Chapter Eight
Practice? What did he mean by that?
Isabel eyed him cautiously, waiting for him to explain himself. Could he possibly mean that he was going to consummate their marriage? She couldn’t very well ask him such a thing, though, so she merely nodded in response. But inside her, nerves sprang to life. A thousand butterflies took flight and flapped against her midriff.
He stepped over to her, close enough that she could smell the scent of his soap and shaving lotion, sandalwood, and earthiness. Close enough to see the soft waves of his brown hair and know that, were she to reach up to tousle it, it would be impossibly soft. Close enough to see the gold flecks that hid in the blue of his eyes. He was so handsome.
Isabel’s mouth went dry, and she waited for what he would do next. Kiss her?
He looped her hand through the crook of his elbow and escorted her across the room then back again. Disappointment grew inside her. She wanted to run out the french doors that led into the gardens and keep running until her legs gave way. But this marriage was not about her, she reminded herself. This was about so much more than her or her happiness. The stability of their government rested, in part, on her being able to play the role of dutiful wife believably.
Dutiful wife or not, she certainly knew how to cross a room. This was nonsense. She supposed she could simply stop this ridiculous prancing about, grab his face, and kiss him, but she hadn’t the faintest notion of how to kiss a man. The brief kiss they’d shared at their wedding ceremony had been the extent of her experience.
She exhaled loudly, and it blew a puff of hair into her eyes. He abruptly stopped walking.
“Everything all right?” he asked.
“Yes. No.” She shook her head, uncertain if she should speak up. “It seems to me that walking across the room is not going to convince anyone of anything.” She stepped away from him and moved over to the settee but did not sit. “We have done this before, and evidently it wasn’t believable. I don’t understand how you’re supposed to tell what the state of someone’s marriage is simply by how they enter a room together. That’s ridiculous.”
“It is ridiculous.” He sat on the settee and she followed suit.
“What business is it of anyone’s?”
“Normally, it isn’t anyone’s concern.” He shifted on the settee to face her. “But your safety largely hinges on people believing that you couldn’t marry another man after a speedy annulment from this one.”
“Not merely my safety. These people don’t want to kill me. They do, however, want to kill our queen. We cannot risk her safety.” She looked up at him, and before she lost all courage, she blurted out, “Kiss me.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“If you want people to believe you’ve bedded me, then…” Then bed me, she wanted to yell, but before she could finish her thought, he braced his hands on either side of her face and moved his lips to hers. His warm palms cradled her cheeks, and he kissed her. His lips were on hers, soft yet firm, and completely perfect.
His tongue tantalized her—teasing, licking, and stroking until she thought she would go mad. She ran her hands up his back and pressed him down onto her, effectively lowering them back on the settee. The position gave him full access to her mouth. His tongue swept across hers, and shivers of pleasure cascaded over her like a delicious waterfall.
He settled himself atop her and kissed her more deeply. Aside from recognizing that she didn’t want this moment to end, Isabel lost all coherent thought. Lust, hot and wet, pooled in her center. She felt his arousal pressed hard against her belly, and she instinctively pushed against him. She wanted this, wanted him.
His hand slid up her abdomen and cupped her right breast. Even through her clothes, her nipples hardened. She arched her back instinctively. As much as she loathed the idea of losing her virtue here on a settee in his mother’s parlor, Isabel would overlook such a thing if only he’d continue.
His mouth left hers and trailed a hot line of kisses down her throat. He nibbled and licked at her collarbone and she closed her eyes. Jason. But she didn’t dare speak. And then as abruptly as his affection started, it ended. He pushed himself away from her and ran his hands through his hair. He stood, tugged at his waistcoat, and left her in the parlor without saying a word.
She smacked her hand into one of the decorative pillows. If she didn’t get some of this pent-up energy out, she’d soon lose her mind, but she knew better than to ask about taking a walk. She’d attempted that the other day and had been told she was not to leave the grounds of the townhome without her husband at her side.
She knew it had nothing to do with wanting to exert power over her and instead was entirely about her own protection. Still, it was frustrating. There had to be some way she could move her body enough to keep herself from going mad.
…
After their heated kiss, he had needed a fight. Less than an hour later, Jason was fully embroiled in a hand-to-hand battle with his valet, Ricks, when he heard the sound from the doorway. He turned at the intrusion, and Ricks landed a blow right to his lower abdomen. Jason groaned, but the pain of that strike was preferable to the unsatisfied desire he’d come up here with. One kiss and he’d been as hard as a randy boy. The fighting had helped distract him.
“I suppose I took advantage of you not paying attention,” Ricks said.
Jason grunted in response. “What is it?” he asked the housekeeper who stood in the doorway.
She nodded and then swiftly looked away from him.
He rolled his eyes at her ridiculous sense of modesty. It was not as if he stood there without a shirt. He merely wore no cravat or waistcoat and had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
“Yes, my lord, I know we’re not supposed to interrupt you when you’re up here, but it’s Lady Ellis.”
Jason swiped the boxing gloves from his hands, dropping them on the padded floor. “What happened? Is she hurt?”
The housekeeper shook her head. “No, she is not injured, but she is, well, you should probably come see for yourself.”
He didn’t particularly want to see his wife now. He’d left her in an appalling way earlier, and he had no notion of what to say to her. He knew his behavior toward her must be confusing. One moment he wanted her, and the next he shoved her away. But he couldn’t very well explain his bastardy to her. He needed to keep his distance. Perhaps once the ball was over, he could be sent on assignment somewhere. He would make certain she was well protected, and he would be far from temptation.
Jason nodded his head at his valet. “You wait here. I shouldn’t be long.”
Ricks, who was more friend than servant, nodded.
Jason followed his housekeeper down the winding staircase. He wanted to further chastise the woman for not handling the situation herself. If Isabel wasn’t injured, then why was he required to manage whatever problem the girl had? Or could his mother not take care of things?
He was being ridiculous. He couldn’t hide from his wife. Most men would beg to be saddled with a woman they desired. He was the worst sort of fool.
The housekeeper led him down the main corridor that led to the bedchambers, where he found Isabel on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor.
“You see, my lord, why you had to come?” his housekeeper whispered.
Isabel’s hair was wound on top of her head and a scarf was tied around it to keep it in place. Or perhaps it was to keep perspiration out of her eyes. Either way, she looked far more the part of scullery maid than viscountess.
“Thank you,” Jason said. “I’ll handle matters from here.”
The housekeeper waited a moment before bobbing into a curtsy and walking away.
Jason stood in place for a few breaths, simply watching Isabel as she scrubbed the floor. He gingerly moved forward.
“Isabel?”
She started, then looked up at him. “Good afternoon.”
“Indeed. May I inquire as to what you’re doing?”
She frowned. “I should think it would be rather obvious, but I am cleaning the floors.”
“Yes, but why?”
“Because I am able-bodied,” she said.
He squatted so he could be at her eye level. “Isabel, we have servants. If they are not cleaning to your standards, you need only address it with them. Or with me, if you feel more comfortable.”
She shook her head. “Am I not allowed to clean the floors? I am a perfectly capable person, and I see no reason why I can’t perform a simple task.”
“That is not what I meant.”
She closed her eyes. “This isn’t what a princess would do, is it?” She dropped the rag onto the floor, then sat back on her heels.
“No, nor a viscountess.” He stood and helped her to her feet.
“It’s only that I’m used to leading a more physical lifestyle.” She wiped her hands against her skirts as she spoke. “I asked about taking a walk the other day, but was told I could not do so alone.” She shook her head. “This is simply not how I imagined my life would be. I expected to be surrounded by children and running about. At school when I was frustrated or angry, I would clean. The work—”
“Took your mind off things, allowed you to concentrate on only the movement of your muscles,” he said. He watched her eyes widen. He’d been so selfish thinking only of himself and how this impromptu marriage was affecting and testing him.
She took a step closer. “Yes,” she said, her voice faint with awe. “That’s it precisely, but how did you…” She shook her head as her words faded.
“I do the same.” He knew that he wasn’t alone in such a process, but he’d not expected it from a woman. He also recognized that this was his fault. He’d put her in a position where frustration ate at her so much that she’d resorted to scrubbing the floors. Few people had seen his private retreat. Normally he did not share his sanctuary with anyone save his closest of friends, and he’d certainly not intended to share it with her. But considering his options, it was the lesser of two bad scenarios. He couldn’t make love to her, but he could invite her into his private sanctum. It seemed that, as his wife, she certainly had a right to know more about his life.
“Come, I want to show you something.”
They did not speak as they climbed the stairs. Isabel, impressively enough, did not seem the least bit winded when they reached the top floor. This room had been nothing but a large storage space when he’d inherited the house. He’d begun work on the area almost immediately, and now he affectionately referred to it as his strategy room. His valet, Ricks, walked over to them.
“Will you be needing anything else, my lord?”
“No, that will be all, Ricks, thank you.”
Ricks said nothing, but he gave Jason a look that said plenty. Only Ricks would recognize the weight of Jason sharing this room with someone outside of the Brotherhood or his staff. Jason knew that he’d likely pay for this in the future, but for now he shoved off the thought. She required a physical outlet, and this would provide her one that wouldn’t have the staff interrupting him every hour of the day.
“What is this place?”
“My duties with the Brotherhood require a certain amount of agility and athleticism. I prefer to work on such things here in my own home,” he said. “Although plenty of gentlemen do the same sorts of things in their clubs. Boxing and fencing and the like.”
Appreciation lit her eyes as they went from one area to another. He’d worked hard on this room, and to have someone recognize that meant something to him.
“I’ve lined the floors with thin mattresses and then blankets to give it more spring. It makes some of the tasks easier, and if you fall, it’s less painful,” he said. He pointed to the rope hanging from the rafters in the right corner of the room, knots dotting the long strand. “Excellent for climbing practice and getting your arms nice and fatigued.”
“This is amazing.” She stepped forward. “What is that for?” she asked, pointing to the roped-off area with the extra-padded flooring.
“Fighting and boxing.” He stretched his jaw, rubbing at the spot where Ricks had punched him.
“And this?” She had moved over to the fencing area.
He followed her. “That is why I brought you up here. I thought we could have a lesson.”
“A lesson?”
He handed her a foil and a vest. “Put this on over your dress. It will give you some measure of protection.”
“Fencing?” she asked.
“I can’t very well teach you to box.”
She grinned broadly, and the sheer joy emanating from her seemed to slide over to him, wrapping him in the warmest of sensations.
He held out a large pillar candle, and the flame flickered between them. “Dip the tip of your foil into the wax a few times to build up a blunt end. I’d prefer you not puncture one of my lungs on our first go-around.”
While she did what he asked, he stepped behind her and tied her vest in place. “You said you cleaned at the school,” he said. “Was that out of requirement or choice?”
“Mostly choice,” she said. “I found that after a day of physical exertion, I slept much better.”
He’d never met anyone who sought exercise the way he did, especially a woman. Most were ruffled if they had to walk too far in Hyde Park. Although he didn’t often speak of such things, he’d never seen any of the other men in the Brotherhood devote themselves to physical exertion, except at their clubs when they drank too much and settled things with a good box. His own brother was perfectly content with a book or ledger to occupy his mind.
“Now then, fencing is the most precise type of swordplay. It is more about lunging and striking. It is as much about your mind as it is about your body.” He positioned himself in a starting lunge pose. “Start this way. Then as you shuffle toward me, I shuffle backward, and then we switch.”
“It is very civilized.”
“I do believe the Spanish would be appalled at what the English have done to their military technique,” he said.
“Am I holding this correctly?” she asked.
He stood parallel to her, then moved her right elbow out. “Extend it this way.” And then they were locked in a mirrored stance, him behind her, guiding her arms and legs to the appropriate positions. The warmth from her skin rolled off her, practically caressing him. Perhaps this hadn’t been a good idea, after all. He quickly went back to facing her.
“This?” She moved forward, lunging the foil at him.
“Precisely.” He shifted toward her. “I advance and you retreat. Then you advance and I retreat.” They repeated the actions several times in silence while he let her get used to the activity. She bit her lip, clearly concentrating, and he was struck again by how lush and full her lips were. How eminently kissable.
“Fencing is as much intellectual as it is physical,” he said as he circled her. Mostly, he said it to distract himself, because watching her while she fenced was too tempting. “It is about knowing your opponent and deliberately trying to mislead him.” He lunged and she retreated. “You must anticipate their next move and how they’ll react to yours.” She lunged at him and he met her strike. Her balance wobbled. “And try to throw them off, as it were. You make them think you’re going to do one thing, and then you do something else. It’s a mind game. It’s trickery and deceit.”
Their foils hit, clanging delicately. She was naturally athletic; he could tell that from the ease with which she moved her body. She struggled a few times, stumbled more than once, but always persevered and refocused on the task at hand. It was an admirable quality. He couldn’t help wishing she had fewer admirable qualities. This would all be much easier if he didn’t like her as well as desire her.
Thirty minutes later they were both winded and perspiring. Her cheeks were flushed, and damp curls framed her face, and she’d never looked more alluring. He wanted her even more, if that were possible.
“Isabel, might I ask you a question?”
“Of course.” She withdrew the protective covering he’d given her and handed it back to him.
“Do you know how to dance? Waltz and quadrille and the like?”
“Yes, although I have only ever had other women as partners because of the school,” she said.
“Judging by today’s performance, we shall be all right at our ball. I suspect that was all the practice we needed.”
“I was not that terrible, was I?” she asked with an impish grin as she came to stand right in front of him.
“Indeed, you were quite good.” Unable to resist, he reached out to tuck one of her curls behind her ear. Her smile softened from one of open glee to something a little more enticing.
Afraid if he stood there much longer, he would do more than merely touch her hair, he took the foil from her hand and carried it along with his own back to the equipment chest. He busied himself arranging the equipment, even when he heard her approach from behind.
“I enjoyed this lesson very much. Do you think we can have another one?”
A better question was whether he could stand to give her another one. Even now, he wondered whether this had been a mistake. But how could he disappoint her? Yet he was afraid he wouldn’t have the strength to tell her no. Not when he had already denied her so much.
“We shall see,” he said. “You’re quite welcome to make use of this room whenever you like.” It was the least he could do.
“I shall.”
He pretended to be absorbed in organizing the equipment chest until he heard her leave the room. Only then did he turn around to stare at the closed door through which she had just left. His wife was entirely too desirable, whether she was dressed in the height of fashion for a ball or sweaty and flushed from the exertion of fencing. But it changed nothing. Everything he’d told her about fencing was true, and he knew that those principles were how he led his life. He was always on defense, waiting and watching and anticipating what moves others would make so that he could counterattack. He never let anyone get close enough to him to hit their mark. Because he knew that his secrets were his and his alone to bear. So with fencing, it was with every relationship he had: always staying one step ahead, keeping one layer between him and everyone else.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want things to be different. He did, but he knew they couldn’t be, especially with her. The fact that he wanted her as much as he did was a red flag warning him not to get too close. Everything about her made him want to lay his vulnerabilities before her, but if she knew the truth, what would it change? Nothing. He still couldn’t have her. She wanted children, had said as much to him. He would not give her that and, therefore, couldn’t give her the life she deserved.
…
Isabel hadn’t seen much of Jason in the days that followed their fencing lesson. His behavior toward her ran so hot and cold, he nearly made her dizzy. Gone was the charming man who’d teased her in the library when she’d first arrived at his home. Although she’d seen glimpses of him when they’d been fencing, for the most part, Jason avoided her.
Her dress had been delivered, as had a plethora of other articles of clothing, shoes, ribbons, and jewels. He’d likely spent more money on her in that single day of shopping than Thornton had her entire life. Jason certainly created the outward appearance of a doting husband.
The shimmering green dress hung on the door of her armoire, and every time she walked past it, she ran her fingers over the luxurious fabric. It was nearly time to get dressed. There was a rap at the door, followed by a line of women entering Isabel’s bedchamber. Four maids, then Evie, and then her aunt Lilith.
“Could it truly be you, Aunt Lilith?” Isabel asked, blinking back the tears that pricked her eyes.
“It is me, squirrel.” Isabel couldn’t remember why Lilith had started calling her “squirrel,” only that she had done so since they’d met.
They embraced, and Isabel wished for only a moment that they were alone and she could share all the goings-on that had happened over the last couple of weeks.
Isabel smiled. “You have no idea how pleased I am you are here.”
Lilith braced both hands on her hips. “I left you for only a short time and I return to London to discover you are married.”
“It happened rather quickly,” Isabel said. She wasn’t certain how much Lilith had been told about her union with Jason.
“It is the best solution to keep you safe,” Lilith said, and she squeezed Isabel’s hand.
“Yes,” Evie agreed. “Now we are family. Since Ellis is my cousin.” Then Evie grinned broadly. “You must tell us all about Gretna Green. I’ve heard stories but never known anyone personally who had eloped.”
“I want to hear that as well,” Lilith said. “But we do need to get you ready.”
As if that was their command, the maids jumped into action: undressing and dressing her, brushing her hair, and so forth. All the while, Isabel shared pieces of her wedding.
“It sounds deliciously romantic,” Evie said.
She might foolishly wish that her marriage was built on love, or at least had the potential for such, but she would not share that with anyone. It was her own fault that she fancied Jason. She knew the true purpose of their union, and it was a valiant one, one she could truly be proud of. And she loathed the idea of Lilith and Evie pitying her. So instead of being quiet, she steeled herself for their sympathy and purposefully met their eyes. “I suppose it is if you’re marrying for love,” Isabel said quietly. “The couple who wed straight before us, they positively glowed with affection for each other.”
“Bennett and I should have simply gone there instead of waiting through this lengthy engagement,” Evie said.
“I suppose I’ll have to wait a great deal longer,” Lilith said.
Two maids moved on to dress Evie, and she sucked in as they tightened her corset. “For what?” Evie asked.
“I agreed to marry Gabriel,” Lilith said.
“That’s splendid,” Evie said, clapping her hands together.
“After the appropriate time of mourning,” Lilith said.
“It seems rather ridiculous that you’re expected to mourn such a horrible man,” Isabel said. The maid behind her pulled her hair into a tight line and then divided strands up to form them into an elaborate concoction.
“Indeed. Well, we did start on the honeymoon activities a little early,” Lilith said with a grin.
“It is about time that you both have your happy ending,” Evie said. “I believe Bennett said Gabe has loved you for years.”
“And I him, if I’m perfectly honest.”
“Why did you not pursue him when you first met, if I may be so bold to ask?” Evie asked. “If you both desired each other.”
“It wasn’t that simple,” Lilith said. “Perhaps I should have been bolder, told my father precisely what I wanted.” She shook her head. “It matters not what happened then. We found our way back to each other.”
Lilith had an entire life that Isabel knew nothing about. That shouldn’t surprise her, considering Thornton had drastically limited the time they had spent with each other. But she was so very happy that Lilith had finally found someone who would love her. “You could have avoided your life with Thornton,” Isabel said.
“Then I wouldn’t have you, squirrel,” Lilith said. “You were worth everything I endured with him.”
Isabel wasn’t so certain, but she wouldn’t argue the fact.
“I’m just thankful that you have avoided the mistakes I made. You won’t be trapped in a loveless marriage with a cruel husband. Ellis will take good care of you,” Lilith said.
“Yes,” Evie agreed. “And I have seen the way he looks at you. The two of you will have a wonderful marriage.”
Isabel wanted to ask Evie what she meant, what she’d seen in how Jason looked at her, but didn’t dare. She need not tell them the truth, that her marriage to Jason was nothing more than a charade, an unconsummated charade.
“He is kind to you?” Isabel asked.
“Gabriel? Yes, very much so. He can be brusque if you don’t know him,” Lilith said. “But he treats me quite well. Bought me my own townhome and an amazing telescope.”
“Whatever for?” Isabel asked.
Lilith smiled wistfully. “Many years ago, I fancied myself an astronomer. I suppose now I can study such things.”
She knew that ache that had settled in her chest. A longing for that kind of love. Specifically, from her husband, but Jason had shared his exercising room with her as well as his library. That was enough, she told herself. She didn’t need the kind of love these ladies had found. She was safe. The queen was safe. That was what truly mattered.