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“Oh, he was shot. With a pistol, I believe,” Mark replied, completely unaware of the devastating impact this revelation had on Isaac. Given the reason why Mark was at the house, Isaac decided against telling Mark about the gun but only because he didn’t want to give Mark any more reasons to arrest Tuppence.
CHAPTER TWELVE
It was several hours later when Isaac realised that he hadn’t seen Tuppence for a while. He had tried to see her after Mark had left, but the door to her bedroom had been locked. While concerned, the lack of noise from inside hinted that Tuppence had fallen back asleep. Rather than create a ruckus trying to get the door open, Isaac had decided to leave her alone. Since then, he had been emersed in estate matters, and paperwork, which he had only just finished.
“Have you seen her?” Mark asked a worried looking maid.
“No, sir. I haven’t seen her all day,” the maid replied.
Isaac, growing panicked, asked two more maids, including Molly, the maid who had been assigned to tend to Tuppence. When they all confirmed that they hadn’t seen Tuppence either, Isaac went in search of the woman he had spent the entire day thinking about.
Tuppence had become such a central part of his life now that Isaac wondered what he had done with his life before her arrival at the Manor. “Life certainly was boring,” he muttered but without any hint of regret.
It galled him to see just how much his hand shook when he lifted it to knock softly on the door. When he didn’t get any answer, Isaac tried the doorknob again. This time, the door opened. The relief that surged through him when he saw her asleep on the bed was enough to make him press his heated brow against the coolness of the wood before venturing into the room.
Tuppence was struggling to battle her way through her sleep fogged mind to force herself to wake up when she realised that she was no longer alone. It might have been the shifting of the energy around her, or the faint rustle of clothing she knew wasn’t hers. It was his scent that alerted her to the intruder being Isaac. It was a hint of lemons and sandalwood that was quintessentially Isaac. When Tuppence opened her eyes, her heart was hammering wildly in her chest, but not with dread. It thundered with anticipation when she found him smiling down at her. The first thought that struck her was that he was incredibly handsome. His dove grey eyes were smiling softly down her and were made wise by the gentle crows’ feet teasing the corners of his eyes. Neither of them spoke as he slid onto the side of the bed. They simply absorbed the peace of the moment.
Tuppence awkwardly tried to shuffle upright only to realise that the blankets, pinned down by Isaac’s weight, prevented her from moving anywhere. Isaac refused to move for fear of taking away that soft expression in her eyes. He had never seen it before and wondered if this was what Tuppence looked like first thing in the morning, slightly sleepy, a little dazed, but wondrously soft and gentle. In that moment, Tuppence wasn’t a farmer. She was loving, gentle, and approachable. Isaac reached out to brush a stray strand of hair off her cheek. Rather than release it, he watched it curl gently around his finger. His lips curled slightly as he stared at the wild mass of tumbling auburn curls scattered across the pillow. The urge to stroke it all was so strong that he almost reached out to touch it.
“God, you are beautiful,” he breathed, keeping his gaze locked on hers.
“Don’t.” Tuppence would never really understand what snapped her out of her daze. It might have been his words, the unexpected arrival of a statement that she wasn’t at all familiar or comfortable with. Whatever it was, Tuppence suddenly felt awkward and embarrassed that Isaac had seen her in such a dishevelled state. She wanted to remain where she was but wriggled and squirmed until she was sitting upright.
“It is just a compliment.” Isaac frowned a little as he joined her on the side of the bed. He knew he was being incredibly bold being on the bed with her. Maybe that was what had frightened her.
Too much too soon, he decided.
“It isn’t the truth, though. I am just a farmer’s daughter,” Tuppence whispered, looking miserable.
“Don’t start this again,” Isaac warned.
“Pardon?”
“Don’t start this, ‘I am a struggling farmer, and you are the Lord of the manor nonsense,” Isaac growled.
“Well, you are,” she protested.
Isaac rolled his eyes. “Do you ever think you are going to see me as just a man?”
“I do see you as a man.”
“But you don’t consider me worthy of being a potential mate.”
“I am sure that there is a woman out there who would suit you perfectly,” Tuppence replied somewhat stiffly. “I mean, you are handsome, wealthy, you have a nice house, a wonderful family.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“And that isn’t enough for you?”
“Me?” Tuppence blinked at him in astonishment, as if the thought of being his wife had never once crossed her mind. It had. Of course it had. She had adored him for as long as she could remember. She just couldn’t bring herself to admit it to him.
“Yes, you.” He was astonished that she didn’t appear to have even briefly considered it.
“No,” she replied awkwardly.
“Why not?”
