Page 46 of Isabel and the Rogue

She planted her hands on her hips. “The only thing wrong is you stealing me away and locking me in this room.”

“You stole away on your own.” He spread his palms. “I simply took advantage of the moment to speak with you privately.”

Curling her lip, Isabel spun about and walked to the opposite end of the room. It appeared to be the office of a museum administrator or manager, and he watched as Isabel fidgeted with the pens and trinkets that lined the narrow desk. A small, high window offered a view of the darkening sky outside, emitting faint rays of light to illuminate Isabel’s raven hair as she paced around the desk. She was once again refusing to meet his eyes, and Sirius clamped his jaw in frustration.

“Isabel, have you been avoiding me this week?”

He hadn’t meant to ask the question so baldly, but Sirius could admit he wasn’t in full grasp of his faculties.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied, still not looking at him.

“You most certainly do.” Sirius took a step toward her, even as he linked his hands behind his back. “You’re too smart for me to believe you.”

“Only because you cavort with simpletons,” she snapped over her shoulder.

Well, she had him there.

“Do you think I’m a simpleton?” His voice was a growl, his patience beginning to slip. “You expect me to believe you suddenly canceled all of your engagements—even though your sister and Lady Yardley attended—because you weren’t avoiding me?”

Isabel shook her head, her lips a firm line.

Sirius advanced a step toward her, clearing his throat. “Was it because of what happened in Fairchild’s study?”

“Of course not,” she exclaimed, throwing her arms up.

But she still avoided his gaze, and Sirius’s shoulders sank.

“Isabel,” he whispered, flexing his fingers instead of reaching out for her, “what happened between us is nothing to be embarrassed about. You know that, right?”

She nodded, her stare fixed on the desktop.

“I quite enjoyed it, if you must know,” he murmured, dipping his head in an attempt to snare her gaze.

Isabel looked up, her eyes wide. “You did?”

Sirius took a step closer. “Of course I did. You were beautiful.”

“You know many beautiful women.” She scoffed. “Isn’t that what those men said in the study? That you always have an attractive woman seeking your attention?”

“I suppose to others it would appear that way.” Sirius took another step until he was close enough to sweep a loose curl off Isabel’s cheek with his fingertips. “But then those women weren’t particularly memorable.”

“They weren’t?”

Sirius tracked how her throat worked on a swallow. Christ, he knew what her skin tasted like there. Had taken himself in hand all week to the memory. “No, Isabel. I don’t daydream about them in my lap, making little sounds of pleasure.”

Her long lashes swept down to cover her gaze, before she peered up at him through them. Sirius doubted she knew how alluring she was at that moment. “Who do—”

Sirius cut her words off with his lips.

• • •

He couldn’t possibly…

And like dandelion fluff, Isabel’s thoughts scattered to the four winds as she melted under Sirius’s touch. All she knew was him. His mouth on hers. His arms enfolding her against his firm chest. His scent invading her senses and leaving her pliant in his hands.

“Watching Westhope touch you, whisper in your ear was driving me mad,” he rasped against her mouth, only to press searing kisses down the column of her throat. “Do you want him to touch you, sunshine? Do you hope he will?”

Isabel shook her head, aghast he would ask her such a thing. “Never.”