Page 39 of The Betrothal

Setting my bundle gently on the arm of the sofa, she smiled, her mood a complete contrast to when I dug her out of her bedroom.

“It’s late.” I nodded knowing she was retreating. “Thank you for the drink.”

She turned to leave but before she did I snagged her wrist, she paused, looking down. “Now you’re out of toiletries, Benji here won’t mind if you use his, will you, Benji?”

She frowned.

“The black bottles,” Ben replied.

Her eyes lifted to him, then back to me.

“Goodnight, Killer.” I winked and she disappeared up the stairs.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ISABELLE

Today I braved the kitchen early.

Sebastian’s gentle prods and Ben’s quiet acceptance had me emboldened, slightly. I’d been resistant, but one night turned into I didn’t know how many, and I found myself willing to occupy a little more space.

The cafetiere I’d located in the cupboard sat beside me on the table, toast and jam on my plate. I’d dug an old newspaper out of the kindling and flicked through the pages. Nature sounds played from my headphones, and I appreciated the irony of being in the middle of nowhere and listening to nature sounds.

It was almost peaceful.

More soft flakes of snow swirled outside the window, distracting me. Although the storm had passed, the poor weather persisted, and the snowdrifts showed absolutely no signs of abating.

A small stack of books landed on the table in front of me, and I lifted my eyes from the paper, flicking an earbud free.

Alex had already moved on, grabbing a mug and a bowl. He took his usual bench.

“Are these for me?” I waited for his reply before I touched them.

“Better than reading papers from spring.” Milk and cereals were laid out.

Pulling the pile closer, I began to examine them, my focus now on the books. I pushed the cafetiere down the table towards Alex. From what I could see, he drank coffee as if it were his lifeblood.

Wordlessly he lifted it, and I actually dedicated my attention to the offerings. Several novels, the biography of a comedienne – a rarity, but she was hilarious – a book on local histories, one on the wars, finally a tome on the walks in the local area. Hilarious. I flicked through them and paused, pinching my lips together.

“Are these Mills and Boon novels?” The tiny hitch of amusement in my tone caught him, and he gave an Alex huff.

I couldn’t help myself. “You didn’t strike me as a Mills and Boon fan?”

He simply snorted. Would this man always communicate in grunts and mutters?

“I think my romances would come with trigger warnings, not cute vintage artwork.”

I choked on my coffee and I swear he smiled.

“Those are Seb’s, regardless of whether he insists otherwise. He’s left a small collection here over the years. That tells you all you need to know about his idea of romance.”

“Something tells me Seb’s idea of romance is a far cry from Mills and Boon.” I defended Seb, but also realised that was true. Seb had an air of absolute safety, but something else too.

“There are plenty more options in the study if you prefer.”

What?

“I can go into your study in search of books?”