Regret slashed over Elonne’s face the second the words escaped. Phillip let it go. There were times and places for every battle. This wasn’t one of them. At least not for the moment.
“Very well then, we shall ride into town.”
He’d expected more of a fuss from Elonne, and was both surprised and pleased when the immediate agreement came.
Phillip sent one of his footmen to get their mounts ready and Elonne accompanied him. Once again alone in his study, he stared down at that handwriting. Neat. Precise.
He was sure Fyre kept great books, he just needed to know how to interpret them for himself. Given how scattered this place had been when he’d taken over, he wasn’t about to let any portion of this plantation not be overseen by him.
With a heavy sigh, his thoughts turned back to England and the people he’d left there. Friends? Two to three, and they were blissful in their wedded state. When he’d come here to help out a friend of his friends, he had not expected to fall in love with the island. Or her people.
All of them.
The island hummed and vibrated with a life one never saw in London. Or anywhere he’d been in England. Sure, the heat had taken a bit to get used to, but the problem of sleeping with one sheet or none seemed better to him than hoping his heating stones wouldn’t die out through the night and he would have to wake someone to tend his fire.
“My lord, your horse is ready.”
He looked up to see one of the maids standing in the doorway.
Standing, he nodded. “Very good.” He shoved the ledgers into a bag then slung it over his shoulder.
As his feet hit the wood of the veranda, he found Elonne standing by two horses, holding their reins. The worry on his face was unmistakable. No doubt in Phillip’s mind that there was a story there, but he would find out soon enough.
Stowing the books behind the saddle, he looked back at his new home while his fingers tied the bag with deft strokes. There was still work to be done, quite a bit, but for the first time in years, he had a thrum of excitement in his chest. A chance here was what had appealed to him, called to him. A chance to prove he was more than just a title. To prove he was more than a wastrel who thought of nothing but the next pussy he could sink into or bet he could make.
Pussy, however, was always a nice thought, and since he’d gotten here, he’d kept his dick dry. He was determined to make a name for himself because of what he did with his plantation, not because of the women he fucked.
With ease, he swung up in the saddle and waited for Elonne to follow suit. Together, they turned their horses and made their way to the end of the driveway, heading into town.
* * * *
Four shops later, his frustration had mounted. Fyre hadn’t been at any of those places. What kind of man worked at so many different stores? How were things kept in good order if he bounced around from place to place so much?
They entered another and he looked around at the variety of items.
“Elonne. What are you doing here?”
The soft voice jolted through him, causing him to jerk with the shock. Lust slammed him and it took a moment for him to snap from the haze which had settled over his entire body.
Phillip looked up and was mesmerized by the woman standing behind the counter, a pencil in hand hovering over a book. Dark curls had been pulled back from her face and her smooth brown skin, a shade he’d never seen before. The collar of her dress hid most of her neck and that was upsetting to him.
How would someone describe her? Short of breathtaking, I have no words.
Warmth flooded him as the hairs rose on his arms and the nape of his neck. Flushed, he struggled to catch his breath. Never had he had such a visceral reaction to a woman before.
His nerves were on fire and it wouldn’t take much more than the slightest of sparks to set him ablaze.
How was it possible for a woman dressed in the drabbest of colors to somehow be the brightest one in the room? He moved his mouth a few times but words didn’t and wouldn’t come. Who was this woman?
What is wrong with me?
“Looking for you, Fyre.” Elonne tugged at his collar. “Lord Edais wants an explanation about his books.”
Well, shit. His bookkeeper was a woman.
Gwen, better known as Fyre to the majority of the people on the island, swallowed with deliberate measure. She was going to kill her brother. Assuming this English lord didn’t kill the both of them. How dare he bring that man to one of her businesses? And all without giving her a chance to prepare.