Page 58 of Bargaining with the Devil

“Of course.” Isobel wiped her eyes. “Whenever you wish.” She laughed a little. “I can understand why Mr. Quinn has perturbed you. He doesn’t seem a restful sort of man.”

“No, he isn’t,” she agreed. She suspected strongly that would never change regardless of where his life took him. Gentle was not quite the word she’d use for Quinn and perhaps not patient either. Yet with her he was both, in his own way, and she found peace in his arms.

They still hadn’t addressed some of the questions in Isobel’s eyes. She took pity on her sister. “I am certain Nathaniel mentioned that Quinn was in my bed. Quinn in no way coerced me into that.”

“Nathaniel did mention it, yes. Although I’ve seen for my own eyes that there’s something between you.”

Is it that obvious? “Whatever is between us—which I do not care to discuss in depth right now—is mutual,” she said firmly. “I’ve chosen for myself.” Him. I’ve chosen him. At least for now.

“You know what he is.”

“Yes. I do. I know exactly what he is.” She was reluctant to debate Quinn’s merits with Isobel.

“Is it wise to become entangled with him? Assuming this business with the smugglers and Lymington concludes quickly, Mr. Quinn will be moving on to his next assignment soon.”

“Home to Ireland, actually. One of his sisters is getting married.” She’d been unable to fully attend to everything he’d said as he freed her from the gunpowder mark, but she’d followed some of it. “But yes, he’ll leave once matters here conclude.”

“Is something casual not . . . risky?”

“I say this with the most sisterly affection,” she said, raising her eyebrows at Isobel, “but did you consider that in Paris?”

The pink tinge on Isobel’s cheeks deepened. “That was a different sort of situation.”

“Was it though? For I have always held the strong impression that something considerably more involved passed between you in France than you’ve ever admitted. It made no sense otherwise that Nathaniel showed up here so many months later.”

“Be that as it may, we are not talking about him and me,” Isobel said a touch too primly before smiling in return. She sobered and added, “I don’t wish for you to get hurt. Although I suppose I truly cannot be one to talk. And I’m not judging,” she hastened to add. “You are a grown woman, even if you are also my baby sister.”

“Yes, you don’t have much latitude there,” she said drily. “I recall quite a lot of sneaking around at night after Nathaniel came until I told you how ridiculous it was that you were trying to hide it from me.”

Isobel smiled, but her tone was serious when she said, “That’s true . . . but he and I loved one another.”

“Yes, I remember how oh-so-quickly the two of you admitted that and embarked on a committed future together,” she said facetiously. It had in fact taken both Isobel and Nathaniel several months of dancing around the truth despite it being quite obvious to her, on the outside watching both of them, that they were deeply in love.

Isobel smiled again. “Point taken.”

“But to your point: Quinn isn’t in love with me nor am I in love with him. I barely know him.” Although that didn’t feel exactly true anymore.

“That doesn’t always matter.”

“I’m not in love with him, Issy,” she repeated. “I have come to appreciate his company.”

“Are you trying to convince me that’s all you appreciate about him?” Isobel’s tone had shifted now to lightly teasing as well, signalling she was dropping the rest. “His company?”

“Perhaps a few other attributes as well,” she said wryly. “He has several worth noticing.”

Isobel smiled at her, looking poised to say something else, but Rachel stirred, yawning and rubbing fists on her face. Her eyes opened, the same amber-streaked brown as her father’s. A chubby hand reached up to pat Isobel’s face.

Isobel’s eyes were on Rachel, but her words were for Lucy. “To change the subject, I did not tell our family in Glasgow this because after Nathaniel I want to share it first with you. I am expecting again.”

“That’s wonderful! I’m thrilled for you. For both of you.” She smiled at her sister, entirely unforced. “When?”

“Late April or early May.”

When Quinn’s sister was marrying. She pushed that thought aside as irrelevant, which it was. “I assume this is welcome news for Nathaniel as well?” Not that she doubted it, not the way he doted upon Rachel.

“Yes, he might be even more thrilled than I am.” Isobel smiled fondly. “He is entirely softhearted about children, or at least about our children. He’s hoping for a sister for Rachel.”

Something twinged. She couldn’t name it. It wasn’t envy of her sister’s joy, but it was . . . something.