Chaste Kiss (18 page)

Taking a seat next to the fireplace in the library, he opened the text he had been unable to concentrate on in his room. Whatever her feelings for him, he vowed naught would change between them.

"There you are. I've been looking all over for you.” Isabel crossed the room and stood next to him. “You've been avoiding me."

He kept his head down in mock study of the words upon the paper. “Nay.” He sighed with frustration at his speech. “No, I have not been avoiding you. I've been working. Is there something you wanted?” Although his tone remained casual, he knew full well what she was about.

"I'll say."

Recognizing the danger in her nearness, he stood and put as much space and furnishings between them as possible. “What can I do for you?"

"You know exactly what you can do for me. And you know I won't give up."

"Why do you persist in this endeavor?” He searched her features for some hint of Constance's announcement, but dismissed it as impossible as his ever drawing a true breath.

"I have my reasons,” she said.

The saucy tone of her voice and the sparkle in her beautiful green eyes shot through his soul. He could see the longing and desire, as well as her abundance of strength. For both their sakes, he had to be stronger. He could not let her win. It would ruin the sweetest relationship he had ever known. One he cherished more than anything.

"And I have mine,” he said.

"Isabel, have you seen my pipe? Oh, sorry. I hope I'm not intruding,” Jerome said, as he stepped over to his desk.

"Of course not, sir. This is your house after all. I believe I last saw your pipe on the mantel.” William motioned with the book in his hand, yet remained transfixed on Isabel's sparkling eyes.

"Ah, yes. So it is.” He retrieved his pipe and tapped the contents into the fireplace.

Isabel's constant penetrating gaze rapidly eroded William's resolve. He needed a distraction. “Jerome, I was wondering if we could pick up where we left off earlier in our discussion of Regency England."

Her eyes turned cool, finally releasing him from their liquid depths. She had no idea, how close he came to taking hold of her with his invisible icy fingers.

Jerome took a seat in one of the wingback chairs, and said, “Certainly, as long as we can discuss the Renaissance as well."

As the two men sat across from one another in front of the fireplace, Isabel was completely left out of the conversation. She listened for a few moments to their discussion each offering up information from their favorite points in history. Of course, William's were memories and not studious facts, but her uncle discussed the nineteenth century with just as much zeal.

Feeling slightly depressed over the loss of another skirmish, she decided a little food therapy was in order. An extra large slice of chocolate cake was the perfect remedy for battle fatigue.

"Hey there, sweetie,” Constance said with her usual joviality as Isabel entered the kitchen.

"Where's that cake?"

The older woman chuckled. “Over there on the counter. Got a sweet tooth this evening?"

"More like a pacifier.” She got out a plate and silverware then sliced a large piece. Shuffling over to the table, she plopped down in a chair, and plunged her fork into the sumptuous dessert.

Constance poured two cups of decaffeinated coffee and sat down across from her. “Want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?” She methodically licked the icing from her fork.

"About the gorgeous man living in this house. Who else?” The sagacious little housekeeper had a distinct twinkle in her eye.

A grin crossed Isabel's lips. “Uncle Jerome's in the library.” She smiled sweetly, then blew a cooling breath across her coffee.

"Isabel Derrington, you know exactly who I'm talking about. Now you want to tell me what's going on, or rather, what's not going on between you and William?"

She took a long lingering sip of the brew. Maybe it would do her some good to talk about it. She'd have to leave out a few details, but it might make her feel better getting a few things out in the open. Out where she could examine them more closely. Then again, how could she possible explain any of it?

"Nothing's going on between us. How could it be? He just got here a few days ago."

"Child, I'm not blind. You're in love with the man, and he's in love with you. What I want to know, is why neither of you seem to be doing anything about it?"

She nearly choked on her cake. William in love with her? Ridiculous. He admitted his attraction to her in the garden the other night, but love? Impossible. He was a handsome lord who hadn't had any real contact with a woman in more years than she could count. Love wasn't what was on his mind. And as for her being in love with him, the verdict was still out on that one.

If he were alive, then maybe she'd have a chance to explore the confusing feelings she had for him. They could take it slow like her uncle and Constance were doing. She envied them. They cared about each other and were taking cautious but definite steps in the right direction. Too cautious, in Isabel's opinion.

"I could say the same thing about two other people in this house,” Isabel said smugly.

"There goes that imagination of yours again. Your uncle has absolutely no interest in me in that way."

"Really? Then that wasn't a kiss I saw the other day. You were just helping him to his feet.” She took another hefty bite of the cake, relishing the decadent concoction as it bathed her palate.

Constance blushed from top to bottom. “Never mind about that. We were talking about you."

"Look, I know you mean well, but nothing is going on between William and me. We're just friends. Not that I wouldn't mind it becoming something else, but that's the way it is."

"Whatever happened to that Derrington determination? Where's your fight, child? If you want him, go get him."

"Oh, I want him all right. Make no mistake about that. He just doesn't want me."

She knew that wasn't exactly true, but how else could she explain it? She took another bite of cake and tried to swallow over the growing lump of despair in her throat.

"Hogwash. I've seen how he watches you. How his eyes glint with fire when you walk into the room."

Isabel shrugged then silently finished her cake and coffee. Apparently William's fire wasn't hot enough. She hadn't been able to get him to budge in the slightest. Perhaps she should give up and just leave things alone.

Constance groaned. “I've never seen two people more determined to ignore their feelings in my life."

"Oh, I don't know. You and Uncle Jerome are doing a pretty good job of it."

Constance blushed again, but didn't reply.

Isabel placed her plate and cup in the dishwasher and started for the door. “Uncle Jerome really likes you, Constance. He told me so himself. And I don't think he wants to keep your relationship on an employee-employer level. Maybe you should consider taking some of your own advice."

Chapter Eleven

Isabel quietly went to her room and buried herself in her work, pushing William from her thoughts if only for a little while. Now that the utilities in her shop were on and all the appropriate paperwork completed, she was ready to get started on filling the store with merchandise. She sketched out some plans on how she wanted to arrange the shelves, set up some account books on her laptop, and cleared up a few last minute details.

After several hours and the constant fight to keep her mind on her work, her neck had stiffened along with her back. What she needed was a little water therapy, and she knew just how to get it. Her uncle's swimming pool was heated, and the cool spring air would be exhilarating after a swim. Constance had thankfully packed a swimsuit for her, even though she would've gone without if necessary. She could almost feel the relaxing affects of the water as she changed clothes.

Diving into the pool, she swam a few easy laps before calling it a night. She was more tired than she thought and was practically ready to fall into bed, but as she climbed out, she paused.

William stood somewhere in the shadows. She could feel him. The coward wasn't about to show himself, knowing she'd start in on him again. Perhaps a different tactic was in order, she thought with a smug grin.

Isabel let the water run down her body as she leisurely stretched to reach the towel. Lifting her leg, she slowly patted away the moisture. Little did he know, she was freezing her bikini-clad bottom off. Any other time, she'd have frantically bundled up in the beach towel and ran indoors, but the opportunity was too good to pass up.

Her swimsuit left just enough to the imagination and showed off her assets pretty well, although she could never compete in the beach bunny class. At least the dim light helped to hide her paleness. Sun didn't like her skin very much, regularly turning her into a giant freckle patch, so she never sunbathed. She was afraid she looked sickly instead of sexy.

Waiting for him to speak, she gritted her teeth against the chill, but William continued to remain silent. Either he was struck speechless by her beauty, or he was still trying to avoid her. Most likely the latter of the two.

With that dismal thought, she wrapped the towel around her numb body and went inside, her attempts at seduction a dismal failure. It wasn't love as Constance had suggested. They were just friends. Even if his eyes sometimes held a passionate fire, he denied its existence. After all, he hadn't had a woman in over four hundred years. Any girl probably looked good to him.

Reaching her room, Isabel gruffly ripped off her swimsuit, and flung it into the bathroom sink. She caught her reflection in the mirror and paused to study herself. Her hair, now a dark wet muddy brown, was plastered to her head, and her skin had broken out into big ugly blotches from the cool night air and her indignation.

"Who would want a woman with a crooked nose, and a pirate scar across her brow?” Simmering anger finally came to a boil. Snatching a dry towel, she scrubbed ruthlessly at her head.

"Men are a nuisance. Sex is a nuisance. Love is a nuisance."

Her hands stilled then slowly lifted the edges of the towel. She peered into the mirror, stunned. She'd gone and done it. No need in denying it any longer. She'd fallen in love, head over heels in love with a ghost. Flopping down on the edge of the tub, her heart sank to depths unknown.

What was she going to do? How could she love someone who wasn't really there? Everything she'd been feeling hadn't just come from lust. Oh, she wanted William in the worst way, in every way, but because she loved him. And yet, she couldn't have him.

Or could she? The Derrington tenacity wound its way to the surface. They already had a relationship. A fairly satisfying one, but a relationship that could go one step further. William could touch when invisible. She tapped her chin rhythmically. Although Mick had said it felt like a blast of cold air.

Isabel shivered, reminding her of her nakedness and quickly finished drying off. As she hung the towel over the shower rod, she realized that William's touch might be cold, but it would be an exhilarating cold. Just like the one she got when she climbed out of the heated pool into the cool night air. His caress would have to be like that, because her body certainly heated up whenever he came near. And there was that odd tingle she always felt when he was close, and the scent of citrus.

Maybe it wasn't her imagination after all. Maybe there was some sort of weird chemistry between them that made her feel things other people couldn't. But then if it was her imagination, and he really was cold, would she want that sort of touch on a regular basis?

She thought long and hard as she readied herself for bed. Pulling the covers up to her chin, she decided the only way to answer that question was to find out first hand what his touch felt like and go from there. If by some chance she never found out, she would just have to be happy with what they already had.

With a deep sigh, she closed her eyes. A contented smile spread across her lips as the love she finally acknowledged warmed her to her toes.

The next morning, Isabel joined William and Jerome at the patio table by the swimming pool. William had never seen her look so radiant.

"Good morning,” she said, and kissed her uncle's cheek in greeting.

A familiar pain stabbed his soul. So innocent a gesture, but one he could never experience.

"What are your plans today, sweetheart?” Jerome asked.

"I thought I'd go into town and start cleaning up the shop."

"Alone?” William asked.

"Yes, alone. I'm a big girl, or hadn't you noticed?"

Her barb was sharp, but his mind raced with other concerns. He'd learned to trust her intuition and suspected that someone may have in deed been watching her the day they went into town. But how to keep her safe and not find himself alone with her?

Jerome interrupted his thoughts. “I agreed to let you go into town before, but it nagged at me all day. I don't want you going by yourself."

"I'll be fine, Uncle. And unless one of you is willing to go with me, I'm going alone. The floors need to be scrubbed and the walls need to be patched and painted before one piece of merchandise comes through the door."

Jerome exchanged a thoughtful glance with William. “Would you mind postponing your research and going with her? I understand how you feel about being around people, but—well, I'd go myself if I didn't have a rather full schedule today."

William looked at Isabel. The smug look on her face said she was obviously pleased with the current turn of events, but had she planned it? Either way, he had no choice. He couldn't allow her to go alone.

"No need to concern yourself, Jerome. I would be delighted to escort your niece."

Isabel grinned widely. Alone in her shop, William was certain to lose their little war. He'd nearly given in the previous night when he spied her rising from the pool.

Jerome had retired for the evening and there was no sign of Isabel, so he'd decided to take a walk through the garden to clear his head. His lengthy discussion with her uncle and their even deeper research into the various texts on Regency England had cluttered his mind. He found more of his family, but was stopped once again in the late eighteen hundred's.