so, he felt as if he didn’t deserve it.
He hadn’t even spent any money on the restoration of his London residence or the barony estate. Creating a home had never mattered to Arend. A house was simply a place to sleep. But a woman like Isobel deserved a proper home, one like Christian had created for Serena. The thought that Isobel might one day see the wreck his home had become filled him with shame.
It was torture watching her laugh and smile up at whatever Colbert said to her as they glided across the dance floor. Running a hand through his hair, Arend wondered why he suddenly thought he might one day deserve a chance at a proper life. After everything he’d done, giving up his pride, his honor…But as he watched Isobel, he found himself thinking about the one thing he did not deserve but now wanted desperately—a real home and family. Children, even.
The thought of bringing a child—his child—into the world had always sickened him. Normally the idea of that child inheriting his disposition, or, God forbid, his father’s, almost made the idea of being a eunuch something to consider.
Was it Isobel, the idea of her innocence, that suddenly made him long to see what a child he might make with her would look like? Would it have her smile? Her cute nose?
The winding path of his lonely life suddenly felt too long, its echoing emptiness uninviting. Isobel could fill it with her laughter, her intelligent banter. With passion.
Looking back over his thirty years of life, Arend suddenly understood clearly that sometimes one did what one had to in order to survive. He had never intentionally done anything to hurt anyone else. He’d merely hurt himself. Even his partner’s death had not been entirely his fault. He’d been a fool. But was he a fool who was worthy of love? He was not sure.
In his more rational moments he now doubted Isobel was complicit in Victoria’s plans for the downfall of the Libertine Scholars. She simply wasn’t capable of such coldness. It was clear to all who read Lord Stuart’s journals that Isobel’s father had loved her, and that she had reciprocated those feelings. She would never be party to killing her father.
Only yesterday, Arend had learned that Evangeline’s dead husband, Lord Stuart, had received a letter from Taggert’s sister detailing his suspicions about the fire, and saying that if anything happened to Taggert she was to tell Lord Stuart it was due to Lady Northumberland.
The music came to an end, jarring his thoughts. While Arend gazed at the couples leaving the floor, Colbert bowed over Isobel’s hand, lifting it to his lips and placing a lingering kiss on her knuckles. Yes, he owed Colbert a damned good thumping.
A tremor ran through him. He was at the top of a cliff with fire behind him and churning seas below. He had to either leap from the cliff and pray there were no rocks below or stay where he was and burn.
When one reached for a dream, one risked the fall.
Risked it all.
He’d done that before and found diamonds, but he had paid a very high price.
Was he about to pay an even greater one? Now that he knew what he wanted, would Isobel have none of him? If so, he deserved her rejection. Who would take a risk on a man who could not trust?
The thought had scarcely formed in his mind when she turned her head and their eyes met. The longing, forgiveness, and desire in her gaze wrapped around him. The next moment he was moving toward her, as if he were a puppet on a string and his feet were being directed by her hand.
When he reached her side Colbert must have seen something in his eyes. The lieutenant placed her hand in Arend’s. “You are a very fortunate man, Lord Labourd,” he said.
“I am,” Arend said. “I’m beginning to understand exactly how lucky.”
At his words Isobel’s smile flashed bright, and a lively blush swept her beautiful face, her scar forgotten.
“You look very flushed, my dear,” he said. “Perhaps some fresh air?”
She nodded her approval, and with her arm linked through his they made their way around the dance floor to the terrace, greeting those eager to be able to say they had conversed with the couple of the moment.
Once on the terrace, Arend didn’t speak until he’d led Isobel away from the house and deeper into the garden. A slight shiver shook her slender frame and he cursed as he realized the night was chilly and she did not have her wrap.
When he reached a bench at the side of the arbor he sat down, pulled her onto his lap, and wrapped her in his arms. When she gasped and tried to free herself, he said, “You’re cold. I’m simply trying to keep you warm.”
—
Warm? Isobel thought her cheeks were hot enough to glow like banked embers in the darkness. Another moment and she might combust. The sensation of Arend’s strength around her, the masculine hardness of his chest against her back, his muscled thighs beneath her bottom…how could she focus on anything but the power of the man holding her so gently in his arms?
“I want to ask you a question.” He spoke softly, and in such a serious tone that she knew, whatever the question was, her answer would change her life. “I should have asked you when we met, although I would probably not have trusted in your answer.”
The thumping of her heart grew faster as one warm hand settled on her wrist. She knew he must feel every beat, every stutter. “You can ask me anything.”
