Chapter 16
Rian had already removed his boots, waistcoat, and shirt before a polite cough warned him he was not alone. Warily he turned around, not needing to be told who was reclining on his couch. In an eerie repeat of Liam and Felicity’s wedding night, he once again found Isabel in his room. Sitting up she yawned, rubbing her eyes as if she had fallen asleep waiting for him to return.
“Now is not the time, Isabel, and I’m in no mood for your games.” He surprised even himself with the roughness of his voice.
Undeterred by his brusqueness, she asked, “Is that any way to greet a friend who has been waiting patiently for a private moment alone with you?”
Rian stared at her. Coming to his room was a mistake, her first of the evening, but he reminded himself that her behavior up until this point had been exemplary. That she wanted something from him went without saying. The sensible part of him said he should ask her to leave without hearing another word, but the euphoria still rolling through him made him generous enough to give her the benefit of the doubt. Besides, being agreeable was surely the quickest way to hasten her from his room.
“What can I do for you, Isabel?” he asked.
“I want to ask your forgiveness for my past behavior. Assure me we can remain friends or, failing that, at least be civil to each other when we meet.”
“Hasn’t my behavior tonight been demonstration enough regarding my civility?” His eyes narrowed slightly as doubt marred her features. It made him sigh. “I have no wish to be your enemy, Isabel. I see no reason why we cannot remain friends.”
The look of uncertainty was replaced with one of relief. “Then will you share a toast with me?” She gestured to the bottle and two glasses on a small table in front of the couch.
More alcohol was the last thing Rian wanted at this moment. He had done more than his own fair share of imbibing throughout the evening, but this was Isabel, and refusing would be churlish. “Of course,” he said, watching as she filled the two glasses. “French brandy?”
She laughed softly. “I recall you having quite a fondness for it when we first met.” She gently clinked the rim of her glass to his. “I trust it still remains a favorite.”
“What would you like to toast to?”
Tipping her head to one side, she seemed momentarily lost in thought. “To not standing in the way of fate,” she murmured quietly.
Rian looked at her quizzically. She didn’t sound smug, and yet there was something in her voice that made him wary. But the arch of her brow as he hesitated made him think perhaps he was being overly suspicious. He was tired and possibly seeing things that were not there.
“To fate,” he said, raising his glass and swallowing the liquid. It slid down the back of his throat smoothly but came with an unexpected bite he didn’t recall any brandy, French or otherwise, having. Heat flared down his sternum before exploding in a ball of fire in his belly. He staggered back a step.
“Oh dear, Rian, I should have warned you. This has a particular potency with a kick like a horse.” Setting down her glass, Isabel quickly took his arm, managing to get him to the bed just as his legs gave out.
“Isabel…what…the…hell…” It was all he could manage as the room started to spin and he spiraled down into unconsciousness.
Picking up her own glass, Isabel sipped the contents delicately before addressing the now insensible figure sprawled face down across the bed. “I suppose I should have mentioned the ‘kick’ was a little something I made sure was in your glass alone.”
With a practiced hand she began to undress him. She savored each piece of clothing she removed as if she was unwrapping a treasured gift, though moving an inert body, especially one as large as Rian’s, was no easy task for a small woman. It took more than a little effort on Isabel’s part, but determination provided the strength she needed.
“Don’t worry, darling, the apothecary assured me when you wake in the morning you’ll have a hazy recollection at best, if you remember anything at all,” Isabel gasped as she rolled Rian onto his back.
Now she stripped off her own clothes, making sure each article was deliberately placed in such a way the ‘spontaneous’ abandonment would be seen at once by anyone entering the room. To a particular set of eyes the effect would be devastating, although how she would lure Catherine to Rian’s room was a problem Isabel hadn’t quite solved. Yet. But that was something to deal with later. Right now she had another, more pressing matter to attend to.
Unpinning her hair from its elaborate coiffure, Isabel carefully ran her fingers through the thick locks until she was satisfied with the tousled appearance. She climbed on the bed, and smoothed her hands over Rian’s torso, feeling the firm muscles in his chest and arms before letting her fingers drift across his taut belly. With a sigh she followed the line of dark hair that ran from his navel down to the thick nest below, and then she reached down and stroked the heavy length of him. Feeling the flesh begin to stiffen beneath her practiced hand, Isabel smiled wickedly.
The apothecary had been worth every coin he demanded, but it was unfortunate this particular potion would work one time only. Rian had never left her bed after satisfying her only once. Still, when he awoke in the morning and saw her lying beside him, she was certain she could convince him to provide a repeat performance.
* * * *
Rian knew he was dreaming.
A part of his brain simply shut down and told him to stop trying to fight what was happening because it was only a dream. It was a highly erotic and very arousing dream, but that’s all it was.
All it could be.
He couldn’t have protested even if he wanted to. His limbs felt heavy, unable to move. Even his eyelids refused to obey his command to open.
Why do you want to open your eyes? You’re sleeping.
Without hesitation he surrendered to the physical demands of his body and let the sensations he was feeling guide him. Heat sparked in his groin, and he felt himself getting harder as the blaze fanned out across his belly and down his thighs. He moaned softly and ran his tongue over parched lips.
It’s only a dream.
The cool sheet slid over his skin, caressing his legs, his buttocks, his shoulders, only—when had he taken off his clothes? He didn’t remember removing them, but there was no mistake about it. He was naked.
The hand around his cock applied a firm pressure, slow and rhythmic, moving up and down the length. A tunnel of fingers progressing with a surety that came from experience, before giving way to the smooth heat of a palm.
Ah, but whose palm? Whose hand?
He tried to reach out and offer encouragement, but his arms were leaden, and lay unresponsive by his side.
It’s only a dream.
The phantom hand became insistent, and more demanding. Other fingers stroked the inside of his thigh before moving to the outside of his leg. A nail raked across his hip bone, continuing to score a path along his lower belly. His muscles began to quiver and jump with each sensation as the fingers gently teased the thick curly hair. He moaned again and tried to move his legs, but like his arms, they would not obey his command. Don’t fight it, his brain told him. Enjoy, it’s only a dream…
He suddenly jolted as warm wetness enclosed his throbbing organ and he felt the delicate scrape of teeth over engorged flesh. A tongue licked lazily up and down the length of him, and a hand cupped his balls, squeezing gently to heighten his desire.
Whose hand? Whose mouth?
The tempo of his breathing changed, coming more rapidly with each new sensation as his seducer brought him closer to his release. Lips sucked along his shaft and the tip of a tongue toyed with the dimple in the head of his cock. And then he felt the warmth of a mouth again. The delicate scrape of teeth, not to hurt but to arouse, as the sucking pull threatened to wring him dry.
It’s only a dream.
There came a certain measure of relief at the feel of full breasts with hard, swollen nipples, pillowing against him. At least he knew his tormentor was a woman. Rian groaned. The pressure of her mouth was becoming almost unbearable and he knew that if she didn’t stop he would not be able to control himself.
Oh God, don’t stop!
Relentlessly she moved her demanding, glorious mouth up and down his swollen flesh, nipping and teasing him with her teeth, licking and sucking as she continued to cup his balls in her hand, increasing the pressure as she squeezed.
Dear God, it’s only a dream.
Rian moaned and the intensity of the sound leaving his mouth caused his fantasy lover to pause, and raise her head. His cock, suddenly shocked to be in the cooler air, bobbed in protest. He was close to his climax, so close that he bit his lower lip in an effort to prolong the sexual torture. Never before had he wanted to be gratified as much as at this moment, and never before had he wanted so badly to find a way to make the sweet agony continue. He felt the bed shift as his hips were straddled, and a wave of long hair whispered erotically across his chest as she leaned forward to pull his nipple between her teeth. Teasing and suckling, she rubbed her core up and down his shaft.
A dream, just a dream…
Rian felt the heat of her, and it only served to inflame his own need. Then, just when his agony had reached its apex, she reached down and greedily impaled herself on him. He gasped as she moved her hips, riding him with muscles that clenched and squeezed, until finally, with a cry that came from the depth of his being, he called out her name as he exploded and felt himself wash through her.
“Catherine!”
It was only a dream…wasn’t it?
Lying by Rian’s side, her breath coming in shallow gasps, jealousy twisted Isabel’s features into a mask of ugly bitterness as she realized that the sooner Catherine was returned to the loving arms of her cousin, the better.