Isabel and the Rogue

Chapter 16

When had Everhart ever looked so young?

The thought pinged in Sirius’s mind as he grasped his old friend under his arms and hauled him to his feet. Without a word, the pair dashed through the underbrush away from the pounding of horse hooves and ring of cannon fire.

“You should have left me, you daft idiot,” Everhart panted, limping along beside Sirius. “I can’t possibly outrun these Russian bastards with my ankle in this shape.”

“Perhaps if you stopped complaining and focused on surviving, you’d have no trouble outrunning danger,” Sirius bit back, pressing them to an oak tree and peering around its broad trunk.

They were being pursued, but try as he might to peer through the surrounding murkiness clinging to the forest floor, Sirius could not make out the enemy. Prickles of unease crept like spiders’ legs across his neck.

“It’s not complaining to speak the truth,” Everhart had tossed back on the acrid breeze, his devil-may-care tone unchanged despite the threats lurking like unseen monsters around them. “And even if I can’t outrun them, I know you’ll be there to protect me.”

Suddenly, without warning, the oak tree Sirius had been hidden behind shifted under his hands, and he stumbled back and fell on his arse as the largest serpent he had ever seen uncoiled from the ground before him. Yellow eyes glared down at him, and a scream froze in his throat as Sirius scrambled to grab his friend. But Everhart lay prone and unmoving on the ground, his complexion waxy and pale. The serpent lunged for him, and Sirius dove to block it, his fear fleeing as bloodlust surged through his limbs like opium. He wrapped his arms around the beast’s neck and squeezed—

“Wake up, Sirius.”

He moaned in the back of his throat, confusion cutting through the vision before him like a hot knife through butter until the serpent dissipated. With frantic jerks of his head, he searched for Everhart, but he was nowhere—

“Sirius, you’re dreaming. It’s just a dream.”

A dream? Sirius attempted to open his eyes, but it was a herculean task, for while his mind screamed at him to awaken, his body refused to do so.

A solid, warm hand pressed to his chest, and heat spread through his blood, yanking him back to reality like a shepherd’s hook.

Kisses rained down upon his brow, a familiar vanilla scent descending over him like a springtime shower, washing clean the memories. Blinking his eyes open, Sirius found Isabel staring down at him.

“That’s it, cari?o. You’re here with me, at your library in London. I’m so impressed with your collection.”

Sirius moved until he could bury his face in the crook of her neck, his arm going around her waist and pulling her flush with his chest. Wishing dearly that he could soak her into his skin.

“It must have taken you years to build it up,” she said, her breath shifting the hairs along his temple.

Licking his dry lips, Sirius tried to attend to her words. He knew why she had mentioned it. Or rather he thought so. If Isabel was attempting to anchor him to the moment, she had succeeded. “Since I was released from the hospital after I returned to England.”

Her breath hitched for a moment. “You were in the hospital?”

Sirius nodded.

“What happened?”

Her voice was gentle. Curious. Sirius didn’t want to discuss it, not with his dream—his nightmare—so vivid in his mind, but it was impossible to deny her.

“I took an artillery shot to the side. The surgeons said it was a miracle that it missed my internal organs.” He swallowed, memories of the pain returning to him during inconvenient moments. “I was lucky enough to be carted from the field not long after the injury, and field doctors tended to me immediately. They saved my life.”

“And I’m grateful to them.” Isabel ran her knuckles across his cheekbone. “You don’t appear particularly happy about your good fortune.”

Sirius barked a hoarse laugh. “It doesn’t feel like good fortune when so many of my fellow soldiers were not as lucky.”

Isabel dropped her head to rest over his heart. “Lo siento. I—I can’t imagine how devastating that was.” She pressed a kiss to his skin. “How devastating it still is.”

He’d thought the burden of his grief, of his guilt, would become easier to bear the more time passed, and yet they were his constant companions. Sirius’s nightmare had been inconvenient after so many weeks without one, but perhaps Providence sought to remind him that he was undeserving of the small doses of happiness he managed to steal from a life devoted to penance.

“It’s why you have so many former soldiers working for you. Why so many of your men make their homes at Dancourt Abbey.” Isabel lifted her head, her eyes darting between his. “Why you try so hard to take care of them all.”

They weren’t questions. Isabel may not have understood the guilt that motivated so many of his actions—and he was not ready to tell her—but she grasped his intentions. That he didn’t have to explain it to her was a relief…but Sirius still wanted to try.

“This country doesn’t do enough to care for the men who serve it. Who fight for it.” It abruptly felt like he’d swallowed nails, but he pushed down the sensation. “So many of them return injured and scarred, most with internal wounds that will never heal. And they grapple with slipping back into a mold that no longer fits the jagged edges of the men that war shaped them to be.”

Although Sirius did not say it, Isabel’s hold on him tightened, and he knew that she understood he was speaking from experience.

“And so you do what the Crown does not.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Is that why you also work for the Home Office?”

Closing his eyes, Sirius let his silence answer.

They lay quietly next to each other for a time, the steady rise and fall of his chest almost syncing with hers. Isabel ran her fingers through his hair, her touch soothing his frayed sensibilities. But after a time, she sighed.

“I need to leave. The sun will rise in an hour or two.”

Sirius wished she didn’t have to go. He longed to spend the day with her, preferably on the expansive bed in his chamber, tangled in the bedsheets. But just like his nightmare, their dreamlike stasis could only hold back reality for so long.

“I’ll walk you back,” he murmured, kissing her cheek.

Dressing silently, Sirius helped her with the laces of her corset and refastened her dress, and Isabel adjusted his cravat tie until it lay respectably against his white shirt. He watched her fix her hair, tucking the sweet-smelling black curls into a sensible bun, the suffocating feeling of despair, of loss, twisting tight around his chest. Could they possibly go back to their lives as if their night together had never happened? As if she had not just reordered the structure, the composition of his chemistry, with the taste of her lips?

When her person was put to rights, Sirius helped drape her black cloak over her shoulders, before he spun her about and cinched it closed under her chin. Holding her eyes, he pulled the hood up over her head, shrouding her in shadows.

“Are you ready?” she asked, reaching out to grasp his hand.

Was he? Was he ready for matters between them to return to how they’d been before? Was Sirius prepared to watch Viscount Westhope continue his courtship when he now knew the bliss to be found in the tight, wet heat of her body? Could he meet her gaze from across a crowded ballroom and not want to immediately go to her and pull her into his arms? Was it possible to watch her laugh and converse with another man when he knew the narcotic rush of being the sole focus of her attention?

“I am,” he said instead, for he didn’t deserve the rest.

If Stanley, his butler, was still awake at this obscene hour, he had enough sense and discretion not to alert Sirius to his presence. He was grateful, because the fewer people who saw him smuggle Isabel Luna from his home the better. As much as he wished to keep her reputation intact, Sirius also had a great deal to lose if they were discovered. Surely his work for the Home Office would suffer, and his older brother, Harcourt, would be livid if Sirius were to bring scandal to his doorstep. It was enough that he’d returned to England injured but alive. When Harcourt had visited Sirius as he convalesced, he said it would have been better if Sirius had perished as a hero rather than returning to British shores as a shattered man.

His older brother’s callousness, especially when Sirius was already so low, was a blow he doubted he would ever recover from.

Yet Harcourt’s condemning voice whispered in his ear the entire walk back to Lady Yardley’s townhome. Although pink was beginning to streak through the early morning sky, Sirius kept a wary eye on every shadow they passed. His vigilance reminded him that Isabel had come to him without an escort, and the possibilities of how she could have been maimed turned Sirius’s grip on her hand into steel.

Although Isabel held her silence, Sirius sensed her agitation. Her hand on his arm trembled slightly, and her steps on the walk became wooden and awkward. Sirius knew he was the reason for Isabel’s uncharacteristic moroseness, and a dozen reasons clanged about in his head. Was she embarrassed by what he revealed of his injury? Did she regret losing her virginity to a man whose polished veneer hid so much brokenness?

Instead of asking, he said nothing at all. Everything seemed to have changed during their hours spent together, and for once, he didn’t know how to proceed. His confusion and uneasiness poisoned the air around them, and Sirius could feel Isabel’s eyes return to his face again and again as they walked. When they finally reached their destination, Isabel abruptly grabbed him by the bicep and thrust him into the shadows that lurked near the servants’ entrance. Sirius frowned down at her, frustrated he could not see her face.

“We can’t linger here, but I have to know what’s wrong,” she whispered.

Sirius was shaking his head before Isabel was done speaking. “Nothing is wrong. I was just focused on the walk.”

Her scoff echoed in the small garden. “Querido, your expression was frustrated, not focused. A-are you irritated you had to walk me home?”

“Of course not,” he snapped.

“Then what is it?” Isabel demanded.

“I—I…” Sirius’s brain scrambled to find a viable excuse to cover his tumultuous thoughts. “I was just thinking about when I would be able to see you again.”

There. That sounded believable. It was also true.

“Oh.” Isabel turned to look up at the house, the sole lantern burning near the back walk illuminating the fall of her nose and plump shape of her lips. “I believe Lady Yardley canceled our engagements for the next day or two because she was feeling unwell.”

“That’s fortuitous.” At Isabel’s snort, Sirius hastened to add, “For us, not for her ladyship.”

At least he didn’t have to worry about Westhope trying to steal a kiss from her.

“Would you be willing to meet me?” A breathless note filled her voice. “To decide what I can do next?”

“Of course,” Sirius said promptly. “I’m not terribly certain of where we can meet that will shield us from detection, but I will think of options from now until then. How about I send a carriage to the corner this afternoon, and you can meet me there?”

Isabel nodded. “That will work. Thank you.”

Without another word, Sirius pulled her into his arms. Isabel stiffened for a moment, but eventually the starch left her form. Twining her arms about his waist, she tucked her face into his chest.

“Someone may see us,” her muffled voice said.

“They might.”

“It would almost be worth it, because you smell so good,” Isabel hummed.

Sirius buried his face in her hair. “I’m delighted you think so.”

They stayed in each other’s arms for several more heartbeats before Isabel stepped away. “I’ll see you later today.”

He nodded, and watched her disappear into the house, his heart pounding in his throat. As he pivoted to depart, Sirius scrubbed his jaw as he allowed all his warring emotions to fall over him. He certainly didn’t regret the night he spent with Isabel—Sirius could never regret it—but with sinking clarity, he realized how vulnerable she made him. A decidedly frightening development.

Isabel made it to her chamber in time to see Sirius disappear around the corner at the end of the block. Letting the drapes fall back into place, she wandered to the bed and collapsed upon it in a heap.

Sirius had whispered the sweetest sentiments in her ear as he stroked within her body and brought her to heights of pleasure Isabel did not even know were possible. And when he stared into her eyes, she could almost believe he loved her. No, she declared to herself. Isabel couldn’t allow her thoughts to venture down that path. Covering her face with her hands, she pushed the memories of the night into the corner of her mind, where she could make herself believe they wouldn’t haunt her.

Isabel felt as if she’d only just rested her head on the pillow when a hand gripped her shoulder and shook her awake. Grumbling obscenities, she rolled over and glared at Gabby, who sat perched next to her on the bed.

“I returned from Ana’s an hour ago.” Her sister’s gaze roved over Isabel’s face. “You never sleep this late. Are you unwell?”

Smoothing the hair back from her brow, Isabel flung an arm over her eyes. “I’m fine. Just feeling a bit tired.”

“Obviously.” Gabby paused, and Isabel could practically hear her thoughts whirling about. “What did you do last night that made you so tired today?”

“Nothing of note. Lady Yardley and I had dinner, we sat together for a spell afterward, and she retired early.” Isabel snorted. “It’s not like I’m the most engaging conversationalist.”

“I beg to differ.” Gabby paused again, and when the silence stretched a tad too long, Isabel peeked out from behind her arm to look at her. Gabby stared back at her with her brows raised. “Is that it?”

A frown tugged on Isabel’s lips. “Well, I read for a while, and then retired myself.”

Gabby’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know that I believe you.”

Isabel pulled herself into a sitting position, tucking the sheet about her, and glared at her sister. “What are you implying?”

“I’m not implying anything. I’m stating”— Gabby enunciated the word with harsh t’s—“that I think you were somewhere else last night, and that’s why you’re so tired today.”

“Don’t be silly,” Isabel shot back, although her voice was high-pitched to her own ears. Of course her sister—her altogether too perceptive baby sister—would notice Isabel’s out-of-character behavior. An ache pulsed behind her eyelids. Still, she refused to admit anything, not at all ready to share whatever was happening between her and Sirius.

“Do you always sleep in your cloak?”

Isabel jerked her gaze down at the question, a stone settling in her stomach when she realized the sheet was actually her black cloak. Mierda.

Panicking, she tried to rally an excuse. “I forgot to take it off when I came in from my walk in the garden.”

Her sister just stared at her, her hazel eyes unamused.

“Where would I even go? And with whom?” Isabel threw up her hands. “You and Ana are my only friends.”

Gabby scowled. “Well, I know that’s not true.”

“What does that mean?”

“What that means, Isa,” Gabby growled, reaching out to grab her arm, “is that Captain Dawson is your friend, too.”

Just hearing Gabby say his name sent flames searing across her cheeks, and Isabel ducked her head. She didn’t dare meet her sister’s gaze.

Clearing her throat, she eventually answered, “Yes, well, that certainly doesn’t mean I was out with him last night.”

Lies!Alarms sounded in her head, her mind noting that she had never lied so blatantly to Gabby before. And it was apparent her sister didn’t believe her, because she rolled her eyes.

“I don’t understand why you won’t tell me the truth.” Gabby cocked her head, her lips twisting into a smirk. “It’s not like I’m asking if he’s a good kisser or if he takes his time—”

“Ay, why must you always be so much?” Isabel snapped, even while she fought back an exasperated laugh. “Whatever is happening between Sirius and me will stay between us.”

“Que aburrido.” Gabby considered her for a moment longer and exhaled loudly. “Very well, then. But please know that you are more than welcome to confess all your sins to me instead of Father Duncan should you feel the need to unburden yourself.”

Isabel tutted. “That’s sacrilegious, traviesa.”

Rising to her feet, Gabby shrugged as she walked to the door. “What are your plans for today?”

Isabel licked her lips. “I don’t have any. Lady Yardley canceled our engagements for today because she’s under the weather, so I thought I would spend the day reading. Maybe go for a walk.”

She was pleased by how normal she sounded…although her heart was still lurching in her chest.

“Perhaps I can accompany you on that walk,” Gabby said, her tone just a tad too blasé.

“T-that”—Isabel coughed into her fist, unease scratching at her throat—“that would be wonderful.”

Gabby inclined her head and then opened the door, stepping into the hall. “See you downstairs.”

Isabel stared at the closed door for a long moment and then dropped her head into her hands. How was she ever to meet with Sirius if Gabby insisted on accompanying her?

Dragging herself from bed, wincing at the twinge of discomfort between her thighs, Isabel wandered into her dressing room. As she stared unseeing at her selection of day dresses, Isabel fervently prayed to Saint Jude, the patron saint of lost causes, for a way to keep Gabby from ruining her assignation with Sirius.

Her nerves gradually abated when she joined Gabby and Lady Yardley in the drawing room. Although she felt her sister’s gaze on her throughout the afternoon, Isabel did her best to ignore her. Instead, she listened to Lady Yardley’s long list of complaints about her health, and feigned interest when she shared the bits of gossip she gleaned from the newspapers. Isabel had never been particularly close with the older woman, whose spirited personality both complemented and clashed with Gabby’s, but she genuinely liked and respected the viscountess. Lady Yardley had welcomed her and her sisters as if they were her own family, and provided them with the opportunity to build a new life in England. So if she had to be an audience member to the woman’s chatter, Isabel would do so willingly.

Eventually, Lady Yardley was distracted by the post, which Bauer, her lady’s maid, brought to her in a basket. While she read aloud the invitations, often with added commentary about the sender, Isabel snuck another look at the clock on the sideboard. Sirius had said the carriage would be waiting for her at three o’clock, which was in an hour. Fighting the urge to nibble on her lip, Isabel slid her gaze to Gabby…to find her sister staring at her.

Gesturing with her chin to the clock, she asked, “Should we prepare for our walk?”

Damn it.

“Good idea,” Isabel replied, hoping she appeared nonplussed.

Gabby didn’t allow her a moment to plan for a diversion, instead following Isabel into her chamber and dismissing Lupe. She proceeded to rifle through Isabel’s walking dresses while she clicked her tongue. Selecting a turquoise ensemble and holding it up to Isabel, Gabby hummed.

“I don’t care that some people think blue is unsuitable for brunettes,” she grumbled, spinning Isabel about to unbutton her day dress. “This color looks stunning against your skin.”

Isabel glanced at her sister over her shoulder. “I adore the color, but I haven’t worn it because I thought it might make my skin look darker.”

“And why is that a bad thing?” Gabby asked.

Without waiting for a reply, she pushed Isabel’s day dress over her hips and then promptly dropped the turquoise walking dress over her head. After Isabel had managed to slip her arms through the sleeves, she waited patiently for Gabby to lace up the back. Once that task was complete, her sister grabbed her by the hand and led her to the small dressing table. Encouraging Isabel to sit, Gabby set out tweaking her curls until they cascaded down her back in a style Isabel would never have dreamed of trying but would readily admit looked flattering on her. When the coiffure was to her liking, Gabby produced a decorative hat from her own collection. It was simple by Gabby’s own standards, with a modest brim and a black velvet bow whose ribbons would drape over the back of the wearer’s head. Isabel had always thought it quite pretty, but when Gabby perched it on her head and pinned it in place, pleasure warmed her chest.

“Do you like it, Isa?” her sister asked.

“I do. Thank you for letting me wear it.”

Gabby nodded, but didn’t say anything, fussing with the fall of the ribbons instead. Isabel watched her, confusion knotting her tongue. Finally, she asked, “Hermana, we’re just going for a walk. Why are you dressing me as if I’m meeting someone special?”

Lifting her head, Gabby met her gaze in the mirror. “Because perhaps you will.”

A prickling sensation crept along her scalp, and Isabel dropped her eyes. After a long moment, she finally said, “Would you like me to help you dress?”

“I’ll be fine.” Gabby clasped her shoulder and squeezed. “I’ll be downstairs shortly.”

Isabel nodded, watching in the mirror as her sister left the room. Turning back to her reflection, she smiled. The turquoise color did look striking against her dark skin…and suddenly Isabel wondered why she had let other people’s opinions of her looks become her own opinions. She was striking, she was appealing…she was memorable, not despite her Purépecha ancestry, but because of it.

With that revelation in mind, Isabel made her way downstairs. After accepting a shawl from Evans, the butler, Isabel lingered in the lobby, waiting for Gabby to appear.

Instead she was met by Bauer.

“Miss Gabriela asked me to tell you that she has come down with a megrim, and won’t be able to walk out with you.”

Isabel’s mouth gaped. “Gabby’s not coming?”

“She’s not, miss,” Bauer said, bobbing a curtsy before walking away.

Even as she stood on the front step, blinking against the bright sunlight, Isabel tried to make sense of what had just happened. Her sister had picked out her best walking dress, styled her hair, and made her feel beautiful…only to leave her to walk on her own? Glancing up at the window to Gabby’s chamber, Isabel would swear she could see her sister lurking behind the curtains. Gabby must have guessed that she planned to meet Sirius, and had taken the time to make Isabel feel confident in her appearance before she did.

A powerful wave of love surged through her, and Isabel blew a kiss up at the window, before spinning about and heading down the street.

As she approached the corner, her half boots clicking on the walk, the snouts of first one horse and then the other came into view. Her pulse pounded erratically, eager to see Sirius’s handsome face and hear his rich voice. Increasing her pace, Isabel turned the corner, a smile already stretching her lips…when she stumbled to a halt. For there stood Sirius, with Lady Needham wrapped around his arm.