Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
ISABELLE
The ceiling was lower in this room. The bookshelves – stained black – covered every inch of the walls, and ladders attached to rails curved around both sides of the room.
Ben radiated with joy as he pulled me around the space, pointing out his father’s writing and his special interests.
I noted the publications on family studies and books I now registered as his father’s works on the benefit of ‘family-enabled societal structures’, the core concepts which made up so many of my modules at university.
I smiled politely, and Ben saw it for what it was, tugging me away to the furthest end of the large library until we arrived at a vast arched window with the shape of a long reading chair below, shrouded in yet more cloths.
Ben found the section of books where bound manuscripts became colourful covers, and he stopped.
I looked up at his face, golden in the sunlight, as he swept his eyes over them.
“These were my mother’s,” he whispered happily. “She loved to read.”
My chest clenched with sorrow for the boy who lost his mother, the mother who chose him.
He turned a beaming smile on me. “Go on.” He ushered me forwards. “Take a look.”
I scanned the spines; they spoke volumes about who his mother was. Romance novels mixed with books on children, gardening, and tucked away into the corner, a cracked spine of a book on nurturing neurodivergence.
My gaze caught on a weathered blue spine I recognised immediately. Ben was quietly observing me, and he followed my gaze. “This one?”
I smiled. “It’s my favourite,” I admitted.
He pulled it from the shelves, opened it, and flicked through the early pages. “The Blue Castle,” he read.
“Hmm,” I mumbled. “It’s about an unloved and deeply trapped young woman who decides to break free of her family.
She runs away and ends up falling in love, living in the wilderness with a man who defies societal norms. It’s a story about choosing yourself and having the courage to seek out what you want, despite expectations. ”
Ben was smiling. “Interesting.”
“Uh-huh.”
He moved, clapping the book closed and sweeping behind me to snag the cloth free and reveal a wide-looking chaise. Something that was certainly not an antique but had been customised to pretend to be one.
The green-grey velvet cushion must have extended five feet from the back, and a deep footstool met it. It was beautiful.
Ben sat, drawing himself up against the back. He plumped the smaller cushions and spread his legs.
Turning his face to me, the picture of sincere innocence, he tapped the space between his legs, then paused. Rising to root around under a wooden window seat, he returned, tearing open the vacuum-sealed pack of a blanket. He reclined into the chair and tapped the seat once more.
I clambered over his legs and settled between them. Ben twisted to bring one leg to bracket me. I slowly lowered my head to his chest.
The blanket was thrown over our laps, the fresh clean scent of their fabric softener wafting from it, and the book placed on top.
I waited, settled comfortably, the thud of Ben’s heart soothing in the quiet space.
“Would you read it to me?” he asked softly.
“Really?” I asked.
“Of course.”
His hands came to wrap around me, and I cracked open the front cover, gulping at the first edition markings, and began to read.
“Right, you two,” Seb interrupted us. “You’ve had long enough. Alex is preparing our lunch and you, miss, require the full tour.” He lifted our blanket, finding us wrapped in each other, and pouted at the sight.
A gruff laugh came from Ben, vibrating through my body.
Seb offered us both his hands and helped us to stand.
“We have the drawing room, dining room – you’ve seen the great hall – there’s the morning room, billiards room, and I know you’ve spent some time in the orangery, but we’ve just restored a ton of the furniture.” Seb paused. “And the primary suite.”
Ben laughed again.
“Food in fifteen, Killer, so where to first?” he continued.
“Downstairs, then upstairs?” I offered.
“Right-o!” Seb bundled us up under his arms and guided us around the rooms.
My jaw hung in a perpetual state of shock. Of course, I’d seen plenty of manors. My family residence in the city sprawled much like this. But this wasn’t a property. It was a home.
I danced my fingers over the felt of the billiard table and the carved decoration on the fireplace of the drawing room, over the smooth stone of the staircase that I hadn’t spent time appreciating when I was here before.
Then there was the primary suite – tucked away from the main gallery – it was more than a suite. It was rooms. Beautiful rooms.
Comfortable-looking chesterfields, which was quite a feat, faced out into a huge look-out, with views over what must have been the main gardens, currently lost to the snow.
A bed, double the size of those at the cottage, inside the bedroom, the walls painted a soft beige and ornate vined wallpaper on two sides.
The dressing area to one end of the bedroom could have fitted my entire flat back at the university, and the bathroom?
A tub sunk into the floor, vanities made of marble, and glass showers with multiple jets.
Everything about the suite was huge. Somewhere someone could live.
The only thing missing was a kitchen. The living space wouldn’t have looked out of place on the top of a block of flats – the ultimate classic penthouse.
“It’s stunning,” I marvelled. “And enormous.”
“It’s private, Killer,” Seb replied. “A private, contained space.”
I nodded.
“Now, I’d been pressing for testing out the bathtub,” Seb bemoaned. “But seeing as time has got away from us and Alex wants to get back. We will have to eat and get going.”
“Come on, Sugar.” Ben took me by the hand, switching off the lights as we went and drawing me back down the stairs into the kitchen.
“Holy stainless steel!” I whispered. Spinning until I found Alex at the sink. “You were holding out on me,” I accused him.
He had the good sense to look a little abashed. “I wasn’t. We used the staff kitchen. This is all unnecessary, but it still needed replacing.” He shook off his hands and dried the last of the damp items, placing them meticulously back into the cupboards.
“Staff kitchen, the smallest bedroom. You, Alex, are a glutton for self-abnegation,” I chided him.
“And you made Killer suffer the same,” Seb joined in.
Alex just grumbled, picking up plates of fresh bread and cooked meat.
“How did you manage this?” I grabbed cups and followed him through the house.
“Partially cooked makes it much easier. Plus, you’ve been reading for hours.” He pushed open the door to the orangery, and my rejection of the time I’d been wrapped up in the library died on my lips.
Seating and tables were scattered carefully around the space, the cushions dragged off to lie carefully on the now pristine flagstone flooring. They’d been cleaning. I realised how warm it was, noticing a log burner glowed in yet another hearth.
My face exploded into a huge smile. It was perfect.
I collapsed into the nest of cushions happily and began to pick at the food laid down. Pausing, I grabbed Ben’s plate and served him the exact same as me.
“See that preferential treatment, Alex?” Seb complained.
When I turned to him, his features were alight with a look of contentment; his words were a jest.
The pop of a cork distracted him, and Alex poured sparkling wine.
“What’s the occasion?” I asked.
“There isn’t one,” Alex muttered. “Seb insisted.”
“Oh, come on, Alex. The house is incredible. Killer is here. Ben and I are happy, you are…” He chewed on his next words. “You, but better for having our girl. That is all worth celebrating.”
Alex’s grunt was all the acceptance he offered, but the absence of further argument from him still had me thrilled.
We made it back just in time for the world to fall into blackness outside the windows.
More fires were lit, making me appreciate how useful it was that they had their own woodlands, and everyone collapsed into a comfortable silence.
I was surprised when Ben took the chair by the TV, passing up the space on the sofa with me.
My face fell into a pout when Seb chose to wrap himself around Ben’s legs, sitting on the floor under him.
When Alex took the space beside me, I understood. They were making room for him. My heart swelled at that.
“So, Izzy, what do you wanna do tomorrow?” Seb asked from his post by Ben’s knees.
“I don’t mind.” I tensed. Tomorrow would be my last day at the cottage. The day after, I would have to go to town to meet Christian. “Any suggestions?”
Seb’s eyes glittered with mischief, and I scoffed.
“Can you think about anything other than sex?” Alex’s tone was gruff, but his face carried a playful smirk.
“Yes…” Seb started.
When he failed to carry on, Alex’s smile widened. “Exactly.”
“That’s not fair!” Seb complained. “Can you blame me with these two around?”
“You really want to ask me that?” Alex asked, incredulous.
“Okay, with Killer around?” Seb corrected.
“Excellent adjustment.” Alex spread out slightly, his knee coming into contact with mine where I had my legs crossed on the deep cushions. “And no, I can’t.”
I felt my cheeks heating; being wanted by so many men came with a surge of pride. I’d never felt wanted, coveted in such a way. I’d only experienced feeling owned.
Alex’s hand glided down his leg, his fingers curling over his knee and making glancing contact with mine.
Hot tension skittered outward from where our bodies were touching.
I had no need to hope for more because he took hold of my crossed legs and unwrapped them, hooking one over his and taking possession of my foot, his touch roving up and down my calf.
When I lifted my awareness from his hold to his face, his expression was unguarded and honest. By the time I wrenched my gaze away, Ben and Seb were silently watching us proudly.
Alex growled under the weight of their expectations. “Fuck off, will you?”
“Sugar.” Ben ignored his brother. “Tell us about your future?”
The other men stilled.
“How do you mean?” I asked carefully.
“Well, you’ve chosen yourself, and you’re seeking the future you want,” he echoed my words from the library. “What does that look like?”
I stilled, the movement in the room reduced to Alex’s gentle caresses of me and where Seb stroked Ben lovingly just across from us.
What does it look like?
“You mean, if I even manage to make it through the snow, which is absolutely unmoving?” I joked, but the room was silent.
“We’ll get you to your meet, Killer. Don’t you worry,” Seb reassured, though from his face it looked to have almost killed him to say it.
Smiling sadly, I looked between them because, truly, what my happiness looked like had changed. And what I wanted before couldn’t come close to the fantasy I’d dared to dream of when these men infected my mind, my heart.
“When I left the city,” I qualified. “All I wanted was the chance to live. My dreams went as far as teaching part-time, if my husband permitted. And the thought of what freedom looked like hadn’t spread beyond that.” I felt the smile falter. “If I dared to dream?”
Ben nodded in encouragement.
“My life would be wrapped around someone, or someones I loved, a quiet life in the country. The financial opportunity willed to me by my aunt buying peace, and the chance to help others. To teach women what their lives can be.” I disappeared into my memories.
“I used to fantasise about finding that gap in the system, finding the snag and tearing it wide open, letting everyone the system had failed pour through.” I shrugged in defeat.
“I failed. The lectures were too cautious and the material too refined. Any cracks were well hidden from me. But if I could, I’d help those the system abandons and neglects. ”
Alex’s hold had tightened, and I realised he’d drawn so close to me that I was swathed in him, under one arm. His size and form a shroud from the most painful truth.
“I’ll have to accept what I can. A life sold to me by ghosts, living in shadows. Because the truth is, the people who own me can’t be beaten. The only way for me to survive, regardless of whether it’s a future I would choose, is to remain hidden from them.”