Chapter 11

CHAPTER11

The impact of the water stung. Isabella floated under the water for a minute, watching as the horse’s hooves moved away from her and bubbles surrounded her. All at once, she regained her senses. Finding the riverbed beneath her feet, she drove her boots into the silt and pushed herself upwards.

It was deep enough that she was up to her chest in the water. Unable to stay still, for it was so slippery underfoot, she kept wobbling from side to side.

Sudden laughter escaped her lips. Yes, the impact may have hurt, but it had been a long time since she had fallen off a horse. There was something so entertaining about the idea of riding so free and falling that she couldn’t resist it. More than once, her father had told her she was too wild when she rode. He had insisted she should be practicing her pianoforte, something she had always refused to do.

Henry dismounted his horse and stood gawking at her, his mouth wide open.

“You’re laughing? Good Lord! Are you hurt? Did you hit your head?” He shrugged off his jacket fast and jumped into the water, creating more splashes.

“Ha! Do you mean have I lost my mind?” Isabella wobbled on her feet and fell backwards again. “Ah!” She dropped under the water but managed to recover herself, spitting out some of the river foam as she stood once again. “Look at me,” she said between bouts of laughter, turning to face Henry. “Do I look like a duchess now?”

The flicker of a smile appeared on his lips as he shook his head.

“This is really not the response I was expecting.” He began to chuckle, striding towards her through the water. “I thought you had injured yourself.”

“It would take more than that.” She tried to step back, aware he was coming close, but her boot stepped on something slippery. “Was that a fish? An eel? Ah!” She fell backwards again.

Any laughter that might have been tempted to escape halted under the water.

Before she could push herself upwards again, a pair of hands found her. Henry took hold of her waist firmly and tugged her upwards, making her stand.

“Puh!” She spat out some of the water to her side, staggering to stand, when she realized Henry had still not let go of her. “I do not need your help, Henry!”

“No? All right then.” He released her, and she abruptly fell again. “Wait.” Before she could slip under the water, he caught her.

“Cruel man,” she muttered, prompting him to laugh.

“You said you didn’t want help. I thought you wanted me to release you.”

“You are being difficult on purpose.”

She tapped him round the arm in reprimand, only to find he laughed again. Suddenly, it was easy to laugh with him, as if they had done it hundreds of times before.

“Put your feet down so you stop falling over.” His hands slipped a little, moving down to the curve of her hips.

“They are down. The ground is just slippery.”

Isabella planted her feet wide apart, hoping it would help. When she became settled, her gaze shot down to her clothes. Her riding habit was plastered to her, leaving little to the imagination of just how her corset hugged her figure. Henry’s palms were firmly on the curve of her hips, his fingers eliciting an excitement that shot somewhere deep between her legs.

“You’re holding on rather tight.”

“You might fall again,” Henry said with a mischievous smile. “As amusing as it is to be the one to pull you out, I might get curses thrown at my head if I release you.”

“You are holding my hips, Henry.”

“I had noticed, Bella.” His sarcastic reply had her tapping him round the arm in reprimand once more, a little firmer this time. He merely laughed and tugged her forwards, using her hips to direct her towards the riverbank. “Shall we get you out of here? Before I’m tempted to move my hands.”

“Move them? Where?” she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“Oh, do not tempt me to answer that question.”

He turned her around so she was facing the riverbank and he was standing behind her, with his hands still on her hips. Then, he paused.

“I thought you were going to help me out?” she asked.

“I’m just enjoying the moment.”

“Henry!” she chided through laughter, and he chuckled too.

“Ah, it’s too easy to tease you,” he whispered in her ear.

That abruptly ended her laughter and had a shiver running up her spine. She wondered what more he would tease her about if he had simply not put in this silly rule not to bed her.

Why won’t he bed me, anyway? What is so wrong with the idea?

He hoisted her onto the bank with his hands on her hips, lifting her as if she weighed nothing, despite her height. The firmness of his grip had her imagining things, wondering what it would be like if he held her hips when she was bare.

Stop it, you fool.

He released her, and she stumbled away on the riverbank, increasing the distance between them.

“Now, I don’t know who won that race.” Henry stepped up and looked down at his sodden trousers. “I think it may have been me.”

“You?” Isabella turned to face him with her hands on her hips. “I reached here at the same point as you.”

“Yes, but I did cross the finish line.” He smirked as he pointed at the river. “Or should we adjust the rules retrospectively to the aim being to fall into the river?”

“Oh! Cruel indeed.” She stepped towards him and thrust a finger against his chest accusingly. “You did not mention the river was so nearby. I was not prepared for it, or I could have made the mare jump.”

“Or…” He bent over her, lowering his voice. “You could concede I won.”

“Never,” she murmured with a smile.

“Would it be so bad? Losing to me?” he asked as her smile faltered.

She looked up, wondering exactly what he meant by those words. His lips hovered over hers, just as they had done outside of her chamber a couple of nights before.

“What does that entail, exactly?” she whispered, thinking of the short distance between them. He could have easily closed it if he wished to, yet he hovered there, teasing her.

“Many things,” he murmured, plainly talking about other things than their race with the horses. “How much do you know of what a man and woman do, Bella?”

“Enough.”

“Enough? That is not a good answer.”

He leaned closer to her, his breath tickling her ear. His lips traced a path up her neck. She bent her head back, so intoxicated at his proximity, and she wondered if he would kiss her, but his lips never quite found her skin firmly enough.

“Do you know what happens when a man pleasures a woman, Isabella?”

“I know what happens when they share their bodies completely.”

“No, Bella.” His voice grew huskier. “I meant when a man is there purely to see a woman pleasured.”

His words confused her. She blinked, uncertain of what to say. Henry moved his face in front of hers and smiled, his mischief so plain she was tongue-tied.

“Ah, I see you do not. If only I could introduce you to it. I would feel as if I had won then.”

Why don’t you show me, Henry?

The words nearly escaped Isabella’s lips. She was so tempted to push him further. He was clearly attracted by the idea of being with her, as she was with him, so why had he made this silly rule between them? It hardly made sense!

“Your Grace? Your Grace?” A boy’s voice approached them.

Henry released her, backing up so suddenly that Isabella tottered on her feet. She reached towards the grey mare, who had pulled herself out of the river, and clutched the reins, keeping herself standing.

The stable boy, Thomas, and the stable master were running towards them.

“We saw the accident,” Thomas hastened to say. “Is everything well?”

“Your Grace.” The stable master moved to Isabella’s side. “Are you hurt? Is there anything you need?”

“That is kind of you, but I am well, I assure you.” Isabella was truly touched by their kindness.

“The horse may be a little spooked, but nothing more, I think,” Henry said with ease, as if they hadn’t just been talking about the most intimate things that could happen between a man and a woman.

How can he be so calm?

“You are good to come and check on us both.”

Henry clapped Thomas on the shoulder good-naturedly. It struck her the way both Thomas and the stable master looked at him with wide smiles.

They do not just respect him, but they like him too, very much.

She thought of the way her family’s staff stared at her father. They always looked at him with suspicion and fear.

Henry is nothing like him though, isn’t he? They both may have earned the title ‘rake’ in their time, but they’re different men.

“Perhaps we’ve had enough riding for one day.”

Henry took the reins of his horse and began to walk in the direction of the stable. The stable master collected the reins of the mare and led her back, allowing Isabella to hurry behind.

Rake.

The moment the word had occurred to her, she’d been unsettled. A few minutes ago, she had been wondering what it would be like to give herself completely to Henry. Now, she thought herself a fool. Had she forgotten he was a rake? She was hardly ignorant of the fact he’d declared he would have mistresses!

I’d be opening myself up to heartbreak.

Yet, as she waited for them to put the horses away, she hovered in the stable, in no hurry to leave Henry behind and return to the house. As she watched him, she both disliked him and liked him very much. She was attracted to him. She wanted to know what a kiss would be like, yet she also feared what power he had over her.

I don’t know what to think of him anymore.

When he appeared beside her, done with the horses, they walked back towards the house together. Neither of them said anything, though they both tried to shake off excess water thanks to their dip in the river. Isabella took down her updo as she walked and squeezed the water out of her hair. It seemed to capture Henry’s attention, for he hovered on the front step of the house, watching her, before he gestured for her to go inside.

Resting her hair on her shoulder, Isabella nodded her thanks and walked inside.

What does all this silence mean?

Henry cleared his throat as they both reached the bottom of the stairs together.

“For a minute, it was like our first night again, wasn’t it?” he asked, his voice soft.

“What do you mean?” Isabella looked at him as they climbed a few of the steps.

“The flirtation.”

“Before you put a ban on anything more intimate happening between us?”

“Ah, so you do remember,” he teased her, though he did not smile. “Very much like the first night.”

Isabella froze on the stairs, not quite following him. Her halt had him turning back to face her, a few steps up.

“It wasn’t the first night we met.”

She felt a temptation to tell him the truth. She had dreamt of that night so many times over the last few years. The fact that he’d never spoken about it and couldn’t even remember her gutted her.

Maybe all these touches and flirtations are the work of a rake, and he means nothing more by them at all. He could bed me in the end and then return to his mistresses.

“You mean when you spilled a drink on me?” Henry asked, quirking an eyebrow as he put his hands in his damp pockets. He realized what he’d done a second later and pulled his hands back out.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” she said quietly, wondering if he would ever remember. “Never mind.”

Taking hold of her damp skirt, she hitched it a little higher so she could walk up the stairs freely. Suddenly, he caught her elbow as she was about to move past him.

“You mean at your debut when we danced.” The sudden words had her freezing. Darting her gaze towards him, her hair flicked around her shoulder. “Ah, you thought I had forgotten, hadn’t you?”

“You did forget. You did.” Her eyes were wide. “You had no idea who I was when we met in the garden.” She moved one step up so his hand dropped from her elbow. It made her taller than him. “You couldn’t recognize me amongst the other ladies, the way you could not recognize a star from another.”

“Oh, I could.” He took a step up himself so he was above her head height once again. “It may have just taken a while for the memory to stir.”

“To stir!” she repeated in amazement, taking another step up.

“Is this a competition?” he asked, pointing towards the stairs and matching her movement. “In the end, you’ll run out of steps, and I’ll win.”

“You never said.” She ignored his words and thought only of that first night. “You pretended you did not know me at all.”

“As I said, it took a while for the memory to stir,” he repeated in a rush. “I remember that night. I recall the dance.” His smile was suddenly broad. “I seemed to think at the time you rather liked me.”

“Well, in our second meeting, you made it abundantly clear what you thought of me. It was not quite the look of a lover, was it that night I spilled my drink on you?” she asked with thick sarcasm, and his smile fell. “You glared at me as if you despised my very being,” she mumbled.

“Bella—”

“Your Grace?”

Mrs. Walters’ voice had them jumping away from one another. Isabella backed up against the banister, uncertain what emotion raged inside her more. Was it anger at what had passed between them in the past? Or attraction now?

“Your Grace.” Mrs. Walters hurried up the stairs in Isabella’s direction, holding onto a letter. “Goodness, what has happened?” she asked, gesturing towards Isabella’s gown.

“An accident.” Isabella waved the issue away.

“Well, a letter arrived whilst you were out. I thought you should see it at once.”

Isabella took the letter and recognized her sister’s handwriting on the face of the envelope. She tore open the letter, then her eyes danced over her sister’s words, which had been written in clear haste.

Dear Sister,

Pray, let me call on you later today. Something has happened that I must speak to you about! It seems our father is determined to do what he can to repay his debts. I had no idea they amounted to so much, but he plans to use Susan and I to sort out his situation.

I must speak to you.

With love,

Irene.