by its stem. “Speaking of Thorncliff Towers, doesn’t it bother you that the house is so remote?”
Draven shrugged. Most of his shoulder-length hair had fallen from its queue. Isabella resisted the urge to touch the shimmering strands.
“The public at large has never been very kind to me. One could say I prefer solitude,” he said.
“What about friends?”
“What about them?”
“Do you have any?”
“Not really.” His voice caught slightly. “From way back, even my schoolmates thought me odd.”
Empathy pinged through her. “I had the same problem. When I was growing up, my nose was always stuck in a book. The other children teased me for being so serious.”
“They say serious children grow into serious adults,” he teased.
“I suppose that’s true. But I became even more solemn when my mother died.”
Draven dropped his smile. “I’m sorry.”
She shrugged but inside the hurt came back. “At least I have my father.”
“Presuming you have more friends than I, you must prefer to be among people.”
She nodded then looked into his eyes. “I hated being alone when my mother died and my father was in Egypt.”
“But it taught you to be independent. Correct?”
“Yes,” she answered as a sense of vulnerability crept along her spine. “Out of necessity, I’m not a submissive type of woman.”
Draven examined her as if she were a science experiment. He had begun to pry into Isabella’s deepest recesses and she wasn’t at all comfortable with the intrusion.
“It appears that you’ve always placed the care of others before yourself,” he said.
“Perhaps. When my mother was alive, she suffered from poor health. I attended to her quite diligently, but I don’t deserve a medal. I was raised to believe that sacrifices are sometimes necessary.”
“And now that you are here, you find yourself in an ironic situation,” Draven said as he hung his elbows over his bent knees.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re a wealthy countess and you’re still making sacrifices. Sacrifices such as being married to me.” His eyes twinkled engagingly.
She laughed. “At least my wardrobe will improve.”
He laughed as well. Then he paused. “You also have more authority than you’ve ever had. Come now. What will you change about Thorncliff Towers now that you’re its countess?”
Highly aware that Draven had shifted closer, Isabella chose her words carefully so as not to offend him. “The estate looks a bit neglected but it’s the garden that bothers me most. It’s crying out for some color. Rosebushes, perhaps? Red roses are my favorite flower.”
“And I forgot to supply you with a bridal bouquet made from those flowers, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” she said as her cheeks warmed. It appeared that he hadn’t forgotten completely.
He reached out and squeezed her hand by way of an apology. A brief silence accompanied the electricity that passed between them. They sat studying the waves cresting in the distance. The silence exaggerated the warm touch of Draven’s broad shoulder against hers.
“Well”—Draven cleared his throat—“I’m pleased that you have an interest in Thorncliff Towers. Perhaps drawing up an improvement plan is something we can do together.”
“I’d like that,” she said.
Draven cast her a sly smile. “In fact, we can do quite a few things together, assuming you drop your ultimatum.”
Things like what? Make love?
If he was willing, she must try and seduce him right here and now.
The sun broke through a cloud mass, showering them with heat. Isabella forced herself to hold his gaze. She unbuttoned her lace collar in slow motion and moistened her lips in what she assumed was an inviting gesture. “I won’t have to abide by my ultimatum if you invite me into your bed,” she whispered.
Draven raised a winged brow. Remaining silent, he removed his greatcoat. As he leaned closer, off came his frock coat. Then in slow tugs, he unbuttoned his