The Wicked Heir (Spare Heirs #3)(79)

Turning back to him, she trailed her hand over the glossy leaves of the plant at her side. “I would live out my days in this place and never leave.”

“You know it rains quite a bit here. You thought my bedchamber was bad, try being relegated to my roof on a rainy London day,” he teased in an attempt to toss off the thought.

“It’s not raining now. It’s…perfect.” A warm breeze lifted her hair from her shoulder for a second, as if even the wind agreed with her words.

It seemed that tonight was planned by the fates and approved by the same deity who had sent Isabelle down from the clouds to live among men; the evening was indeed perfect. Overhead the stars glinted against the black sky, matching the starry-eyed look Isabelle was giving him right now. “All the stars in the sky. All shining for you. Just as it should be,” Fallon mused.

“No, this is as it should be.” She stepped closer to him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I take back what I said about your smiles. I like that your smiles are mine, like a secret only I know,” she murmured, making him aware that he was grinning at her.

“You make me smile,” he said as he wound his arms around her waist.

“Thank you for all of this. Truly, Fallon.”

“I should have thought of it earlier. You can come back here anytime you would like, even during the day. I’ll make arrangements with Mrs. Featherfitch to escort you. You’re in no danger here.”

“I meant bringing me to your home. You found me, rescued me, and protected me.”

She looked up at him as if he’d done a great thing, but all he’d been thinking about through any of it was her. It was hardly heroism.

“No matter how dramatic and exciting I find imprisonment with you, I know having me underfoot has been difficult. Complicated, you called it, I believe.”

Unable to keep from touching her more, he splayed his hands over her back, holding her within his embrace. “I was wrong when I said that.”

“I know my stay hasn’t been ideal for you. I’ve turned your quiet bachelor existence on its ear. You’ve only just started sleeping in your own bed again, and even then I’m taking up space there.” Her cheeks turned pink, and her lips curved up as she looked at him.

He ran his hands up her back, her hair tickling his fingers as the breeze blew around them. He wasn’t going to argue that she’d turned his life on end, but he liked the space she inhabited in his bed. Last night, while holding Isabelle close, he’d experienced the most restful sleep he’d had in years. And his home was functioning better than it ever had before. His life was better because she was in it. And soon she would be gone.

“I was the one being difficult,” he said. “Being with you is quite simple.” As he spoke, he ran his hands up her arms. He paused to unlace her hands from his neck before tugging one sleeve of her day dress down her arm. Lowering his lips to meet her soft skin, he kissed the top of her shoulder.

“What’s difficult is that I want to soak up every second I’m allowed with you. I want to savor you and give attention to every patch of exposed skin I see. How to choose…” His words trailed away as he gave her shoulder a playful bite and soothed it with his tongue.

She let out a harsh breath and tilted her head to the side, allowing him better access to her neck.

He moved at a brutally slow pace to the base of her neck, memorizing every curve of her body to look back upon later in the long hours ahead when he would sit alone. This was a dangerous game, one he might not survive, but he wanted to live every second of this night. They were together now. Future plans didn’t matter. Isabelle was his only concern in the world.

Her skin was soft, like flower petals brushing against his lips. The taste on the tip of his tongue was sweeter than the finest candy, only with an earthy, salty edge that suited Isabelle to perfection. She was a wood nymph at heart, and tonight he wanted nothing more than to ignore the reality all around them and roll about on the forest floor with her.

“You see how difficult this is for me? Such a trial.” he murmured as he followed the line of her neck with his mouth. Her hair brushed against his forehead as he pressed his lips to her delicate collarbone. She trembled beneath his touch, and he moved his hands to her waist, needing to hold on to her for as long as possible.

“Fallon,” she whispered, her fingers digging into his arms as she leaned into him.

Guiding her to move with him, he took slow steps toward a garden bench that sat beneath the canopy of an overgrown shrub. As content as he was to roll about on the ground, she deserved better than his soiled fantasies. He stopped only when the backs of her knees brushed against the stone seat.

Releasing her only long enough to shed his coat, he draped it over the bench. Then his hands were back on her, memorizing every curve. He pressed his lips to hers in a kiss meant to promise all that was possible when Isabelle leaned closer and demanded more than just promises. He almost smiled against her as he deepened their kiss, his hands roaming over her body.

Her fingers tangled in the fabric of his cravat. She pulled at the knot with impatient movements for a second. Finally, she broke their kiss to tug the fabric loose from his throat. He went still as he allowed her to remove his clothing while he held her close. It was an oddly intimate moment, having her assistance with such a mundane task as removing his cravat, but the air around them sizzled with the intensity of the action. He watched her as she unknotted the fabric, then her fingers trailed down his waistcoat, pulling at the buttons.