Chapter 17

CHAPTER17

Isabella couldn’t stop staring into the mirror. Hawkins had come and gone, leaving a port for her that she had hastily drank. The glass was nearby on her bureau, taunting her with its emptiness. Her lady’s maid had also left after helping her to change into her night rail.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror. The night rail sat delicately on her shoulders. It was gathered at her waist, then dropped just beneath her knees. She was trying her best to see something of her figure and her face, which was framed with her brown hair that fell past her shoulders in soft waves, in the candlelight.

She was nothing like Mary. Where Mary had a delicate and soft beauty, Isabella’s features were strong and a little intense at times. She was tall too, compared to Mary’s slight and delicate figure. Isabella’s height, coupled with her curves, meant she took up most of the mirror in a way she despised.

“Mary could tempt him for a night, but I cannot, can I?” Isabella realized sadly. For all the tension between them, and despite his teasing that afternoon about being willing to reconsider breaking their vow not to share a night together, it was all talk. With Mary, he could spend a night, but not with Isabella. “Good Lord, why do I wish him to?”

Sighing, she stepped away from the mirror and retreated across the room. Sitting down heavily on the bed, she flung herself back and stared at the canopy above.

I wish I could turn back time and return to this afternoon. If only this evening had never happened.

Yet, it had happened. Every time Isabella closed her eyes, all she saw was beautiful Mary leaning towards Henry and laying her hand over his.

Suddenly, a sharp sudden knock sounded at her bedchamber door. Isabella sat up, startled by the sound.

“Bella?” Henry’s voice came from the other side, and he knocked again. “I don’t believe you have fallen asleep that fast, not after our argument.”

“You overestimate your effect on me,” she called back.

“Oh, yes, you sound fast asleep!” he called with sarcasm before softening his voice. “Please, open the door. We must talk.”

She considered leaving him out there for a minute. After all, she had been forced to witness his intimacy with Mary all night. There seemed to be something fair about leaving him stewing out in the corridor.

“Bella!” he called again. “I’ll end up waking the whole house if I keep calling to you in this way.”

“It’s practically a castle, you’d have to knock very hard for that.” At her words, he knocked so hard just once that she leapt to her feet and ran to the door. She flung it open, staring at him. “So peaceful,” she said wryly.

Henry stomped past her into the room. He seemed agitated. His tailcoat was missing, and his dark brown hair was ruffled from where he had been running his hand through it in frustration.

“Yes, do come in,” Isabella said sardonically and shut the door behind him. “Why are you here, Henry?”

“I sent Mary home.”

He stopped in the middle of the room and turned to face her. He folded his arms, which outlined his sinews and muscles, for he’d pushed his sleeves up to his elbows. Isabella purposefully looked away from the exposed skin. She was too upset to be drawn in by her attraction towards him now.

“Why? I would have thought she would offer to spend the night with you.”

“I sent her home,” Henry reiterated. “Mary is not my mistress.”

“Very well.”

Isabella had to believe it. Henry had confessed they’d shared one night together. She supposed he could have even denied that if he’d wished to pull the wool over her eyes. She walked past him and sat on the chaise longue near her window, wishing to put some distance between the two of them.

“You came to tell me that?”

“Yes, and to ask you something.” Henry turned to face her, following her with his eyes. “How come you minded?”

“I beg your pardon?” She stiffened on the chaise longue, and the corner of his lips flickered into a small smirk.

“Was it jealousy?”

“I’m not jealous of Mary.”

“No? Then why would it matter?” Henry walked towards her. “Say for a second Mary was my mistress—”

“I don’t have to hear this.”

Isabella leaned back on the chaise longue away from him as he bent down over her. When he placed his hand on the backrest of the seat, she stilled, aware of how close they had become.

“This is hypothetical,” he said, his brow raised high. “If she were my mistress, why should it matter to you? You didn’t want to marry me, did you? Never. You looked at me at our wedding ceremony as if I were a demon.”

“I never said that.”

Isabella couldn’t tell him the truth, that deep down there was a part of her that had always been attracted to him. That same part had been gutted when he had not remembered her.

“Then why would you care if I had a mistress, Bella?” he asked, moving even closer to her.

“I don’t.”

“Then, why were you angry?”

“Because I do not have to have it flaunted in front of me.” She moved to her knees. With his hand still on the backrest of the chaise longue, the movement brought them very close together, practically at head height with one another. “Do you think that’s kind? To flaunt a mistress in front of me?”

“I wouldn’t do that,” he said darkly. “Though I think you are jealous.”

“I’m not!”

“Why deny it?” he asked, moving his head close to hers. She breathed heavily, both furious at him and just wanting to kiss him. It was an insane feeling, one she couldn’t handle nor make sense of. “If you’re jealous, then tell me, for God’s sake, Bella.”

“Why?”

“Because then I’d happily abandon my vow not to bed you and show you what real passion is,” he said in a deep voice. “Is that what you want? Hmm?”

“Enough of this.” Her voice matched his firmly. She placed her hands on his chest, intending to push him away, but he didn’t move, and she didn’t truly push hard enough to shove him away from her. “I am not jealous.”

“Then I don’t affect you at all? All the tension between us, that moment this afternoon, it didn’t affect you?” He spoke fast and bent towards her. “When I did this, it did nothing?” He placed his lips on her neck and kissed her.

She gasped at that touch.

“Nothing,” she murmured, her voice losing some of its strength as her body began to yield to him.

“What if I did this?” He kissed her again on the neck but made it something bolder.

He nipped her neck playfully, then soothed it with his tongue. It was such an intimate kiss that Isabella felt her insides squirm, longing for more.

“N—Nothing,” she stammered, her voice even quieter than before.

“What if I did this instead?” He lifted his head enough to find her lips with his own. The kiss was sudden, so bold and firm that Isabella responded with equal fervor.

Her hands curled around the edges of his waistcoat, pulling him towards her. Their kiss started as a press of lips together, before he nipped her lower lip and pushed her lips wider apart. Isabella gasped into the kiss, allowing him to take her tongue with his own. He explored her, as if their tongues took part in some cotillion at an assembly, dancing together.

He pulled back from her sharply. The move was so abrupt that she was left breathless, leaning away from him against the backrest of the chaise longue.

“Nothing?” he whispered. “No effect at all?”

“Nothing,” she lied, though it was plain as day she was affected. Her cheeks were blushing red, and her body quivered, with her chest heaving up and down.

“Perhaps I should test you then, to see how much I don’t affect you at all.” He took hold of her waist and pulled her towards him so she was flush against his chest. “Tell me to stop at any time.”

When he kissed her again, she had no desire to say stop. She just wished to know what else he could do to her, just how badly he could drive her mad with these tempting touches.

He lowered her down to the chaise longue so their bodies were pressed together. As he kissed her, he rested his weight on his forearm as his other hand went wandering, running his fingers over her night rail.

Isabella arched into his touch, finding it impossible to stay back from him. As his hand lowered from her neck and cupped her breast through the material of her night rail, she raised one of her legs, needing to be closer to him. His reaction was sudden. He released her breast and went for that leg. Taking hold of her knee, he lifted it high, past his hip, so her body was open to him on one side.

“No reaction?” he murmured, pulling back from her with a smile on his lips. “Hmm, I beg to differ.”

“Don’t stop, you fool,” she muttered, prompting him to laugh.

He kissed her again, but he only met her lips briefly, before he pressed more kisses on her neck.

When he stayed there for a while, nipping her repeatedly, she arched into his touch. The entire time he kissed her, he lifted her knee higher so that her leg was practically wrapped around his hip, then he shifted his hips against her own. Rocking their bodies together, she gasped aloud, struck by the sensation he elicited from her. Wetness began to pool between her legs.

This is what the maids talked about in back corridors. This excitement…

She longed to know all of Henry.

“There.” Henry lifted himself from her neck. “Marked.”

“Marked?” she repeated in surprise. Lifting her hand, she touched the now tingling spot on her neck. “What did you do?”

“Perhaps I was tempted to make sure it was known you’re my wife, Bella.”

“People already know that!” she insisted.

When he kissed her again, she lost all wish to argue. That spot was still tingling pleasantly, and she had no wish to stop what they were doing.

As Henry rested his body between her legs, he shifted his weight to his other arm and reached for her other knee, lifting it by his hip too.

“Remember, you can tell me to stop,” he whispered between their kisses.

“I don’t hear that word on my lips,” she said as he parted from her, raising himself up on his hands.

He smiled mischievously before he reached down and took hold of the hem of her night rail, lifting it around her hips.

Isabella held her breath, feeling a sudden chill across her hips and core. Any embarrassment she might have felt at being revealed to Henry soon disappeared as he touched her. His fingers began trailing paths across her thighs and up to her hips. He gripped her firmly across one hip, holding her in place, then his other hand went exploring between her legs.

“What happens now?” she asked, her voice deeper than she had ever heard before.

“Remember what I said to you?” he murmured, leaning towards her. “Of a man being there to only pleasure a woman?”

“I remember.”

“This is what I meant.”

He pressed his fingers to her core.

The pleasure was sudden. It may have been a fleeting touch, but it elicited such a thrill that Isabella panted. She arched her back on the chaise longue as he plunged his fingers inside of her. Quickly, that gentleness faded away. He pleasured her strongly, repeatedly moving his fingers back and forth.

When her hips began to rock, trying to meet each one of his thrusts, he released her hip with his other hand. He moved upwards, bending over and kissing her as he continued to slide his fingers in and out of her core.

With her legs shaking around his hips, Isabella indulged in the feeling that was engulfing her body. She supposed it was a mimic of the feeling that would take over when she completely shared herself with Henry. His hand showed what his length would be doing, and she adored the feeling. It was so intimate to know him this well and to be known by him. What struck her the most was the vigorousness with which he moved.

Between his kisses, he panted, as if he couldn’t do this enough to satisfy his own needs. She quivered around him, and that sensation had him chuckling as he raised himself up.

“Wish to know something more?” he whispered.

“There’s more?”

He didn’t wait for her answer. When she didn’t stop him, it was apparently all he needed.

His hand left her, and she whimpered at the loss of his touch, then he flicked the hem of her night rail up higher.

“This needs to come off,” he said playfully, pulling at the piece of cloth until he tugged it over her head.

Isabella had to lift herself to allow him to remove it completely. By the time she could see again, having dropped the white cloth to the floor beside her, Henry had changed their position.

He’d pulling himself back across the chaise longue and was kneeling on the very edge, bending down towards her. She went to close her legs, confused at his new position, but he took one of her knees and pushed it wide again.

“Stay there.” He was mischievous in his orders.

Any other time, Isabella might have poked fun at his demanding ways, but she was too caught up in the passion and curiosity of what would happen next to possibly think of teasing him now.

He lowered his head towards her core. When his lips found her center, Isabella gripped the chaise longue beneath her. Her knuckles turned white with the sheer intensity of her grip. He began to pleasure her as he had done before, but this time, it was his tongue mimicking what their bodies could do.

The intimate kisses to her core worked her into such a frenzy that her head jerked back and forth on the seat. Unable to settle, she quivered, her hands looking for other things to hold onto. At one point, she reached down and threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him to her, then she moved her grip back to the seat, needing it to arch her back off the chair.

Her pleasure became something new. She rather imagined it was like being struck by some wave from the ocean. It grew and grew until the thrill overcame her suddenly. Short unintelligible moans escaped her lips as she panted, her head jerking back and forth. She felt her center tighten with her release. At all times, Henry continued to pleasure her, kissing her in the most intimate way with one hand cupped under her rear and the other at her knee, holding her open to him.

As he did move back from her, returning to his knees, Isabella could say nothing. She was too busy trying to catch her breath, watching as Henry moved over her and kneeled between her legs.

“Unaffected by me?” he asked, his lips stretching into a smile. “I’m glad that’s not true, Bella.” He moved his lips to hers, kissing her. She could taste herself on his lips before he pulled back. “Now that was something special.”

What does he mean by that?

Yet, he didn’t explain himself. He just continued to kiss her, moving his lips against hers as her body came down from her high. Eventually, he pulled himself off her and took her hand, tugging her to her feet. She wobbled on her feet, slightly dizzy after what he had done to her body. He chuckled and wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her upright.

“Shall we get some sleep?” he whispered.

“You mean… you’re going to stay here for the night?” she asked, walking slowly towards the bed with him behind her.

“If you do not want me to go away, that is.”

“Tempting,” she teased him. “Stay.”

“Thank God!” He kissed the side of her neck before releasing her and urging her into the bed.

Isabella pulled back the covers and clambered in, before turning to look at him.

Henry unbuttoned his waistcoat and flung it over the nearest chair, then turned his back to pull his shirt over his head and kick off his hessian boots. Isabella’s eyes traced the muscles in his back, thinking of running her fingers over them.

She had thought he would want something more from her, perhaps his own release and pleasure, but he made no such request. Instead, he blew out the nearest candle and climbed into her bed.

They said nothing but somehow ended up entangled. It felt natural to touch him, for Isabella to reach out and run her fingers over his chest. He growled in a low voice at that touch before pulling her against him. They ended up with him on his back and his arm across her waist, with her head resting on his shoulder and one of her hands softly on his chest.

Soon, his breathing levelled out, and she heard him fall asleep, but she could not find peace so easily. Her mind was worked up with everything that had just happened.

What did any of that truly mean?