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“He has few words, but they are well-timed and well-chosen.”
“He was flirting with you, Belle.”
“Harmless flirting. I told him he was barking up the wrong tree, and he said, ‘but what’s a little dancing with the guest of honor?’ I tried to laugh him off, but he whisked me around so suddenly.” Isabella blew a stray hair off her flushed face. “He said he’d let me go after one dance, so I decided I might as well get it over with.” She smiled widely. “Now you and I can spend the rest of the evening together.” She scanned the room and snorted. “Look. All the girls are staring at him.”
“He’s good looking,” Cameron stated.
“Maybe,” Isabella said, twisting her hair over one shoulder. “Not my type though. I don’t like men whose minds I can read, and there’s something almost dangerous in his dark eyes.”
Speak of the devil.
Fred snuck up behind her and reached around to snag one of the wine glasses Cameron had just poured. He brought it to her lips and spoke at her bared ear. “You’d like me more after a drink.”
Isabella laughed. “Not after all the drinks.”
“Can we put that to the test?”
“I can’t drink, I’m driving.”
“I’m sure there’ll be someone you can hitch a ride with.”
“I don’t trust anyone behind the wheel except myself and my brother.”
“Difficult, aren’t you?” He took the drink for himself and sipped.
“Not difficult, just practical.” She flashed him a smile like she’d won.
“If I can find a way around your driving rule, will you drink?”
“Good luck. My brother’s in Christchurch, sorry.”
He handed her the wine glass. “Stay here for the night.”
Isabella laughed with exasperation. Then she met Fred’s gaze and knocked back the drink. “Still won’t like you.”
Cameron spent the evening being introduced to Henry’s friends and keeping a worrying eye on Isabella as she denied Fred. She sure loved to shove him away by the chest, though.
Long past midnight, the crowd thinned. By two o’clock, only Henry, Cameron, Fred, and Isabella remained. Even Georgie had long gone to bed.
“Sorry, Henry,” Cameron whispered while they cleaned up the room. “I can’t sleep with you tonight.”
“I don’t think I could manage either. I look forward to spooning you though.”
“Can’t do that, either.”
Cameron left him puzzled as he moved to approach Isabella. Fred had planted a foot on her high-backed chair, and he was leaning forward, beholding Isabella with that dangerous look.
“Bella,” Cameron said, ignoring the ice Fred cast him. “Come to bed with me.”
Isabella seemed startled by his presence. “I could hardly stay in your bed with so many rooms available. I toss and turn so much, you wouldn’t sleep a wink.” She appealed to Fred. “Maybe I could have another room? Not to be greedy, but for Cameron’s sake?”
“I think I have something better in mind.”
“Seriously, its fine,” Cameron said. “Toss and turn as much as you like.”
Isabella gnawed her lip and leaned toward him. She spoke under her breath, but it was pointless, because Fred—even Henry—was close enough to overhear. “I’d also love to chat with Brandon, if you know what I mean.”
Hearing his brother’s name validated the discomfort in his stomach. He felt the need to protect the dreamy smile Brandon had been sporting the last weeks. Protect his heart against a soldier with no scruples. “Can’t that wait till tomorrow?” Cameron asked her.
“You take things slowly, like to expect when and where they’ll happen. I don’t work like that. I miss Brandon, and my body misses him more.”
Fred held out a hand to her. “When you’re ready, I’ll show you to your room.”
“Please,” Cameron said before she took it. “We can chat all night. Learn everything there is to know about each other. It’ll be our own slumber party.”
Her face softened, like she was touched by the idea. She batted Fred’s hand away. “You know I’ll always choose you, Cameron. If you really don’t mind me sharing your bed.”
She leaped to her feet and wrapped her arms around him. Fred speared Henry with a threatening look. “Good night, then.”
“Sweet dreams,” she called back at him with a laugh like a lullaby. “Maybe we can do a picnic breakfast in the morning?”
Cameron jogged down the grand staircase, wrecked. He’d barely slept last night, and it had nothing to do with Isabella snoring lightly next to him. He’d reread all the Ralph scenes in The Charioteer and was so aware of how close Henry was, and how difficult it was to cross the space to him. He heard him twisting and turning in bed and wished Henry’s limbs could tangle with his to find peace.
But he couldn’t steal over. Henry would know he wasn’t okay, and he’d ask, and as soon as he confessed he’d been rereading the book, his heart would hammer. He’d know.
Cameron paused outside Mr. Tilney’s study and the air—or maybe it was him—pulsed with an urgency to step inside.
