Chapter 729

The morning light filtered through the curtains as Isabella stirred awake. Every inch of her body protested with a dull ache, as though she'd been trampled by a stampede of wild horses.

Memories of last night's passionate encounter flooded her mind, painting her cheeks a deep crimson.

She lifted her gaze to find Henry Lancaster's chiseled features mere inches from her own. His strong arms still cradled her protectively against his chest.

Isabella couldn't resist tracing the sharp line of his jaw with her fingertips. Even in sleep, he possessed that magnetic allure that made her pulse quicken.

Life truly wasn't fair, she mused. While women fought against time, men like Henry only grew more distinguished with each passing year.

Her wandering fingers were suddenly captured in a firm grip. Henry's dark lashes fluttered open, revealing those piercing eyes that always saw straight through her.

"Still not satisfied after last night?" His voice was rough with sleep, laced with amusement.

Isabella rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Henry. Must you always be so insufferable?"

Henry studied the woman in his arms. The morning light illuminated her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes—she looked positively radiant, like a rose kissed by dawn.

He pressed a featherlight kiss to her lips. "You didn't seem to mind my 'insufferable' qualities last night. In fact, I recall you being quite enthusiastic."

Isabella stiffened before muttering, "It's late. We should get up."

Henry tightened his embrace. "Or we could revisit last night's activities."

She arched an eyebrow. "At your age? Shouldn't you be conserving your energy?"

A wolfish grin spread across his face. "When you've been starving for twenty years, one meal isn't nearly enough."

Isabella shivered. "You mean to tell me you haven't been with anyone else all this time? Not even Eleanor?"

"Even drugged out of my mind, I still found my way to you," Henry countered. "Does that answer your question?"

A warm feeling blossomed in Isabella's chest. She hadn't expected such unwavering loyalty from him, though part of her remained skeptical.

Before she could respond, the sharp buzz of a phone shattered the moment.

"Your phone," Isabella murmured.

With obvious reluctance, Henry released her to grab the device from the nightstand. The screen flashed with the name "Arabella."

He answered. "Arabella?"

"Father!" The panicked voice crackled through the speaker. "You need to come back immediately! It's Ms. Whitmore—something terrible has happened!"

"Eleanor? What's wrong? I'm on my way."

He ended the call and threw back the covers, already reaching for his clothes.

Isabella sat up, having caught enough of the conversation. "Eleanor's in trouble?"

"Yes. I have to leave now."

The warmth from moments ago evaporated. "Go then. Should I arrange a private jet?"

Henry hesitated, turning back to her. "Don't misunderstand—"

"Save it," Isabella cut him off as she dressed. "Just go."

His jaw tightened. Every mention of Eleanor drove an icy wedge between them.

Without another word, they finished dressing and descended the stairs.

Harrison stood in the foyer, watching them with knowing eyes. "Good morning."

Isabella took Harrison's hand. "Morning, darling."

Harrison glanced at Henry. "Mr. Lancaster, you're leaving?"

"Eleanor's in trouble," Henry replied tersely. "I must return immediately."

Harrison had already noticed the subtle shift between Isabella and Henry. At first she'd been uncertain, but now she understood perfectly.