and change as he should. As he deserved. She knew all those things, but she still felt the loss of the part of him he’d leave behind to become the man he was meant to be.
He laughed, releasing her, his gaze roaming over her as though his eyes were starved for the sight. “You didn’t call me,” he said, and she saw the hurt in his expression.
She stepped back, frowning. “I did call you. I left four messages.”
Jak frowned too, glancing over her shoulder. She looked back. She’d forgotten the butler was still standing near the front door. What was his name again? His gaze was directed elsewhere, but she felt momentarily embarrassed for the public display of affection.
Jak took her hand, leading her out of the foyer. “He’s like a weasel,” he said under his breath, leaning toward her as he glanced back again. “Always slinking through the house.” He put the emphasis on the word slinking as though it was a new one and he had looked it up specifically to describe the man. He grinned proudly and Harper laughed, covering her mouth.
He opened a pair of wide mahogany doors that went all the way to the tall ceiling of the hallway and ushered her inside. She sucked in a delighted breath as she looked around at the impressive library, bookshelves filled with books from floor to ceiling. There was a reading light on in the corner, next to an overstuffed red velvet chair. “Is that where you’ve been?” she asked, nodding toward the chair.
“For three days,” he answered, letting go of her hand and walking away, his face tipped upward as he looked around at all the books. “Isn’t it incredible? It would take me the rest of my life to read all these books.”
“Oh, I don’t know, it looks like you’re making pretty great progress.” She looked pointedly at the teetering stacks of books next to the red chair. “Did you really read all of those?”
“Not all. Some I didn’t like as much as others. The pile in front are the ones I want to read again.”
She laughed. “Well, if you’re re-reading, it might take you the rest of your life to get through this collection.”
He smiled happily. “I’ve learned so many new words, Harper.” He looked up, recalling. “Distressed and bewildered. Anxious. Accepting. Indignant.”
She studied him for a second, noting the words that seemed to matter to him the most were emotions. Her heart flipped. She wondered if he’d tried to describe his own feelings to himself all these years and had come up short. I love you, she thought for the hundredth time since she’d first realized it, and yes, it was as simple as that. She took in his smile as he gazed around. “Do you like it here, Jak?”
He sat on the edge of the table behind him, crossing his arms casually over his chest, his biceps straining the material. In that moment, he looked so unlike the caveman she’d watched in that cell what seemed like a thousand years ago. In that moment, he looked like a . . . well, like a Fairbanks. He appeared thoughtful and then spoke haltingly. “I like some things . . . I like the shower.” He grinned. “And . . . I like this room the most. Some of the food is good. But . . . I’m not sure about the people who live here or . . . the birds.”
“The birds?”
“My grandfather’s wife is a bird woman. She has a roomful of hundreds of birds. They’re called tropical and they live in cages.” He shivered.
“Ah. An aviary.” Yes, she could imagine that would be very strange to him. Strange and possibly sad to see caged birds when he’d only ever known them to fly free. She found it sad.
“Aviary,” he repeated. “Yes, that’s the word.” He stood suddenly, moving forward, taking her in his arms and, though he looked like a Fairbanks, she was glad he still moved like a hunter. “I missed you,” he growled against her ear, walking her backward until her butt hit the edge of another table. She thrilled at his words, his touch, the hard length of his body pressed to hers. She opened her legs so he could step between them.
“I missed you too. When I didn’t hear back from you, I thought maybe . . .” She turned her eyes from his, vulnerability making her feel shy. He moved his head to the side, lining