Chapter 10

AND SHE WAS QUITE resolved in her decision until Isaac walked in.

"We can still be friends," he said abruptly.

"Well, yes. I suppose so." Friends? He wanted to be friends? That was not going to work for her.

"Starting now."

"All right…"

"There's no need for things to become awkward. Let's just talk, like we always have."

It was Christmas Eve. All of her brothers were home. The family was magically reunited, so she should be visiting with them. Enjoying herself. That's what she had wanted. Yet, her desires had changed. Now she wanted this time alone with Isaac that he was requesting. Albeit awkwardly.

Unsure of how to navigate this rather assertive demand for conversation, Hope opened the doors of conversation as wide as she dared.

"What's been on your mind lately?"

"I'm so glad you asked." And then he plopped down beside her. "I've been meaning to talk to you, what with the note and the kidnapping and all, it's been a tad difficult to find time."

She couldn't stop a half smile from slipping out. "So you have lots on your mind then?"

"Other than the kiss, the kidnapping, and the refused marriage proposal?" He flashed a smile at her. "Yes, I do."

And it almost felt like old times as he told her about his plans to prevent future threatening notes. He intended to buy up the factories exploiting children and work more on improving child labor laws. His plan was to attack the problem from all angles. He would cut the root of the problem by fixing laws. He would curb the current damage by taking over the factories himself (as many as he could, that is). And he would continue to house orphaned and exploited children with the Ashbournes in their orphanage. Most beautiful of all, it wasn't just about protecting Hope, it was about making the world a better place.

"Is that all that's been on your mind?" She said it jokingly, not expecting his reply.

"No, that's not all. I also intend to teach you to wield a weapon of some kind. Though I'm not sure yet which is best. We'll probably start with a small knife."

"Oh, I could never stab someone."

"Hope, your life might depend on it."

"Yes, I know. I might be able to…but, actually—oh, it sounds silly. Never mind."

"Tell me."

"I was thinking of something less…aggressive. I was planning to discuss some ideas with Bridget and Chloe. Maybe even Cheyenne, if I get to see her at this house party. I've heard she dabbles in apothecarial pursuits. We might be able to work together to design a device that could spray something like perfume in a man's face. Then he would be temporarily blinded. I had the idea after I inadvertently put my perfume-laced fingers in my own eye."

Isaac stared at her open mouthed.

"I know it's silly. I don't know if I could stab someone, but I could spray them—"

"You're brilliant," he blurted out. "Your heart is so pure, Hope."

His eyes declared his admiration. And that was all she could ask for.

"Thank you, Isaac."

He seemed sheepish at the intimacy that was building, but she wasn't going to shy away from it. "And thank you for saving me. For protecting me. And taking care of me."

"I'm a man. It's what I do."

She wasn't sure how to reply to his pride. But…if they were to be friends, shouldn't she be truthful with him?

"I'm a woman. It's what I do, as well. Don't scoff at me, Isaac. I saved you, too. I protected you and took care of you, didn't I?"

"Well, but—"

"There's not but. You were sick. I nursed you back to health. And I'd do it again if I had to." And she wanted to. She wanted to be the one to take care of him. But she wanted him to want her to do it. Oooooh, it was too much wanting.

"Yes. You're right."

"We took care of each other when we needed it. That's what—what friends do."

At those words, he had the most peculiar look cross his face. As if he had never considered that caretaking could be mutual.

And she knew what he was thinking. He was worried he would become like his uncle if he accepted her care, so she did what she thought she would never do. She made her move.

"Being cared for doesn't make you weak. Asking and receiving help doesn"t make you manipulative. You are not your uncle. You'll never be him."

His brows furrowed.

"What did Astrid say to you when she visited earlier?"

The abrupt change in conversation rattled her for a second, but she quickly masked a cavalier attitude. "She just…girl stuff…you know?"

"I don't know, actually. What did she say about me? Did you tell her you refused my proposal?"

"More or less…she knows."

"And?"

She got the strange feeling that he was going to persist until she told him at least some of what Astrid said. "She said you'll never ask for help, but that it's what you need." At his silence, she continued. "She said…um…that you need me." Hope tried to laugh off the heaviness of what she had just said.

Isaac grew serious. The silence expanded, engulfing them.

Then he stood and exited the room.

Well, that's that. Friends to a point. Perhaps that was too much truth between friends.

But within minutes, Isaac returned wielding a razor.

To mimic Isaac's phrase, Hope asked, "What the devil?"

"You're going to shave me."

"What? Me? Now?"

"Yes, now. It's the perfect time."

"Please explain."

"I'm not growing a beard. For so many reasons, but the most important reason is that I don't want to forget what happened in my room. And I certainly don't want you to forget it. I want you to see my face. I want us to remember. So this is me asking you for help. In a small way, I know. I could do this myself, but I don't want to. I get it now." He ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm not him. I can let someone in. But I don't want just someone. I want you. It's always been you. So I'm asking you now. I want you to help me. I just want you."

"You want me?"

He looked into her eyes with that penetrating gaze that read her soul. "Yes."

Hope pressed a finger into his chest. "Sit down."

"What?"

"Sit. Down." She reached for the razor in his hand as he plunked himself down into the chair by the mirror.

It was one of the most audacious things she had ever done (beside tying him to a bedpost), but she lathered soap on his face and then straddled his thighs.

Slowly, she swept the razor over his cheeks. Along his jaw. Up his throat. It took concentration to steady her hand amidst the heavy pulsing of her core.

She could feel the hard ridge of his arousal against her slit. The fabric only added to the friction when she moved over him.

As she glided the razor down his cheek and rinsed it, he grabbed her hand. "Enough."

"I'm almost finished, Isaac. Patience."

He grunted as he released the grip he had on her wrist.

Two more strokes. Just as she was about to rest the razor on the table, he scooped her into his arms and stood up.

"Isaac, where are you taking me?" she asked playfully, as if she didn't know his intentions.

"Don't think for a second that our friendship can withstand that kind of heat, my love."

My love?The words echoed in her head. "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean? What do you mean by sitting on me like that? I'm only a man, Hope. A man foolish enough to think that friendship, honor, and love are enough to make a marriage work. Am I wrong?"

She shook her head. "Love?"

"Yes. Love. Why do you think I'm here? I can't stay away from you and your heart. If I have to settle for friendship I will, but just now I felt the distinct pleasure that you want to cross the boundaries of friendship. Am I wrong?"

She shook her head again, feeling overwhelmed. Could it be true?

"I can't believe it," she whispered.

"If we're going to make a marriage work, you have to trust me."

"I do trust you. With my heart and soul. And…with my body. You're the one for me, Isaac. I love you. I want to be your trophy."

"My trophy? No. You're not a trophy. You're not something to sit on a shelf and be admired from afar. You, your heart, your soul…are a gift to be treasured."

"I'd much rather be a gift than a trophy."

A smile cracked his face. "Good. Now can I unwrap my present?"

She nodded.

As he laid her gently on the bed, she knew she was going to love everything he was about to do to her.

A thrill danced in his eyes, and for all the eagerness she could see, she also observed the tenderness there. The protectiveness. The reckless abandon. The commitment.

"I want you, Isaac."

His lips covered her and she parted immediately to open for him. She felt herself a vessel, waiting to be filled. Waiting to be poured out.

"I'll be gentle," he murmured in her ear.

"Just be you, Isaac. I want you. Love me."

He was yanking her dress off of her then, and she fumbled with his buttons. Top and bottom. She was hungry. So hungry for the man who was choosing her over all other women. Hungry for the man who treasured her. Hungry and aching.

She was anticipating the feel of his arousal on her fingers as she trailed them down his torso. When she reached his cock, hard as granite, she gripped it. Never wanting to let him go. He groaned into her mouth, urging her on.

His hand clasped around hers, showing her how to move. And then his thumb was on her nub in soft circles.

She arched into him, and he slid a finger in between her silken folds. She gasped at the twinge of pain mixed with layers of pleasure. A second finger was added, she wriggled to accommodate him.

She could feel his fingers moving against her inner wall. Rubbing. Building. Pleasuring.

He was the only one she could ever trust to take her here. His lips were on her throat, where he had first bit her only a couple of days ago. This time he clamped down on her and sucked. Sucking. Rubbing. Moaning. He tipped her vessel, and she poured out on his hand.

"God, you're incredible, Hope."

Her body was limp. Sated. Explored. Treasured.

Her hand was still gripping his cock. "I want you," she murmured again.

"You shall have me. Now and always."

He placed his head at her notch and eased himself into her wetness. "Isaac," she moaned.

"Yes, say my name, Hope. You're mine. I'm yours."

"I want all of you," she whimpered.

He pushed in all the way to the hilt. "Uhhh… Hope. Only you. You are my home."

She could feel him stuffing her full. Every inch of her clenched around him.

"You're going to squeeze me dry, my love." He pulled out and pumped back into her.

She thought she had gone as far as she could go with him, but his movements took her further. Took her beyond any pleasure she could ever imagine.

Calling his name, she clutched his shoulders. Tears pricked her eyes and poured down her cheeks. "I love you."

"I love you, too." He groaned the words as they came together.

The weight of him upon her was a shield. A protection she craved and trusted. Yet she knew he was a man that she would pour out her soul for. And finally she knew that he would treasure her for it.

Even a villain deserves a happy ending. Read Astrid"s story next to find out how she redeems herself in A Villain for a Duke.