Isabella's Secret Summer

by Tabetha Waite

  “America? Gor, I should like t’ see it someday.”

  Isabella’s cold glance lit on Kitty before darting away. In turn, Ridge sent Millicent a speaking look that she hastily interpreted. She threaded her arm through Kitty’s and said, “Come dear, let’s give our friends some privacy and head to the parlor where the entertainment is still quite young.”

  As they left, Isabella crossed her arms over her chest and muttered, “That certainly didn’t take long.”

  Ridge glared at her. “Pardon?”

  She sniffed. “It seems we interrupted your latest assignation.”

  In spite of her haughty manner, he didn’t know whether to throttle her or kiss her, because it was obvious she was jealous. “We’re not speaking of me at the moment, but your plans to travel to another continent. What made you think you could even consider something so drastic?”

  Her dark eyes flashed fire as they lit on him. “I will not remain here and become some man’s chattel purely for the sake of my reputation.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. You’re not getting married tomorrow.”

  “No,” she gritted out. “But if my parents have their way, I will become Lady Barnaby by the end of the week. The arrangements have already been made.” She lifted her chin. “I have no time to waste. I will be on a ship by this afternoon, just as soon as I can secure passage.”

  He took a step toward her. “You aren’t going anywhere. I forbid it.”

  “You forbid it?” She laughed. “You can’t stop me, Mr. Claymoore.”

  He snorted. “You don’t think so? Then how about we put that theory to the test.” He swept his gaze over her, hunger for her surging as he moved one step closer.

  Her eyes widened momentarily and her body tensed as though preparing to run.

  “Claymoore—”

  Ridge whipped his head around to pin Logan with a hard expression. “What were you thinking of in bringing her here?”

  “Would you have preferred I took her to my lodgings?” the other man returned dryly.

  Ridge considered where the other agent kept residence during his brief tenures in London and, with a sigh, came to the conclusion that Millicent’s was, in fact, the best place for Isabella to be. At least the men who frequented this establishment were occupied, but at a gaming hell that was notorious for its bad reputation, where cutthroats and thieves liked to barter everything from money to women, Ridge didn’t want Isabella’s hem to be sullied by their ilk.

  “You make a valid point, Montgomery, but I’ll take over from here.”

  Ridge started to reach for Isabella’s arm, but she took a step out of his reach. “Don’t I have a say in this?” she said hotly. “I think anywhere else would be preferable to this house of iniquity where I have to be surrounded by your numerous paramours!”

  He reached her in two strides and took hold of her shoulders in a punishing grip. “You knew where I came from, my lady. I thought you might have realized what sort of man I am by now. But it’s a shame that your tender sensibilities are so injured by your ignorance.”

  As Isabella gasped, Logan stepped toward him. “That’s enough, Ridge. As much as I respect you, I will not stand by while you bully her.”

  “You brought her here,” Ridge snapped. “She’s my responsibility now.” When Logan hesitated, he added firmly, “I vow that no harm will come to her.”

  In the end, Logan nodded curtly and turned on his heel.

  ***

  “Mr. Montgomery, wait!” Isabella shouted after Logan’s retreating form, but it was too late. He was gone.

  She turned her fierce gaze back on Ridge. How could she have ever imagined that she was in love with him? At the moment, she despised everything about him, but above all, his highhanded arrogance was not to be borne. She twisted to try to get away from him, but he held her fast. “Release me at once, you… you… beast!” she demanded.

  He chuckled. “I don’t think so.” With that, he bent and lifted her into his arms. She struggled in his grasp, but it was no use. He was too strong, his arms were like steel bands around her as he carried her up the stairs.

  As he strode down the corridor, they passed rooms where low moans of ecstasy could be heard from within. She wanted to put her hands over her ears to ward off the sounds, for it was obvious what was transpiring behind those closed doors. It seemed to sully the treasured moments she’d spent in Ridge’s arms, for surely, she was just another tup in a world rife with so many pleasures at his fingertips.

  At the end of the hall, he kicked open a door with his boot, slamming it shut behind him the same way. Once they were inside he set her on her feet, and then locked the door behind them. He braced his feet apart and crossed his arms, looking at her with that unnerving, dark stare. “You might as well make yourself comfortable, because you’re not leaving this room unless I give you leave to do so.”

  Isabella released a pent up breath of frustration, resisting the urge to stomp her foot. “You’re incorrigible!”

  He shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.”

  She abruptly turned away, unable to look at him any longer. But if she was being truly honest with herself, she wasn’t angry at Ridge so much as herself. She dared to allow his behavior — his brutish treatment — to actually excite her.

  She shook her head, for she must be mad if such horrid conduct was actually arousing!

  Isabella glanced about the interior of the room and was surprised to find that the furnishings were actually rather… simple. There was a wardrobe, desk, washstand, and a privacy screen in the corner, along with several bookshelves lined with tomes on philosophy and the arts. It was all rather tame compared to the rest of the establishment. Even the bed covering was plain with its particularly cozy, patchwork-quilted counterpane.

  “I gather you were expecting nude paintings lining the walls,” Ridge drawled from behind her.

  Her face warmed, for it was as if he’d read her exact thoughts. “I daresay it’s not what I expected,” she admitted.

  “These are my personal quarters,” he explained. “Millicent keeps it open for my use when I’m in London.” He paused. “I’ve never brought anyone in here.”

  She had to snort at that. “Now that I find a bit harder to believe.”

  “I didn’t say I never inhabited any of the other rooms,” he returned evenly. “But this one has always been off limits. My own personal haven.”

  “Indeed.” She turned back to where he continued to stand by the door. “And did you tell me that to make me feel better?”

  “No. To let you know that you’re different.”

  Isabella’s pulse began to race, but she refused to give in to his magnetism. “Different, how?” she asked. “Because I don’t have rooms of my own here?”

  He frowned darkly, and she feared she’d gone too far, but after everything that had happened between them recently, she wasn’t feeling very charitable at the moment. She might still ache to be with him, to want nothing more than to fling herself into his arms, but the pain of his desertion at Ashfield Hall was still acute. The sight of him riding away from the manor stung even now.

  “You have it all wrong, Isabella,” he said softly.

  “Do I?” She hated the way her voice suddenly trembled. “Because I don’t believe I imagined it when you left me.”

  Her eyes pricked with unshed tears, so she turned away, refusing to let them fall. She would not show any signs of weakness. Her pride refused to allow it.

  After several moments, she felt the light touch of his hand as it brushed the base of her neck and she couldn’t stop a slight flinch, her stomach fluttering with anticipation, yearning for more of his touch. “Do you think your mother would have allowed me to remain?” he asked gently. “I did what I had to do at the time. Some battles are best left to fight another day.”

  Isabella refused to let him rob her of her anger. She turned around to confront him, and gasped at how close he was. His presence overwhelmed h
er, robbed her of her senses, but there were things that needed to be said between them. “You’re right, of course. But tell me something, Mr. Claymoore.” She spoke formally on purpose. “If I hadn’t shown up on Millicent’s doorstep, would you have even returned to Ashfield Hall?” She shook her head. “Because I don’t think so.”

  He stilled, his dark eyes assessing. “Do you have such little faith in me? Or how I feel about you?”

  Isabella held his gaze. “I know that you’re not capable of being faithful to anything but your current lifestyle. The hum of excitement runs through your veins.” She shrugged. “As far as how you feel about me, I think you made that abundantly clear when you appeared downstairs with that… woman hanging off your arm.”

  He looked at her for several moments. “It seems you have me all figured out.” He turned away from her and Isabella’s heart twisted. However, he didn’t leave the room, but merely took something out of his desk and walked back over to her. “And yet, I fail to see how your current accusations could have produced this.” He held out a neatly folded piece of parchment.

  Isabella took it with shaking fingers to reveal something completely unexpected. “Is this—?” She couldn’t even finish the sentence.

  “A special license? Yes.” Ridge plucked it from her fingers and tucked it back in the desk. As he shut the drawer, he paused, his hands splayed on the oak top. “I left you yesterday in order to procure that, along with requesting an audience with the Regent. It took quite a bit of lining the right pockets, but thanks to Simon’s smuggling money, I was able to gain, not only Prinny’s blessing, but that document.” He squared his shoulders and stood up straight, regarding her with an even stare. “I had planned to return to Ashfield Hall this morning and break down the door if necessary, and not leave until you were by my side.”

  Isabella couldn’t contain the buzzing in her ears. “Mr. Claymoore.” She swallowed heavily. “Are you asking me to… marry you?”

  “In a roundabout manner, yes, I suppose that’s exactly what I’m inferring.”

  Isabella didn’t want to get her hopes up too high, but she had to know the reason behind it all. “Why?”

  He lifted a brow, his mouth lifting up in the corner. “I thought that wouldn’t be so difficult to figure out.” His eyes glimmered with heat, as he walked back toward her and took her in his arms. “But perhaps it’s better if I just show you.”

  ***

  The taste of her lips was intoxicating, like the sweetest honey or the finest wine. It was like the first time Ridge kissed her, and he knew it would be the same for the rest of his life. Isabella had stolen the one thing that no other woman had been able to accomplish — his heart.

  He touched the side of her face, cupping her silken cheek in his palm, his fingers threading through the strands of that brilliant, red hair that framed her face as he deepened the kiss. She sighed against his mouth and his cock responded by bursting to life with vigor. He pulsed with the need to sink into her body, but he wouldn’t rush things. Tonight was about her.

  He pulled away long enough to pluck the pins from her hair, watching as the curtain of fiery, copper locks cascaded down her back. “In all my life, I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than you,” he whispered.

  She was breathing heavily, her dark eyes gleaming with desire, as he began to divest her of her cloak and traveling dress. Both fell to the floor in a puddle of forgotten material. Once more, he lifted her into his arms and carried her over to the bed, where he sat her on the edge. There, he bent down and began to unlace her boots. Once they were free, he slid his hands up her legs, until he reached the edge of her stockings, then he slowly rolled them down and tossed them aside.

  Left in her stays and chemise, Isabella held still as Ridge trailed his palms back up her legs, taking the edge of her chemise with him. When her lower half was exposed to him, he bent down and tasted her inner sweetness. Isabella’s head fell back as he pleasured her, but just before she reached her peak, he withdrew and turned her over onto her stomach to unlace her stays.

  “You’re a… wicked man,” she panted.

  He leaned down to whisper in her ear, “But you love the torment.”

  Once she was unbound, Ridge swiftly removed her undergarments from her body in one fluid movement, and then he turned her back over. At the sight of her hair spread across his bed, the tips of her full breasts hard with anticipation, Ridge fairly ripped off his trousers, but he refrained. Instead, he availed himself of her delights, taking a rosy peak into his mouth and sucking.

  She clutched at his shoulders, gasping and pleading with him as he continued his sweet assault. He inserted a finger into her passage, finding the rhythm she liked, but just before she would have found her release, he moved away from her and she gave a sound of frustration.

  “Patience, my love,” he soothed. He rose to his feet and she rose on her elbows to watch him as he removed his clothes. It was highly erotic, for he loved the way her eyes flared when his flesh was fully exposed. When his manhood was free, she sat up and took him in her grasp. But when she licked the tip, he just about came undone.

  With a groan, he eased her away from him. She glanced up at him through her lashes. “What? Can’t you stand a bit of teasing in return?”

  “Minx,” he muttered, as he captured her lips once more.

  After that, the time for talking had passed.

  They tortured each other with hands and mouths and tongues until they could take no more. Sweat dotted Ridge’s brow by the time he entered her, and the sensation of her tight, wet heat had him clenching his teeth. As he moved, she met his every thrust with an eager lift of her hips, until they were grinding against each other in a desperate plea for completion.

  “Ridge…” she sighed his name as her body trembled, and he could tell she was close to her release.

  He reached out and lightly pinched the tips of her nipples, and with a hard, deep thrust, she came apart, her entire face lit up in rapture as she soared to the heavens of ecstasy. She shuddered and the waves of her climax flowed over his cock until he gave a shout of release and poured himself into her. He saw stars, the glorious moment of being one with her, of their souls touching, almost more than he could bear.

  Eventually, the haze of desire dissipated and he collapsed on the bed beside her. After they caught their breath, he turned to Isabella and pulled her into the circle of his arms, lightly kissing the tip of her nose.

  She glanced at him though sleepy lids, a replete sense of satisfaction on her face. Ridge smiled, knowing that he could die right now, that he’d lived his life with purpose — to make this woman happy.

  It was terrifying how much he cared for her, how much he wanted to wake up to her every morning and tumble into her bed every night.

  But he found that some things were worth the risk.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Isabella’s eyes fluttered open. She didn’t even recall going to sleep, but she was awake now. It was still dark, but there was enough light in the room that when she turned her head she could see Ridge lying beside her, and memory resurfaced. Her chest ached at the sight of him, one arm thrown up beside his head and the other resting on his perfectly masculine chest. She would never tire of waking up next to him every morning for the rest of their days.

  She brought to mind the special license that was in his desk, and her heart skipped a beat at the thought that he wanted to marry her. And while he hadn’t yet told her the three most important words she wanted to hear, he’d shown her with his body that she meant more to him than a brief liaison.

  Isabella withheld a sigh as she got out of bed. Her face heated as she rose to her feet, embarrassed at the fact that she was still naked. Yet, with a quick glance back at the covers hanging low on Ridge’s hips, she could tell he was the same. She bit her lip, wondering if perhaps she couldn’t linger just a bit longer, maybe even wake him with a kiss…

  Unfortunately, as much as she wanted to remain, nature was c
alling. But first, she rummaged around in her valise until she found her dressing robe and slipped it on. While the door was locked, ensuring their privacy, Isabella wasn’t quite used to walking about so carelessly.

  After she walked over to the screen on the other side of the room and took care of her needs, she headed for the pitcher to wash her hands. Ridge was still blissfully asleep, and she was eager to return to his side, so many lascivious thoughts tumbling about in her head.

  She glanced in the mirror as she gathered the soap to make a lather. Her hair was tousled, her dark eyes sparkling with radiance. She smiled; for this was the happiest she’d felt in days. She prayed that nothing dimmed the light shining within her.

  Isabella rinsed her hands, and then dried them on the linen hanging over the side of the stand. She closed her eyes in contentment and opened them — to find another image had joined hers in the mirror.

  She started to scream, but Simon had a knife to her throat before she could even react. “Hallo, Isabella,” he snarled next to her ear. “Did you miss me?”

  Her mind was whirling, sure that he hadn’t been there a moment ago, but even then, how had he gotten inside?

  She glanced at the closed door and he followed her gaze. “Wondering how I managed to get in?” He snorted. “You seem to forget that you aren’t the only one with resources. After a bit of charming persuasion with one of the ladies downstairs, she was more than willing to tell me which room belonged to Mr. Claymoore.” His lips twisted. “I don’t think she appreciated you absconding with her lover.”

  Isabella gritted her teeth, thinking that the best way to get out of this situation was to keep him talking, preoccupied long enough that she could find some sort of weapon to use against him. Her eyes darted about to see what might be at arm’s length, and then attempted to raise his ire, hoping that he might lose his concentration. “What do you plan on doing with me, Simon?” She said sweetly. “I doubt selling me to the French is an option any longer.”