with ribbons that matched the ready-made dress Isla had worn out of the modiste’s shop. Brodie felt a strange tightening in his chest at the sight of them. She was a natural mother, so easy with children. It was one of a dozen mysteries he wanted to puzzle out about this woman.
“I imagine I will,” Rafe said, his thoughtful gaze on Isla. “No doubt my brother has got wind of this mess by now and is on his way here. The last thing I need is to hear another one of his lectures. With luck, we’ll miss him on the road. I have no doubt Lady Rochester wrote a letter to him, or perhaps even Joanna and Brock, telling them everything. I shudder to think what would happen if Brock and Ash joined forces to come after us.” Rafe chuckled darkly. “I have absolutely no intention of being here when they arrive.”
“You may have a point,” Lydia agreed. “I shouldn’t like to see either of those men upset.”
“Am I going with you too?” Isla asked in a quiet voice.
“What? Of course.” Lydia cuddled the girl close.
“Good.” Isla yawned and laid her head on Lydia’s shoulder.
By the time they reached the Lennox townhouse, Isla was fast asleep. Brodie carried the girl out of the coach and up the steps. Shelton greeted them at the door, and the housekeeper, Mrs. Llewellen, smiled fondly as she met them on the way upstairs.
“Tuckered the wee tyke out?” she asked, stroking Isla’s hair.
“Aye. She’ll have new clothes this afternoon. We wish to leave as soon as the clothes arrive. Could you see to having dinner prepared for us in a basket so we may eat in the coach?”
“Of course.” The housekeeper hurried off, while they saw to their other preparations.
“Lass,” Brodie said to Lydia. “You should write to your father. We can leave the letter here. Brock and Ashton will most likely arrive soon, and they can see it delivered to him.”
“Thank you, Brodie.” Lydia leaned in and stood up on her tiptoes to kiss him. “I only wish for him to know that I am safe.”
Brodie wound his arms around her waist, holding her close. “You don’t mind staying with me?” he asked.
“I know that this”—she gestured between them—“is not going to last forever, but I would like to be with you at least a little while longer.”
“You mean that?” Brodie asked quietly.
“Yes. I’ve been thinking quite a bit in the last few days. This is an adventure for me. There’s been danger, romance, excitement. I’ve never had the chance for anything like this in my life, and once I go home to Bath, I will have to leave it all behind.” She hesitated as she met his gaze. “And I don’t want to leave you or this adventure. I want to live in this moment, not plan my tedious, buttoned-up life five steps ahead. I want to enjoy every minute I’m with you.”
Brodie’s heart swelled, and he found he couldn’t speak. He pulled her deeper into his arms and kissed her with a tenderness that came naturally to him now. She was, in her quiet, sweet way, taming the wildness in him, and he didn’t mind that one bit. He would be whatever she wanted, so long as he could call her his for just a little longer.
Rafe put Isla to bed in the bedchamber they’d provided her and placed her new doll in the crook of her arm. He kissed her forehead, and she sighed, the sound melting his wicked heart in unfathomable ways. As he prepared to leave, Isla woke enough to reach out and catch his hand, her tiny fingers curling around his.
“Uncle Rafe?” she murmured.
“Yes, kitten?” he asked.
She looked toward the carpetbag that Rafe had set down on the table by the door. “May I see my parents?”
“Of course.” He retrieved the gilded frames and sat on the edge of the bed as he held them out to Isla.
“Can you tell me their names?” Rafe asked.
“My mother was Ellie.” Isla held up her mother’s likeness, then her father’s. “This is Angus.”
“I wish I could have met them.”
Isla glanced up at him, her wide-eyed innocence mixed with an ancient knowing. “You smile like Papa. I remember his smile.” Rafe couldn’t help but grin. “Like that.” She set the miniature of her father down on her lap and placed a dainty hand to Rafe’s cheek, exploring his smile with the sweet curiosity of a child. Her touch sent a flood of