He didn’t turn around.
Isla said nothing, mostly because she didn’t know what to say.
I love you and I want us to be together, hovered on her tongue. And though irrevocably true, she wouldn’t declare such feelings until she was ready to commit to a lifetime of them.
“I’ll have lunch ready shortly,” he finally said.
“Thank you.”
“The post arrived.” He nudged a chin toward a small table inside the door. “Grayburn forwarded several letters to Castle Balfour for yourself.”
“Ah. I suppose that is a good sign.”
“He may thaw yet.”
After so much tumult, Isla nearly laughed at the banality of their exchange.
She sifted through her letters—two from Mr. Cranston at MaltonHill, one from Mrs. Sumsion. If Isla remained married to Tavish, would she ever see her estate again?
Tavish’s own post remained on the side table, too. A couple of letters that appeared dreadfully official. One lay partially open, as if he had begun reading it and then tossed it aside.
Isla didn’t mean to snoop, but the scrawling signatureArchercaught her off guard.
Tavish was corresponding with Colonel Archer?
Unable to stop herself, she put a hand on the letter, smoothing the paper just enough to read a line or two.
. . . your nobility is as annoying as ever. That, even now, you would profess your love for your wife in one sentence and then propose I continue my suit in the next because, as you say, “I want her to have her heart’s desire,” is the very definition of madness. I shall have to ponder . . .
“Isla?”
Tavish’s voice caused her to jump.
She whirled to look at him, color climbing her cheeks.
“Enjoying Fletch’s letter?” There was no anger or irritation in his tone. Only resignation. “Ye can read the whole if ye would like. I have no secrets from yourself.”
“You wrote Colonel Archer?”
“Aye. Ye want Malton Hill. I’m doing what I can to help ye reach that goal. Ye said yourself that ye like Edward Archer. I know the man better than almost anyone; he would make ye a fine husband. Isn’t that what ye want?”
It was.
A fine husband and Malton Hill.
It was what she wanted.Hadwanted, rather.
But now . . .
Now, Isla knew she only wanted the fine husband she already possessed.
A man who loved her with breathtaking force. Who loved her enough to give her the future she wanted, even at the cost of his own happiness.
I will love every iteration of ye between now and the end of my days.
A man who stated his deepest desires and then left the choice to her.
Emotion pricked her eyes.
