Reclaimed

“If you still want me to,” he answered as they walked inside. She nodded and climbed the stairs. She returned carrying pillows and a blanket to find him sitting on the couch. His shoes were placed side by side in front of it, and he’d unbuttoned his shirt. His chest taunted her to touch it, to sink her fingers into the coarse hair dusted there. To feel the hard muscles flexing beneath. She wanted to trail her fingers down his abs, to caress his….

She tore her gaze from where it currently rested, at his belt. Afraid to be caught gawking at him like a pervert, she blurted out, “Thank you, Isaac. You must think I’m a complete idiot.”

“On the contrary, I find you brave, beautiful, caring—”

She laughed and rolled her eyes, and he seemed to sense her discomfort at the compliments, for he broke off and smiled ruefully. He grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles.

“Good night.”

“Good night,” she whispered. She cast one last longing look in his direction and climbed the stairs to her empty bed.

Being good sucks.

***

God, he’d been a complete fool. How had he not sensed Isaac inside? Now Isaac knew he’d tried to get in during the day, and he’d guard her house even more. He had botched his chance to get inside without fight.

Blasted fool.

He’d just wanted to see her. He often came here when she was home, enjoying her beauty. Granted, this time he hadn’t been planning on just looking. He’d been planning to pretend to be Isaac.

Low? Hell, yes. But, damn, he heard the desperate clicking of the clock in his head, taunting him with his inadequateness.

He hadn’t even sensed Isaac. He couldn’t afford such a colossal mistake again.

Fleeing in surprise had been a mistake as well. He didn’t fear Isaac. Please, Isaac had never been able keep up to him, even as a child. And besides, he had every right to see Sabrina.

As much, if not more, than Isaac.

Amelia had picked him.

In the meadow long ago, he remembered her choice….

The sun had warmed his face as the gentle breeze kept him from baking alive over a roaring fire. It had seemed like a perfect day to spend outside with his love. And since Isaac had left on their father’s business, he had leave to do so. He didn’t have to seek her out. He knew she knelt by the stream, a bouquet of flowers clutched in her hand. It had been easy to convince her to join him, since she loved being outdoors on days like these.

Hell, so did he.

Especially when she sat by his side.

Her soft curls escaped her coiffure to blow in the breeze as she headed toward him, and he returned her bright smile. Her cap-sleeved lilac dress spoke of the latest fashions, and the bonnet she wore to protect her milky skin matched it to perfection. He’d never tire of seeing her perfect face.

Sometimes, he wished he’d never fallen in love with her. Indeed, she loved his brother. He knew it. But sometimes, just sometimes, he swore he saw something more. A brief glimpse in her eyes maybe. Or maybe he just imagined it. God knows he was desperate enough to wish it were so.

He pushed his thoughts aside and sighed. Even if she did somehow love him in return, she’d been promised to Isaac. And he, well he’d been betrothed to the rich Lady Louisa Harding. It had been arranged for years, before even Isaac and Amelia. It was his duty, damn it. He’d been named the heir, and so he had to marry whom his father wished.

Louisa appeared beautiful, with long, flowing red hair, gorgeous eyes, and a flawless body to match. She spoke of perfection in every way. Except for one small, tiny problem. She wasn’t Amelia.

Amelia sat next to him and laid her head on his shoulder. He rested his cheek on her hair and inhaled her lavender-and-sunshine scent so hungrily it gnawed at him like a monster.

“Oh, my Lord, isn’t it just gloriously wonderful out?”

“Yes, my lady, it is. You make it even more so. Were I to be in the company of any other, it would be dull and dreary, to be sure.” He teased, but the truth in his words rang in the air. They always did.

Pathetic.

She laughed and looked into his eyes. It must have been something about the way she observed him, the way her eyes sparkled. He had no idea what caused it, but he snapped. The hold on his control broke, and he moaned in pure agony. When she reached a trembling hand out and cupped his cheek, he stopped fighting it.

“Elijah…” she said so quietly he might have imagined it.