Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Isobel’s heartbeat was ringing loudly in her ears as she ran.
Her whole body felt heavy with need, so unwilling to flee from the man she craved like a thirsty creature in a desert. But she did not want to obtain what she wanted so easily. Not when her eventual defeat promised sweeter rewards.
She ran and ran, wondering where she could hide from him, hoping that she could make it a little tricky for him as well.
In the distance, she could see a small house at the edge of the garden and quickly headed inside.
Isobel closed the door behind her, but made no move to lock it, backing away slowly.
She waited with bated breath for what felt like hours before she heard footsteps approach the door, barely managing to keep herself from letting out a startled squeak as it swung open.
Richard marched inside slowly, closed the door behind him, and pulled the bolt to lock it.
“It seems I have found you,” he said, voice low and gruff.
“So you did,” Isobel replied, her voice trembling slightly.
Now that the moment was here, now that they were alone with nothing between them but desire and the inevitability of her improper request, she felt her nervousness grow to the point that she could barely breathe.
Tentatively, she asked, “What will you do with me now?”
Richard crossed the distance between them in three long strides, and then his hands were on her waist, pulling her flush against him.
“I told you there would be consequences for being caught so easily.” He murmured, leaning in.
His mouth found hers again, but this kiss was different from the one they had shared earlier in the garden.
It was deeper, more demanding, coaxing sighs and moans from her as she positively melted against him.
His tongue swept past her lips, claiming her mouth with a thoroughness that made her knees weak.
Isobel clung to his shoulders, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through her body.
They had barely begun, and she could feel herself slipping out of her mind, the desire within her growing greater and greater.
When Richard's lips left hers to trail down her neck, she gasped, tilting her head back to give him more room to ravish.
He accepted her offering and took full advantage right away, pressing searing, open-mouthed kisses along the column of her throat, finding the sensitive spot just below her ear that made her whimper.
“Your grace –” she breathed.
“My name,” he demanded, sinking his teeth briefly into the juncture between her neck and shoulder. “Call me by my name. At least for tonight.”
“Richard,” she whispered, complying easily.
It seemed that he did not expect her to comply so easily, because he went stock still at the utterance of his name from her lips.
“Richard, please –” she whined, tugging at his jacket, and it seemed to unleash something in him.
He grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her deeply, his tongue dancing with hers.
One of his hands dropped from her face, trailing down her neck, running down her back, and grabbing at her buttocks, pulling her flush against him as he groped her luscious flesh.
Isobel leaned into his fiery touch, nearly overwhelmed but still yearning for more.
His hands moved up to the fastenings of her gown, and Isobel felt a moment of panic run through her. “Wait–”
“Do you want me to stop?” Richard asked immediately, pulling back to look at her.
His eyes were dark with desire, but there was concern there too, along with a question that needed answering. The swiftness with which he expressed his worry for her, respecting her hesitation, spoke volumes about him in great length.
Just when would this man stop being so good to her and bad for her?
Isobel shook her head. Slowly, then repeated the action to clear her head.
“No. I just – I have never...”
Understanding dawned in Richard's expression, followed by something that looked almost like reverence. He brought his hands back up to her face again, pressing a kiss to her forehead sweetly.
“I will be gentle,” he promised, his voice soft. “I will take care of you. But if at any point you wish to stop, you need only say so. Do you understand?”
Isobel nodded, her heart racing. “I understand.”
“Good girl,” Richard murmured, and the praise sent a bolt of heat straight through her core.
She wanted him to call her that again, wanted to be so good for him. She wanted him so much.
His hands returned to her gown, this time moving with deliberate slowness as he worked the fastenings free. The cool air hit her skin as the fabric parted, and Isobel shivered – though whether from cold or anticipation, she could not say.
Richard's hands were warm as they skimmed over her newly exposed skin, mapping the curves and dips of her body with reverent attention.
He pressed chaste kisses to her lips, then trailed some more down to her jaw, then nibbled from her neck to her collarbone.
Every touch made her gasp, every caress drew sounds from her throat that she had never made before, and each kiss added more kindling to the fire slowly spreading through her body.
When he pushed the gown down over her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet, Isobel instinctively moved to cover herself. But Richard caught her hands, bringing them to his lips.
“Do not hide from me,” he said quietly. “You are beautiful, Isobel. So incredibly beautiful.”
The sincerity in his voice gave her courage, and she let her hands fall to her sides.
Richard's gaze traveled over her slowly, and she could clearly see the desire burning in his eyes as she had seen the anger flare for her safety.
His jaw clenched, and she could tell he was fighting to stay in control, and a shiver of satisfaction ran through her.
With a surge of courage, she reached for his coat, ignoring the way her fingers trembled as she grabbed the lapels.
“My turn,” Isobel said, the corner of her lips pulling into a self-satisfied smirk.
She half expected Richard to resist or refuse, but instead, he assisted her, easily shrugging out of the garment and tossing it aside.
His waistcoat followed right after, then his cravat landed on the pile next, until he stood before her in just his shirt and breeches.
Even through the thin fabric of his shirt, Isobel could see the defined muscles of his chest and abdomen, and she found herself reaching out to touch, fascinated by the way he tensed under her exploration.
“You beautiful, wicked thing… You are torturing me,” Richard groaned as her fingers traced the ridges of muscle beneath his shirt.
“Good,” Isobel replied with a small smile, in awe of the taunt, solid feel of him beneath her fingers. “You said I needed to be punished. Perhaps you deserve some punishment as well.”
Richard's eyes flashed with something dark and promising. “Is that so?”
Before Isobel could respond, he had lifted her into his arms and carried her to the workbench, setting her down on its edge. The wood was smooth and cool beneath her, and she gasped at the sensation.
Richard stepped between her legs, spreading them to make room for himself, and Isobel felt her face heat at the intimacy of the position. But then his mouth was on hers again, kissing her senseless, and all thoughts of embarrassment fled.
His hands roamed over her body with increasing urgency, squeezing her breast, gripping and caressing her thighs, and Isobel found herself arching into his touch, craving more.
When his fingers found the sensitive peak of her breast through the thin fabric of her chemise, she cried out, the sound muffled against his mouth.
“So responsive,” Richard murmured against her lips. “Do you like that, Isobel? Do you like the way I touch you?”
“Yes,” Isobel gasped, too far gone to spare a thought about propriety or shame. “Yes, please–”
“Please what?” Richard asked, his fingers teasing, circling, but never quite giving her what she needed. “Tell me what you want.”
She did not know if the punishment was making her forfeit shame or simply the act of his denying what she needed.
“– I do not know,” Isobel admitted, frustrated by her own inexperience. “I just need – more. Please, Richard.”
“I will give you everything. Whatever you want, you will have,” Richard promised breathlessly.
And then his mouth was on her breast, his tongue working her nipple through the fabric until she was writhing beneath him, helpless with pleasure.
His hand slid lower, bunching up her chemise until his fingers found the wet heat between her legs. Isobel cried out at the contact, her hips jerking forward involuntarily.
“Look at you, so wet already,” Richard groaned, his fingers exploring her folds with maddening slowness. “God, Isobel, you are perfect.”
He found a spot that made her see stars, and Isobel grabbed his shoulders, her nails digging into his shirt as pleasure crashed over her in waves.
Richard worked that spot relentlessly, his fingers moving in circles that drove her higher and higher toward something she could not name but desperately needed.
“That is it,” Richard encouraged, his voice rough. “Let go, Isobel. Let me see you come undone.”
The tension building inside her reached a peak, and Isobel felt herself teetering on the edge of something vast and overwhelming. But just as she was about to tip over, Richard's hand stilled.
“No,” Isobel whimpered and sobbed, her hips moving frantically, seeking the friction she had lost. “Please, do not stop–”
“I believe I told you there would be consequences,” Richard said casually, though his voice was strained with his own desire. “You were caught far too easily. You did not even try to hide properly.”
“Richard, please–”
“Beg me,” he commanded, his fingers resuming their torturous circles but at a slow pace that was driving her utterly mad. “Beg me prettily, and perhaps I will let you finish.”