And there he was. His glorious body sprawled on the floor, blinking at the ceiling.
He looked... not unwell, but certainly not happy. He had a full beard, and he was pale. His clothes and hair were disheveled.
Well, she thought, if nothing else, his handsomeness had endured. It took all of her willpower not to go to him. In her mind’s eye, she saw her spreading herself on top of him, taking his face into her hands. She imagined the feel of his mouth.
But she didn’t dare.
She shoved off the desk and crossed to the window, closing it with a slam. The cat meowed and slunk from the room.
“You’re scaring the animals,” he said.
“Why are you on the floor?” she asked. She began to pick up papers, one by one, stacking them in the crook of her arm.
“I’m resting.”
“What of your bedroom?”
“My bedroom is where I sleep.Thisis where I rest.”
“What of all of these papers?”
“God only knows,” he groaned, rolling to sit. He leaned against a towering bookshelf and propped one leg on his knee. “Ledgers, accounts, deeds to property, taxes, taxes, taxes, regulations, correspondence.”
He ran his hands down his face like he was rubbing his features away. “I cannot make sense of it. I’ve tried, and I cannot.”
“No,” she corrected, “you don’t want to.”
“AndI don’t want to.”
One piece of paper led to the next, and the next, and the next. She moved without thinking, grateful for the task. He had not even said hello.
“It’s as bad as you thought?” she asked.
“It is so much worse, Isobel,” he said. “Somuch worse.”
“You must determine some way to manage it, North, you must.”
“North?” he repeated, a challenge.
Isobel missed a step. The familiar rain of shimmers set her insides alight. She glanced at him.
He looked back. Ever so slowly, he cocked an eyebrow. Handsomeness and boyish charm rolled from him in waves. He was attractive and commanding despite being unshaven, despite his... his...
She looked at the mess around her.
Despite whatever had happened in his life.
She glanced to him again. She couldn’t resist. He gazed back, and they locked eyes. Unless she was mistaken, he gave her the smallest quirk of a one-sided smile.
The shimmers exploded again, and Isobel looked away, trying to catch her breath.
“Come to your desk,” she said, “and help me sort these papers.”
“What will you give me if I do?” he asked.
“What will I give you?” She was confused. Did heteaseher?
“If I come to the desk... if I sort the papers?”
