“So those sentiments you enjoy parroting about how intercommunity violence puts us all in danger are merely for you to speak and not hear?” Pena arched an eyebrow at her.
“I—this is—” Isabelle started, her cheeks heating a little.
“Don’t fret. Besides, you’ll be much more concerned with someone else when we find them.” Her grandmother gave her shoulder a warm squeeze. “Trust me.”
Isabelle glared at both traitors, despite the fact they were indeed correct and she would probably only want to hold him in her arms—if he’d permit her. Someone still needed to be taught a good lesson. After all, how dare he?
“Allowing Pena to hold onto your dagger would be a gesture of goodwill,” her grandmother added, giving her a strategic elbow to the ribs. How did she manage to always slip through the whalebone? Her and Pena really didn’t play fair and had no idea what poor Aaron was going through. But her grandmother cleared her throat and indicated both nonviolent Berab brothers, who were still her partners and had come along to help, not hurt Aaron.
Heaving a large sigh, she acquiesced with a nod.
“Don’t worry, Miss Lira, my brother David here will do more damage than any of your . . .” Roger started and gasped as Pena readjusted his own defenses. “Rather impressive array of weapons,” he murmured. “Your family really doesn’t leave anything to chance.”
“Thank you,” her grandmother whispered as the older man smiled a little. She, however, could not return the gesture; her chest was too tight and her brain too full of horrible possibilities, no matter what comforting words and expressions the others gave her.
This was all her fault. Why had she been such a coward? Why could she not have just told him that she loved him? Loved every part of him and who he was. She should have proclaimed it from the rooftops, and now he was out there, possibly injured, alone, with a stranger bent on—
“I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it.” David Berab muttered the words as he shook his head and wrung his hands. He lifted his chin, meeting her gaze, and the bewildered horror in his expression made her heart squeeze just a touch.
“A thousand apologies, Miss Lira,” he said. “This is—to do this to you and Mr. Ellenberg and the community. I’m just so, well, embarrassed and upset and outraged. At my brother, but also at myself.”
“Just remember this feeling when Isabelle irritates you by overstepping her bounds. Or wants you to teach her about a product, or for you to introduce her to a client, or continue working with a client’s widowed cousin who is now in charge of her deceased husband’s business,” her grandmother said, sniffing a little. “Or maybe that woman who runs that gentile gentlemen’s club.” This time, she gave Isabelle a wink.
She gasped in return. “Grandmother. How can you think of business at a time like this? Aaron could be hurt.” And saying the words out loud brought everything to the surface once more, pressure building up behind her eyes. “I never even told him that I loved him,” she whispered, staring out the window again, praying that the horses could go just a little faster, that they’d not be too late.
Her grandmother gave her another sympathetic squeeze. “You will, darling. You will. I promise you—” But she was cut off as the carriage came to a quick stop, causing the entire group to thump against their seats. For a moment, they all merely gazed about, rubbing their heads, stunned.
Isabelle, however, was the first to move once more, dragging her gown onto the seat as she rocked up on her knees and threw her head out the window. “What is that?” she cried, pointing to a large dark object thwarting their path.
Pena pushed open a door on the opposite side and stood, peering over the carriage roof. “There’s an overturned carriage blocking the road,” he shouted, indicating straight ahead.
“That’s our carriage.” Roger Berab had joined him and was shielding his eyes, squinting. “And is that—”
She gaped as the form of a man rose from the upturned door. A familiar man. With a shape and build that she’d know anywhere. Through the moonlight, it was clear that his jacket was ripped, his cravat undone, his hair mussed, and he had some sort of torn cloth dangling from his hand. But he was alive. Very alive.
“Aaron,” she screamed as she threw open her door and leaped from the Weisses’ still-swaying coach. “Aaron.”
Running with all her might, she leaped into his outstretched arms, vowing to never let go.
His name on Isabelle’s lips was the most wonderful sound Aaron had ever heard in his life. Despite the pain in his head and gut, he scooped her up—skirts and all—and held her to his chest. The soft weight of her body was so right in his arms and exactly what he needed.
“Isabelle,” he whispered as she buried her face in his neck. Sniffing a little, she raised her chin, and her dark eyes were rimmed in red.
“I thought I would never see you again.” She reached up and brushed his cheek. “And I just—I love you. I love you very much. I’m sorry I didn’t say it before. I’m an awful coward and you deserve so much better. You were going to leave the community you loved to protect me. You didn’t even consider pushing me towards the Berabs, even if it was going to cost you so much. We barely knew each other, and yet you thought only of my protection, not of yourself. Without hesitation. You’re incredible. Breathtaking. Twenty times better than I could ever be.”
A single tear rolled down her smooth cheek, nearly breaking his heart.
Oy, she was going to kill him, finish whatever the errant Berab brother was attempting. As gently as he could, he stroked the drop of liquid away with his thumb, shaking his head, his throat thick. “Don’t say that, Isabelle.”
“But it’s true.” She hiccuped before shaking her head. “If I deserved you, I would never have—I’ve wanted you since the beginning, since I first saw you, even if I couldn’t admit it to myself, because I was so stuck in my head, fretting over things that don’t actually matter, while you care for and protect us all.”
“Your father matters, as does his legacy, as does your own career.” Shifting a little, he placed her on the ground. Shrugging his formerly fine but now tattered jacket off, he wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her against his body once more. “You’re brilliant,” he told her. “You deserve the chance to be able to show the world—”
She placed a finger against his lips, hushing him. “I can’t bring him back, no matter how much I want to. Someone very wise once told me that I’m his legacy, and living well would be the best way to honor him and the memories he gave me. As for the rest, if I’m as clever as you believe, I’ll find a way, no matter what.” She gave a sharp, firm nod, leaving no room for doubt that this would occur, before brushing a loose curl off her forehead. “Actually, Mr. Weiss is going to help me with that. I’m not marrying him—he’s going to be an employee and maybe a partner. He had some wonderful suggestions about how to handle the Berab brothers.” She grimaced. “All except one.”
Aaron gazed over at the carriage that had now been righted, shading the groaning but now thoroughly guarded man being assisted with his injuries next to it.
“Don’t worry—we shall handle him,” Roger Berab said, strolling over to them, his oldest brother in tow. “He won’t be bothering either of you anymore. We promise.”
