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Chapter 3
Isabel had never considered Richard mesmerizing before, but standing there with his hand on her chin, his eyes watching her with a piercing gaze, her opinion about that was shifting. He looked really silly soaking wet, but there was something about the way his clothes had clung to his body, the water dripping off his hair, that gave him a slightly different look. The look of a man, one she had never seen before.
She could feel her pulse racing in her throat. She felt a little light-headed. It had to be her grief mixed with the sudden rush of excitement that was doing it to her. It couldn’t possibly be because Richard was doing things to her insides that she didn’t think were possible. They were friends. Friends weren’t supposed to react like she was.
Which is what? What would you call this reaction?
I don’t know, but it’s not something I’ve experienced before. And I’m not sure if I like it.
Isabel swallowed and stepped back, feeling cool air where Richard’s fingers had been before. She looked anywhere but at him.
“I ... I think I’d better get this dormouse inside. It’s going to need somewhere warm to dry off. If …” She licked her lips. “If you want to come by and see me another time when you’re a little more appropriately dressed, feel free to send a calling card. I’d like to hear more of your travels.”
“I ... all right.” Richard’s voice followed her as Isabel started to hurry away. “Isabel, your coat.”
Oh. Her coat. Isabel silently cursed herself for forgetting that. She came back and almost snatched her damp coat out of Richard’s hand, trying not to stare at the way his shirt was stuck to his chest. He had certainly grown in more ways than one.
“Thank you,” she mumbled, tearing her eyes away from him. “I’ll see you at some point in the future, Richard. I ... I’m glad you’re back.”
“As am I, Isabel.” Richard’s voice followed her as she crossed the road. “It’s always a pleasure being in your presence.”
Isabel didn’t respond. She kept going, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other as she ducked around the side of the house and headed to the kitchen door. She couldn’t stay around Richard for much longer, not when she felt like she was going to pass out with the way her heart had been racing. Why it was doing that, Isabel had no idea, but she wasn’t sure she liked it.
One thing she could appreciate was how much he had changed physically. Richard had been a little scrawny when he left, built in a way her father would call lanky. There didn’t seem to be much on him. But seeing him stand before her now, it was clear that he was not the thin individual who had left for Europe anymore. He was more compact, more muscular.
Which was exemplified by his wet clothes. Isabel was glad it was just the two of them at the river; otherwise, their interaction might have been misconstrued. She was certainly going to have questions asked about her wet dress and damp coat. Her mother, for sure, was going to roll her eyes at hearing her daughter had almost gone swimming to rescue a dormouse.
Richard was back, and Isabel wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or not. Not with how her heart was reacting to his presence. But she could appreciate that he had grown up. Being abroad had been good for him.
If only I’d been allowed to go with him. I would have had the time of my life.
Isabel hurried into the kitchen and almost bumped into the huge form of Vincent DuBois, the family cook. He stepped back before he collided with her and stared at her state.
“Miss Moore, what on earth happened to you?”
“I nearly went swimming.” Isabel held up her hat. “I was rescuing this little one.”
Cook looked into the hat and groaned.
“Another one? You seem to bring back an animal each time you step outside the house.”
“It must be a knack I have for finding those in need. Have you got something I can put it in? I would like my hat back at some point.”
The dormouse squeaked and started to unroll itself from the little ball it had been in since it was put in its new home. It was still shivering but looking a little more alert. Cook sighed and beckoned for Isabel to follow him, heading into the pantry. He bent over and selected an empty jar from the bottom shelf, handing it to her.
“Take this. There’s no lid, and it’s tall enough that we won’t have a mouse running all over the house.”
“Thank you, Cook.” Isabel inspected the jar. “Do you have any more rags that I can use? It would help get this one dry.”
“Probably in the bucket under the sink. They’ll be dry, so help yourself.”
Isabel beamed.
“You’re a lifesaver, Cook.”
“I’ve been known for that.” Cook chuckled. “Besides, I know if I don’t help you, you’ll be doing it anyway.”
That sounded about right. Isabel asked as a courtesy, seeing as the kitchen was Cook’s territory, but she didn’t need to. She would have got what she needed anyway.
