1818_Isabel

by Suzanne Enoch

  Adam tilted his head to study her face. For what, she had no idea. “And the kiss?” he asked finally.

  “We’ll never speak of it again. It’s already forgotten.”

  More gazing at her. “Two months,” he said abruptly.

  “We’re negotiating, then? Four months.” She didn’t know if the idea that he was mulling over the offer annoyed or pleased her, but he was clearly doing so. “And I remind you that your actions are the reason we’ve come to this conversation.” There.

  “You said you’d already forgotten about my actions. Have you not?”

  Maddening. But she still needed him. “We would not be having this conversation if you hadn’t acted as you did. That is a fact. Otherwise, yes. I consider it forgotten.”

  “Then four months is acceptable.”

  Oh. Oh. She’d won. Isabel stuck out her hand. “We have a deal, Mr. Driscoll.”

  He unfolded his arms and took her hand in his large, rough one, shaking it. “It’s still Adam. And if you’re hiring me to instruct you, I do expect you to listen to what I say. You’re the guardian of Nimway Hall. I’m your…tutor.”

  This wasn’t quite the contrition or apology she’d expected from him for his poor behavior, but it was what she – and the Hall – needed. “Agreed. And I remain Isabel.”

  Adam released her hand. “Shall we begin in the morning? Seven o’clock at the stable?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  He could have said three o’clock in the morning and she would have agreed. In some ways, this revised agreement left her feeling easier than the previous one. She didn’t have to feel guilty that she would eventually be sending him on his way, that she was secretly learning what she could from him without telling him so. And this way he would tell her everything she needed to know instead of leaving great gaps for her to attempt to decipher because she couldn’t come out and ask him directly.

  “Was there something else, Isabel?”

  She blinked. Drat it all, she still stood there, staring at him. “No. You make the schedule according to your – my – duties, and I shall follow it.”

  “Then I have some unpacking to do. I’ll arrange to take my dinner in here tonight, as I imagine you and Miss Jane will wish to discuss things without me being present. I’ll see you in the morning, and don’t forget Mr. Hodgins will be arriving tomorrow afternoon.”

  With that, he closed his door on her.

  Isabel sagged against the wall. He remained direct but polite, both of which qualities she continued to appreciate. He hadn’t leered or said anything overly familiar – though if he had, she would have withdrawn the offer and found someone else. In fact, the only things she could criticize were the kiss – well, not the kiss itself, but the fact that he’d kissed her – and the way he’d said it was inappropriate but hadn’t precisely apologized for doing it.

  But then she hadn’t been quite as offended as she probably should have been. Surprised, yes. Mortified, no. Possibly intrigued despite his unsuitability, perhaps.

  Adam stifled a yawn as he and Orion, Isabel and Fiore behind them, trotted down the path that led into Balesboro Wood and the loggers’ hut within. Yes, he was the one who’d decided they should begin at seven o’clock, but he hadn’t anticipated lying, tossing, standing, and pacing awake all night.

  Isabel had bloody well surprised him yesterday. At best he’d thought she might realize his idiocy for the mad slip of propriety it had been, and that she would ask him to stay on for a few days while she found a replacement. He would have agreed to that.

  Instead, she’d set aside her own pride twice over and asked for his help. She hadn’t suggested that he work for free in exchange for her not telling everyone far and wide that he’d mauled her like some mannerless beast. She hadn’t asked for a promise of his silence about her ignorance of her duties, despite the damage he could do with just a few words to her tenants.

  All of that made Isabel de Rossi either the worst negotiator in history, or a genuinely good-hearted young lady who wanted to live up to the responsibilities she’d voluntarily assumed. And he already knew which she was, because he’d realized that about her days ago.

  And none of that, including his gratitude at being offered a second chance, made him regret kissing her. Yes, it had been ham-fisted, and yes, he should have asked – and waited for – her permission. The kiss itself, though, he didn’t regret. He would never regret it.

  She would probably spin the moonstone orb until it pointed at Alton, until she could claim that magic decreed she should marry a handsome viscount, of all people. But he didn’t believe in magic. He believed in that kiss. And he had four months now to convince her that the only real magic in the world lay in the way he’d felt – and the way he was willing to wager she’d felt – in that moment.

  Because whether she would ever admit it or not, the real reason she wanted to pretend the kiss had never happened, and the reason he was still here today, was because she’d kissed him back.

  “Nimway Hall holds the rights to supply all the timber to the bishoprics of both Bath and Wells, yes?” Isabel asked.

  “Yes. For all the property and buildings owned by the church in both towns. It’s the most lucrative piece of paper you own. Which, in all likelihood, is why Balesboro Wood is still one of the few places you can find old-growth timber in the southern half of England. I’d wager it’s the largest standing natural wood in all of Britain. Your ancestors have been very careful and strategic with their tree-felling and replanting.”

  “It feels old,” she said, ducking beneath a branch as they followed the narrowing path deeper into the forest. “Like the house.”

  “Ageless,” he supplied, as an owl hooted above their heads. The fellow was awake late, and the sound reminded Adam of the odd owl choir that had greeted Isabel’s arrival to the Hall last week.

  “Yes. Ageless.” She sent him a sideways glance. “Have you heard any of the local tales about these woods?”

  “That they confuse unwanted travelers and turn them about to keep them from ever reaching Nimway Hall? Yes, I’ve heard them. I pointed out to Simmons a few weeks ago when he was lamenting the arrival of an outsider to the Hall that I managed to make it through the woods unscathed.”

  He’d thought that might set her back up, but she only smiled. “Perhaps you were meant to arrive here, to show me how to be her guardian.”

  And now she was trying to bait him. “I won’t argue with that, because it ends with me being here.”

  “You like Nimway, then? Even with all the trouble it’s given you? Even with all the myths and legends surrounding it?”

  “Myths and legends come with age. I like that it’s been here since before records were kept. I like the idea that its survival through the ages is so unlikely that the locals had to come up with a magical explanation for it.” He mulled over what he’d just said. “In that sense, I suppose I do believe in magic. And I’m very fond of Nimway.”

  “Careful. Your head may pop off if you say such things.” She chuckled, then straightened in the sidesaddle. “Is that the loggers’ hut?” she asked, pointing with black-gloved fingers at a misshapen lump perched beside a small stream.

  “It is.” They crossed through the trickle of water and pulled up at the front of the building. “It should be unoccupied at this time of year. Unless a special order is received, most logging should be done in the winter. The sap’s down in the ground, so the timber dries more quickly, and you’ll have less sap stain and fungus. After it’s cut, it goes into the old barn by the escarpment to keep it out of the worst of the weather.”

  “If the hut is empty, why are we here?” she asked, hopping to the ground and taking an awkward step before he could move around Orion to assist her.

  Adam frowned. If the idea of them kissing dismayed her, he needed to do something about it immediately. “Nothing nefarious,” he said in a too-abrupt tone. “I erred yesterday, Isabel. I shall do my utmost not to unsettle you again.”
>
  She nodded. “I wouldn’t be here if I thought otherwise. And neither would you.”

  Good. Frightening her, distressing her, went against everything he believed. With the exception of the past few weeks, he knew he was good at what he did. That was what she wanted from him – knowledge. If he wanted something else, something more, that was his burden to bear. Beneath all that, however, he was a male. If he saw any signs that she was as intrigued as he was, he would act.

  “You or someone you trust should come by and check the condition of the hut and the tools inside every other month or so,” he made himself continue, deliberately moving a little away from her. “You don’t want to discover in December that the roof’s fallen in and the saws have rusted from exposure to the weather, or that they’ve gone missing just when you need them.”

  Isabel nodded, a strand of her dark hair coming loose from its pins to caress one cheek. Wrinkling her nose, she drew it behind her ear. “I should have brought a pencil and paper.”

  “I’m happy to repeat anything you wish.” Including that kiss. Especially that kiss. He realized he still had his gaze on her face, and cleared his throat, moving to the door. “I’ll give you the calendar I began when I arrived here, for scheduling when to do the tasks like this. The trick is the unexpected things and how to fit them in. And the new items you discover as you go along.”

  “Like rooms full of bees?”

  He laughed, supremely relieved that she remained willing to jest with him, as he put a shoulder to the hut’s door and shoved it open. “Yes. Exactly like that.”

  The hut was low and long, closed in enough that he wouldn’t have wanted to spend an extended length of time living there. Racks and shelves at the rear held saws, axes, ropes, spikes, and the like. The front contained the small fireplace for cooking and warmth, while four empty bedframes lined either wall down the length of the single room. A trio of rickety chairs stood tilted on the stone hearth to keep their feet out of the dirt and damp, and he pulled two of them upright, sitting them across the hut from each other before he sat on one and gestured her to the other.

  With a glance about the hut that he had to interpret as uneasiness, she seated herself. Hands folded primly in her lap, feet flat on the floor and ankles touching, she looked young. And vulnerable.

  “You have nothing to fear from me,” he reiterated, deciding that getting to the point outweighed any of the polite dictates of small talk.

  “So you said. Of course I don’t.” Her short laugh sounded nervous, especially coupled with her sudden interest in viewing the unremarkable fireplace.

  “You and I have one disagreement,” he went on. “In everything else, we do want the same thing. We want Nimway Hall to prosper. We want you to be her guardian, whether it’s as a landlord – lady – or as a mythical chosen one.”

  “That’s well and good,” she returned, finally meeting his gaze. “It doesn’t dismiss your…lack of physical restraint. I know I said I’ve put it behind me, and I have, but I’m not a fool. A certain wariness is to be expected, don’t you think?”

  “I do. And I’ve contemplated that kiss several times. Rather fondly. I might wish to repeat it, but I wouldn’t do so unless you wanted the same thing.”

  “You—”

  “In this place, under these circumstances, Isabel, you are the queen of the realm. I am in your employ. Your tenants would happily chase me out of Somerset, encouraging me with pitchforks and torches. Yes, I’m attracted to you. I want you. But I have no intention of grabbing you and having you against your will. Therefore, you have no reason to fear me.”

  She swallowed. “This is rather unsettling.”

  He wanted to point out that he would also like to break her pretty viscount in half, but suggestions of violence wouldn’t do much to keep him about for the four months to which they’d agreed. And it wouldn’t convince her to trust him – though neither would regaling her with his theory that she was unsettled because she couldn’t stop contemplating their kiss, either.

  “Everything else aside, Isabel, the question I need you to answer is whether you can trust me or not. Not just my opinion, but me. Because whatever you’ve hired me to do, I won’t have you cringing whenever I look in your direction. Have Miss Jane accompany us, or one of the grooms. Or give me a few days, and I’ll find someone else to take over my duties.”

  Sitting forward, resting his elbows on his knees, he clasped his hands together. “I never told you my credentials,” he went on. “My uncle lost a leg shortly after my eighteenth birthday. Uncle William has a plenitude of daughters, but no sons. I was the youngest of four boys, with the other three married already. My oldest brother, Thomas, will have my father’s barony, and he’s been working with my next brother, Donald, to expand the Driscoll holdings. Patrick, the closest in age to me, is the pastor for our home village. I’d been planning on joining the army, but that changed when we received word about Uncle William.”

  She seemed to be paying attention, at least, and the cautious expression had left her face, replaced by one of curiosity. That was something, anyway. “I served as his steward for the next seven years, until my oldest cousin married. Her new husband worked with me for six months, then my uncle and I agreed that Stanley should take over the stewardship. The property’s likely to go to him and Margaret anyway, so it made sense. Less than a fortnight later, I accepted the position here.”

  “How many daughters does your uncle have?” she asked.

  That hadn’t been the question he’d expected, but Isabel de Rossi had never been short of surprises. “Seven. All between eighteen and twelve. Two sets of them are twins.”

  “And you’re one of four boys. I can’t even imagine having that many siblings.”

  “You’re an only child, yes?”

  “Yes. We always had friends and extended family about, but it’s not the same as having siblings, is it?”

  “No, it’s not.”

  She glanced down at her hands. “I should mistrust you. Even dislike you. But I…I don’t, which has me questioning my own judgment. You don’t believe in magic, but you gave me the orb when you found it. I might say it found you, but that seems rather unlikely even to me.”

  Adam sent her a rueful smile. “Thank you for that.”

  “You’re welcome. And just now you announced that you…desire me. I…” She cleared her throat. “I find you to be handsome, and I like your direct manner of speaking, but that one difference you say lies between us is an entire philosophy. A view of the world and what lies within it. That’s a large difference.”

  Nor was he a titled lord, but he didn’t say that aloud. She didn’t need to be reminded about Alton, his title, and his professed belief in faeries and flying pigs. “I can’t dispute that,” he said instead. “Speaking of the orb, though, have you received any insight now that it’s in your possession?” There. No insults to magic or to her beliefs, and no suggestion that he’d altered his own opinion.

  “That was quite diplomatic,” she noted, a smile touching her mouth.

  Bloody wonderful. Now he was noticing her mouth again – not that he’d ever stopped noticing it. “I favor peace between us, whatever else lies unresolved.”

  “I favor peace as well. And no, I haven’t learned anything conclusive.”

  Both his eyebrows lifted before he could rein in his surprise. “Truly?” He would have been willing to wager good money that she had magically been told or shown – or whatever the orb did – that Alton was the man she was destined to marry. That seemed to be what she wanted, at the least.

  “Well, it’s very old, and it’s been…away, or out of sight, for twenty years. I imagine deciphering how it works will take me a little time.”

  “It’s broken, then?” Again he refrained from commenting that a piece of pretty moonstone that did nothing was, in fact, what a piece of moonstone was supposed to do.

  “No. It’s not broken. Both my grandmother and my mother warned me that it does as it will,
when it will.” She sighed. “Grandmama Olivia said the entire house was the same way, but I think she resisted it more than she needed to. I, for one, could use some blasted guidance!”

  As she spoke that last bit she lifted her gaze toward the ceiling. Adam, though, didn’t think it was God or the heavenly angels from whom she wanted to hear. If her Merlin or Nimue had ever actually lived, which he doubted, they were long past hearing from her.

  He cleared his throat. “You’ve hired me to give you some guidance where Nimway Hall is concerned, and I’m happy to do so. And if I may say so, I’m proud to work for an owner who takes such an interest in her property. The position of steward exists in many cases because of landowners who’d rather spend their time and attention elsewhere.”

  “Or because they have more than one property and can’t manage them all adequately,” she added.

  Well, he knew to whom that referred. Adam inclined his head. “Indeed.” And whether he disagreed with her assessment of Alton or not, which he did, that wasn’t the point. As they’d both noted, he was her employee. He had no say over what she thought or did. It certainly wasn’t his responsibility or right to approve with whom she spent her time or to whom she gave her heart. Even if he’d already given most of his heart to her.

  10

  Let me see it, then,” Jane said, her flailing hands jerking in an odd motion somewhere between crossing herself and making the sign of protection against the evil eye.

  Isabel wanted to see the orb again as well, wanted to have a witness when it indicated whether she was right to allow Alton to pursue her, or if some as yet un-met stranger lay in her future. The third alternative was just silly, whether he confessed to being attracted to her or not, because he didn’t even believe.

  That in itself would eliminate him from beau contention. It didn’t even take into account the way he seemed as rough around the edges as she was. It had genuinely surprised her that he was a baron’s son, because he spoke and acted more like a farmer. And someone of her limited social skills and even more limited connections shouldn’t set herself after a farmer. Or permit one to pursue her.