Page 64 of A Night of Forever
Suppressing a grin, he took it and placed it safely out of her reach. His Isobel was not a drinker.
“Once my mother died,” she continued, when she was again in command of herself, “my father blamed himself. He gambled more, drank more. I think guilt drove him.” She tilted her head, studied his face. “Sometimes you have a similar look about you. Yes, that one, where darkness moves behind your eyes and then disappears. Unburdening oneself of secrets can be good for the soul.”
She’d seen the darkness? He slammed his most impassive mask into place and stared her down. His soul and secrets were his own business.Move on. Move on.
Finally she sighed and looked away. “Then, one day, Father arrived home with Victoria as his wife. I knew something was wrong. He visited Mama’s grave every Sunday and sat talking to her. He once told me he would never replace my mother. Oh, he had other women, a mistress or two here and there, but he swore he had only one love, and would have only one wife, a son be damned. I was proud of him. I thought him so romantic until he came home with her. I never forgave him for his betrayal.”
He understood that. “Of your mother?”
She shook her head. “Of me. Letting me believe my mother was all that mattered to him. That’s when I decided that love was a lie. Once Victoria moved in, I simply wanted to marry any man who would give me a reasonable life so I could escape from the hypocrisy of such a home.”
Arend also understood the belief that love was a lie, and the need to escape from a prison by any method. “Then meeting the Libertine Scholars’ wives changed your mind again?”
She nodded. “And discovering that it’s unlikely my father married Victoria from choice.” She held his gaze. “I don’t believe a man should be judged his whole life for one foolish mistake, Arend. It’s how he picks himself back up and tries to live a good life that counts.”
He swallowed hard. He’d made many mistakes, not just one. Mistakes that cost people their lives.
She rose from her chair to kneel at his feet. She ran her hands up his thighs. “You must have learned from your mistakes, because I know that you are a good man.”
He studied her, feeling his body stir and harden at her touch, wishing she was right. Her thick midnight-colored tresses gleamed almost dark blue in the firelight. Her face, like that of a Greek goddess, was not diminished by her injury, and her pert bosom rose and fell rapidly as she sat at his feet, like an offering from the gods. He ran a finger down her cheek, tracing round her wound. “If I am such a good man, I would not have brought you here.”
“I asked to come. It has been worth it. I can already see how your childhood shaped you.”
“Can you?” He doubted it. Unless she had experienced society’s scorn, and had gone from day to day never knowing when creditors would come knocking to throw one into debtor’s prison, how could she understand? “If my childhood taught me anything, it was to be wary of appearances. An angelic face can hide a multitude of sins. I hate to think what my home says to you.”
“See, you can share your feelings.” She smiled and moved in further between his parted thighs. “I’m beginning to trust in your ability to share your secrets.”
Foolish Isobel. “That’s your first mistake.”
“One of us has to trust the other or this partnership will never work.”
—
Arend must have had a lot of women approach him, and Isobel had never tried to seduce a man before. His lack of obvious response to her touch and her words was not a good sign.
Because her palms were damp, she rubbed her hands along his thighs to dry them. When the muscles stirred beneath her fingers, she slid her palms higher, thrilling as his muscles moved and tensed under the pressure.
She had almost reached his groin when his hand shot out and grasped her wrist.
“You are playing with fire, my lady.”
Her breath caught in her throat at the heat in his eyes. She must be doing something right.
To her disappointment he stood, pulling her up with him. “You wanted a tour of the house. The upstairs fires should be well lit by now.”
The fire in her belly was well lit too. The heat from his body beckoned her closer. She put her hand on his chest and could feel a solid beat under her fingers. Her heart raced and pounded. His was as steady as a rock. Apparently she was the only one of them who was affected.
He stepped around her and held the door open so she could pass through. When she mounted the stairs she could feel his eyes upon her back.
But once she reached the upper floors her mind took another direction. The house was in even worse condition than the dilapidation downstairs suggested. There were signs of obvious serious leaks, and some of the wooden shutters appeared to have rotted.
When she entered the master suite and found it draped in protective dust sheets that were clean with no apparent dust, she turned to him in confusion. It was as if this room remained unused.
“Why do you not sleep in the master suite?”
The words had not finished leaving her mouth when she saw his expression in the candlelight and knew. He didn’t think he was good enough to sleep in the master suite.
She walked slowly toward him, not taking her eyes from his. Then she casually walked past him and closed the door to the hallway, shutting them in.
