He’s trying,she reminded herself as she made her way through the estate’s corridors.And after what Evelina told me about the raid, about him carrying that guilt for a century...
EIGHTEEN
ISLA
The library’s oak doors stood slightly ajar, light spilling into the hallway. Isla paused at the threshold, her breath catching at the unexpected sight that greeted her. Damon sat in a leather armchair near the tall windows, completely absorbed in a book. The moonlight caught the highlights in his dark hair, and for once, his sharp features looked relaxed rather than guarded. He’d changed into khaki pants and a black shirt that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, but it was the peaceful expression on his face that made her heart do something complicated in her chest.
I never pictured him as someone who reads.
The image warmed her in ways she hadn’t expected. This glimpse of him in an unguarded moment—just a man enjoying a book—felt more intimate than their heated kiss had been.
“What are you reading?” she asked softly, stepping into the room.
Damon’s head lifted, those deep green eyes finding hers immediately. The way his pupils dilated when he took in her appearance sent heat pooling low in her belly.
“Wuthering Heights.” He held up the worn book, a rueful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It’s a classic, though Iprobably relate to the hero of the story a bit too well—a man with trauma who can’t process his pain effectively.”
Isla’s stomach did a slow flip. “That’s one of my all-time favorite books.”
“Is it?” His eyebrows rose with genuine interest, and she caught a glimpse of what he might be like when he wasn’t constantly on guard—curious, engaged, almost boyish in his enthusiasm.
At least if conversation fails tonight, we can talk about books,she thought, some of her nervousness easing.
“Would you like to have dinner with me?” The words came out more breathless than she’d intended. “In the dining room, I mean. Nothing fancy, just...”
“Yes.” The response was immediate, almost eager, and Damon was already rising from the chair with fluid grace. His height still caught her off guard—the way he seemed to fill the space around him without even trying. “I’d like that very much.”
The genuine pleasure in his voice made her smile. “Follow me, then.”
They walked through the estate’s elegant corridors in companionable silence, Isla hyperaware of his presence beside her—the way he moved with predatory quiet despite his size and the scent of spice and warmth that seemed to cling to his skin. When they reached the dining room, Damon moved ahead to pull out her chair with old-fashioned courtesy that made her pulse skip.
“Thank you,” she murmured as he settled beside her at the head of the long table.
The kitchen staff had outdone themselves—roasted chicken with herbs, fresh vegetables, and wine that probably cost more than Isla made in a week. But despite the beautiful meal spread before them, tension settled over the table like a heavy blanket.They ate in silence for several minutes, the clink of silverware against china unnaturally loud in the spacious room.
This is ridiculous,Isla thought.We’re both acting like teenagers on a first date.
Finally, Damon set down his fork and looked at her directly. “I want you to know—I wasn’t trying to violate your boundary by staying here. After what happened today, I saw no alternative. Evelina needs supervision during her recovery, and more importantly...” His jaw tightened. “I need to protect you. Both of you.”
The raw honesty in his voice caused her chest to ache. “I know you wouldn’t stay here unless it was absolutely necessary. I’m not upset with you about it.”
“I’ll still respect your need for space,” he continued, his tone carefully controlled. “I won’t pressure you or make assumptions about what this means.”
Isla studied his face—the careful control he wore like armor, the tension in his shoulders that suggested he was bracing for more rejection. “Why don’t we just take it one day at a time for now?”
Relief flickered across his features. “That sounds good.”
She took a sip of wine, gathering her courage. “So, Evelina told me more about the raid. About your parents, and the clan members who died. She said you saved her life that night—and that you blame yourself for the tragedy.”
Damon went very still, his knuckles whitening around his wine glass. For a moment, Isla thought he might shut down again. Instead, he took a shaky breath and met her eyes.
“That was the worst night of my life.”
The statement carried the weight of a century’s worth of pain, and Isla found herself leaning forward instinctively, drawn by the vulnerability he was finally allowing her to see.
“I was out with Sylvie—my girlfriend at the time—when my uncle called.” Damon’s voice grew distant, as if he were watching the memory play out in front of him. “He asked for the security code to the estate. This estate, actually. This was my childhood home, where I lived before...” He gestured vaguely around the elegant dining room. “We’d changed the codes recently because of some security concerns, but I never suspected my uncle might be behind those concerns. I thought I could trust him.”
“So you gave him the code,” she said gently, not a question.
