Page 113 of The Defiant Curse

The details…

They made his heart skip.

She was definitely the lady of the castle. Callen and Chris wanted this to be their love letter to her, and they’d done a damn good job.

It broke his heart that when they asked if he wanted in on this, he’d laughed and said no. He’d not wanted to upset her, but now, he was seeing that he’d not wanted to be bothered. That laziness of not wanting to carry any more had been his downfall. It excluded him from something magical and magnificent.

What he thought would be silly, or end badly, hadn’t. It was a gorgeous sentiment that he’d missed out on.

And that was on him.

Hopefully, all of them would forgive him for his lack of being part of their world—even for this moment.

He’d been too busy fostering his relationship with Gene, and repairing that to want to take this journey with them, and for that, he was so goddamn sorry.

This was special, and his arrogance and chilliness had cost him a part in this.

Oh, he had more people to make amends to, that was for damn sure.

Heading back toward the kitchen, he found the stairs to the tower, and headed upstairs.

When he found the Master’s Suite, he opened the door. Inside, the room smelled like his wife’s shampoo and bodywash, and there was no doubt she had been here.

“Lyzee?” he called.

And once more, no one answered.

Picking up the T-shirt on the bed, he brought it to his nose. It was a man’s shirt, and not his, but it smelled like her. There was that lash of jealousy that rarely showed up anymore.

Only, the idea of his wife wearing someone else’s clothing…

He didn’t like it.

Not.

At.

All.

Oh, he knew it was likely Michael or Graham’s, since she’d left home without anything but the clothing on her back, but still…

He never wanted her wearing anything that wasn’t his, or the men in their unit. Again, he forgot that she was a catch, and a treasure he’d mishandled.

Yeah, he’d have to change that too.

Hopping onto the massive bed, he took the place in because it was something to see.

The bed was massive, and once more, that screamed Callen. His attention to detail proved that he, the older brother, could take a lesson from his baby brother.

Because Callen knew how to foster his relationship with Elizabeth. There was a fireplace, and a bearskin rug. There were deep jewel tones befitting a queen, and little pieces that screamed Elizabeth.

Like the swords over the fireplace, on a crest with a giant Raven. It was earthy, but cozy.

It was homey, but gorgeously decorated.

From the colors on the wall to the fur throw that was covering the very specific feather down comforter…

This was a room created for Elizabeth, and not the men. His brother and Chris had made sure to make that perfectly evident. This was for their love—not their personal comfort.