Page 47 of When the Rogue Returns
ISA KNEW SHEwas in trouble when she allowed Victor to take her back to bed. How did he send her good sense right out the window when he kissed and caressed her? As he made love to her fast and hard and raw, she lost herself in it with such abandon that she forgot everything that still stood between them.
Only afterward, when he fell into a doze, was she brought back to her senses. She looked over at him and sighed. When he was asleep, he looked so much like his old self. How many nights had she dreamed of him like this, only to awaken to the loss of him? How many years had she yearned fruitlessly for the husband who never came?
And now he was back, and she wanted nothing more than to take up where they’d left off. Except for one thing.
Amalie. She should have told him about her tonight. He deserved to know he had a daughter.
But what if his burning urge for revenge on Jacoba and Gerhart couldn’t be assuaged? What if he insisted upon a trial, insisted upon dragging her back to Amsterdam? What would happen to Amalie? Would he be willing to give up his vengeance for his daughter?Or would he insist that he could manage a trial and investigation without harming any of them?
Isa wanted to believe in his ability to save them. He’d said he’d looked for her all these years, and tonight he’d seemed to accept what she’d told him about the past. But what about in the morning, after he’d had time to think about it? How could she trust him when he still kept so many secrets?
Until she knew why he was here and what he intended to do, she had to leave her choices open in case she had to flee again. In case he got so angry over her hiding his daughter from him that he lashed out and tried to assert his rights to the girl.
Because once he knew about Amalie, everything would change. For one thing, if he realized exactly how much Jacoba and Gerhart had taken from him, he might be so furious at them that he could no longer proceed with caution. It had become clear to her that when Victor was angry, he didn’t think straight. So before she put her life—and the life of her child—in his hands, she had to know what she was up against.
Slipping from the bed, she halted when he mumbled something and turned over. She stood with her breath tight in her throat until he slid back into sleep; then she edged away.
Creeping into the other room with her clothes, she dressed quickly and put her hair back up as best she could. Then she found her reticule and headed downstairs. To her surprise, the butler came out of a little room off the foyer to greet her.
“Is my horse still out front?” she asked, wondering if he’d had it stabled while she was upstairs.
“I would imagine so, madam,” he said stiffly. “You left no instructions regarding its disposition.”
She started to leave, then thought of something and turned back. “Excuse me, Mr. Jenkins, but would you tell me something?”
“If I can,” he said warily.
“Do you happen to know how Mr. Cale and your master, the duke, are connected?”
His stare was as frigid as the winds off of the Firth of Forth. “I’m afraid you will have to ask Mr. Cale that, madam.”
She’d known the man would probably be circumspect, but she had to ask. It worried her that Victor was keeping his presence in Edinburgh so mysterious. Something odd was definitely afoot.
As she rode for home, she couldn’t for the life of her think of what it might be. If Victor had been searching for her, what had prompted him to look here? Or was he really Lady Lochlaw’s cousin, and his appearance here sheer coincidence?
Tomorrow she would hunt up Rupert and ask him if he’d ever consultedDebrett’sto unearth his connection to Victor. Perhaps she should just consult it herself. The subscription library might have a copy.
By the time she reached home, she was so exhausted she could do little more than fall into bed. And when Betsy came to wake her the next morning, she had to drag herself from the bed to perform her ablutions, dress, and have a cup of chocolate before heading off to the shop.
But as she rode toward town, sore in every muscle, she couldn’t help but smile. It had been a long time since her body had been so well used, but she couldn’t regret it. Last night had been even more amazing than she remembered. Hard to believe that Victor could have become even better at lovemaking.
Unless...
She frowned. He’d never said whetherhe’dbeen faithful. Had he sought companionship in some other woman’s bed? For all she knew, his connection to Lady Lochlaw was an intimate one.
No, she wouldn’t make herself frantic over such thoughts. She had to focus on the important things—what he meant to do and how she was going to deal with it. So she was glad that no one else was there when she let herself into the shop, an hour before they usually opened. She could use some time to prepare herself in case Victor did seek her out today.
She needed to work. It was her salvation for any of her troubles—nothing settled her more than manipulating softened gold or creating strass or losing herself in the planes of a beautiful uncut diamond.
She headed into the area behind the shop, then sat herself at her worktable and took out a bowl for mixing up the metal salts she needed for painting on the back of her paste. As she stirred, her mind sifted through all that had happened.
What was she going to do about Victor’s determination to seek vengeance against her family? The situation was more complicated than he would admit. Somehow she had to make him understand the consequences of what he planned.
After a while, she heard Mr. Gordon enter the shop out front. As usual, he busied himself with preparing for opening and didn’t venture into the back to greet her. He knew she preferred solitude in the early mornings, needing the time to create while business was lighter.
As she continued the monotonous task of mixing salts, her mind fixed on Victor once more. It would help if she knew what he’d gone through in Amsterdam after she and her family had fled. But how was she to learn that if he wouldn’t tell her?
She wasn’t sure how long she’d been working and fretting when a ruckus out front dragged her from her thoughts.
