Isabel and the Rogue

Chapter 18

Isabel arrived at Yardley House after dark.

Gabby and the viscountess met her in the foyer, demanding to know where she had been. Mentally and emotionally drained, Isabel assured Lady Yardley she was well, but then grabbed her sister’s hand and dragged her up the stairs to her room. Thankfully, Gabby held her tongue until Isabel had shut the door, and then whirled on her with large eyes.

“Dios mío, what happened?” she demanded, grasping Isabel’s hands.

Somehow Isabel made it through a quick recitation of what had transpired in Lord Westhope’s curricle, and then the notes she and Tío Arturo had written to those in Mexico. Her sister bombarded her with questions, and Isabel did her best to answer them, but some required more explanation than she had the energy for.

“Hermanita, I know there is more you want to know, but can your questions wait for the morning?” Isabel rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes as she yawned. “The stress of the day is catching up with me.”

“Bien,” Gabby murmured, kissing the top of Isabel’s head. “Get some sleep, because I’m sure Ana will be here early to ask the same questions.”

Just the thought exhausted her.

After Gabby left, Isabel allowed Lupe to strip off the turquoise walking dress that made her feel so beautiful, and pluck Gabby’s fetching hat from her hair. Slipping a simple cotton nightdress over her head, Isabel shook out her curls and watched as Lupe fixed her hair in a single plait over her shoulder before bidding her good night. Wandering into her room, Isabel paced to her bookshelf and considered her selection. Lady Yardley had given her the six-shelf bookcase for her last birthday, and Isabel had been ecstatic to move her books from the trunk she’d stored them in since they escaped Mexico City. Seeing them on display, her favorite volumes organized by author and title, filled her with joy.

But even her oldest friends could not chase away the dread that sat on her chest.

Her chamber door opened behind her, and assuming it was a maid with a food tray, Isabel gestured to her desk with a hand. “You can put it there. Gracias.”

At the sound of the door closing, Isabel pivoted…only to jump back, clapping a hand to her mouth.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” Sirius whispered, whipping off his hat and rushing forward to grasp her shoulders.

Isabel slowly dropped her hand and stared up at him with wide eyes. “What are you doing here? How did you get in here?”

“You’re not the only one with a talent for slinking about.” Sirius curled the tail of her braid around his finger. “And I came because I had to see you. Fate conspired against us this afternoon, but we still need to speak.”

Without hesitation, Isabel wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest. “I’m so glad you did, because fate was actually on our side today.”

“What do you mean?” Sirius asked, craning back to look into her eyes. “Did something happen?”

“I hope not. Not yet, at least.” Isabel pressed her lips together for a long moment. “I pray my letter arrives before something terrible occurs.”

Sirius bent down to hold her gaze. “Tell me.”

“I finally found something. Some way to help,” she whispered. “Westhope received a letter from his cousin, and I read it when he wasn’t looking. The French have discovered where Presidente Juárez is hiding. They’re preparing to capture him.”

Her voice broke off with a hitch.

What if she was too late? What if the French found them before her letter could? What if a storm swept the ship bearing copies of her letter off course, and they never made it to her parents? Isabel had managed to block out all the horror of what could happen, of the precarious position her parents were in, by focusing on the task at hand. Her tío Arturo had hastily written several letters, each bearing the same message, and had them dispatched within minutes of her arrival. He assured her at least one of the letters would arrive before the French did, and Isabel clung to his confidence.

Yet, in the privacy of her room, pressed against Sirius, all the possibilities became too much. Isabel didn’t know how she’d survive the guilt if something happened to her parents—to the president—because she had taken too long.

As if sensing how much she needed him, Sirius gathered her in his arms and carried her to the bed, where he cradled her against his chest. Tears streamed down her face as sobs rattled from her throat, and he stroked a hand along her back and brushed her tears away with his knuckles.

“If the warning doesn’t reach them, or it gets there too late, I’ll never forgive myself,” she confessed around her tears.

Sirius pressed his lips to the crown of her head. “It’ll get there, sunshine. I know it.”

“I wish I had your confidence,” she mumbled into the folds of his coat.

“Well,” he began, an odd note to his voice, “I’m confident because you’re not the only one to have sent notice.”

Isabel reared back to meet his gaze. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is that the Home Office also received intelligence that the French were marching north to capture President Juárez.” Sirius smoothed his thumb over the crest of her cheek. “So a message was dispatched to British contacts within Mexico to alert the president. I signed your name to it.”

Cotton seemed to fill her ears, and Isabel stammered, “M-my name?”

Sirius nodded. “I indicated that the intelligence had been discovered by a Mexican operative named Isabel Luna.”

Isabel’s jaw went slack. “But…but you didn’t know what I had learned before you sent that note.”

“I didn’t.” Sirius lifted a shoulder, his eyes trained on his knuckles as they swept down her cheek. “But I wanted them to believe the veracity of the warning, and I knew they would believe you because you’re one of them.”

Her eyes stung, and she blinked rapidly as she stared up at his dear face. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. You truly did unearth this information all on your own, and because you are a shrewd, discerning woman”—Sirius bussed her temple—“you immediately knew what to do with it to ensure it was delivered into the right hands. I’m proud of you, Isabel.”

Clamping her eyes closed, Isabel let his words sweep over her like a comforting breeze. The fear that froze her veins just moments ago had been tempered, and she was now infused with the warmth of rekindled hope.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered, opening her eyes and smiling.

His blue gaze turned tender. “Are you?”

Isabel nodded, the temperature of her blood quickly spiking. Her fingers plucked at the buttons on his coat before her hand moved up to play with the tie of his dress shirt, her fingertips brushing against the patch of skin hidden there.

“You’ve been so stressed, darling. Do you need to be soothed?” When she jerked her head in assent, Sirius smirked. “You know I can give you what you need,” he whispered against her neck.

Her hand curled around his lapel as she nodded again.

“Because you know I’ll keep you safe.” Sirius kissed her jaw, his lips lingering against her skin.

Isabel turned to snare his lips, but he moved his face away.

“And you know I’ll do anything to make you happy,” he purred, his soothing scent filling her lungs.

She pressed closer into his chest, emotions she refused to name pulsating through her. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not.” Sirius grasped her chin and brought her head up. “Isabel, I mean it.”

“Why, Sirius?” Isabel placed her hand over his, twining their fingers together against her cheek. “Why me?”

“You know, sunshine.” His throat bobbed. “You know why.”

“Say it,” Isabel whispered, her breath coming in pants.

“Because I want you. I want you in ways I’ve never wanted another woman.” Sirius dragged his fingers to cup the base of her neck. “I’ll never want anyone else the way I want you.”

Her ribs squeezed tight around her lungs, and her heart abruptly thundered in her throat. Could Sirius be in earnest? Dare she trust him? Isabel wanted to, but her insecurities clung to her with eagle talons. “That’s what you say now, but—”

“But nothing, darling.” Sirius pressed a finger to her lips. “I know nothing I say will ever convince you, so let me show you. Please let me do that.”

Faith, she was desperate to believe him. “Very well,” she breathed. “Show me.”

Sirius didn’t need another invitation. Lifting her chin with his hand, he crashed his mouth down upon hers. His scent curled about her, leaving her lightheaded, even as he gripped her tighter, as if impatient to consume her. Isabel was more than willing to surrender.

Without lifting his lips from hers, Sirius ran his hands down her sides to clutch the hem of her nightdress. Isabel raised her arms, and he pulled it up and over her head with an impatient huff. Reaching for him, she scrambled to remove his jacket, uncaring for where it fell.

“Relax, Isabel. There’s no rush.” He stopped her anxious hands with his own. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You may not be, but we could still be discovered,” she said, tension prickling along her scalp. “If Gabby or Lady Yardley were to check on me, they would get a shock.”

Squeezing her fingers, Sirius waited until she met his eyes. “This is our first time together in a bed. I’ve daydreamed of stretching you out and kissing every inch of your body, so let me. Put your worries aside for now. They will still be there when I am done with you.”

The backs of her eyes burned, but Isabel remained quiet as Sirius lowered her to the mattress, sighing deeply when he kissed her. Before she could deepen the kiss, however, Sirius moved his mouth to the valley between her neck and shoulder. To her collarbone. To the swell of her breasts.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, dancing his fingers down her arms to trace along the underside of her breasts. “Your skin is so soft, like the most decadent silk.”

Isabel tried to rise up on her elbows to kiss him, but her long braid caught under her arm, yanking her head back. Sirius tsked under his breath, freeing her plait. With a hint of a smile on his lips, he unraveled her braid, sifting through her black curls until they fell loosely about her shoulders and across the sheets.

Wrapping a strand around his finger, Sirius watched as it sprang back when he released it. “I wish you could wear your hair loose for all to see, for it truly is magnificent. And yet…” He buried his face in her locks. “I don’t want anyone else to glimpse you this way. So free. So uninhibited. So completely enthralling. You would sink ships and start wars, I’m convinced.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Isabel murmured, her voice choked.

“I am.” Sirius nodded as he gathered her curls and pushed them back from her face. “You make me ridiculous every time I am with you. And even when you’re not, because my every thought has been consumed with you. When you’re not with me, I wonder what you’re doing. What you’re reading. Are you safe? Do you think of me, too?”

Isabel twined her arms around his neck and pulled him down until nothing but a breath separated them. “Always. I think of you always.”

And she kissed him.

Yet that one kiss was not enough. Could never be enough. Soon they moved their mouths over each other as if they’d suffocate if they weren’t tasting each other’s skin and teasing moans from each other’s lips. Isabel dragged her hands from Sirius’s hair, down his back, and around to the front of his waist.

“Off, por favor,” she begged, “I need to feel you.”

Sirius pulled himself away long enough to shuck off his trousers and smallclothes and peel his waistcoat and shirt from his torso. In the dim, warm glow of the lamp on her side table, Isabel took in the sight of him towering over her. He was so perfectly formed, from his angelic face to the broad sweep of his shoulders, to the dips and dents of his waist and abdomen. But it was his cock, surrounded by curly, dark blond hair, that held her gaze. A feeling of empowerment surged through her as she watched desire firing bright in his eyes. Isabel crawled to the edge of the bed on her knees, preening when Sirius groaned.

“May I taste you?” she dared to ask, the words nothing but a whisper.

There was no doubt Sirius heard her, however, for he clamped his eyes closed and dropped his head back. “Christ, you’re going to be the death of me.”

Somehow Isabel managed not to grin. Slowly wrapping her hand around his length, she gave it a tentative squeeze, his answering moan telling her she was on the right path.

“Will you show me what to do?” she asked, peering up at him through her lashes.

“Of course,” he said, shaking his head eagerly.

His instructions were helpful, even if she had to coax the words from him because he often communicated only through moans. Sirius instructed her on how firmly to hold him, and how to twist her hand at his tip. When she opened her mouth around the head, he stroked his cock across her tongue, mumbling broken curses. But it was when she swallowed as much of his length as she could and then hollowed her cheeks that Sirius bit down on his fist to keep from cursing.

It was a messy business, and Isabel’s jaw ached, but she reveled in having this beautiful man so completely in her thrall. Captain Sirius Dawson, the man half the women of the ton desired for themselves, trembled under her touch. And the words he spoke to her while she worked him soon had her squirming and looking for relief.

You’re so good, darling.

Fuck, you take me so well.

Do you like the way I taste, sunshine?

Isabel increased her ministrations, enraptured by his response to her, and determined to bring him to release against her tongue. But Sirius had other plans, for he gently pulled free from her lips, his chest laboring. Stroking his hand along his cock, he rolled on a condom, and then pointed at the bed behind her.

“Lie down, Isabel.”

Hastening to obey him, Isabel scrambled onto the bed, reclining back on her elbows. She bit back a moan when Sirius roughly pulled her legs apart, his gaze possessing hers as he leaned forward and stroked up her slit with every inch of his tongue.

Isabel tossed her head back as her hands twisted about in the coverlet, seeking purchase.

Sirius ruthlessly teased her until she lay quivering beneath him, hoarse supplications falling from her lips in Spanish and English. Eventually, he crawled over her, pressing his mouth to the flesh over her heart as he settled his hips between her thighs. Isabel tilted her pelvis up, shaking with desire and the need for the release he kept just out of reach, but Sirius made no move to enter her. He simply stared down at her with his midnight eyes, until he opened his mouth and recited slowly, in halted Spanish,

Acá en el alma te vía,

acá en el alma te hablaba.

A tear slid down her cheek as Sirius continued to quote “My Lady,” by Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz, his words punctuated by caresses and fevered kisses to her skin. When he finally thrust into her, Isabel gasped against his lips. She clung to him as he undulated his hips and shifted her farther and farther up the bed, completely overcome by his sweet words. By his greedy kisses and possessive hands. And with each poem he breathlessly quoted, whether penned by Donne or Barrett Browning or Byron, Isabel fell a little more apart. For while he didn’t say the words, Sirius showed her his love, and she endeavored to show hers in return.

When her release finally crashed down upon her, Isabel could only hold on to Sirius, and hope this moment, filled with all their unsaid love, would be enough to sustain her.

Sirius lay sprawled on top of Isabel, his face tucked into her neck. His heart raced like a runaway Thoroughbred, but the steady drum under his ear told him that Isabel’s did, too.

Eventually, he pulled free of her body, causing Isabel to hiss between her teeth at the slow drag. Sirius quickly climbed to his feet and found a wet strip of cloth on a water basin in her dressing room. Returning to the bed, he gently applied the cool cloth to the sensitive valley between her thighs, taking all due care to tend to her, for Sirius knew he had been more rough with her than he had intended.

With his ministrations complete, he climbed into bed next to her, drawing her into the circle of his arms. Isabel fit against him like a missing puzzle piece, her curves and dips nestling perfectly against the long line of his body. Sirius inhaled a great breath, soaking her vanilla scent into his blood, before he released it in a whoosh of air.

“Content, are you?” she drawled lowly by his side.

“How could I not be?” he answered, kissing her head. “That was marvelous.”

Isabel nestled her head on his chest with a sigh.

“Did you enjoy it, too?” Sirius couldn’t help but ask.

“You quoted Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz’s poetry.” He could feel her swallow. “It was the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“That’s a crime,” he murmured, warmth pulsing under his ribs. “Or perhaps my deplorable Spanish was.”

“Claro que no,” Isabel said, running a hand up his chest and resting it right over his heart. “It was perfect.”

He snorted. “Now I know you’re being untruthful.” A smile stole over his mouth when she swatted him. “I am but a servant to your pleasure. I quite like the role.”

“That’s a good thing, as you are quite apt at it.”

They were quiet for a time, a silly, lighthearted bubble surrounding them. Sirius indulged in the moment, deciding that his post-release bliss was more enjoyable when he could spend it with Isabel in his arms.

But all good things eventually had to come to an end, and when Isabel rotated until she could look up at his face, Sirius knew he could no longer put off the inevitable.

“So do you now intend to return to Mexico?”

Sirius had not meant to ask so bluntly. There were a dozen other things he wanted to say to Isabel—questions he wanted to ask—but his mouth shaped the words before his mind had even conjured them.

Isabel went still against him, and dread tumbled about like ore in his gut.

“I hope to. At some point.”

It was a direct answer with no embellishments, and Sirius was not surprised by it. It was so like his Isabel to respond in such a way.

“And when do you think that point will come?”

Her hand on his chest curled into a fist. “I don’t know. Perhaps when I receive word from my parents that they are well.”

“So soon, then.” When she opened her mouth to argue, Sirius silenced her with a kiss. “I have every expectation that they will receive the warning in time.”

Isabel released a long sigh. “I hope you’re right.”

“I hope I am, too.” He smoothed damp strands of hair back from her face. “So my time with you is coming to an end.”

“I suppose it is.” She grasped his hand then, bringing it up to press against where her heart pounded in her chest. “I wish it wasn’t. I have loved our time together.”

“Have you, darling?”

“Of course I have.” Isabel smacked him lightly. “How can you ask that?”

Sirius aimed for his next words to be insouciant. Perhaps even playful. But he was certain they came off as petulant instead. “Because you’re still leaving.”

“I am.” Her voice dropped to the lowest of whispers, and Sirius had to lean close to hear her words. “I’ve never felt like I belonged here.”

He ran his nose along her jaw. “I’m sorry you’ve felt that way. I’m sure there are many in your life who would argue that point.”

She snorted. “If you mean my sisters, yes.”

He craned back his head to meet her eyes. “Not just your sisters.”

Isabel’s expression turned pained. “You’re being nice again.”

“I had no notion you thought me so disingenuous.” Sirius could not keep the hurt from his voice.

“Not at all.” Isabel pressed her palm to his cheek, forcing him to meet her gaze. “But, mi amor, you have charmed your way into the beds of many women of the ton. You’ve been a rogue with a silver tongue, with the golden looks of an Adonis. Forgive me for thinking the words you’ve whispered to me might be a part of your ploy.”

“Ploy? I thought you understood the reason for my reputation.” It stung to say the words, but not as much as it ached to think she thought so little of him. “Our interactions, the connection we share, both physical and otherwise, have never been a ploy.”

Isabel kissed his chin. “I’ve never once thought of staying in London for longer than I had to. I’ve been so uncomfortable here. It’s loud and crowded everywhere I turn. And I routinely say the wrong thing at the wrong time to the wrong person. And yet I was tasked with something important, and I failed at every opportunity. I’ve felt like I’ve let down everyone, Sirius. Over and over and over again.”

She kissed the corner of his mouth. “That was until we became friends, and suddenly there was another person who seemed to understand me. Took the time to know me.” Isabel clamped her eyes closed. “That seems unfair to say because Gabby and Ana María have loved me and accepted me unconditionally, but they’re my sisters. Their judgment cannot always be trusted.”

“And yet everything you’ve told me of them—that I know of them myself—convinces me their judgment is sound,” he grumbled.

“You dear man,” she whispered to his lips. After a time, they broke apart, quietly panting for air. “You’ve always seen me, Sirius, and I will forever love you for that.”

He was paralyzed. Every one of his muscles locked. Even his heart stumbled in its beat.

“Yes, I do,” she said, a shy smile lighting her face. “Since I first saw you, I think. There I was, hiding under a desk while two people made animalistic noises above me—”

“Christ, how appalling,” he groaned, hiding his face against her neck.

“Yes, well, I’ve pushed that aside in favor of remembering how incredibly piercing your eyes were.” Isabel ran her knuckles over his cheek, her gaze far away. “You have the bluest eyes I had ever seen.”

“And you had the fiercest scowl.”

Her laugh was the sweetest sound. “You deserved my scowl then.”

“And now?” Sirius asked, a bit breathless.

“Now you deserve my love.”

She was so staunch. So sure. That this stunning woman who battled her own sense of inferiority could be so sure of his worth brought Sirius to his knees.

“I’m not deserving of your love, sunshine.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed a knot. “My sins are great. In the war, I committed horrible acts in the name of the Crown. I did what I was ordered to do, but that knowledge does not eclipse my shame.”

“But are you doing those horrible things now? Still?” Isabel asked.

Abruptly, he thought of his work for the Home Office. The lies he told to friends and foes alike. The ways in which he manipulated his targets, many of them innocent women whose only crime was being associated with men capable of treason or espionage.

But Isabel knew of his work with the Home Office, and why he did it. And not once had she expressed disappointment in him. That disappointment he’d seen his whole life; first from his father, then his older brother, and later from the men he’d been forced to abandon on the battlefield. Isabel had never shunned him for what he felt compelled to do in the name of the Crown. In his quest to assuage his guilt…the source of which he thought he might be ready to share.

Because Sirius realized he would walk through the bowels of hell before he’d ever give Isabel Luna cause to be disappointed in him again.

Remembering her question, Sirius exhaled. “No. I don’t do those things anymore.”

A fierce look settled on her face, and Isabel kissed the skin over his heart.

“We’ve all done things in the moment that we wish we could take back. That, given the chance again, we would change. Make another choice.” Her obsidian gaze was mesmerizing. “But since we can’t, we have to learn to let go of the guilt, the shame, so that it doesn’t distort and discolor the rest of our lives.”

He wanted to believe that so dearly, but his conscience screamed that such a pardon was not something he deserved.

“Do you remember the nightmare I had in the study?”

Isabel nodded, her eyes wide and a tad guarded. Good. She needed to know that although he wanted her, she would be wise to remain wary.

“I’ve had nightmares since I’ve returned from the peninsula.” Sirius paused, his nerves suddenly on the surface of his skin. “If I’m lucky, I don’t remember them when I awake. But more often than not, I do. Every one is reliving the day I was shot.”

Isabel wrapped her arms around his waist, cocooning him in her embrace. “What happened?”

Sirius took a moment to form the words. He’d only spoken of the events after he’d awoken in the hospital days after he was shot. His tale had been promptly told to senior officials, and they latched on to it as the perfect propaganda ploy. The young, handsome son of an earl almost lost his life saving his men, when he was really the reason so many lives were lost.

“We’d received intelligence that the enemy would be redirecting their supply wagons to avoid the barricades and checkpoint we had erected across a narrow portion of land we had managed to take from the Russians.” His chuckle was humorless. “As you can imagine, we were determined to hold our line and not let the enemy slip past our defenses. Our pride depended upon it.”

Sirius covered his face with his hand, unease heavy and thick in his lungs. “Except I learned from my senior officer that the generals were switching tactics, and their priority had become the western line. My company was the only one they were leaving in place to defend the swatch of land we had won.”

“They expected your company to hold the line on your own?” she asked, her voice rising an octave.

“They did. The western front was under constant bombardment from enemy forces, so additional support was needed. The tract of land we maintained had remained relatively calm, but only because the military had assigned so many companies to defend it. But they underestimated the people who lived in the region and used this specific area as a trading route. It was a vital thoroughfare for many of the Russians and Tatars, and when we cut off their free access to traverse it, we earned ourselves dangerous enemies. And suddenly we no longer had the troops to withstand an assault.”

“Ay no,” she breathed. “Did they attack?”

He pressed his lips together for a moment, willing them not to tremble. “They caught us completely unawares.”

Her arms around his waist tightened.

“I tried to set up a defensive line on the outer flank, and a runner escaped with a missive asking for help, but I was shot before the real fighting had even started.” Sirius closed his eyes, clouded memories of that day flashing behind his eyelids. “I don’t remember anything else. I awoke in a field hospital several days later.”

Isabel’s hand touched the puckered flesh on the right side of his stomach. “I may never have met you.”

The thought of never having known Isabel made his whole body tingle with thankfulness, and he kissed her brow.

“I was very lucky, but so many of my men were not.” The words were like glass on his tongue, but he forced himself to continue. Isabel deserved to know what happened. She needed to know the awful legacy he carried with him. “All but five of the men in my company were killed, yet they were able to hold the line until reinforcements arrived. They were the true heroes, but it was I who received all the fanfare when I returned to London.”

“Sirius, it’s not your fault you were shot—” Isabel began.

“But I wasn’t there to help—” His voice broke.

“You were the one who was shrewd enough to order the men into that formation. They were trained and prepared to defend the position because of your leadership.” Isabel rubbed his chest. “You made sure a runner went for help as soon as possible, and—”

“I could have done more. I should have done more. I should have been more assertive with my senior officers.” Sirius wrenched a hand through his hair. “I should have demanded reinforcements beforehand. Instead I was used to deflect negative commentary on the war. I was given honors and medals I did not earn. I failed my men.”

Once again, everything he touched fell apart. His mother died giving birth to him, and his father blamed him for it. His older brother had wanted no relationship with him, and had rebuffed every attempt Sirius had ever made to forge a connection with him. His work with the Home Office had been perfect for him, for it allowed him to keep every relationship he engaged in superficial. With the exception of his friendships with the Duke of Whitfield and Gideon Fox, every aspect of his life was shallow and empty.

Until Isabel.

Her hand swept over his cheek now, her dark eyes glinting in the dim light. “And yet you employ your men.”

He held his silence.

“You allow them to live at Dancourt Abbey.”

Sirius nodded.

Isabel seemed to ponder this for a moment, her expression considering. “And I suspect you pay yearly stipends to the families of the men who were killed.”

Sirius jerked his head up. “How do you know that?”

“My tío Arturo told us.” Her fingertips traced along his cheekbone to his nose, and she dragged her finger down to the tip. “Back when we stayed at Dancourt Abbey. He wrote and assured us you were an honorable man who would do his best to keep us safe.”

“And Earl Tyrell was able to abscond with your sister from right under my nose,” he replied with an angry growl.

Isabel silenced him with a finger to his mouth. “You helped Gideon rescue her. You organized the entire effort. Gideon said he will forever be grateful to you for taking charge when he was too overcome to do it himself.”

Sirius didn’t know how she could say that. How she could have so much faith in him when he had so little in himself.

He worked to clear his throat. “Thank you,” he said simply.

“I’ve never felt comfortable opening up to others. Sharing my feelings or thoughts.” She squeezed her earlobe between her fingers. “Despite how close we are now, my sisters and I were not friends as children. My father sowed discord between us, so we were more at odds with one another than sisters ought to be.”

“He kept you friendless and isolated.” Sirius’s mouth lifted into a sad smile. “I’d guess it was easier to keep you all obedient that way.”

“Indeed. We all strived so hard, in our own ways, to make him proud. And none of us were successful.” A sigh made her lips tremble. “I didn’t know that, though, until we came here. But that knowledge hasn’t made it any easier to be open and honest with Ana and Gabby. In many ways, it’s harder because now that I truly know them, I would be crushed if I disappointed them.”

“You could never disappoint them, sunshine.” His tone was firm, for Sirius needed her to understand. “I see it every time Gabby looks at you. She’s so proud of you.”

The darkness could not hide the pink that touched her cheeks.

A comfortable stillness enveloped them, and Sirius stroked his hand over her shoulder and down her arm, thankful to have this quiet moment with her. Eventually, Sirius remembered the book he had slipped into his cloak before leaving his house, hoping he would have a chance to share it with her. “I brought a book with me,” he said, breaking the silence.

“You did?” There was a smile in her voice. “Will you read to me?”

Contentment surged through his body. “I’d be happy to.”

Slipping from her embrace, Sirius padded to his discarded cloak, plucking the book from its pocket.

“What is it?” Isabel asked as he rejoined her on the bed.

“Don Quixote.” Sirius handed it to her before turning to switch the gas valve on the bedside lamp. “It’s a first edition. I found it when I was in Varna. One of the only good things to come out of my wretched time there.”

A bemused look passed over her features. “Westhope was searching for a copy.”

Sirius tilted his head. “Was he?”

Isabel nodded, settling into his side. “He had rare book hunters here and in Paris looking for one.”

An odd warmth spread to his fingertips as he opened the book. Sirius grinned as he met her gaze. “Well, then, make sure not to mention you’ve seen one before him.”