Chapter 17

After dinner, during which they'd discussed the plans for the vacant tenancy since Seales and his wife were also present, Isaac and Seales had remained in the dining room drinking port. The ladies had gone to the drawing room. It was all very domestic, and Isaac couldn't quite believe this was his life. He'd never imagined any of it—becoming a baron, managing a large estate, marrying a warm, caring woman.

And yet here he was.

The interlude with Tamsin at the cottage that afternoon had given Isaac something he didn't think he'd ever had—hope. Being with her was somehow…easy. She was sweet and supportive and even managed to make him smile. Now it seemed her optimism was perhaps rubbing off on him.

Seales cleared his throat, his hand resting at the base of his wineglass atop the table. "I hope you won't mind my saying so, but Lady Droxford is most impressive. She has taken to the estate with an astonishing zeal. You're a fortunate man."

That was not a description Isaac would ever have thought could describe him, but he could perhaps glimpse it. And it was all because of Tamsin. She'd brought light to his darkness, joy to his sobriety, and apparently hope to his gloominess.

"I am pleased to hear you find her effectual. She is eager to meet each tenant and help in every way she can."

"Yes, she's taken a particular interest in a couple who are expecting their first child," Seales said. "I believe she's arranged for one of the housemaids to help them as they do not have any assistance and Mrs. Bowman is close to her time."

Isaac recalled Tamsin mentioning that, but since it involved a birth, he'd chosen not to pay much attention. He hadn't been present when Mary had given birth to their son, and for whatever reason, he associated all births with her and the fact that he'd missed it. And that he'd likely never experience one.

Except now, he was married. And if things with Tamsin continued, he could very well end up making her pregnant.

The idea of it sawed through him, leaving a sharp pain. He didn't deserve a happy family, not after he'd already abandoned one.

Seales interrupted Isaac's thoughts, for which he was most grateful. "Have you decided whether there will be a harvest celebration in a few weeks? A few tenants asked Lady Droxford about it, and she was keen to hear what had been done in the past."

Aunt Sophia had always held a celebration during the third week of October, after everyone was primarily finished with their harvesting work. Isaac had not continued this tradition. The first year it had seemed inappropriate in the wake of the baron's death. And after that, he simply hadn't made it a priority.

"She hasn't mentioned it to me," he said. "Did she indicate whether she planned to host it this year?"

Seales shrugged. "I am not sure what she is thinking, which is why I asked you. My wife would enthusiastically help. It has been missed."

Isaac frowned at his port before taking a drink. He hadn't realized the celebration was that important. Indeed, he hadn't thought of it at all. "I wish someone had mentioned it."

"I thought we had," Seales said hesitantly before drinking more port.

"That is possible." As was the fact that Isaac likely hadn't paid attention. Celebrations were not something he cared to attend. But that didn't mean they shouldn't have one. He stood. "Let's go speak to the ladies about it." Isaac wasn't sure if he was eager to discuss this or to see his wife. He could not stop thinking of her since that afternoon, and the need to be in her presence was a persistent demand.

Rising, Seales followed Isaac from the dining room. They made their way to the drawing room, where Tamsin, Aunt Sophia, and Mrs. Seales were seated.

Isaac noted that Tamsin was on one of the settees—alone. He sat down beside her, perhaps a little closer than necessary. But at this proximity, he could smell her floral scent. It transported him to earlier that day when he'd lavished his attention on her, relishing every inch of her tantalizing body. Now that he'd surrendered to his obsession, he could hardly wait to taste more of her. Would it be rude to ask their guests to leave?

"You weren't in the dining room long," Aunt Sophia observed with a smile. "You must have missed us."

Isaac was most definitely missing his wife, but not in a way he would share with anyone but her. "We came to ask about the harvest celebration. I have been remiss in not holding it again after the mourning period." He looked at Tamsin, her features so familiar to him now that when he saw her, he felt a pull—a deep connection he didn't entirely understand. This was not the same as what he'd shared with Mary.

Tamsin had angled herself toward him, her blue-green eyes reminding him of the sea, of where they'd become acquainted. Weston, he realized, was now a special place that had nothing to do with his friends or the Grove. She smiled, her features becoming animated. "I should love to reinstate the celebration. I'm so glad you brought it up since I'd planned to ask you about it."

"This will be wonderful for the tenants," Aunt Sophia said with a nod. "I'm so glad you're finally hosting it again."

The word finally rankled him a bit, but it was deserved. He looked to Tamsin. The urge to touch her somehow nearly overwhelmed him. Their activities that afternoon hadn't sated him one bit. He needed more of her. "Just let me know what you require. I trust you to plan an exceptional celebration."

"Thank you." She gave him a smile so full of joy that he found he was tempted to smile in return. This was fast becoming madness.

Aunt Sophia offered suggestions based on past celebrations, as did Mrs. Seales. The three of them—Sophie and the Seales—made plans to meet to plan everything. Thankfully, it was only a quarter hour or so before the Seales took their leave.

After they left, Aunt Sophia stood. "I shall retire now. You need all the privacy you can find, and I've been too much in your presence." She winked at them before departing.

Somehow, Isaac kept himself from leaping on Tamsin and ravaging her. He also managed to not throw her over his shoulder and carry her upstairs, where he could also ravage her.

"Will you be working in your office before coming up?" Tamsin asked.

He hated that this was her expectation, but why wouldn't it be after the last several days? "No." Isaac surrendered to his need to touch her, lifting her hand and pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist. "I would also prefer to retire, though I wasn't planning to sleep. Not yet." He kissed her inner forearm and then the concave of her elbow, feeling her shiver beneath his lips.

"How wonderful," she murmured. "Shall we go up, then?"

Isaac moved his hand to cup her neck. "In a moment." He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her, his lips and tongue claiming hers.

She clasped his shoulder, sliding her hand to the top of his collar. Her fingers caressed his flesh, and he was desperate to have her completely unclothed, bared to him entirely, her body his for the taking.

Breaking the kiss, he stood and pulled her up. "Now. I would carry you, but the servants would be scandalized."

"Or titillated," she said with a giggle.

Isaac pulled her against him. "I am titillated enough for the entire household at the moment." His cock raged with want as lust pulsed through him.

She slipped her hands up his front and curled them about his neck. "Perhaps you will show me upstairs."

He would show her here if it would also not scandalize everyone, for there was no lock on the drawing room door. "Come," he clipped, desire making his vision narrow and his pulse pound.

Taking her hand, he led her toward the staircase hall. He wanted to take the stairs two at a time, but recognized her gait was not that long. Still, he walked quickly, so that by the time they reached the top, she was laughing softly.

"I've never seen you so intent about something other than work," she said.

Past the point of caring about anything other than having Tamsin in his arms, Isaac swept her up and quickened his pace toward their apartment. "I am single-minded at the moment."

Clasping her arms around his neck, she pressed a kiss to the side of his jaw. "I'm enjoying this immensely."

He nearly groaned with want and with pleasure that she was as eager for him as he was for her. Carrying her into the sitting room, he closed the door, then hastened to his chamber, where he again closed the door. He did not set her down until he'd climbed the dais and stood her next to the bed.

"Shall I remove your clothing, or will you?"

She blinked, her lashes fluttering in an alluring, almost flirtatious fashion, but he'd no idea if she did it on purpose or if she was simply that enticing. He rather thought it was the latter.

"I have yet to upgrade my wardrobe, though Aunt Sophia says I must, and it is one of our upcoming projects. So, for now, I can undress myself entirely. Is that what you prefer?" She kicked her slippers off her feet. "Would you like to watch me do that?"

The carnal thoughts racing through Isaac's brain would have made her blush to crimson. He envisioned her disrobing slowly, stopping to caress herself, to taunt him with each new revelation of her tantalizing flesh. But she wouldn't know how to do such things. He could instruct her…

She began to pull pins from her hair, and the brown curls fell against her neck and shoulders. He watched, entranced, until it was completely loose, and she deposited the pins on the nightstand. "Should I take the time to plait my hair?"

"No. I want it loose," he rasped.

Moving her hands to her back, she loosened her gown. Isaac realized he could help, but he was too transfixed watching her. She wriggled and pulled until the garment came free, then she pushed it down her body.

When she bent to retrieve it, Isaac said, "Leave it. Finish."

She pushed the straps of her petticoat off each shoulder, not realizing the brush of her hand along her upper arm as the fabric slid over her flesh was perhaps the most arousing thing Isaac had ever seen. He swallowed, barely keeping himself in check. She pulled at the laces of her corset until it gapped open, then pushed it down over her hips, once again wriggling her body to work the garment off. She stepped out of the clothing piled at her feet and kicked the mass behind her.

Wearing only her chemise now, she hesitated. Was she nervous? "You've never been naked with a man before."

She shook her head. "Of course not."

"I want you naked. Is that all right?"

"Yes." She reached for the hem of her chemise, then pulled it over her head.

Now she stood before him wearing just her stockings and garters. When she reached for the first garter, he clasped her hand, stopping her. "Just wait. I'll do that." He needed to look at her a moment. She was exquisite, from the supple roundness of her breasts to the turgid pink points of her nipples. Her waist nipped in, inviting his hand to caress her there, then her hips flared out, also begging for his touch. Dark curls cloaked her sex, but he already knew she was pink and likely wet. She'd been so incredibly wet for him that afternoon.

"Is it too soon after earlier today?" He wished he'd thought to ask that sooner.

She shook her head. "I was hoping you would want to do this tonight. Whatever it is you desire. What is that anyway?"

Isaac closed the half foot between them and put his hands on her waist. Lifting her, he set her on the edge of the bed. "I'm going to put my mouth on your sex and make you come. Over and over."

She sucked in a breath. "More than once?"

"Hopefully." Now he grinned, like a wolf eyeing its prey.

She put her hands on his cheeks, her gaze holding his. "You are breathtaking when you do that. You have me completely enthralled." She dragged her nails along the bare stubble of his nascent beard.

He swept his mouth against hers in a hungry kiss. She returned it, welcoming his demand and making her own. Isaac cupped her breast, squeezing and stroking her, pinching her nipple gently. She grasped his waist, pulling him flush with the side of the bed. His cock rubbed against the edge of the mattress between her open legs.

Though he'd meant to remove her garters with an erotic slowness, he found himself pulling them from her almost greedily. When they were gone from her, he skimmed his hands up her bare legs and claimed her mouth once more.

Mindless, he kissed down her throat and chest until he found a nipple where he sucked hard, drawing a deep moan from her. He pushed her back gently until she was flat against the bed then he guided her farther onto the mattress. Now she was positioned perfectly. He grabbed a pillow and slid it beneath her hips.

"What are you doing?" she asked breathlessly.

"Preparing my feast." He pushed her legs wide, opening her sex to him. With one hand, he caressed her right breast with slow, methodical strokes punctuated by massages and tweaks of her nipple. Her body moved with his ministrations, her hips rotating.

With his other hand, he rubbed her clitoris, eliciting soft moans and whimpers from her. Her arousal was intoxicating, and he had to work to keep from rushing her to completion. He wanted to draw this out, to ensure her orgasm was like a thundercloud.

He slipped one finger into her sex, confirming his assumption that she was wet and ready. He could easily slide his cock into her. The thought of that made him groan with want. He would not do that. Not tonight. He couldn't even consider it, especially in his current state.

Reluctantly, he moved his hand from her breast and pressed it against her hip.

"I was enjoying that," she said wistfully.

He looked up at her, over the plane of her abdomen and the rise of her breasts. "You can continue that for yourself."

Her gaze met his with a moment of confusion.

"Touch your breasts, Tamsin. Hold them. Caress them. Squeeze them. Do whatever you like. You must learn to give yourself pleasure." Because of his choices, Isaac had relied heavily on the ability to do that. "You can use your hand here as I do." He pressed his thumb over her clitoris, rubbing her, then thrust his fingers into her, filling her. "You can find your own orgasm. Perhaps sometime you'll do it for me so I can watch."

Her lips had parted as he spoke, and her eyes had taken on a glassy, unfocused sheen. She put her hands on her breasts and began to fondle them, her fingers sliding over her flesh. Isaac's body throbbed with desire. He wasn't sure he'd ever been this aroused, and wondered if it was possible for him to spill his seed before he even removed his cock from his clothing.

He realized he was still completely dressed, and his coat was becoming restrictive. He quickly pulled the garment off and tossed it away.

Tamsin's eyes were closed, her fingers closing over her nipples. She moved her hips against the pillow.

"Pinch them, Tamsin," he said, then watched as she did. She moaned softly. "Yes, keep doing that. Whatever feels good."

He put his hand on her sex again, opening her folds before he licked along her crease.

She bucked up against his mouth with a sharp cry and grasped his head with one hand. He put his palm at the top of her mound, pressing her down. "Be still for just a moment," he whispered before he tongued her again. Using his thumb, he teased her clitoris while still holding her. He could feel the pent-up energy within her, the need to thrust and move, to bring herself to release.

Spreading her wide with his fingers, he thrust his tongue into her. He put his other hand beneath her, cupping her backside as he held her, unrelentingly, to his mouth.

Over and over, he licked and thrust as his thumb worked the sensitive flesh of her clitoris. She moved with him, her hips rocking as her desperate cries filled the room.

It did not take long for her to reach her climax. He felt her tense, the muscles of her thighs clenching around him. She bore down, her sex clamping around his tongue as she came in a frenzy of movement and sound.

As she rode her orgasm to completion, Isaac was all too aware of his own needs. He moved one hand down to his breeches and clumsily unbuttoned the fall. Slipping his hand inside, he encircled his cock. He closed his eyes in relief as he stroked himself.

"Stop."

Isaac's eyes flew open, and he saw that Tamsin had risen to a sitting position. His hand stilled instinctively.

"You are to let me do that," she said with a surprisingly commanding tone that fueled his lust. "With my mouth. You said I could do that."

He released himself and straightened. "My apologies. I was overcome." He was still a bit concerned that he might come without even a hand to aid him.

"You need to take your clothes off now. For me, as I did for you." She drew her legs up and sat on the bed watching him expectantly.

Isaac began with his boots and stockings, removing them with the same haste as with her stockings. He unbuttoned his waistcoat, going slightly slower, but only because his fingers were practically shaking with need. At last, the garment opened, and he divested himself of the nuisance.

Finding the end of his cravat, he pulled the knot free and slipped the silk away from his neck, dropping it to the floor. While he undressed, his gaze was fixed on Tamsin's lush body, her flesh a rosy hue from her earlier release. Her nipples were full and pink, like rosebuds about to bloom.

He needed to finish. Quickly. He whisked his shirt over his head and threw it away, then pushed his already open breeches to the floor, kicking them aside with perhaps more ferocity than was necessary. He stood before her and watched her eyes narrow, her gaze directed at his swollen cock.

"What do I do now?" she asked, her voice rough and lust-ridden.

He considered the ways she could take him. "You could kneel before me. Or I can lie on the bed. What do you prefer?"

"I can't decide, but since I am on the bed already, I suppose that's fastest." She scooted aside so he could move onto the bed.

Plucking up the pillow he'd used beneath her hips, he put it down near the headboard and set his head atop it as he lay back.

"I don't need to put the pillow under you?" she asked, moving to his side.

"Not necessarily. My cock is rather exposed for you already."

She licked her lips, and he moaned, his hips twitching. "I see that. Do you have instruction for me?"

"Not unless you want it. You were astonishingly adept with your hand earlier. I'm confident you will use your mouth to an equally successful degree."

"How formal that sounds," she said with a mischievous smile. "And I don't want to equal earlier, I want to better it, as you just did for me. I shall see if I can be creative."

A burst of heat rushed through him, sending blood flooding into his cock. He could not wait another moment. "Please, Tamsin. Suck me. Now. Move between my legs."

Climbing over him, she settled herself between his legs, her attention focused completely on his cock. She curled her hand around the base of his sex and lowered her head. Isaac clutched the coverlet in his hands in anticipation, his body tensing with need.

She licked him tentatively, and he gripped the bedclothes more tightly lest he clasp her head and thrust into her mouth. Forcing himself to take deep breaths, he surrendered to her as she slowly worked her tongue over him. She laved him completely, exploring him with her lips and tongue.

Isaac moaned, then put his hand—carefully—against her head, his fingers tangling into the soft curls of her hair. She lifted her head and stroked her hand up his length then down. Her mouth closed over the tip, and she took him in, guiding him along the rough heat of her tongue.

Thrusting gently, he held her as he moved farther into her mouth. She didn't flinch or falter, and he felt her swallow as he nudged the back of her throat.

He gripped her hair more tightly, cautious not to hurt her, as he cried out. She moved back, nearly releasing him, then devoured him once more. Over and over, she released him and sucked him in. Then faster, somehow knowing precisely what to do. Her hand moved with her mouth, pushing him to the edge of reason. His hips rose from the bed as he softly thrust into her.

Then she cupped his balls, and he completely lost control. He called her name, apologizing as his hips moved more quickly. She held him, clasping his hip as she increased her speed, accommodating his mindless frenzy until his body tightened. He hadn't told her about what would come next.

Isaac tried to pull himself away from her, but she held him fast, sucking him hard until he could no longer hold back. He came in a torrent, flooding her mouth, probably, and incapable of doing anything but holding her and letting his body release.

It was several long minutes before he lay flat against the bed, his body quivering with the remnants of his orgasm and his heart hammering. He opened his eyes and saw her wipe the edge of her mouth. She smiled at him, a cat's smile full of satisfaction and pride, along with a dash of arrogance. It was the most beautifully wicked thing he'd ever seen.

Sitting up, he pulled her to his chest and kissed her deep and fast. Then he brushed her hair back from her face and looked into her eyes. "Thank you for waiting for me."

"I am a patient person," she said simply. "And you are worth waiting for."

As Isaac fell asleep a short while later, his wife snuggled against his side, he made an effort not to think too closely about what she might have meant.

* * *

Aseries of kisses along Tamsin's shoulder roused her from sleep. Blinking her eyes open, she saw it was still quite dark. Isaac was pressed against her side.

The kisses stopped, and he muttered something. His hand snaked around her waist pulling her tighter to him.

Tamsin smiled, her body rousing to his touch. She turned toward him and kissed his forehead, placing her hand against his cheek.

He continued mumbling, but she couldn't make out what he was saying. Indeed, she wasn't sure if he was awake or not. She wasn't entirely positive she was awake. Perhaps this was all a lovely dream.

"We are something, something, Mary," he said. There was that name again.

Tamsin was awake now. She held her breath, waiting to see if he would say more.

When he did not, she, whispered, "Isaac?"

"Yes, Mary?" he said in the clearest voice he'd used yet.

How could she find out who Mary was? She needed to wake him and ask.

He nuzzled her neck. "I love you, Mary."

Tamsin froze. He kissed her throat. Then his leg twined with hers.

She didn't care if he was awake or not. "Who is Mary?"

His lips continued a path along her collarbone, and he didn't respond.

Clasping his shoulder, she tried to wake him. "Isaac. Isaac."

He made an indistinct noise and pulled away from her. Then he rolled to his other side, presenting his back.

Tamsin stared at his spine, his shoulder blades, the wave of hair against the top of his nape. Who was Mary, and why did he love her?

Howcould he love her? Particularly when Tamsin loved him?

The realization struck her as surely as the sun would rise. She loved this sober, mostly unsmiling, antisocial, brooding baron. Like her, he'd been lost at some point. Only, Tamsin had been found. He was still out there fighting his way back. She wanted to be here for him, to help him find what he sought—that which would make him happy.

She'd dearly hoped it would be her. It was, however, Mary, apparently.

Unable to sleep or share this bed with Isaac any longer, she slipped from the bedclothes. She collected her garments, which were strewn about and made her way quietly to her chamber. Once inside, she drew on a night rail and tidied her things, finding comfort in routine.

No, not comfort. Her brain was still rife with questions and…despair. Silent tears tracked down her cheeks unheeded.

Her bed was still broken—just like her heart—so she stoked the fire, picked up a blanket, and curled up in the chair by the hearth.

He loved someone named Mary. Not Tamsin. What was she to do?

How could she possibly find the joy in that?