The Wicked Heir (Spare Heirs #3)(85)
“What would you like to see first?”
She wanted to see the parts that Fallon inhabited most, to learn more about the man she loved. “Where is it that you go when you leave me during the day?”
“The library,” he replied. “My desk is there, my work—”
“That is what I would like to see,” she announced.
He grumbled something that she didn’t quite hear and led her to a narrow door and then into a wide hall where a rug ran the length of the expansive area. Artwork filled the walls, and candles burned brighter than on the upper floors of his home, lighting the length of the space with a warm, beeswax-scented glow. His home was not what she’d expected of a house left to a secret caregiver. The size of the building was more fitting to be a ducal residence. In fact, her friend Roselyn’s home was considerably smaller than Fallon’s. A simple bachelor residence this was not. But there was nothing simple about Fallon.
She looked up at him, wondering what other surprises he held, and she saw him glance around as though to check that they still hadn’t been seen. Then he led her through a large wooden door that proved to open into one end of his library. The comforting, welcoming scent of wood paneling, books, and leather hung in the air around her. A large desk stood centered on the tall windows that lined one wall. Everything in Fallon’s home was of a grand scale, more so than she’d imagined—which was quite the feat. This room was no different. Above, the high, painted-yellow ceilings were accented with beams that stretched from wall to wall, and her feet sank into a thick rug. This was the sort of room she could be happily locked away in for weeks on end.
It wasn’t terribly masculine, even with the leather furniture that sat around the fireplace and in front of the desk, but compared with his bedchamber, this room was certainly intended for a man’s use. She smiled at the thought of Fallon spending his days here. It was as if a small mystery about the man had been solved in her mind. She turned to watch him as he closed what appeared to be the main door at the opposite end of the room, keeping her hidden from the view of any passersby. Fallon was always thinking, always protecting her from harm.
Her love for him swelled in her chest, and Isabelle turned away from him to further examine his library before he could read the emotion in her eyes. Trailing her hand over the back of the nearest chair, she said, “This is where you come when you’re away from me?”
“It is…for the most part.”
“I know I said I wouldn’t pry…but you know of my curiosity.”
“I do,” he replied as he took slow steps back toward her.
“Fallon, what is it that you do with your time that consumes you so?”
His brows drew together for a second before he spoke as if what he did took great thought to explain. “I have interests in certain endeavors, investments to look after, and lately an art theft to solve. There’s also a lady residing in my bedchamber who is taking up an ever-larger portion of my days—and my nights.” He grinned as he finally neared where she stood. “Not that I mind.”
She looked down at her hands where she picked at a decorative nail head on the leather chair in front of her. “I suppose this lady you keep in your bedchamber will be gone soon and your life can return to normal.” Forcing herself to look up, she met his gaze, finally discussing what had become as off-limits a topic of conversation between them as love. “I will, won’t I? We never speak of it, but we both know that day will come.”
“It will,” he confirmed. His low voice sounded haunted in the large room.
Truth be told, she dreaded the day she would be forced to leave here and return to her family’s home. She had no wish to leave. For her part, she loved him. Isabelle cleared her throat and looked away in search of a change of subject.
“Is that one of Lady Herron’s relatives?” she asked, gesturing to the nearest painting hanging on the wall between bookshelves. The work depicted an older gentleman.
“I believe so, though the provenance of the pieces isn’t documented anywhere, not that I’ve found.” He moved closer at her back as he spoke, finally placing his hand on her shoulder and looking at the portrait with her. “I’m particularly fond of this fellow.”
“I had a great-uncle who wore the same sort of look on his face whenever my sister and I would visit,” she mused. “He was a good listener. Unfortunately that skill wasn’t the least bit diminished in the middle of the night, when Victoria and I tried to steal sweets from his kitchen.”
Fallon chuckled, the sound rumbling through her body. “This man is skilled in the same fashion. I discuss things with him often.”
“Do you?” She turned to smile up at him over the similarity between them. Until now Isabelle thought only she conversed with paintings as if they were friends.
He grasped her hand once more and gave it a tug. “Come. I want to show you more of my home.”
Twining her fingers through his, she walked with him toward the main door he’d shut earlier. “Your home is quite large, especially for a London residence.” She shouldn’t ask the question that lingered in her mind, but then she did. “Do you ever think of…sharing it with someone?”
He paused just inside the main library door and looked at her. “Are you interested?”
Yes! Was he serious? She licked her lips, searching for words that wouldn’t make him run from her. “I don’t want to leave you. Even once it’s safe to do so.”