Chapter 14
Isabel had left the bookstore that afternoon with her heart much lighter than it was when she had entered it. Sirius had successfully managed to dampen the stress she felt over Fernando’s letter by simply being his charming self. They perused the bookshelves for a long while, exchanging lighthearted banter, and Isabel quizzed him on whom he intended to buy books for. With that knowledge, she made recommendations, a feeling of triumph glowing in her chest whenever Sirius commended her taste. Eventually, Mr. Johnson returned and chimed in on occasion with his own picks, but overall he was content to allow Isabel and Sirius to search about his store and fill the air with their teasing.
When she realized it had grown late, Sirius escorted her back to Ana María and Gideon’s home, although it was in the opposite direction of his own, and the satchel on his shoulder contained a large stack of books. Sirius bade her goodbye on the front steps, his gaze moving between hers and her lips, and Isabel almost wished he would kiss her, not caring if her sisters saw. Instead, he lightly squeezed her elbow and departed. Isabel followed his retreating back until he turned the corner and disappeared from view, taking a bit of her happy mood with him.
Once she had rejoined her sisters, Isabel learned that she and Gabby had been invited to stay the night and enjoy a big Mexican breakfast in the morning. While she shared Gabby’s excitement for such a treat, Isabel had decided upon other plans as she had watched Sirius walk away. If her sisters were surprised when she politely declined the invitation, they did not show it, and Isabel was grateful.
Now, Isabel waited impatiently in her room at Yardley House for the staff to turn in for the night. It was nearing midnight, and since she and Lady Yardley had stayed in, Isabel was hopeful she would not have to wait much longer. A small pile of books lay scattered across her bed, as she had tried to distract herself among their pages, but her mind would not stop whirling. Since spending the afternoon with Sirius, she had been consumed with turning her carefully considered idea into reality.
The grandfather clock in the foyer announced the midnight hour, and Isabel bit her lip. She’d told herself to linger for a quarter of an hour more, which felt like an excruciating amount of time with her nerves so raw. But Isabel had turned waiting and watching into an art form, so she paced across the floor, quoting lines from “A un samán” by Andrés Bello.
When she was certain the house was still, Isabel wandered to her dressing room, where she donned a dark gown and the same black cloak she wore the night she and her sisters escaped from Mexico City. Pulling her curls into a bun, she slipped a small knife into her pocket. Wandering to the mirror to consider her reflection, Isabel pondered how much her opinion of Sirius had changed in the last couple of months. Oh, he was still the same rogue he’d always been, but now she knew there was much more to him beneath that merry exterior. There existed a man she genuinely liked, whom she enjoyed spending time with, and who seemed to understand her when so often she struggled to understand herself. What surprised her, even now, was that Sirius seemed to like her, too.
Isabel tried to envision what Sirius saw when he looked at her. But all she found was her same old dark eyes, broad nose, and black-as-pitch curls in the mirror. Isabel had always thought her features plain, but perhaps she had been unfair to herself. Hadn’t she caught the attention of a viscount? Didn’t one of London’s most notorious rogues call her remarkable? Isabel certainly didn’t want to tie her confidence to a man and his opinion of her, but perhaps the time had come to finally cast aside her insecurities and embrace the Isabel she’d always wanted to be. Fearless. Resilient. Beautiful. And she would do so tonight.
Peeking into the hallway, Isabel released a quiet sigh to find it empty. Slipping out of the town house several minutes later, Isabel clung to the shadows as she made her way through the Mayfair streets. She was thankful that Sirius’s home was closer than Ana’s and she didn’t have to skulk past where her sisters slumbered. Isabel wrapped her newfound bravery tightly about her shoulders and hoped fervently it was not misplaced.
The town house with the blue door was not hard to locate, and Isabel tucked herself behind a copse of trees in the adjacent park to allow herself time to study it. A row of three windows lined the first and second floors, with two narrow dormer windows situated on top. Unlike at Yardley House or even Ana María’s home, no flower boxes brightened the windows, the blue door and brass knocker the only adornment. Yet it was elegant and stately.
Of course Sirius lived there.
After studying the house for several minutes, Isabel noticed a lamp burned in the far right window, and if she squinted her eyes, she could make out a figure pacing back and forth behind the drapes. That had to be him…right? Her pulse pounded in her head and her palms were clammy, but Isabel did her best to focus on her surroundings. Was there traffic on the road? Was anyone in the windows of the neighboring houses? Confirming her path was clear, Isabel darted across the cobblestone street and tucked herself as best she could in the narrow hedge growing under the window. Ignoring how a branch jabbed her in the back, Isabel curled her fingers over the windowsill and pulled herself up to tug on the window. When it wouldn’t budge, Isabel extracted her knife and made quick work of the lock. Pushing loose strands of hair from her face with the back of her arm, Isabel pressed her hands against the windowpanes to slide it open. Grasping the skirts of her gown, she crawled through the dark window as gracefully as possible, a sigh slipping free when her feet hit the floor.
Suddenly, Isabel was wrenched by an iron grip on her arm, a thick bicep encircling her throat and cutting off any scream she would have emitted. Forcing down her panic, she strained her head back to meet Sirius’s gaze.
Sirius had just poured another finger of whisky into his glass when a noise outside the window abruptly snagged his attention. Sirius went stone-still, his ears craning to listen for what had disturbed the quiet stillness of the night.
There it was again. A soft rustling of the bushes outside his window. Silently walking to his desk, Sirius extracted a pistol from the top drawer and stealthily made his way to the window, pressing his body flat against the casement. If a robber thought to make a target out of his home, he would not like the reception.
In the dim moonlight creasing through the cracks in the drapes, a shadowy figure appeared from below. Sirius watched with his tongue pressed to the back of his teeth as the person picked the window lock and slid the casement up. Within moments, two feet softly thudded to the floor, and as the figure moved to push the curtain aside, Sirius leapt up and wrapped his arm around their neck.
A string of strangled Spanish words met his ears, and Sirius jerked back in surprise. Hastily depositing his pistol on the desk, he quickly turned to rip the black hood from the figure, stifling a gasp when sable eyes met his.
“Isabel, what in God’s name are you doing here?” he demanded, grasping her shoulders and shaking them.
Her face crumpled in derision, and Isabel yanked herself from his grasp, stumbling to the side. “You don’t have to be so rough.”
“My apologies,” he mumbled, running a hand down his face. “Now answer my question.”
Isabel’s chest rose and fell with her breaths, her eyes darting about but carefully avoiding him. “I—I just—”
Advancing toward her, Sirius crowded her back against the drapes, planting his hands on either side of her head. “I just…what? You were brave enough to come here, in the middle of the goddamn night, so you should be brave enough to tell me what your intentions are.”
Her full lips parted on a sigh…before irritation flared in her dark gaze. Planting her hands on his shoulders, Isabel shoved him back.
“First, don’t curse at me. Second, you’re forgiven for accosting me—”
“You crawled through my window in the dark, and I’m supposed to apologize to you?” Sirius quirked his brow. “You have a lot of nerve.”
“Third,” Isabel continued, ticking off a finger as if he hadn’t spoken, “I needed to speak with you.”
Sirius froze, his interest piqued. What could have possibly driven Isabel out in the dark to speak with him? “About what?”
Her hands twisted in her cloak, her teeth nibbling on her bottom lip. “I—I wanted…” She swallowed. “I wanted to a-ask if you would show me how to use my feminine…wiles to learn what Lord Westhope knows of the French?”
A buzzing sound filled Sirius’s ears, and his mouth fell open as shock chased away all his thoughts.
Noting his stunned silence, Isabel clenched her eyes closed. “Lo siento. I don’t know what I was thinking coming h—”
“You want me to teach you how to seduce Westhope?” Sirius bit out.
Isabel’s throat worked on a swallow, but she nodded. “It’s the only thing I haven’t tried, and time is running out.”
This infuriating woman. Sirius dragged a hand through his hair and yanked on it for good measure. The sting helped settle his mounting frustration.
Or so he thought, until he opened his mouth and said, “If you think I’m going to help you seduce another man, you are cracked.”
Outrage swept scarlet across her cheeks. “You said you would help me!”
“And I have been. But understand this, Isabel Luna.” Sirius stalked toward her, an unholy roar echoing in his head. “I would break every bone in Westhope’s hands if he ever laid a single finger on you.”
Isabel gasped, pressing a palm to her mouth. But soon her eyes narrowed and she abruptly pushed past him, stripping her black cloak from her shoulders and draping it over an armchair as she went. Her simple purple day gown should not have looked so tempting on her, but Sirius locked his arms at his sides to keep from reaching for her. Isabel might be standing in his dark library now, but she was a tempting handful he knew he should not touch again.
“You know I’m not interested in the viscount romantically,” she said, dragging her slender fingers along his book spines.
That motion, done so artlessly, sent heat streaking to his groin. Sirius shifted on his feet to relieve the pressure. “I know you’ve said that, but your feelings could have changed. Westhope is quite amiable.”
Sirius forced himself to say the words, although his body recoiled. He did not want to talk about the viscount, especially not with Isabel before him, surrounded by the books that used to bring him so much joy but now only reminded him of her.
“He is. And handsome, too.” Isabel glanced at him over her shoulder, a smirk twisting her lips. “But while you may be capable of trifling with more than one woman at a time—”
“It’s not what you think.”
Isabel blinked, her mouth slightly ajar. “I don’t understand.”
“My supposed exploits.” Sirius rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “My rakish reputation. I’ve cultivated it for a reason.”
“What reason would that be?”
The pucker of confusion between her brows urged Sirius to take a step closer to her. This revelation had to be done with care. “You know how Mr. Ramírez wanted you to use your access to members of London society to search for their secrets? Well, I use my status as a war hero”—Sirius spit out the word—“and an earl’s son to do the same.”
“You do?” Isabel’s gaze swept over his face. “D-does that mean you work for—”
“I come by my connections in the Home Office naturally.” He smiled. “I started when I returned from the peninsula.”
There were days when the war felt like a long-ago memory, and others when the memories were so vivid and wretched they kept him awake at night.
Isabel’s eyes darted about with her thoughts, and Sirius could see her putting puzzle pieces together. “So does that mean that all those times I saw you with different women, or heard salacious whispers of your affairs, you were…working?”
His shoulders tensed, and then fell on a long exhale. “More times than not.”
That barely there smile of hers curved her lips, but her expression darkened. “Is that why you know so much about Westhope? Is he one of your…” She frowned. “Targets?”
Sirius hesitated. Lieutenant Colonel Green never told him to withhold such information from Isabel, but admitting to spying on the gregarious viscount seemed akin to kicking a puppy. “Westhope has close ties to the French, and after what happened with your sister and Earl Tyrell, we are remaining vigilant.”
Her brief scowl told Sirius she had noted his nonanswer, and he was thankful she didn’t push the topic. Instead, she broached an equally unnerving one.
“Am I one of your targets? Is that why you’re suddenly showing interest in me?”
Isabel uttered the questions with her shoulders back and her head high, but her bottom lip trembled. Her large doe eyes stared up at him with defiance…but also an endearing amount of anguish. It would not do.
Planting his hands on her shoulders, Sirius gathered her against his chest. “No, sunshine. The curious workings of your mind, your reckless courage, and steadfast loyalty are what snagged my interest.”
Silence ebbed between them, and Sirius wondered what she thought of his confession. He imagined Isabel was considering his words and judging his sincerity. It seemed like a very Isabel thing to do. So to save her from overthinking, Sirius pulled her back and waited until she met his gaze.
“I enjoy spending time with you. I look forward to hearing your thoughts on whatever topic captures your fancy. Throughout the day, I ponder ways I can make you laugh.” Sirius brushed a curl from her cheek, allowing his fingertips to dance across her skin. “And I anxiously anticipate the next time you’ll let me touch you again.”
Surprisingly, Isabel’s expression was unreadable. Or maybe it was just guarded. Sirius didn’t have long to ponder it before Isabel slipped from his grasp and moved away. He let her go, his chest uncomfortably tight. Did she believe him? Sirius had never said such things to another woman before, and he hoped Isabel understood that his candor was in earnest.
Once she was outside his reach, Isabel stared at him and Sirius stared back…until one of her slim brows arched sharply. “You know, I don’t just let anyone touch me.”
A bolt of desire threatened to turn him into a human torch. “You’ve let me touch you, Isabel. You’ve let me taste you. What, then, does that make me to you?”
Isabel dipped her head but looked up at him through her thick lashes, and Sirius bit back a groan. She thought she needed help learning the art of seduction? Christ, she could have him on his knees with a slight tilt of her head.
Turning back to the bookshelf, Isabel studied his selection until her hand paused over one volume. Sirius smiled when he saw which book had snared her attention. Slipping the book from the shelf, Isabel held it up.
“Why do you have this?”
Sirius leaned his elbow on an adjacent shelf, his gaze glued to her profile. “Because I appreciate her work.”
Isabel pivoted about, color high in her cheeks as she clutched the book to her chest. “You have the complete works of Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz? You’ve never spoken of having an interest in her writings before.”
His gaze dropped to the volume she held so tightly, his jaw rolling as he pondered what to say. He could tell her it was a coincidence, that he had found it in passing. And not that he had asked Mr. Johnson to locate a copy for him, and had waited months for the man’s search to bear fruit. All because of her.
“You mentioned her that summer. At Dancourt Abbey.” Sirius lifted a shoulder. “You spoke of Sor Juana, as you called her, with such respect and admiration, and I suppose I had to know why.”
Her dark eyes widened as they held his. “And…what do you think?”
Sirius shrugged again. “I think she was quite brilliant. It was easy to see why the men of her time were so threatened by her. She eclipsed them in every way.”
Isabel licked her lips as she moved toward him. “Everyone doubted her simply because she was a woman. But she wasn’t content to allow others to define her. Sor Juana knew who she was and what she wanted to do, and although society at the time would not allow her to pursue her passions, she managed to create a life for herself that was fulfilling and memorable.”
She looked down at the book in her hand. “I confess that Gabby reminds me a bit of her. She’s fervent and sharp. She will change the world.”
Sirius’s fingers itched to brush a curl from her brow. “And I was just going to say that Sor Juana reminded me of you.”
“Of me?” Her mouth formed a perfect O.
“Of course. I’m a bit offended that you seem so surprised.” Sirius smiled when Isabel chuckled, but he quickly sobered as he debated whether he wished to steer the conversation down a road she had avoided before. “And now you want to direct that passion toward Lord Westhope.”
Her teeth sank into her bottom lip. “I don’t want to do anything of the sort. Not really. I just don’t know what else to do. When Fernando recommended I ask Gabby for help, it was like a punch to the gut. I know I haven’t found anything yet, but I’m trying. I want to help, and I just know I can do this.”
“I know it, too.” And Sirius did. Isabel was the most determined, focused woman he had ever met.
“Perhaps I should ask my sister.” Isabel huffed a breath. “She’s never met a stranger, you know. Even as a child, Gabby gathered admirers wherever she went.”
“And what of you?” Sirius asked.
Her snort was indelicate. “I’m a stranger even to myself.”
But not to me.The words sat on his tongue, but Sirius didn’t dare utter them. He knew they would chase her away, like a timid fawn. Yet he suspected Isabel saw the claim in his eyes, for she stared at him for a long moment, and spun about, Sor Juana’s works still clutched in her hand.
“So what do you suggest I do?” she asked, sinking onto the settee. “I know the viscount is fond of me, but how do I encourage him to be more…amorous?”
Fighting back the surge of anger that sparked in his chest, Sirius spread his arms. “Be yourself? Darling, you’re desirable all on your own.”
A bashful smile curved her lips. “You’re just being nice.”
“I’m being honest. There’s nothing nice about me.”
“That’s not true.” Isabel shook her head, more wiry strands slipping from her bun to brush against her face. “The Captain Dawson I know has turned his estate into a haven for the men he served with, where they can rebuild their lives surrounded by the beauty of the Devonshire countryside. He selects books to send to the families who live there.” Rising to her feet, she approached until she could grip the loose hem of his untucked shirt. “He befriends a shy wallflower, whom most people ignore, and listens to her chatter on and on about books and science even when it must be very vexing.”
Emotions he refused to identify singed the back of his throat, and Sirius forced them down with a rough swallow. Unable to have her so close without touching her, Sirius dragged his knuckles along her temple. “Vexing is not the word I would use to describe it.”
“What word would you use, then?” she breathed.
“Intoxicating. Mesmerizing. Hypnotic. Are those enough words?” A tear streaked down her cheek, and Sirius brushed it away. Overwhelmed with the urge, the need to kiss her, he cradled her face in his hands. The obsidian pools of her eyes blinked up at him, and Sirius would have done anything for her in that moment.
“Only you think those things of me,” she whispered.
Sirius swiped his thumb across her bottom lip. “I doubt that, but then most people are fools.”
And he leaned down to kiss her.
Their first kisses had been fueled by all the wild emotions combusting between them and the threat—the thrill—of being discovered. But this kiss was different. There was no fear of discovery, no one to find them wrapped up in each other. Here, within the walls of his townhome, Sirius could take his time with her…and a woman like Isabel deserved to be worshipped.
Cupping the smooth curve of her cheek, Sirius trailed his other hand down her back until his fingers snagged on the simple eye closures that held her dress together.
“May I?” he murmured in between kisses.
Isabel nodded, her hands curling about his shoulders.
While he trailed kisses along her jaw, down her throat, to the sensitive valley between her neck and shoulders, Sirius plucked free every clasp, biting back moans with each patch of warm skin he felt under his fingertips. Eventually her bodice sagged, and Sirius paused, his lungs laboring with every breath.
“Sunshine, come with me,” he said gently, pulling her by the hand toward the settee.
Her red-tinged lips quirked. “I love that you call me sunshine.”
“It’s the perfect name for you.” Sirius encouraged her to straddle his lap, for he knew she would appreciate the level of control the position gave her. If she was uncomfortable, he wanted her to be able to halt their interaction as soon as possible. “You blaze brighter than anything else in my life.”
“Ridículo,” she whispered, leaning forward to kiss him.
While he allowed Isabel to dictate the kiss, Sirius put his restless hands to work pulling the pins from her hair. When her inky curls tumbled about her shoulders, he leaned back to study her. “Christ, you’re stunning.”
Isabel surprised him by laughing. “I’m really not…but you make me feel beautiful. You’re the only person who ever has.”
“Darling, that’s an unforgivable sin,” Sirius hissed between his teeth as his hands hooked around the edge of her bodice and dragged it down her arms, revealing her golden skin to the light. “Look at you. I can’t believe you let me touch you.”
Sirius jerked his gaze to hers when Isabel gently grabbed his chin. Soft velvet eyes stared back at him. “And I only want you to touch me.”
Clenching his teeth, Sirius simply held her, his hands firm on her waist and his gaze locked with hers. How had he been so blind? With her black curls falling about her smooth shoulders, Sirius was speechless. How had he not seen all this beauty right in front of him? Once again, shame was his old friend.
He hesitated with the bindings of her corset, although his mouth watered at the thought of seeing the curves her gowns only hinted at. Even now, the swells of her breasts rising above her corset tempted him…but he didn’t make any moves to unwrap her. Although he ached to taste her and touch her again—to finally fill her—Sirius wrestled his desire into submission, for he knew this was Isabel’s first time with a man, and he refused to frighten her. Refused to pressure her or coerce her into an act that could not be undone. If she did allow him to take her to bed, Sirius intended to apply every ounce of experience he had ever gleaned into pleasing Isabel Luna so that this moment, with him, would be forever synonymous with pleasure. She would soon return to Mexico, but tonight Sirius was determined to make sure she never forgot him.