Eleven

Turbulent thoughts filled Marcus’ head the rest of the afternoon. Isabelle remained in his mind even though she wasn’t in the room. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her eyes glistening with tears of gratitude. His lips still tingled from the memory of her brief, but earth-moving kiss, and his arms still ached to hold her.

Isabelle would be here any moment with his dinner. Earlier, he’d sent word to the cook to have her bring two dinners so she could eat with him.

Now he wanted to say things that would make her happy. Perhaps he’d ask about her aunt and uncle. He wanted to know more about what made Isabelle the kind of woman she was, especially since she had such a rotten example in a father. Strange thing was she didn&rs