The Wicked Heir (Spare Heirs #3)(111)

“It’s perfect,” Isabelle said as she looked up at the painting of the castle on the large wall of the dining room.

Fallon placed a hand on her shoulder as he moved closer behind her. “Quite realistic, isn’t it? You could almost move in.”

“It is lovely, but I much prefer my true life here with you.”

“Your life here with a houseful of misfit gentlemen?”

“There’s one gentleman in particular that I’m grateful to share a home with,” she said, turning to face him.

“I know this house, though on the large side for a London residence, isn’t ideal—”

“Our home is better than ideal. I have a happy life with you, Fallon. You’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted. I don’t have to be afraid of quarrels anymore. There’s nothing to escape from here. I’m free to live, encouraged to do as I please. The gentlemen who reside here have become my friends. The only words ever spoken in anger are between your men, and you quickly settle them because you lead with love.”

“Keep your voice down,” Fallon teased. “If Hardaway hears you say that, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“You care for those men. You look after them, keep them safe, just as you do for me. I find I rather enjoy the bustle of a busy home.”

“It’s never dull, to be sure,” Fallon agreed.

“I always wondered when I first met you what kept you so busy. Now I know—you needed me. You, my pirate captain, required my help, and I am pleased to keep your ship afloat while you wage war against injustice on the open seas.” She smiled up at him as he wound his arms around her waist.

“I’m a pirate again, am I?”

“Oh, quite. Cannon fire is blasting through dangerous waters as the battle goes on day after day. Men are requiring your direction, and you, my husband, were trying to manage a staff and keep the ship in working order at such a time.” She poked a playful finger at his chest.

He gave her a wry smile. “It is nice to have a tidy ship, and now food simply arrives without my arranging it.”

“See? I’m a valuable lady to have on board.”

“I’m glad I kidnapped you,” he murmured as he rested his forehead against hers, pulling her even closer within his embrace.

“No more working day and night.”

“My nights are all yours,” he promised, and she had no doubt that he meant it. He angled down and placed a searing kiss on her lips, one that had her leaning in for more and blinking for a moment when it ended.

“Like I said, it’s perfect,” she said with a grin. “My life is filled with happiness and love—”

“In a headquarters for a secret society full of roguish gentlemen,” he added with a chuckle.

“Don’t forget the flowers and paintings of cherubs. I love Pearl for those little fellows in the main hall. Every dream castle should have cherubs and flowers.”

“She would have liked you, Isabelle.”

Isabelle nodded, grateful that he thought the lady who had been like a grandmother to him and had shaped him into the man he was would have approved of their match. “And I will care for this house, her former home, just as you have.”

“I think it needs more artwork and perhaps some more works of fiction. Care to help me with that?”

“Are you suggesting a leisurely pursuit?” she teased.

“Only if I get to be leisurely with you, my love.” Fallon trailed his hands over her body, and his gaze turned heated. She could stare into those dark eyes forever, and as fortune would have it, she would get to.

“Pardon the interruption,” the butler said from the door, pulling them both from the private moment. When Isabelle peered around Fallon’s shoulder, she saw the man had his eyes purposefully averted. “You have a caller.”

“Spares’ business,” Fallon muttered as he kissed her cheek and stepped away. “You stay and admire your painting. I’ll return in a moment.”

“Actually, it’s a lady, sir, here to see Mrs. St. James. Although your presence may be needed as well, sir.”

“A lady knows the location of headquarters? Is she the wife of a member?” Fallon turned to shoot her a questioning look.

“I’m on my way,” she said with a nod for their butler. “Thank you for the message.”

Isabelle offered her husband a smile and left the room. But as she stepped through the door to the main hall, she suddenly understood their butler’s concern. She stopped, staring at the woman who waited in the center of the room.

“Victoria!”

Her sister had been peering inside the drawing room with curiosity, but when she spotted Isabelle, she turned to face her. “Your new home suits you.”

Isabelle hadn’t seen her sister since Isabelle had married and moved to her new home. She’d sent Victoria letters, but they’d all been returned unopened. She’d called on her but had been turned away. Would this hurt that had already lasted too long between them ever heal? For Isabelle’s part, she would never cease her attempts. That had been the one fly in the ointment of her perfect happiness—the nagging worry over her sister. And now…

The woman before her was but a ghost of the lady Isabelle had once known so well. Her skin was pale, as if she hadn’t seen the light in weeks. She’d lost weight too. Not so much that anyone else would notice while hidden beneath a dress, but Isabelle saw it immediately. But worst of all there was a cut on her swollen and bruised lip that hadn’t been properly cleaned. Had she been in some sort of brawl? Isabelle moved closer. “Victoria, what’s happened to you?”