She pressed a hand to her heart to keep it calm, but it thumped against her palm. She wanted to stay.
To rest.
To keep him company.
“You know I cannot.” But she let him hold her tighter, just a little longer because even though everything seemed to be falling apart around her, he seemed strong enough to keep the world aloft.
Chapter Eighteen
When Rowan caught himself whistling as he sat at his desk the next morning, he snapped his quill down and frowned.
He hadn’t whistled in… well, he couldn’t remember. Too busy to whistle.
But he also could not remember the last time he’d felt so… happy, either.
Isabella’s fault.
He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. He’d chosen well. Last night proved it. All the weeks running up to last night proved it, too. She’d be an excellent wife in every way. He’d not propose yet. He wanted her full name before asking her to change it.
A short rap on the door preceded its opening, and Isabella poked her head in, grinning beneath a straw bonnet brim. He rose and had her in his arms within a few strides, pushed the bonnet back, untied its ribbons, flicked it aside, and sank into a deep kiss.
She let him. God, she let him, urged him on, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her lithe body against his. With a single kiss, she killed him. Pulling back and grinning at him, she brought him back to life.
“I did not expect you today,” he said, tugging her across the roomand pulling her into his lap as he sat. A dam had broken, and he could not stop touching her, could not stop taking her in his arms, and feeling along every muscle as if she was his own.
“Shall I leave?”
He held her fast. “No, littlesidhe.”
“You’ve said that before. What is it?”
“Whois it. The fair folk who live in the fairy mounds in Ireland.”
“What are they like?”
“Depends on which one we’re talking about. Some are mischievous. Some will lead you to your death. Some will make you weep for their beauty.”
She fussed with his cravat. “Which one am I?”
“Hm.” He kissed her cheek, her temple. “Changeling I think. You stole up the real Isabella and took her place.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Why would I do that?”
“To make my life difficult.”
She gasped and popped out of his lap, and he laughed and pulled her back in, and then they were kissing and kissing and kissing, so sweet and soft, it might go on forever, sharing breath and touching tongues and letting the sunlight shift around them with each new hour.
When she broke away from him, he let her, needing breath, needing to think. He needed towait, but how could he with her head resting sweetly on his shoulder.
She drew some pattern into his chest. “A changeling is not what they appear to be. Yes, perhaps that is right for me.”
“Tell me your name.” He could not stop the words from popping out, but damn they sounded pitiful, begging for any bit of her.
“I would like to. But… my brother's situation demands secrecy.”
“Once you have what you’re looking for, you’ll tell me? Your name.” Everything else as well.
She nodded. “You must understand that when I find it, I will steal it, and when that happens, Mr. Haws will likely raise hell for you. My actions have already risked his ire for the Hestia. All he must do is tell the right people that his property was stolen at the Hestia. If he everdiscovers me snooping about, he’ll drag me to you and demand… something or other dire. Likely that you fire me.”
