There was an air of danger about Isabella today. Something in her gaze made a shiver run down Emmanuel’s spine.
“Yes,” he said.
Isabella moved with elegance in the saddle and she pushed her mount, pushed Emmanuel. By the time they thundered back towards the stable yard, Emmanuel was panting and laughing. They dismounted and to Emmanuel’s surprise, Isabella waved the stable hand away.
“We’ll see to them,” she said, and the lad didn’t need to be told twice, although he did flick a glance at Emmanuel just to confirm that the Duke was in agreement with this sentiment. Emmanuel did not know what Isabella was up to but he was willing to go along with her. He had said he wanted her to feel at home here.
They rubbed their mounts down and Emmanuel could not help but watch Isabella at work, her riding coat discarded, riding habit hugging every curve; the slight jiggle of her breasts as she scrubbed her horse, a wisp of hair falling in her eye.
He watched for too long and Isabella caught him at it. The look she gave Emmanuel was knowing. He hurried to finish, to escape from the closed quarters of the stables and return to the bounds of propriety where his self-control would not be tested. Before he could do so, however, Isabella came to stand behind him.
“Your Grace, allow me to breach the bounds of propriety and ask you something…personal.” Isabella’s honey-sweet voice created a low rumble that started at the cleft between Emmanuel’s ear and his skull, rolled down to his shoulder blades then shot straight to his manhood, devil take her. “Are you very well versed in the…art of Eros?”
Emmanuel turned, his gaze avoiding Isabella’s.
“Are you…?” He inclined his head stiffly. “I am not sure what you are asking me.”
Isabella was far too close. Her habit was now covered in fine horse hair, her sleeves crushed. Isabella had always been impeccably dressed, now she looked disheveled. Emmanuel exhaled.
“Emmanuel,” Isabella murmured with a hint of reproof, and the brazenness of the familiarity sent a frisson through Emmanuel. He felt hot. Did she have to stand so damnably close? He turned his face away, away from the scent of lavender and honey assailing him.
Emmanuel’s throat was tight and he knew he was flushing. “What do you want from me, Isabella? Tell me what this is about?”
Isabella’ hand clamped around Emmanuel’s bicep and her gaze burned into him. “I want to know what I have to live up to.” She whispered, “I have read…things. I know that a man is especially enamored of his first amour. I know that I am but a gauche bluestocking. I do not want to lose your interest.”
She released Emmanuel and drew herself up to her full height, and the fire in her gaze was banked as coolness settled over her features. “What I want, Emmanuel," she said lightly, all gentle manners, “is to know that when we lie together, I am the only one you are thinking of.”
Emmanuel’s breath stopped, fists clenching and unclenching. His breeches suddenly felt quite tight and he did not know what to think of this new Isabella. She held his gaze, a supercilious smirk quirking one corner of her wanton lips.
“Or, we could leave now, return to the house, and prepare for the picnic with my mother and Lady Edric. I will withdraw into my most retiring self and never speak of this again.”
Emmanuel swallowed.
“What will it be, Your Grace? I don’t want to chivvy you but I have to say that you are not the only one feeling vulnerable at the moment. I too, feel quite nervous at my forwardness. It could well backfire on me.” Isabella’s voice shook.
The stab of protectiveness that assailed him did not surprise Emmanuel. He leaned toward her, mustering his dignity. “Then why ask me? If you are just as uncomfortable as I am?”
Isabella seemed to find this amusing and tilted her head to consider Emmanuel. “Because you’ve forgotten your limp,” she said simply, popping the last ‘p’.
Emmanuel stared at her as he realized that it was true. He hadn’t felt a twinge since he mounted his horse two hours earlier. But what that had to do with baring his sexual past to Isabella, defied explanation. “I don’t understand.”
“I feel as if you and I are on the cusp of a new adventure. We can leap or we can be afraid. That you are not limping seems like a sign for us to leap.”
Emmanuel closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I feel it as well. I feel that change in the air. While it seems to fill you with reckless abandon, for me, all I feel is creeping tendrils of trepidation.” He opened his eyes, looking deep into Isabella’s. “To answer your question, when I was one-and-twenty, I had a mistress.”
“Oh! You did?” Her hand flew to her heart and her eyes widened.
Emmanuel smiled. “I did indeed.”
“For how long?” She returned his gaze and did not seem intimidated at all, instead rather intrigued. A shiver ran through Emmanuel as he stepped closer.
“I stayed with her for five months until she caught the eye of an Earl with two feet and a substantial fortune.”
Isabella exhaled through her nose, looking displeased on his behalf. “Were you heartbroken?”
Emmanuel shrugged, “Indeed, not. She saw that I was losing interest and she gave herself the congé. I hold no blame to her.”
“And she was your only…”
Emmanuel tilted his head from side to side, “Well, apart from a serving maiden when I was five-and-ten, yes.”
Isabella gasped. “Really?”
Emmanuel smiled. “I have told you too much.”
Isabella cocked an eyebrow, mouth twisted. “Hardly.”
“And what of you, my dear sweet Isabella? Have you had affaires of the heart before?”
Isabella smiled. “Only with fictional characters.”
“Ah,” Emmanuel smiled back. “Those are the best kind, for they do not break your heart.”
“Ah ha! So your heart was broken!”
“By the milkmaid, yes.” Emmanuel’s smile became a full-blown grin, “I have never recovered.”
He held out his hand to her, “Come, we have delayed long enough. We should go back to the house.”
Isabella looped her arm around his and they walked companionably to the house, just in time to join the rest for the planned picnic.
* * *
Isabella’s mother and Lady Edric tried their level best to make the picnic a joyous affair but her father was withdrawn, her sister could not seem to stop uttering snide comments, and George Chandler kept casting dark looks at the Duke. It was all very distressing for Isabella. She was embarrassed for her family. Lord Edric was telling an endless story about Prinny that nobody was really paying attention to, while Emmanuel shifted about as if his leg was bothering him.
Isabella turned to Lady Edric. “I do feel the need for some exercise. Might there be a chance to play some pall-mall after luncheon?” she remembered that the Duke was an excellent player and she knew that her father wasn’t. Perhaps this would be a chance for the Duke to take him down a peg or two. Her father seemed to need it, and his steward could also stop looking at the Duke as if Emmanuel were dirt beneath his shoes. Isabella was quite tired of it all.
Lady Edric’s eyes lit up. “Indeed, we do!” she cried, barely raising her eyes before her butler was bending over her, an inquiring look on his face.
“Er…Giles, would you have the staff set up pall-mall for us?”
“Yes, ma’am. Shall I serve the syllabub in the meantime?”
“Yes, do that, Giles.”
The butler seemed a little green and eager to please. Isabella thought it was sweet of them to give him a chance and he certainly was doing everything possible to make sure the party went smoothly.
She accepted her lemon syllabub with thanks and sipped slowly as she watched the Duke from the corner of her eye.
“Are you enjoying your desert?”
She turned to face him and found Emmanuel staring at her mouth. She swallowed convulsively and smiled.
“It’s very nice, thank you.”
&n
bsp; His eyes swept over her face, seemingly taking her in. “That’s good. Are you enjoying the picnic so far?”
Isabella grimaced involuntarily. “My family could be better behaved.”
Emmanuel smiled. “Oh, don’t take it personally. They feel comfortable enough to be who they are around us. That is a good thing. It would not do to start a marriage with illusions.”
Isabella rolled her eyes. “What did we say about putting the cart before the horse?”
Emmanuel lifted an eyebrow. “I do not recall us speaking about carts. Perhaps you’re mistaking me for the stable hand?”
Isabella surprised herself by laughing at his not at all funny joke. She reached out and clapped him hard on the thigh. “You know what I mean.”
His eyes lit up, crinkling at the corners with delight. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. We may never know.”
Isabella took another sip of her drink to hide her blush, rolling her eyes all the while. She shook her head at him, trying to bite back a smile. “You’re impossible.”
“And you like that.”
Isabella turned away because she could not deny the truth of his words. She did indeed like that. She liked him. A lot.
It bodes well for our marriage, she thought, as she gave him an enigmatic smile.
Chapter 20
Interlude in a Dell
The pall-mall game ended for a time and everyone returned to the blankets, laughing, the sour mood from earlier quite forgotten. Isabella was proud of herself for thinking of it.
Emmanuel leaned down to her and took her hand. “Will you walk with me?”
“Are you not worn out yet?” she teased, a twinkle in her eye.
He merely smiled and continued to hold her hand.
She could see many eyes on them as she got to her feet—her sister with the pursed lips and the steward with his customary narrowed eyes. She ignored them both and let Emmanuel lead her away. They left the group and took a forest trail, walking in companionable silence until they were out of sight and sound of the picnic.
“You wanted a tour of my estate.”
“Indeed I did. You have a lot of land.”
“Indeed. Passed on from father to son for generations.”
“And the surrounding village, too?”
“Yes. We are the sole landlord for miles.”
“That is…intimidating.”
“Do not worry yourself, my dear, if there is something you need to know, that you do not already, I will teach you.”
Isabella merely cast him a glance from beneath her lashes.
“No doubt their minds will be reeling in thoughts of what we are up to,” Emmanuel laughed. It would be amusing if it weren't for the potential scandal they were both caught up in. She smiled grimly and ignored his teasing. He stopped smiling and favored her with a serious expression. “I do assure you, Isabella, that my family would not have let you walk with me if they did not know that you would be perfectly safe.”
She sniffed in derision, glad not to have to put on a show in front of him. “I am not worried for my safety, Emmanuel. I knew you are a perfect gentleman.”
He halted and turned to her, hands on her shoulders as he gave her a small shake, a strange smile on his face.
“I promise you, Isabella, that you are indeed safe in my home and my heart.” His eyes were dark with emotion as he said it and suddenly his lips were on hers, demanding things she was only too happy to give. But only for a moment.
Struggling in his arms, she managed to push him away. They weren’t married yet and in spite of her earlier forwardness, she’d prefer not to be treated like they were. It was simply common sense. One could not get carried away simply because emotions were running high.
He stood before her and laughed, taking her hand and pulling her further along the trail. She was reluctant to go forward as her feet were tiring, but did not want to leave him, either.
Eventually, they stopped at a small clearing and he turned to her, propelling her backward to sit on an old broken tree trunk. He removed his coat and laid it on the ground, managing to shock her by getting down on one knee before her.
He had managed to catch her quite flat-footed as he fumbled in his pockets, pulling out a white gold band, set with a large Burmese ruby in the center, surrounded by five small diamonds. He took her hand.
“Miss Isabella Addison, will you do me the honor of consenting to be my wife?” he asked in a serious tone.
She felt at a loss for words at his proposal. It was quite reminiscent of the more romantic stories she had read about princes sweeping a damsel off her feet, like in the story about Cinderella.
Isabella was much too old to feel as if he had taken her breath away but that was exactly what she was experiencing.
“Yes, Emmanuel, I'll marry you.”
He grinned wide and happy, sliding the ring onto her finger. Pulling her hand to his mouth, he kissed the band, sealing the pact.
It was a tender moment, such as she had never expected to experience in her life.
He slowly got to his feet, leaning heavily on the tree trunk for support, eyes intent on hers. “May I kiss you now, Miss Isabella Addison?”
She felt uncertain but curious, ready to explore further than ever before.
I am allowed to kiss him now, am I not? We are betrothed.
She shifted on the log, nodding to him, giving permission for him to come closer. He leaned in, running his hands up her gown, barely touching the periwinkle muslin. Her eyes trailed his hand, not knowing if she wanted him to touch or not.
“Remember that night at the Barstow’s wedding, my dear?” he whispered to her and she nodded, unable to deny it hadn't been playing on her mind. “Remember what I did to you, how I made you feel?”
She smiled. “I, I do believe it was mutual.”
She stuttered, embarrassed, though she knew they were far away from everyone and unlikely to be caught. His fingers trailed up, circling her waist and she did not stop him. In fact, her bosom heaved in anticipation, her mouth parted, tongue darting out to wet her lips.
“I’m going to teach you things, Isabella, the kind of things which will make you blush even redder than you are now,” Emmanuel whispered against her ear, his warm breath a caress on her flesh, making her shiver. “And you're going to love it all, to get a taste for the excitement and passion, so that you never feel sated.”
His hands were clamped like a vice around her waist, her bosom pressed tightly to his chest. She gasped as his fingers brushed against the skin of her cleavage, brushing ever so gently across her nipple, which stood to hungry attention even as his hand continued downward to lock with his other about her waist.
She flushed even more. Nobody had ever touched her or looked at her in such a way and she felt paralyzed to do anything but let Emmanuel do whatever he wanted to with her. He reached forward and licked a stripe from her collarbone to her jaw, making her gasp and groan quietly.
“Do you like when I touch you like this?” he murmured against her skin.
She couldn’t find her voice but nodded in response.
“Look at me,” he ordered and she obeyed, turning her head to gaze into his eyes, moaning, and feeling the heat in her cheeks at her reactions to his touch. “Good. Now tell me a secret, Isabella my love, do you touch yourself?”
She swallowed audibly and closed her eyes.
“Do not be shy with me, Isabella. You are safe. There is nothing you could say to me that would make me turn away from you. Share yourself with me, my darling.”
Isabella opened her eyes and stared into his. “A few days ago...I, I was thinking of you and…” she admitted in a whisper. She did not add that it was to the memory of his touching her on the veranda at the wedding.
“Good, that’s good.” He bent to her neck and sucked at her flesh and she squawked, jumping a little at the unexpected sensation. He straightened up, smiling into her eyes, “When you…touched yourself, was it better or worse than that?”
&nb
sp; Her brow furrowed as she thought. “It was…different. It is different when you touch me. More…”
“More?” Emmanuel boldly reached his hand up and flicked at her nipple. She gasped, maybe in shock, maybe with desire. She was not sure.
“Tell me, Isabella. More how? Is it more intense? Tell me how you feel.”
“I, I, I ca-can’t. I don’t know.” His hand was covering her breast, squeezing gently, and she keened, feeling her insides twist and liquefy.
A Sinful Duke She Can't Refuse (Steamy Historical Regency) Page 17
