The Wicked Heir (Spare Heirs #3)(108)

“Then you would be the one injured,” she countered.

“That’s as it should be.” He sat on the edge of her bed, careful not to jostle her too much but unable to stay away all the same. “I should be the one with a wound in the side. This was my battle to fight, not yours. I thought I’d lost you.” He glanced down at the cuffs of his shirt, still stained from where he’d held her in his arms, begging for her to live.

“I thought you’d lost me too,” she murmured. She gave him the same starry-eyed look she had that night in his bedchamber, but she was just this side of death. Starry eyes were to be expected in such circumstances. They didn’t mean what they once had.

“You do know that the lady is supposed to be the one who is rescued in the story?” he asked, brushing a lock of her hair from her face.

“Not in this story.” She almost laughed but shifted in pain instead, making his heart ache for her.

“If I were a noble, honest gentleman who wore bright colors, danced at balls, and smiled on occasion, you wouldn’t have gotten wrapped up in this. You would be whole and sitting in the garden, enjoying the warm weather.”

“That isn’t much of a story, Fallon. Where are the danger and excitement? I think I prefer the version with the wicked pirate.”

His pulse quickened as a flicker of hope lit deep in his bones. Did she mean him, or was this another of her stories? He needed to know. “Wicked pirates…gentlemen of that sort are troublesome creatures, Isabelle. Always wrapped up in devious plots.”

“Far more dramatic a tale, don’t you agree?”

“Isabelle…” This wasn’t the time for this conversation. She should be well, but he needed to settle things with her. “There are details to the story that you don’t know, and I want you to know everything. No secrets.”

“My father told me already. You could have mentioned your alliance with him at some point.”

“Apologies. I’ll never keep anything from you again. However, it is a secret society.”

“I suppose.”

He swallowed, knowing there was a cliff he was about to leap from and hoping he would find clear waters below. “Is that all he told you? That he was once a member of my organization? He was. That’s where he first met Grapling. I put them together, overseeing one of the projects we had at the time. It wasn’t until later that I discovered the kind of man Grapling was, but by then it was too late. Your father was his opposite, trustworthy, honorable—as much as gentlemen of our ilk can be.

“Did your father mention anything else by chance?”

“There’s more?”

“You may like this part—I hope so anyway. I know you have a fondness for such tales when they involve characters in a book or something you saw once in an opera.”

She remained quiet, her eyes on his as she listened to every word he said. This was it. There was nothing to be done but to toss his hand of cards on the table and see if there would be a winner.

He took a breath and dove in. “When I took you back to my home from the museum that day—”

“Kidnapped,” she corrected.

“Very well, kidnapped,” he said, unable to contain his smile. “I wrote to your father.”

“He said that. You asked for my things to be sent over. You mentioned it over dinner that night as well. Remember?”

“I didn’t tell you everything,” he confessed.

“Oh.”

“I also promised him that if anything went awry, if word of your whereabouts got out and your reputation was harmed, that I…would marry you.”

“What?”

She tried to sit up, but he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t move. Your wound could reopen. My timing with this conversation is—”

“Did you truly want to marry me? That was more than a month ago, Fallon. You kept me locked away.”

“To protect your future, not to preserve my bachelorhood,” he insisted. “I know your thoughts on marriage, Isabelle. I didn’t want you to be forced into marriage because of a rumor. I’m well aware of how hurtful that can be. Ever since the debacle with Hardaway and Lady Victoria, believe me. I was responsible for that as well, since I’m confessing truths. I was attempting to erase the scandal of the fire, but on some level I think I was glad to have Hardaway away from you permanently. Even then…” He noticed he still had a hand on her arm but didn’t remove it. He didn’t want to lose that connection with her, especially not if it was to be his last. “Even then, I only wanted you to be happy. And I knew firsthand that Hardaway wasn’t the one who could do that. I didn’t think I could either. You wanted to be with some gentleman who dances and wears red or some hideous color like that. Not me. I’m—”

“Not a villain. I shouldn’t have ever said that, Fallon. It’s not true. I know that now.”

“Nor am I a gentleman with leisure time who spends afternoons riding about the park and complaining of ennui. You know what I do. You know the truth of my home and what occurs within those walls, and I can’t change that. My life… Isabelle, no lady would want that life. And I wasn’t going to have it forced on you.”

“Forced on me? Fallon, what of all the time we spent together? Did you think that wouldn’t sway my thinking? We spent nearly a month sharing a bed,” she whispered with a quick glance to the crack in the door. “You kissed me thoroughly, repeatedly, and we—”