Chapter 11
The list for today was complete in Ronan’s perspective.
Not only had he surprised Isla with a trip to the opera to see a show she had mentioned wishing to see, he had also managed a respectful apology for his premature departure at the tea house when they were last together, and he had gifted her a lovely strand of pearls she now wore around her neck.
I even complimented her gown, mentioned three facts about the opera, and asked for her opinion on the costumes. So what the devil is going on? I cannot have gotten any of this wrong, surely.
He shifted slightly to his right to look at Isla.
Already they had seen the first half, enjoyed a fine wine during the intermission, and resumed the second part of the show. Ronan knew that on paper how tonight was going perfectly.
The only problem was that Isla was quiet. She was quiet with her lips pressed tightly together. Not only that, but the rest of her body was now at clear odds with her silence.
She had stopped tapping her feet when he asked her if there was a problem. Then she had taken to wiggling around in her seat, spending nearly six minutes fiddling with a loose thread on her gloves, and now she was starting to take apart the opera glasses he had lent her.
“Is something wrong with them?” He finally whispered.
“Oh.” One round piece nearly slipped off her lap before she caught it in time. Turning to face him, she showed a guilty pout. “I’m sorry.”
“They’re only opera glasses. Probably fixable.” He eyed them warily before lifting his gaze back to her. “Were they broken?”
She hesitated before shaking her head. “I’m awfully sorry, Your Grace. Perhaps… can you?”
While they had been delivered to her in one piece, she returned them in five. He accepted them into his own lap to start fiddling with in turn to see if they could be fixed. Two were put back together while she chewed on her bottom lip and wiggled some more in her seat, watching.
Ronan paused. “Don’t you wish to watch the show?”
“Hm? Oh, right. Yes. That is still… playing.”
So Isla turned her gaze back to the show. Her seat was only angled slightly at odds with his. That made it clear to him whenever she twisted back to watch him fixing the opera glasses. Every single time.
“Has the show bored you?” He asked her.
“Of course not. I told you how much I wished to see it,” she added hurriedly.
He watched the way her big eyes focused on his hands. Unable to help himself, he slowed down his actions and fiddled longer with the glasses. Then he eyed the stage for a heartbeat before asking her, “Do you like the elephants?”
“Yes, they’re my favorite.”
“And the soprano?”
“Absolutely brilliant, of course.”
His lips twitched. “It seems to be a very sad story, I think.”
“I could almost cry,” Isla said agreeably.
The glasses were put back into one piece. Ronan considered keeping them, slipping them away into his pockets so she couldn’t break it next time. But he changed his mind. They were only glasses. He offered them back.
When Isla put out her hand, he set the glasses down and then covered her hand from on top and below. She froze, slowly meeting his gaze.
“The alto is singing in the ocean about being married,” Ronan corrected her. “There are no elephants or sad scenes and the soprano isn’t in this scene.”
Her nose scrunched up like she didn’t understand what he was telling her. “What does that mean?”
Leaning forward as though he worried someone might hear them––when they were the only ones in his box––Ronan whispered, “It means you aren’t paying attention at all to this opera.”
“I am! I am only…”
He raised an eyebrow as he wondered if Isla might attempt to lie yet again. There was a calm within him that he hadn’t recognized in sometime even as she shifted about. But then she met his gaze and settled down, her shoulders relaxing while a quiet sigh slipped free between those pretty lips.
“Very well. I am not paying attention. I am sorry,” she added quickly. “I did wish very much to see this opera. Today was unusual, however, and I must admit I’m not quite prepared to enjoy myself.”
“A strange notion because you seem determined to always enjoy yourself.”
She tilted her head. “I do try, don’t I?”
“It is an admirable trait I have noticed,” he admitted without thinking. Then he cleared his throat. “That is, you seem out of sorts tonight. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No, no, not a’tall,” a tilting portion of her accent escaped for a mere second. “I had a visitor today and I…”
Seeing the smile slip from her face made him cross at once. “What visitor? Who? Are you hurt?”
“I’m not hurt.” She rubbed her wrist while she shook her head, and he wondered if that was supposed to mean something.
“It went fine. He left, and I don’t think I will see him again.
At least, I pray not. My mother had hoped I might marry Lord Dunn and I think he was hoping as well, but I never made any promises to anyone, I assure you. ”
“Very well,” Ronan said while he tried to process this.
Dunn? Is that earl still alive? I swear he’s had half a bony leg in the grave for years. And he’s married. Or did she pass away? I always avoid the man in Parliament. What was he doing, thinking he might marry Isla?
A stroke of protectiveness burned through him at the thought of Lord Dunn even looking at Isla. The two of them were complete opposites. The man was a dreary shadow who whined and smelled. Isla was spirited and bright, sometimes even too bright, but much too good for the likes of him.
Ronan tightened his hands into fists, slipping them onto the armrests to hold back the urge to hurt something. He didn’t need to fight, he told himself. He was marrying Isla. He would protect her.
I’m only doing what a husband should, of course. It means nothing more.
“I could challenge him to a duel if you like,” he said, the words betraying his heart at once.
Isla’s eyes sparkled with amusement like it was a joke. “Would you duel a man for me?”
“Anyone.”
“You don’t strike me as a man of pistols,” she admitted.
As for Ronan, his words were more honest than jest. “I’ve been in the Royal Army, my lady, I can handle pistols, swords, and combat by hands. You have only to say the word.”
“That is very fearsome. It sounds as though you could protect me from anything in all the world, is that it?” Isla asked as she leaned forward.
There was that strange scent again that he couldn’t place. Fresh rain and something floral. He was drawn in, unable to help himself, as he inhaled her as much as he could. Then he blinked and realized they were nose to nose.
Close enough to kiss.
“I… could,” he managed to say, his voice growing low and deep.
A fluttering breath escaped Isla. He watched the way her eyes roved over his face, wondering what she saw. What she thought. What she felt. Was that a pause at his lips? Was she thinking about kissing him as well? His heartbeat pounded hard in his chest.
Pull away, Ronan. Move. Do something.
“How generous,” Isla squeaked out at last. She pulled away. “I appreciate the offer and shall keep in mind. For now, however, I do believe I should be just fine.”
Forcing a small cough, Ronan did the same and kept his gaze elsewhere. He didn’t really see anything. He was too busy thinking about the pearls he’d set around her neck and how nicely they sat over her collarbone. “Very well. I’ve seen enough death myself, really.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Your Grace. Perhaps in the future then I shall fight the duels in your favor,” Isla offered with a pertness to her tone.
The sobering moment between them had faded.
As he saw the grin on her face, he could tell the mood had lightened.
They were back to jests where she was happy.
This was what he had been aiming to achieve, he reminded himself.
Why they had come. How clever Isla was. It was hard not to like the spirited young woman who had betrothed herself to him.
As she turned to finally enjoy the show, Ronan began to frown.
Because he was beginning to like her and that was not part of his plan.
The fists had softened to clutch at his armrests.
Staring hard at them, he frowned and tried to think about what his options were.
He wasn’t going to start being crude. But whatever had just happened couldn’t take place again.
This wasn’t about him liking her. Even becoming friends wasn’t part of the plan for him.
Ronan sunk down into his seat with a frown. How had he just messed up his plan? And more importantly, how was he going to fix this?