She looked up with a too-bright smile, ignoring the heat that spread across her cheeks, and met Nick’s smug, amused gaze. The infuriating man knew precisely what she had read.
He was wicked.
Well. She would not let him get the better of her.
“Please. Do not stand on my account. Shall we all sit?” She waved one hand at the cluster of chairs where Rock had set aside his book, and said, “Did you find something of interest to read on this horrid night?”
It was the Turk’s turn to look sheepish at her question. He moved quickly to the book, lifting it into his enormous hands before she had a chance to see it. “As a matter of fact, I did.”
One side of Isabel’s mouth lifted in anticipation. “Oh? What is it?”
Nick’s snicker attracted her attention for a brief moment, but when she looked at him, he lifted his glass to his mouth and, with a shrug, said, “I haven’t any idea what he’s reading.”
She looked back at Rock, and the look he tossed in Nick’s direction could only be described as violent.
What had started as a means to redirect the subject from her father now became a matter of utmost importance. Was the Turk blushing? “Rock? ”
“The Castle of Otranto”
Isabel gave a little laugh at the title—she couldn’t help it. The gothic novel was one of the girls’ favorites, the convoluted story of a doomed lord, a forced marriage, and the rise of a prince. It was decidedly not the type of book one would expect to find in the hands of a giant.
At her laugh, Nick said dryly, “I would not take it personally, Rock. Lady Isabel almost certainly would judge anyone who reads such gothic drivel.”
“No!” Isabel exclaimed, “I am not passing judgment, Rock, not at all!”
“All is well,” Rock offered in the face of her rush to reassure him. “Hang Nick. It is certainly a compelling story.”
Nick chuckled, and Isabel shot him a quelling look before she rushed to correct the misconception. “It is! When the others read it …” Rock’s eyes widened at her words, and she rushed to correct her mistake. “By the others I mean Lara and our—friends. From town, of course—they enjoyed it.”
“And you, my lady? “ Rock’s question covered her awkwardness.
“Oh. I have not read it. Well, not all of it.” “You could not finish it?”
Isabel shook her head. “I never started it. I did not care for the ending.”
Nick leaned forward. “The ending? ”
Isabel nodded. “I always begin with the end of books.”
Rock’s brows went up. “Whatever for? ”
She shrugged. “I like to be prepared.”
Nick laughed, and she turned to meet his smiling eyes. Was he mocking her? “You find that amusing, Lord Nicholas?”
He was not embarrassed by her insinuation that he had offended her. “I do, indeed, Lady Isabel.”
“Why?”
“Because it explains a great deal.”
What did that mean?
Isabel resisted the urge to press him on the subject, instead redirecting her attention to her other—more likeable—guest. She moved to a nearby bookshelf and busied herself with looking for the book, willing herself to ignore Lord Nicholas.
“We have The Mysterious Mother here somewhere, as well. Let me find it for you!”
“Lady Isabel,” Rock said, amusement in his tone, “while I am grateful for your offer, I do not need another book tonight. This one will do quite well.”
She turned back at the sound of his calm voice. “Oh.” She smoothed her skirts. “Well. If you decide you would like to borrow it, I am happy to lend it to you.”
Rock dipped his head in a gracious gesture and said, “I thank you. But for now, I think I shall take myself off to read more about the doomed Lord Otranto and his very unlucky son.”
Isabel blinked as he began to move toward the door. He was going to leave her alone with Nick. This was clearly punishment. She would never mock the gothic novel again. Never. If only Rock would stay.
Apparently, the gods had little interest in the good name of the gothic romance.
She made a last-ditch effort to keep him in the room. “Oh! But wouldn’t you prefer to read here? The light is so fine. And we could discuss the … nuances of the text!”
“At least, the end of the text, Rock,” Nick said dryly. Isabel wanted to hit him in the head with a text. A large one. The Gutenberg Bible.
Rock smiled at her. “That sounds wonderful, my lady. Perhaps tomorrow?”
She could not press him without appearing utterly inhospitable to Lord Nicholas and drawing attention to the tension building between them. A halfhearted “Of course. Tomorrow” was all she could manage as she watched him retreat from the room.
At the sound of the door closing, the air in the room seemed to thicken, and Isabel was suddenly keenly aware of being alone with Nick. With a shaky breath, she turned to him, uncertain of what would happen now.
He lifted the glass of brandy that she had refused earlier and moved toward her, reminding her of a large cat on the hunt. She met his gaze, marveling once more at the vivid blue of his eyes. “I should be off myself—I have interrupted your work for long enough.”
Nick paused, considering the words. “Indeed, you have. But I would never dream of exiling you from your own library. Why not sit? We shall talk.”
She did not notice that he had backed her up against one of the chairs in the corner until she felt the seat against the back of her skirts. “Talk? ”