Authentically izzy, p.24
Authentically, Izzy, page 24
Her breath hitched as she tightened her hold against his back, giving him full permission to keep ambushing her senses in such a knee-weakening way. Despite the uncertainties, she was playing for keeps too. That much she knew.
One of his hands slipped to cradle her neck and he brought the tantalizing kiss to a close, lowering his forehead to hers. His breath pulsed against her face as his fingers kneaded the base of her skull with some combination of soothing and need. Kind of like that kiss.
Only the sound of their breaths punctuated the quietness of the room. He remained so close. If she puckered just a little bit, her lips would find his again.
“How has something as simple as a month become much too long to be apart from you, Isabelle?”
Her eyes fluttered closed as the thrum of her name from his lips cascaded down her neck with pleasant tingles attached. Had any man ever wanted her like this? Not just the physical connection but . . . her? To have Brodie miss her and want her? Like this? Warmth pierced beneath her eyelids, threatening a teary release. It seemed too sweet, too good.
“After a kiss like that, a week will be too long.” Her voice barely made it above a raw whisper.
She felt more than saw his grin. “Ah, I see my plan is working then.”
“Capture me with an addiction to Brodie kisses, huh?” Actually the idea sounded rather intoxicating.
He tipped his head back to look into her eyes. “Well, I was hoping my charm and wit would suffice, but if you only want me for my kisses, I can make do with that.”
“Actually, your Lord of the Rings references are really what swept me off my feet, but your kisses are a close second.”
“And what would you do if I started speaking Elvish?”
“Good heavens!” Her eyes popped wide and her palms tightened against his back, drawing their bodies flush again. “I’d probably marry you on the spot.”
His laugh rushed out, followed quickly by a lengthy silence as he brought his lips to hers again, thoroughly convincing her that she was an addict. Undeniably. One week? She was pretty sure she didn’t want to go a day without being wrapped in his arms and encased by the scent of pine and mint.
“What brought on that rather wonderful display of affection?” Izzy asked, once she found her voice again.
He studied her with such tenderness, Izzy nearly rose up to let him know she’d never had a man touch her heart with a glance. “I’m glad to have you here.” He gestured to the room. “In this bookshop. In my town.” His grin crooked as he caressed her face with another look. “You can’t really know me properly without being introduced to this place, these people. It’s such a part of who I am. And”—he gave her fingers a squeeze—“with you here everything seems to fit rather beautifully together.”
She averted her gaze from the intensity in his eyes, heat making a steady climb into her cheeks. All of that authentic admiration? For her? What was she supposed to do with that? She stifled a shudder. Wasn’t this the part where the fairy tale started to unravel and all the lovely fantasy disappeared to reveal a pumpkin, some mice, a lost shoe, and a woman who’d gotten too caught up in the magic?
“Come, this way.” He tugged her along to the corner of the room and then, after sending a rather dashing grin over his shoulder, opened a door that revealed a ladder. “Not quite a wardrobe, but an excellent view.”
Her laugh burst out in surprise as she took Brodie’s proffered hand, emerging into a sunny sky and warm breeze. A rooftop view? His warm, strong fingers wrapped around her cool ones as he drew her up and forward, steadying her against him as they reached the top. Izzy cataloged another “movie moment” next to all the ones she’d experienced since meeting Brodie Sutherland at the airport. Heaven help her! How could she go back to normal life after this?
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, as if he felt the same zing as she had. He guided her to the corner of the roof where quaint town met green country and then blended into gray-blue sea before disappearing into a cerulean sky. Maybe she had stepped through a magical wardrobe, except into a world that was always gorgeous and never gloomy, with a little Mary Poppins chalk picture painting sprinkled in.
“It’s . . . it’s beautiful,” she whispered.
“It is.” And when she turned, he wasn’t even looking at the town. He was staring at her and she’d never felt so beautiful in her whole life. All the shallowness, immaturity, and self-centeredness of the previous relationships bloomed clear. She’d never had a man look at her like Brodie did. See her like he did. This was the reason for the storybooks. This is what the warrior fought to protect or rescue. This beautiful and tender realization of being seen, loved, and loving in return. There was no going back to anything less. As Penelope would say, Brodie was designer while Izzy had been living on generic clearance items her whole adult life.
He cleared his throat and gestured ahead. “You can see all of Skern from here and miles beyond. That is Brawnlyn Castle, or what’s left of it. It sits on the edge of Loch Sella.” A stone ruin with an imposing tower perched like a lonely sentry overlooking the hillsides. And then there were the cobblestone streets of Skern, and the green rolling hills, and far in the distance the rolling sea. She almost laughed at the wonder of it all. She’d spent so much time reading stories, she never imagined actually living one, but here she was. Her fingers tightened around Brodie’s. What had she missed all these years of being afraid? Of burying her heart, her life, beneath stories or duty or hurt? She loved serving her family, but how long ago had Josephine’s or Aunt Louisa’s or other people’s requests to her become an expectation rather than an opportunity to truly choose? And would she have had the courage to choose her own dreams, even if she’d recognized them?
“We’ll drive by those ruins this afternoon and through the Alnors, there.” He leaned close and pointed out the sharp-edged mountains rising up from around the ruins and the loch. “My house is just beyond those mountains, by the sea.”
“Of course it is.” She released her held laugh, shaking her head. “You’ve been pretty secretive about this house of yours. Waithcliff, right?”
“Aye, though it was already given that name before I inherited it.”
“You inherited it? It’s a family home?”
“One of my uncles who never married. We were always close, and he asked if I’d want it. I’d fallen in love with the house when I was a child.” He slid a hand around her waist. “But that is all I will say because, Karre, I want Waithcliff to be a surprise. I’ve worked on it for three years and am rather proud of what I’ve been able to renovate to this point.”
“Everything has been a surprise.” She sighed into him, assigning this moment a special place among the mental scrapbook she’d created called “Brodie.” “It’s hard to believe a place like this exists. You have it all. Oceans, mountains, lakes, castles, adorable villages.” She waved toward him. “Inherited manor houses.”
“Bookshops,” he added.
She raised a brow. “Handsome and charming natives.”
He shrugged a shoulder and tipped his chin in a dashing pose. “Our best feature.”
“I’d agree with that.” She showed her appreciation for their similar height by kissing his smile and then waved toward the quaint town stretching out before them to a green countryside. “But in all honesty every place we’ve visited so far has been remarkable! Like walking through a storybook!”
“Even the Inswythe Docks?” His brow rose in the playful way she was beginning to adore seeing in person more and more.
“Well, it gave off Dickens vibes, but still storybook worthy.” She sighed and took in the view again. “No wonder you love it so much. I can’t imagine people ever wanting to leave such a place.”
“Right. One would think that, wouldn’t they?” His whispered response pulled her attention back to him, his expression uncharacteristically solemn.
“Brodie?” She turned to face him. “I’m . . . I’m not asking you to leave, you know.”
“I know.” His lips softened back into a small smile, his gaze holding hers. “It’s just that . . . well . . .”
Her stomach suddenly dropped, and the breeze took on an unexpected chill. Here it came! The moment when the romance took a dip into real life. The great reveal of some horrible reason why they could never be together, and all these lovely imaginings were nothing more than pen and ink.
“You know”—he drew in a breath—“you have to know that I care for you.” He cleared his throat and ran his palms down her arms. “You . . . you have my heart, Isabelle. Almost from the start, you’ve had it.”
She blinked. That didn’t sound at all like a disaster.
“Brodie!” Ellen Sutherland’s voice rose from below, echoing through the roof door. “Brodie dear, would you mind coming to take this call? Your brother is quite . . . flummoxed.”
Brodie’s shoulders bent with a sigh.
“He says it’s something about gremlins and thievery again, I’m afraid.”
Izzy felt her eyebrow raise.
“A few nasty business associates.” Brodie shook his head and gave her shoulders a little squeeze. “Anders has a way of inciting conflict. It’s a special gift of his. I’ll be right back.”
Izzy watched him disappear and then turned back to the view, allowing the fresh air to fill her lungs. She’d had Brodie’s heart from the beginning? How? She braced her hands against the iron railing fence in the roofline. Of course an Éowyn profile picture would grab any true Lord of the Rings fan, but he wasn’t talking about the photo. He was talking about her. And she understood, because something in her heart responded to him from the first email. A kinship.
She pulled out her phone to snap a few pictures of the view, when a message popped up on her screen. Josephine? Her breath stalled. Were the babies okay?
She pressed the message so that it opened into a very long text:
Mother has decided not to retire after all. She took off the last four days to help me prepare for the twins and within that time we realized retirement wasn’t for her and her constant presence in my home wasn’t for me. I love her. She’s a wonderful mother, but I cannot imagine listening to all of her “suggestions” about EVERYTHING all of the time. I’ve told Mother that I’d prefer for you to help me with the twins, so she’s going to lighten your library schedule a bit when you return so you can have some flexibility. Won’t that be fun? Besides, no one is as good at setting people at ease as you. How long are you in Skymark? Your little island friend will love Mt. Airy. It’s a wonderful community and so accepting of foreigners.
Chapter 20
Brodie made quick work of the phone call, diffusing the confusion with the Gremton brothers and sending Anders a quick text of the results. Brodie still couldn’t believe Isabelle Edgewood waited on the roof of Sutherland’s of Skern on his little island just to be with him. His grin took another uptilt. He’d barely slept last night out of sheer delight in having her so near, meeting his family, seeing his world.
It had taken an entire day for the disbelief to finally melt into an eruption of gratitude. Gratitude that he’d meant enough to her that she’d brave a journey (with her history, not an easy one), taking her very first flight . . . to him.
Gratitude that she’d talk about young adult books with his little sister as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Gratitude that she’d held his hand and stared at him with those beautiful eyes as he pulled her through his family’s legacy. And it seemed perfectly natural to show her exactly how grateful he was in an extremely tangible sort of way. From her exuberant reciprocation, she didn’t seem to mind.
And it sealed his desire with even more certainty. He belonged with her. Plain and simple. Well, with an ocean separating them, perhaps not so simple, but certain. His smile slid off his face as he approached the ladder to the roof. But he had to tell her about the stipend and pray that she understood. That she recognized his heart over her fears.
He cleared his throat and topped the ladder. “All dastardliness of gremlins and thievery have been resolved.”
“Only a true hero could use the word dastardliness.” She looked up from her phone and grinned. “I always knew you were the heroic sort.”
A sudden sting from her declaration dampened his levity. How could he tell her about the whole reason he’d joined Heart-to-Heart? “Careful, Karre, I am but flesh and bone as any other mortal, though I do feel as if my heart is a bit stronger and braver since meeting you.”
“You really do say the sweetest things.” She slid her phone back into her pocket, the slightest hint of a frown puckering her brow.
He took her hand. “What’s wrong?”
“Wrong?” Her gaze flickered to his and then she sighed. “I just got a text from Josephine.”
“Is she all right? The babies?”
She blinked a few times and nodded. “Yes, the babies are fine, it’s just that . . . well, even here, thousands of miles away, I feel like I shouldn’t be here.”
His hope deflated. “‘Shouldn’t’?”
“It’s not true. I know that in my head.” She placed her hand over his. “I want to be here. I mean, after surviving my first flight, I’m definitely planning on staying awhile.” Her smile almost resurrected. “It’s just . . . I don’t know. I feel stretched, I guess, like I’m supposed to be there, but . . . I want to be here.”
And here was the unvoiced dilemma. A world apart with people, hearts, and obligations on opposite sides. He wouldn’t broach that decision yet, but he’d known her long enough to speak to another.
“One of the things that drew me to you, besides your love of stories of course, was your intense loyalty to your family. It’s quite admirable. We have a kinship in that as well as so many other things but, Isabelle, it’s all right for you to step out into your dreams too.” He squeezed her hand. “Perhaps your family may need you to do so in order to make them stronger.”
Her brow crinkled with a frown, and she looked down at their braided hands, the happy street sounds from below filtering up to them in the silence.
“I know it isn’t my place to say so, but sometimes loving people best means saying no, or taking your time to decide.” He tugged her closer, examining her face. “You are generous with your time and help for others. It’s a beautiful quality in you.” He brushed a thumb along her cheek. “But I’m afraid you are not very generous with yourself.”
She pressed her cheek into his palm, and he wanted to grab her and ask her to let him take care of her forever. To rest in just being who she was because that’s exactly who he . . . loved. He breathed in the word and let it settle deep.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Isabelle.” He pressed a kiss against her soft hair, breathing in another dose of sweetness. “I don’t take for granted what you overcame to be here. For me.”
But I hope for you as well, he almost added, but the words didn’t come. Perhaps it was better if she sorted out that part on her own?
She seemed to rally from her momentary melancholy and stepped back, donning an almost authentic smile. “And I plan to enjoy every minute.” She looked around the roof and then her gaze settled on the rooftop door. “Thank you for introducing me to your world, your family, and to Sutherland’s Books.”
“And many more things, I hope.” He gestured toward the rooftop door with his head. “But I’m afraid much of my life is taken up with these bookshops.”
“Not a bad thing.”
“No.” He chuckled. “I’m assuming you approve of Sutherland’s of Skern then?”
“It’s a remarkable space.” The faintest shift in her smile sent off a warning. “I can’t imagine a better setting for a bookshop.”
Ah, yes. A careful choice of words and a slight hesitation. He’d read her myriad expressions correctly as she toured the shop. With a slight turn, he studied her profile and she actively avoided meeting his gaze. He smothered a groan. Was it as bad as all that?
He shook off the worry before he narrowed his gaze at her with determination. Even if he didn’t like it, he needed to hear her perspective. For Sutherland’s . . . and maybe for Isabelle too.
“Let’s sit.” He gestured with his chin toward a set of chairs along the corner of one side of the roof where his mother had attempted some sort of failed flower garden. He took a seat beside her and folded his arms across his chest as he leaned back, examining her. “All right, share your thoughts freely, Karre.”
Her forehead wrinkled and she stared back out over the view, her palm reaching up to rub at her neck again, a sure sign of nervousness. “Brodie, I know we’ve talked about ideas to improve Sutherland’s, but it already has such great atmosphere and”—she waved a hand toward him—“all those books. How can that be wrong?”
“You’re a horrible liar.”
Her bottom lip dropped.
“You know it’s true,” he softened his lips into a smile. “I’ve watched your expression from across a screen or in person for almost five months. I’ve learned to read you.”
She folded her arms across her chest and stared back at him—her battle stance. “Have you?”
“Mm-hmm.” He matched her pose, inciting the corner of her pinched lips to tip. “In the bookshop downstairs you wanted to say something, but you didn’t. Your eyes did that thing.”
“My eyes did that thing?”
“Yes, they grow wide and then your eyebrows ping and your lips tighten closed as if you’re trying to stop whatever you’re thinking from bursting out into words.”
