Chapter 16

After fetching the gig from the stables, Isaac drove around to pick Tamsin up at the front of the house. She was waiting for him in an ivory day dress sprigged with flowers and wore a grass-green spencer buttoned up to the base of her throat. Her bonnet had a matching ivory ribbon that was tied beneath her jaw on the left side. She looked beautiful, but despite her fetching costume, Isaac would be hard-pressed not to think of her in just the thin night rail she'd worn last night.

When he'd awakened just after dawn, he'd watched her sleep for countless minutes. She'd even looked cheerful in repose, the corners of her lips turned up slightly as if she were dreaming of her very favorite things. Perhaps she had been.

It had taken every bit of self-control Isaac possessed to leave the bed without touching her. Even the temptation to press a simple kiss to her forehead was almost impossible to resist.

Still, he'd forced himself away, and now he would spend the afternoon on the edge of desire and desperation. It would not be a comfortable place to be.

Tamsin carried a basket, and Isaac jumped down to take it from her and help her into the gig. She put her hand in his, and though they wore gloves, a jolt of heat pushed him closer to the edge on which he teetered.

"Aunt Sophia arranged a picnic lunch for us," she said. "Isn't that sweet?"

Isaac had walked back around the gig and climbed in beside her. "Very thoughtful of her." He drove them away from the house.

"She did have a bit of bad news, unfortunately. It appears the ropes on my bed will need to be replaced. They were completely frayed apart."

From wear? Isaac didn't think that bed was particularly ancient, but he wasn't sure. He'd ask his aunt, though he supposed it didn't matter. "I trust someone is working on that today?"

"Aunt Sophia is attending to the matter," Tamsin said. "Though she did say it may not be entirely repaired until tomorrow. I told her that was all right, that we could share your chamber again this evening." She sent him a happy smile as if she hadn't just delivered the worst news ever.

The worst, really?

Sleeping with Tamsin had not been a hardship. Not unless one considered his agitation today to be a problem. Isaac could push through it. Plenty of men set aside their lust. Isaac had certainly done so countless times.

This was different for some reason. Probably because Tamsin was his wife. He couldn't evade her forever.

"Do you mind?" Tamsin asked.

He looked over to see her watching him intently, little pleats gathered between her brows. He couldn't very well tell her he did. And why should he? They were only sleeping together.

"I do not," he said. He would simply work in his office until late into the night, when he could be assured that she would already be in bed asleep. Then he wouldn't see her in her alluring night clothes or have to talk to her in the intimacy of a shared bed. He'd been relieved when they'd simply gone right to sleep last night. Though, it had taken him some time to slumber—long after he'd heard her even breathing.

She relaxed against the seat and looked forward along the track they'd just turned onto. "Good."

They drove in silence for a few minutes before she pointed to the left of the track up ahead. "Is that the cottage?"

"Yes." Isaac steered onto the lane leading to the cottage.

A few moments later, he parked the gig outside the front of the sloped-roof domicile, which had a pair of dormers. Isaac walked around to help Tamsin out, then he grabbed the picnic basket.

"Our second picnic together," Tamsin said with a flash of a smile. "But this time, we're alone."

Indeed they were. Alone and rife with barely restrained lust—at least on his part.

He opened the door, and she walked past him inside. He wasn't entirely certain what to expect as he hadn't been there in some time.

It was dusty, of course, with a multitude of cobwebs and dead insects in the corners. Oliver might like to come and collect specimens, Isaac thought.

"I'd say a thorough cleaning is in order," Tamsin observed as she walked into the dining room. "This is similar to the other cottages I've seen on the estate with the staircase in the middle and a parlor to one side with the dining room and kitchen on the other. I do wonder if this has a more spacious first floor. I'll go up and look in a few minutes." She pulled a small notebook from her pocket along with a pencil and wrote some notes.

Isaac felt a foreign sense of pride watching her. "You've taken to becoming the lady of a manor with ease." He went to set the basket on the dining room table. The cottage had a great deal of furniture, much of it covered with dustcloths.

She let out a short laugh. "I can't say it is easy. There is much to remember, and I have your wonderful aunt to support me. I do take notes, especially when I am out with Seales meeting the tenants." She gave him a shy smile. "But thank you for saying that, since I was not raised to be the wife of a baron."

"Nor was I raised to be a baron," he replied, feeling guilty that he'd sent her out with Seales. He'd missed her being efficient and intelligent.

"Was that difficult?" she asked, removing her gloves and bonnet and placing them on the table near the basket. "Adjusting to inheriting Wood End, I mean."

"It was unexpected."

"I imagine it was hard having to learn all that, especially in the wake of tragedy. I do feel a little badly for relying on your aunt. I know this is difficult at times for her—being here without her husband and son. I know she's visited you, but returning to help run the household has to take her back to an earlier time when she was the lady of the manor."

Isaac nodded. He'd also felt badly. "She doesn't mind. In fact, she enjoys it—the work and feeling needed. Like you, she has maintained a level of optimism despite losing her son and husband. Those tragedies could have broken her, but they did not. It's no wonder the two of you get on so well."

"I have not suffered as much as her—or you." She regarded him as he removed his hat and set it on the table. He hesitated in taking off his gloves. The removal of clothes could continue, and that would be a problem.

She cocked her head. "I hope you won't mind my asking, but are you happy?"

It was such a straightforward question, and yet the answer felt incredibly complicated. "I am content." Happiness wasn't something he understood. He'd had fleeting happiness with Mary, but true joy had evaded him. Nor did he seek it—not like Tamsin did.

"Content is not the same thing." Her tone was playfully scolding as her eyes danced with a flirtatious mirth.

He did not want her to flirt with him. Not here. Not now. The tether on his self-control was the barest thread.

"What would make you happy?" she asked, moving to stand closer until she was right in front of him—as close as she'd been last night when they'd worn nothing but their nightclothes. She hadn't seemed to notice his erection then, and he prayed she wouldn't notice the one that was happening now.

"Wood End makes me…happy." Caring for it gave him purpose and satisfaction. Were those the same as happiness?

"What about me?" She looked up into his eyes, her expression wide open like an empty field just waiting for someone's attention.

Isaac could not look away, nor could he deny what she wanted—his attention. "We are friends," he said, sounding almost hoarse. "I am grateful for that."

She tentatively put her hand on his chest. "I look forward to when you are ready for more than that, because I am."

Invitations did not get any clearer than that.

"Tamsin, I know I told you that I wanted a marriage in name only for now, but the truth is I don't know how long that will be. I'm just not…I'm not ready to be intimate with you."

Her eyes grew huge, then she blinked. She hesitated before speaking, and when she did, it was hardly more than a whisper. "I see. Thank you for your honesty."

He hated her confusion and disappointment. "It's nothing to do with you," he said earnestly. "I am—" He inhaled sharply. "That is, I have difficulty being close to people."

"Are you a virgin?" she asked, her eyes searching his face.

"Er, no." He wasn't going to lie about that. He was already keeping enough from her—Mary and his son—because he had to. He wouldn't expose her to his shame.

He could see her mind was churning. Her gaze had drifted from his, and her brow bore deep creases.

He blew out a breath, deciding rather suddenly that she deserved a modicum of truth, if nothing else. "I told you I'd done things in the past of which I am not proud. When I first went to Oxford, I behaved very badly. I had to rein myself in. Since then, I have kept myself firmly in check."

"You've been…celibate since then?"

"In a manner of speaking. I engage in certain activities but I, ah, I pay for the service." Heat rushed up his neck, and he looked away from her. "I probably shouldn't tell you such things."

"No, you should. I appreciate hearing the truth. Will you be paying for those services now that we are wed?"

He snapped his gaze to her. "No," he replied vehemently. "I will be faithful to you."

Isaac hated that he was practically shaking. This was more of himself than he'd ever revealed, and to see her confused and uncertain reaction did not ease his distress.

Finally, she nodded. Once. Twice. Very slowly. "I want to understand. And I want to be supportive." Her gaze found his once more, and while there was still uncertainty, there was also compassion. "I can be patient. I want you to be comfortable." She gave him a tentative smile.

"Thank you," he breathed, as an astonishing relief washed over him.

Without thinking, he brushed his lips against her forehead, closing his eyes as he inhaled her intoxicating scent. Then he kissed her temple. Her skin was so soft beneath his lips.

"I have never been kissed, Isaac."

The whispered statement was a plea, and Isaac, at last, was powerless to resist. He didn't pause to think of how long it had been since he'd done this or whether he ought to, he just lowered his head and gently swept his lips over hers.

That could be the end of it, for that was a kiss. But it wasn't enough. Not for her, and definitely not for Isaac. Now that he'd barely tasted her, he was desperate for more.

Her hands moved up to his shoulders and she angled her head, pressing her lips to his. Isaac clasped her more fiercely, pulling her against him, the suppressed desire in him taking over. He kissed her again and again, using his lips against her with increasing pressure. Then he licked along her lower lip before slipping his tongue into her mouth. She opened for him, but he realized it was a surprised reaction for she pulled slightly back against his hands.

He released her and stepped back. "My apologies," he murmured.

Her hands remained on his shoulders, and she pressed them into his coat. "Do not apologize. And don't stop. I was enjoying that. Will you please continue?"

The battle inside Isaac reached a fevered pitch. His brain told him to walk away, that they needed to take things slowly. But his body urged him to kiss her again, to give her what she wanted. What they both wanted.

"Tamsin, you must understand that I have withheld myself from you because I am a terrible rogue. The things I want to do to you are not proper. They are not bright and cheerful. They are dark and erotic and driven by my absolute need to possess you. Can you comprehend that?"

Her eyes had grown wide, and her lips had parted. The tip of her tongue peeked against her lower lip. She nodded. "I understand. And I want you to possess me."

* * *

It took all Tamsin's self-control not to scream at her husband to keep kissing her. Was he hesitating because he was worried she would think him a rogue? Wanting physical intimacy with one's spouse was not roguery. It was what she wanted, what she needed. Before she could beg him—and she was quite prepared to do just that—he moved closer to her once more.

His head came down, and he kissed her again.

Tamsin's toes curled in her walking boots. Her entire body thrummed with desire as his lips molded to hers. Then his tongue glided into her mouth, which she'd been shocked to discover she liked very much. She imitated his movements, the sweep of his lips and the thrust of his tongue.

Something inside her unfurled and bloomed. It became a succession of kisses, each one more enchanting than the last.

She wanted to feel more of him, particularly where sensation was most concentrated. Her breasts felt heavy against his chest, and a persistent throb had started between her legs. She clasped his shoulders and pressed into him, desperate for more and not quite knowing what that would be.

As her hips met his, she gasped softly, for that was what she wanted—to feel him there.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked softly.

"No. I just want to feel you there." She felt the heat rise up her neck, both from shyness and the pulsing need within her. She wanted to remove her spencer. Taking her hands from him, she put them between them to unbutton the garment. "I'm a bit warm."

He watched intently as she opened the spencer and shrugged it from her shoulders. Then he helped her draw the garment down her arms and set it on the table. Wordlessly, he removed his own coat and put it with hers.

Tamsin recalled how he'd looked in his night shirt, the outline of his body barely visible through the lawn. She'd wanted so badly to touch him, to feel him. And now she could. But she wished he wasn't wearing so much.

They came back together with another kiss, his hand cupping her neck as he devoured her mouth. She tipped her head back, offering herself to him and greedily taking what he gave her. She began to understand what possession might mean, and she wanted that as much as he did.

He moved his lips to her jaw, and she shivered at the new sensation. She imagined him kissing her everywhere and her body began to tremble with an even greater need.

His hands had returned to her back, but now he slid one of them forward where he cupped her breast. It was difficult to feel his touch through her corset, but the pressure was divine. She wished she could strip all her garments away.

Suddenly, he picked her up and set her on the table, between two chairs. He set her feet on each of them, widening her legs and bracing her boots on the wooden seats. His gaze met hers with a dark, seductive promise. "Keep your legs just like that."

Unable to form words, Tamsin merely nodded. The throb between her legs grew.

"Forgive me," he said softly, lifting one hand to her bodice. "I would like to see you. I can loosen this, and it will drop down?"

"Yes." She wore a round gown, and the bodice would come down in the front. "You can untie that and tug it loose."

He found the small cord that gathered the bodice tightly around her and pulled so the fabric gapped open. Tamsin quickly unpinned the top of the bodice just below each shoulder and it fell to her waist, exposing her corset. It also tied in the front, as most of her garments did, a necessity when one did not have a ladies' maid.

"You can remove that too, if you like," she said, eager for him to do so.

"Perhaps it should be loosened just a bit." He pulled at the laces, so the corset came open, but he didn't remove it. His gaze was now fixed on her chest. His expression was rather stark, almost hungry.

He traced his finger from the hollow of her throat down to the space between her breasts. Tamsin's chest rose and fell rapidly as her pulse sped. She wasn't sure what to expect, but she wanted whatever he planned to do. Her breasts tingled, and she realized they were eager for his touch. She held her breath, waiting.

With slow, measured movements, he used his fingers to caress her, at the top of her breasts, above her garments, then tucking them into her corset. His hand cupped the underside of her breast, pushing her up and over the loosened garment. Then he did the same with the other, using his other hand until she was full revealed to him.

She glanced down at herself, her pale breasts resting on her open corset, the nipples hard and extended, as if they were reaching for him. He cupped her with both hands, gently, then with more pressure. His thumbs moved over her nipples, and she moaned softly as a new rush of sensation claimed her. The throb between her legs expanded and her hips twitched.

He closed his thumb and forefinger over her nipples, pressing on them and then gently tugging. Tamsin grabbed his upper arms and closed her eyes, her body quivering with a desperate urgency.

He kissed her again, briefly, but thoroughly, his hands continuing to caress her breasts until she felt nearly mindless. "Do you like this, Tamsin?" he asked against her ear before licking the outer rim.

"Yes."

"Then you will like what I am about to do even more." He kissed along her throat, his mouth moving down. She began to comprehend what would come next, but when his lips closed over her nipple, she was not entirely prepared for the jolt of arousal and the rush of pleasure.

Gasping, she moved one hand to his head, tangling her fingers in the waves of his dark hair as he licked and sucked her. He tugged on her other nipple until she cried out. Somehow, everything he did reverberated between her legs, stirring the pressure there until she thought she might weep if she didn't find relief. But what did that even mean?

Still, she could be quite happy if he simply continued what he was doing until the end of time. She clutched at his head as he moved his mouth to her other breast, treating it to the same divine torment.

But nothing lasted forever, and he moved his hand from her breast, though he continued to use his mouth on the other. She felt him lifting her skirt, exposing the flesh of her upper legs as he tucked the garment around her waist.

Lifting his head from her, he asked, "Are you ready for more, or is that enough for today?"

"More, please." She'd still no idea what that meant, just that she didn't want this to end, not until she found some sort of completion. It wouldn't just stop, would it? What would happen to that persistent throb between her legs. "I need something, Isaac. I just don't know what."

His hand moved along her inner thigh, and her muscles tensed. "Relax, my lovely," he coaxed just before his fingers stroked along her sex. "I know what you need. I will give you a release—it's called an orgasm. You will fall apart into a thousand pieces and miraculously come back together again. And when you are finished, you will feel deliciously replete."

Tamsin liked the sound of that. She opened her eyes. "Yes, please. I would like that now."

His lips spread into a wicked smile the likes of which she had never seen—not from anyone and certainly not from him. It stirred something deep within her. She clasped the back of his neck and kissed him, copying what she'd just learned from him and thrusting her tongue deep into his mouth. He kissed her back, and for several long moments, they feasted on one another as Tamsin's arousal spiraled to new heights.

Then his fingers began moving over her folds once more, slowly at first. He massaged the top of her sex, and she liked that very much. Indeed, that seemed to be a focal point for everything she wanted. He ended the kiss and whispered, "This is your clitoris. It is where a great many of your sensations are gathered. I could perhaps make you come just from touching you here. But it will also feel good—you must tell me if it does not—when I put my fingers into you."

He cupped her, the heel of his hand pressed against her clitoris. Lights danced behind her closed eyelids as he worked her flesh. Her hips began to move with him as pleasure built inside her.

Then his finger slipped inside her. Tamsin dug her fingers into his shoulders as everything she felt intensified. She wanted more of him—more of the delicious friction he was creating with his finger stroking in and out of her.

She became fuller, and she realized he must have added a second finger. This was even better, especially because he began to move faster. Her hips bucked up from the table, thrusting against his hand, seeking that release that would set her free of this torment.

"So beautiful," he murmured before he took her nipple in her mouth once more. The pull of his lips on her flesh and the thrust of his finger sent her rushing toward the edge of something vast, something that would give her what she so desperately needed.

"Do you feel that storm building?" he asked, between licks and sucks. "Like dark clouds opening up and raining down a torrent. Your body must do the same." He stroked her faster and faster, and she felt what he'd described—a cataclysm that must be released.

But she didn't know what to do beyond savor his touch. She thought of what he said, of opening up…

"Yes, Tamsin, I can feel you're close. Come for me now."

Everything inside her tightened as a blistering ecstasy swept through her. She cried out, unable to keep anything together a moment longer. She had no choice but to let it all go. And it was glorious.

Isaac held her as he whispered softly in her ear then kissed her cheek, her temple as she gasped to regain her breath. Her body began to slow, and so did his hand. Then he left her completely, gently pulling her skirts down over her legs.

He tugged her corset up and together, covering her breasts then began to tighten the garment, as if he were her ladies' maid.

"I can do that," she said, raising her hands. But they were still shaking as her body worked to return to normal. Although, Tamsin wasn't sure she ever could, not after something like that.

He arched a brow? "Are you sure? Why don't you just let me?"

She let her hand fall to her lap and gave herself over to his care. "You've performed these duties before?" She shook her head. "Of course you have."

"Not as often as you may think. I have generally tried to abstain, but there comes a time when needs must."

"Why abstain?"

His eyes darkened. "Partly because of how my father raised me."

"And the other part?" she asked, desperate to know him.

"It's just best if I keep that aspect of myself under tight control. I have abstained from intercourse for more than a decade."

"And you call yourself a rogue," she said with a hint of a smile. "I thought men were unable to control their impulses."

"Precisely. Which is why I take care to do so. But just because I hold myself in check doesn't mean I'm not a rogue at my core."

Tamsin wasn't sure she believed that. The man she knew was kind and caring, and full of integrity. He'd gone above and beyond what was necessary to protect her reputation. "If you have abstained from sex for a decade, what services do you pay for?"

"Do you really want to know?"

She nodded several times. "Yes." She was desperately curious to learn more after what they'd just done. She felt as though she stood at the precipice of a whole new world that needed exploring.

"What we just did, for one. I can also put my mouth on your sex. I expect you'll enjoy that."

His mouth… Tamsin imagined how that would work, his tongue licking her and perhaps sliding into her sex. The throb he'd just satisfied began anew, though not quite as strong. Not yet anyway.

"What about you?" she asked. "Don't you also need to come?"

"Yes, but that isn't necessary today." He finished with the corset, and she was finally still enough to take over with the rest of her garments.

She pulled the bodice up and refastened it at the shoulders. "Would I use my hand or my mouth? Or both?"

"Whatever you like." His voice sounded strained, as if he were lifting something very heavy.

"Shall I do it now? It only seems fair." She glanced down at his pelvis and saw the distinct outline of his sex through his breeches. "It also looks necessary?"

He snorted then, not a full laugh, but it made her grin. She boldly reached for him, pressing her palm against the length of him. Their eyes connected with a sharp heat.

"Tamsin, this is not a good idea."

She stroked him through his clothing. "Why not? Am I doing something wrong? You must instruct me. You'll find I'm an excellent student."

He groaned softly. "I have no doubt. All right." With an amazing speed, he unfastened his fall and freed his sex.

Tamsin stared in awe as his shaft rose proud and hard. As her nipples had done for him earlier, it seemed to be reaching for her.

"Wrap your hand around the base," he instructed.

She complied quickly, her thumb and forefinger grazing the twin sacs beneath.

"Now stroke your hand up, not too tightly but not loosely either."

Hoping she'd found the right pressure, she moved her hand up his length, relishing in the hard smoothness of him. "Is this right?"

"Yes, now back down and up again, moving faster as you feel comfortable." He still sounded as though he were carrying giant pieces of granite.

Tamsin recalled how he'd used his fingers on her with increasing speed and how good the friction had felt. It would be the same for him, then. She stroked slowly at first, finding the right rhythm and pressure. "How does this feel?" She didn't want to hurt him. She was eager to bring him the same pleasure he'd given her.

"Marvelous."

She lifted her gaze from her task and saw that he'd cast his head back and his eyes were closed. He was so handsome, and there was something so devilishly intoxicating about the way he looked right now. Or perhaps it was that she was making him do that.

Refocusing on what she was doing, she watched her hand move up and down his sex. His hips began to move with the rhythm, as she had done with hers. She imagined their bodies doing that together, and the heat returned to her core.

She moved her hand faster, giving him the friction he craved. He gripped her upper arms, not painfully, but firmly. His breath came fast, almost in pants as she increased her speed.

"I'm close," he said roughly, his hips thrusting toward her. "There will be a bit of a mess. I'm sorry."

She didn't care. Delighting in his pleasure, she stroked him faster and then, on a whim, used her other hand to cup the balls beneath, much in the way he'd cupped her breasts.

"Tamsin!" He grunted as warm liquid spurted from the head of his sex, coating her hands. Still, she continued because he was still thrusting. She would not stop until he did.

Soon, he slowed, and the liquid stopped coming. She thought it must be his seed. If she used her mouth on him, what would happen to that? Was she to…swallow it? She'd have to ask.

Pivoting slightly, Isaac rummaged in the picnic basket, then handed her a napkin. "So you can tidy up," he muttered.

"Thank you." She cleaned up her hand as he tucked himself back into his breeches. "I hope that was all right."

His gaze found hers, and his eyes were glittering with a remarkable intensity. "It was transcendent."

That was precisely how Tamsin would have described how she felt. She couldn't resist smiling, and even experienced a new emotion—smugness. She'd helped him transcend.

He looked toward the front window, and his face paled suddenly. Reaching for his coat, he said, "Put your spencer on. Seales has just arrived. I didn't realize he was coming."

Tamsin hurriedly complied. "It's good he didn't arrive earlier." She laughed softly, but really, it would have been horrifying.

"We should get to work," Isaac said. The intensity was gone from his gaze, and the aura of discovery and ecstasy that had reigned dissipated.

But Tamsin was not disappointed. She was encouraged. Today had been a big step forward, and she was eager to see where they went next.

She touched his forearm. "Isaac, thank you—for what you gave to me today and for sharing the deepest parts of yourself. I will be patient." She suspected she was falling in love with him, so she had no choice but to be.

He said nothing, but gave her a faint nod. Then he walked out of the cottage to greet Seales. Tamsin pulled her notebook from her pocket once more and began to make a list for the cottage. All the while, she smiled.