Chapter 21 George and Isahn make love.
twenty-one
George and Isahn make love.
Laughter floated from George’s sitting room as she and Hildy trudged up the final tower stairs. Shoving open the door, George walked in to find Wynnie and Isahn sitting on the sofa, sharing a joke.
Dunstan and Burke came through the doorway opposite, closely followed by Ean, who announced, “Saw Gianis doing his rounds. He didnae pay us any attention.”
“Again?” Hildy asked.
“Again, what?” George focused on Isahn, trying to get him to meet her gaze, but he was looking over his shoulder at the guys.
“We saw Marinos downstairs twice. And wasn’t Gianis doing rounds when Wynnie left earlier?” Hildy took a seat on one of the many poufs.
“Could be suspicious. Or you know, they do live here,” Dunstan offered with a shrug.
“Did you get it?” Burke directed his question at George.
She pulled the parchment from the folds of her dress. “I did. Our mission was a success.”
A wave of relief visibly crashed over everyone as George set the note down on the table. Dunstan launched himself into a comfortable chair, separate from the group, Burke took a pouf beside Hildy, and Isahn sat on the sofa, smiling lightly as he looked up at George.
Wynnie returned from the sideboard where she’d procured glasses. “Wine?” she urged Ean.
He filled each of their drinks by relocating wine from some unseen bottle into their cups, then smugly produced a thimble-sized cup for himself.
“Are you old enough for that?” George teased.
“Are ye going to stop me?” he fired back.
“Ohhh,” Dunstan and Burke chimed in.
She rolled her eyes.
Isahn rose—finally—and stepped around the table to stand before her. Sliding a hand around her lower back, he hooked his finger beneath her chin, lifting her face.
She met his shimmering blue gaze and plunged directly into his depths. Deiwa nekami. Her heart shuddered at the thought of his departure. Perhaps the note would be nothing but a scrap of scribbles; perhaps Gasparo was lying to Peros and wanted him gone. Perhaps Isahn wouldn’t have to go.
“I’m so glad you’re safe and Marinos didn’t catch you.
” He kissed her on the forehead, lingering on a slow inhale.
When he pulled back and captured her gaze again, she studied the lines of his handsome face, the tiny shadow in the cleft of his chin.
“I love you,” he rumbled, before kissing her firmly to a chorus of oohs and ahhs.
Isahn escorted George back to the sofa, where she settled in, curling up beside him with her head on his shoulder and his arm protectively around her waist.
“Not yet, right?” he whispered into her ear.
“Not yet.” It wasn’t time to thread his departure into the fabric of reality.
In response, he squeezed her against him and pressed his chin into her head. She felt much better, safe, like she could breathe again as the tightness in her chest faded—momentarily, at least.
Everyone drank in silence while Eanraig studied the parchment.
“What does it say?” Burke asked impatiently.
Ean glared at him. “It’s not in the common tongue,” he quipped.
Dunstan leaned forward and peered at the note, his locs bobbling in their big knot. “He’s not lying.”
All eyes slipped to Eanraig, who shrugged at Georgie. “I’m seeing something about a tapestry in western Selwas, protection, mind magic. I’m going to need some time to think about this. It’s some queer version of the Old Tongue, perhaps a mix of the ancient and old?”
“There’s an older tongue?” Isahn shook his head.
Ean slanted his mouth and shrugged. “P Georgie, can I take this?” He tapped the note with his tiny foot. “If ye give me a day, I think I’ll have something useful.”
George nodded before dismissing Ean, who flew from the room in a flurry of gold.
She let her friends take turns studying the scrap of parchment he’d left behind, as if any of them were experts like Ean when it came to the Old Tongue. They each knew a few words, what remained of school-knowledge, now mostly forgotten.
Wynnie passed the page off to Burke, who gave it a once-over. It was in the middle of his turn with the paper that it vanished from his grasp in a tinkle of magic. “Guess Ean needed that.” Burke frowned.
Hildy sipped her wine, turning to George. “Are you certain we can trust him with this task?”
“I trust him with my life. I love that little scamp.”
“We’re talking about the elf, not the earl, right?” Dunstan chimed in with a wink.
Isahn chortled.
“Yes, we’re talking about Ean.” She sucked her teeth and shook her head, as if she could fling the ridiculous idea away. But realization was a comforting heat, sparking at the center of George’s charred and ashen heart, replenishing her from within as it spread throughout her being.
Deiwa hathemi.
Praying to all the gods that she appeared casual, George turned her head slightly to glance at Isahn.
Warm lamplight flickered on his face, brightening his sky blue eyes and casting swooping shadows beneath his angular cheekbones.
His wide mouth curved into a secret smile when he caught her studying him.
He’d looked at her that way a thousand times in the weeks they’d known each other. Never before had it shocked her so.
The fire burned so bright within George, it stole her breath. Her inhale was shaky as her heart sputtered to a halt, then began pounding again, reborn.
“Everyone out!” she demanded, startling her lounging friends.
Isahn retracted his arm from around her waist, confused. George missed his touch immediately, but she’d get back to him. First, she needed to clear out her apartment.
She popped to her feet. “Shoo.”
Dunstan boomed, mouth wide and head tossed back. Wynnie began to giggle.
“Got someplace important to be?” Burke asked, standing from his pouf and offering Hildy a hand.
“Yes. Alone. Now go, go. You’re all so slow.” George balked at Dunstan, who was casually finishing his glass of wine. “We’ll reconvene tomorrow for prandium. Hopefully Ean will have something by then, and we can plan.”
After much cajoling, George cleared her apartment of all unwanted guests. With a nervous sigh, she locked the door and returned to the sitting room, where Isahn remained on the sofa.
“I need to talk to you.”
His brow furrowed.
“It’s not bad.” George’s mouth dipped into a bashful smile as she crossed to him.
Hopping up, he came around the sofa to meet her, taking her small hands in his. The pad of his thumb rasped over her skin as he captured her gaze. “What?” he mouthed. No sound accompanied the question.
George could feel her cheeks heating even as a grin split her face. “My lord, I’ve realized something devastating.”
“And what is that, Princess Georgie?” His dimple appeared.
“Despite the fact that my future is in peril if we don’t bring down my egotistical father, despite the fact that we met because I ordered your imprisonment, and despite the godsdamn fact that you have to leave—”
“For a time.”
“For a short time,” she added.
With a nod, he asked, “I thought you wanted to tell your friends tonight?”
“No. I know we need to, but I’m not ready. Tomorrow, we’ll bring it up.”
“All right. What are—”
She cut him off with a glower. “Do you want to hear what I have to say?”
Eyes sparkling, he murmured, “Yes, sorry. Please, go on.”
George relaxed her brows and cleared her throat. “In spite of all those things, I’ve discovered that you, sir, have captured my heart.”
“Is that so?” he rumbled, dipping his head to meet her mouth.
“Ah!” George freed one of her hands and pressed a finger to his soft lips. “I’m not done yet.”
He nipped her fingertip.
“You know my story. You know I don’t trust easily, or often, especially not with men.
” She shivered, and his fingers tightened around hers.
“But you’re different. You’ve always been a different sort of man, even when you were my captive.
You’re strong but humble. You’re confident but not entitled.
You’re brave in the face of insanity. You’re one of the most supportive people I’ve ever met in my life.
“I take pride in surrounding myself with good people. People who can balance my impulses, who can confirm or deny if I’m on the right track, who can make sure I don’t become my father.
I... it took me longer than you to realize it.
..” She stood on her tiptoes so they were eye to eye or as close as she could get.
His smile was brighter than a summer’s day, and she knew he knew what was coming.
George’s swelling emotions threatened to push her into him, but he held her steady as her words crashed into a breathy foam. “I love you.”
He took her face in his palms. “I love you too, George. Very much.”
“Very much.” She beamed as another heady wave of heat and pure happiness overtook her.
When he wrapped her in his arms, one hand dropped to grasp at her bottom while the other worked its way into the curls at the nape of her neck.
Tugging her head back, he angled his mouth over hers.
It was a slow, deliberate kiss, overflowing with shared emotions, with the feeling of “finally,” and the fear of letting go.
At some point her left hand and his right found one another, playing in a reflection of their tongues, until finally they settled, and their fingers interlocked.
“Isahn,” George whispered into his mouth when she broke away.
“Hmm?” He nipped at her bottom lip.
“I want you.”
“Mmm.” His eyes darkened. “My fingers or my tongue?”
“Neither,” she rasped. Her fingertips forged a path from where they lay over his heart to explore his firm arousal.
“Are you sure?” His voice was strained.
“I have never been more certain of anything in my life. Everything is so... dynamic right now, uncertain. But not this. Not what we have. I’m positive.”
A low, almost animalistic rumble erupted from his chest as he grabbed her around the thighs and hoisted her into his arms.
They fell onto George’s bed, a tangle of linen and limbs. Isahn came out on top and promptly buried his face between her breasts.
She loved him.