Isabel and the Rogue

Chapter 22

Four hundred and fifty-six steps lay between her front door and the fountain in the center of the town plaza. Isabel knew because she had counted them every day since she arrived in Villa de Santiago.

Walking that well-traveled path now, Isabel no longer looked around in wonder. The lush mountains that flanked the village no longer stole her breath. Neither the colorful stucco homes nor the twin spires of the Parroquia Santiago Apóstol made her pause with a smile. Her excitement to work for the Mexican First Lady had waned, and the feeling of triumph that swelled in her chest when she stepped from the ship in Altamira had dissipated on the long journey to Santiago. For her heart was heavy, and it seemed to grow heavier every day since she departed England, and no amount of praise or recognition could lighten it.

Isabel sat on the fountain’s edge and peered down into the blue waters that rippled beneath her. Her reflection stared back at her, unchanged from the last time she had looked. Oh, but her mother remarked upon the changes every day. María Elena lamented the dark circles under Isabel’s eyes, the gauntness to her cheeks, the pallor of her skin. While her mother always inquired after her health, and insisted Isabel take her meals with her instead of alone with a book as she would have preferred, María Elena never asked Isabel directly about her time in England. Never asked about the friends she may have left behind. While the Isabel of old would have thought that meant her mother didn’t believe her capable of making friends, now she suspected that Ana María or Gabby had informed her of what had transpired before Isabel left. And even if they hadn’t, Isabel still didn’t possess the words to discuss it, with her mother or anyone.

Reaching into her pocket, Isabel extracted the latest letter she received from Gabby. Receiving mail was difficult, as it had to be redirected several times before it found its way to this small hamlet outside Monterrey, oftentimes arriving soiled and damaged. Miraculously, this particular letter had been delivered unscathed, and Isabel traced her fingers over her sister’s swooping handwriting. Gabby had written of her work with her women’s group, and described a fundraising event they were planning for John Stuart Mill to stand for Parliament. The man had apparently advocated for a universal education system that included women, among other things.

Isabel closed her eyes for a moment to offer up a prayer for her sister and her safety. She’d certainly read enough news reports to know how suffragists were treated by the authorities, both in England and the United States.

After sharing details of the latest dinner party Ana María and Gideon had thrown to drum up support for a new initiative he was introducing, Gabby mentioned she had met with Lord Westhope while on a walk in the park. He’d been escorting Miss Fairchild, a development that had Isabel smiling ear to ear. The viscount had been kind, inquiring after her health, and specifically asking how Isabel was doing, and not for the first time did Isabel wonder how different her life could have been if she had deeper feelings for Lord Westhope. He was the first man to show an interest in her from first association, and her recollections of the times she spent with him were fond ones. Isabel wished she could write to him, tell him of the books she was reading, her work with Se?ora Maza de Juárez, and the effort to win back Mexico from the French…but then the viscount’s loyalties lay elsewhere. She was happy he’d turned his attentions to Miss Fairchild, and thankful to Gabby for passing along his well-wishes. She stored them away with her memories of him.

It was Gabby’s parting lines that drew her eyes again, as they had the first time Isabel had read the letter.

Arrives soon? What an interesting sentiment, but then Gabby possessed a fanciful flair that used to exasperate Isabel but now charmed her.

True happiness. What did that look like? Isabel pondered the question as she refolded her sister’s letter and clutched it in her hand. Not long ago, she thought it meant contributing to the war effort. Being recognized for her intelligence. And Isabel had achieved that. She experienced immense satisfaction helping Se?ora Maza de Juárez and her daughters raise funds for soldiers and their families, and ensuring hospitals were stocked with the supplies needed to support the Mexican troops. Isabel also regularly sent the First Lady, who was living in exile in the United States and acting as a Mexican diplomat, translated reports to share with allied American officials. In addition, she acted as an intermediary between Se?ora Maza de Juárez and her husband, and their letters to each other were funneled through Isabel, a responsibility she did not take lightly.

Her father had initially pushed back against the idea of Isabel working, even though it was at the president’s request, but Padre Ignacio and Fernando had eventually convinced him that Isabel’s talents were best utilized serving the republic. Elías Luna had never thanked her for the intelligence she’d uncovered or congratulated her on the accolades she’d received from Presidente Juárez, yet he was quick to introduce Isabel as his daughter to members of the cabinet. The first time he’d done so had shocked Isabel so completely, she had excused herself after the introduction and rushed outside to compose herself.

Isabel was busy. Her life was interesting and challenging…and yet she felt empty. A yawning cavern existed where her heart used to be, and no amount of praise, whether from the president or her own father, could fill it.

Tipping her head back, Isabel let the sun soak into her skin. Let its warmth permeate her bones. She had missed this while in England. For the first month they were in London, Isabel was certain she’d never be warm again. Now she feared that coldness had crept into her chest, where it sank in its claws and created a lair.

“Enjoying the sunshine?”

Every muscle in her body froze as that voice swept over her. Fluttering her eyes open, Isabel gasped when she saw him. Standing not four feet away, in an impeccable suit, was Sirius. His blond hair was a bit longer now, the curls she knew were soft as down brushing against his ears, and his cheeks were tan, as if he’d spent days toiling in the fields at Dancourt Abbey.

Or on the deck of a ship sailing toward Mexico.

Slowly rising to her feet, Isabel gaped at him, certain he was an apparition she had conjured with the yearning ache in her heart. She ripped her gaze from his face to look around, certain she must be dreaming, but the plaza looked as it always did. All was well…except for the panicked roaring in her ears.

Licking her lips, Isabel opened her mouth to greet him, to demand to know what he was doing there. Instead, a choked cry rushed up her throat.

“Oh, please don’t cry, darling,” Sirius murmured, stepping forward with his hand outstretched. He paused before he touched her, a shadow falling over his expression. “I didn’t come here to upset you.”

“I don’t understand,” she rasped, moving closer. “Why are you here?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed, the pupils of his blue eyes large as they stared back at her. “Because you’re here.”

Isabel wrapped her arms tight about her waist. “You left England…because of me?”

Sirius nodded, taking a step. “There was nothing left for me there after you left.”

“B-but what about your work for the Home Office?” Static filled her mind. “What about Dancourt Abbey and the men who live there?”

The corner of Sirius’s mouth kicked up. “I was offered retirement from the Home Office. My work no longer brought me purpose, and there were other, younger men to take over my assignments.”

“And the abbey?” she whispered, her hands flexing in their urge to reach for him. “What of Dancourt Abbey?”

Sirius shrugged, glancing down at his feet. “The abbey will always be mine, but with the help of my solicitor, I have drawn up guidelines for how the land and the manor will be used in my absence. They’ve provided a level of control and independence to the men who live there, and my hope is that they will be content to live there for years to come.”

“That’s wonderful,” she murmured, understanding why that was important to him. Sirius had worked so hard to care for the men who had cared for him, and he had readily, unselfishly, offered Dancourt Abbey as a refuge.

And he walked away from it for her?

“So as you can see, darling, I had no reason to stay in England.” Sirius reached up to gently brush a curl from her temple. “Especially when my heart lay elsewhere.”

Leaning into his touch, Isabel closed her eyes as she dared to ask, “Where?”

“Right here,” he answered, dragging his knuckles across her jaw. “It’s always been right here, with you.”

“Did you know that before or after I left?” she asked archly.

“Before.” He pressed his lips together, gaze roving over her face. “And yet I couldn’t bring myself to say it.”

Isabel could only nod, overcome with a dizzying mix of confusion and hope.

“Is it too late for us?” His other hand grasped hers, his palm warm. “Will you forgive me? For not being honest with you about how I felt? For not seeing you sooner?” Sirius hesitated, his eyes darting between hers. “Will you let me care for you, for the rest of my days?”

“You care for me?” she whispered, feeling lightheaded.

“Sunshine,” he breathed, bringing both hands up to cup her face. “To say I care about you is an injustice to the thunderstorm of emotions I feel whenever you’re near. Or not near. Whenever I think of your name or imagine your face. I don’t just care about you, Isabel Luna. I’m in love with you.”

Isabel stared up at him, completely dumbfounded. Sirius loved her? “B-but why didn’t you tell me? I would have given up the future I envisioned for myself here in Mexico to stay with you. Why didn’t you ask?”

His eyes turned glassy, and Sirius tore his gaze from hers to stare at the ground. “How could I ask you to give up everything you worked for? I watched as you struggled to find a place for yourself in London, and I didn’t want to tarnish the rewards of your success with my selfishness.”

“Selfishness?” Isabel shook her head. “How could confessing your love for me be selfish?”

Sirius released a long exhale and slowly slid his gaze back to lock with hers. “Because you seemed so sure of yourself. So confident of what you wanted and what was best for you, and I couldn’t bear to say it. I didn’t want to burden you with my love.”

A choked sound slipped from her mouth, and Isabel realized belatedly that it was a sob. Throwing her arms around his neck, she buried her face in his shoulder. “Mi amor, if anything has been a burden, it’s the ever-present ache of what could have been if I had only been braver.”

“The regret I’ve endured for having let you go has been the greatest burden of my life,” he whispered hoarsely, his arms holding her tight. “I’m so sorry, Isabel.”

“And I’m sorry, too.” Isabel pulled back to meet his gaze. “I would have loved you until my last breath.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Sirius leaned down to press his lips to hers. When he broke the kiss several moments later, they were both gasping.

“I don’t deserve you,” he panted, his eyes reverent as he rubbed his thumb along her bottom lip, “but if you let me, I will spend every day showing you how great and deep and all-encompassing my love for you is.”

“Sirius,” Isabel said firmly, “you are the most admirable man I know, and deserve to be loved for all that you are and all that you give. Will you let me spend my days showing you how much you deserve to be loved?”

He nodded, the color high in his cheeks. “Only because it’s you.”

Happiness so potent, so dazzling, shot through her, and Isabel closed her eyes to withstand it. Pressing close to Sirius again, Isabel allowed his familiar, dear scent to fill her lungs and lessen the pain that had settled in her heart. Because he was here, in Mexico, because he loved her.

“I can’t believe you came.” She brought his hand to her mouth. Kissing his knuckles, she pressed it to her cheek.

“I would have come sooner, but it took me a while to understand that I kept trying to repay a debt that had never existed outside of my own mind and heart.”

Ignoring the people in the plaza, many whom she knew would tell her parents about this meeting with Sirius, Isabel pressed a kiss to his cheek. His jaw. The bridge of his nose, which made him chuckle. “Oh, cari?o, you didn’t owe anyone anything, yet you gave to them so unselfishly. It’s one of the things I love about you.”

“I should have fought for us,” he growled, leaning his cheek against hers. “I should have told you I loved you, instead of letting you chase me away.”

Isabel released a shuddering breath. “Neither one of us wanted to hold the other back.”

“How very silly of us,” Sirius murmured.

“Indeed.” Isabel tucked her head in the crook of his neck, the sun suddenly brighter in the sky. “But we’re together now.” She paused when a new thought occurred to her. “Are you ready to meet my parents?”

“I already have.”

Jerking back, Isabel met his amused gaze. “You have?”

Sirius nodded, his arms still firm about her waist. “If I spoke better Spanish or your father spoke better English, I’m certain I would’ve heard an earful from him by now. But his abundance of pendejos gave me a good idea of his opinion of me.”

Isabel mashed her lips together to keep from laughing. “How do you know the word pendejo?”

“I paid the scullery boy on the ship a crown every week to give me Spanish lessons.”

“Ay, no wonder. I can only guess at the other words he taught you.” She hiccuped between laughs.

“Yes, well, I was determined to know some Spanish to help me—” Sirius stopped to press a tender kiss to her lips. “Navigate my new home.”

“Are you home, Sirius?” Isabel asked, a bit breathless.

“Now that I’m with you? Yes.”