Epilogue #2
Together, the group dined. Hermia and Charles were going to spend some time back at Branmere Hall to get Samuel away from the bustling London streets for a while, and Sibyl was approaching her next Season.
Her previous one had not necessarily been unsuccessful for any particular reason, but it just hadn’t been her time yet. The truth, Isabella thought, was that their mother had forced too many options upon her, overwhelming Sibyl and making her unable to focus on any one person in particular.
As their guests were leaving, Alicia lingered at the doorway in the way she always did when she wanted a moment alone with one of her sisters. She had always done it, waiting for their parents to leave, so she could whisper something. Isabella went over to her.
“What is on your mind, little sister?”
“I am worried, Isabella,” Alicia confessed.
“Our parents are pushing Sibyl even harder to marry. With my debut approaching, I know they want her matched up before I attend my debutante ball. While I am fighting against that with every inch, and I will not enjoy it one bit and will do all I can to turn every suitor away, I worry about the pressure Sibyl is under.”
Isabella took Alicia’s hand. Her sister was not one for a great deal of physical affection, but she allowed this.
“I will look out for both of you. Oscar and I will, and we have stood up to our parents before, and we can continue doing so. We are a strong group of sisters, and I will do whatever it takes.”
Alicia nodded firmly. “I am already thinking of ways to distract our parents. I will look out for Sibyl, too.”
Isabella laughed, proud, and hugged her sister goodbye.
By the time she turned back to the parlor, she was alone with Oscar and Morris, and she sank next to her husband.
Morris immediately found his usual space by placing his head on her lap. Oscar’s arm went around Isabella, as was quite expected by now.
“Isabella, you truly have changed everything for me,” he said quietly. “My house, myself, even my dog.”
“Change is good,” she assured him, leaning in to kiss him. “And soon there will be more changes.”
Oscar cocked his head. “What do you mean?”
“Did you notice that I did not drink any wine earlier?”
She let the question linger between them for a moment, and then Oscar’s eyes widened before falling to her stomach. “You are—”
“I am pregnant,” Isabella told him, her voice shaking with both nerves and excitement.
Oscar’s face was struck with shock as he murmured, “Truly?” He blinked at her, and Isabella let out a giddy laugh as he pulled her to him.
She nodded into another kiss. Oscar pulled back slightly.
“I watched how you looked at Hermia with her son. And now… now we can have such a family. We can create the perfect family we never had growing up.”
“Indeed,” Isabella laughed again, and let herself be pulled close again, her mouth finding his. Her legs slotted over his lap, and Morris grunted, seeking his former pillow of Isabella’s lap, but continued to jump up on the settee next to them.
“Heavens, Isabella,” Oscar murmured. “Heavens. Edmund told me just this evening that he and Mary are now expecting, and in that moment, all I could think of was the day I get to make our announcement, too.”
“And now we can,” she whispered, holding his face.
“Heavens,” he whispered again, laughing at his own lack of words.
He pressed his forehead to hers, and she felt him stirring between her legs.
She caught his mouth in a heated kiss, her hips already moving over his.
Soon, her backside was cupped, and Oscar had her lifted up and into his arms, letting Morris’s sleep-heavy head slip off Isabella’s lap, careful not to wake him when he had already fallen asleep again.
Isabella was carried to Oscar’s chamber, where he laid her down gently on his bed.
“I will not break, you know,” she giggled. “You know I am rather attracted to your roughness in bed.”
“Is that so?” he teased, growling against her mouth.
His tongue swept against hers as he tore her dress skirt without breaking their kiss.
She gasped as his hands wandered. Her back arched against him as he began tearing through the lacing on her dress, unraveling her garment inch by inch to uncover her body beneath.
“Very much,” she said breathlessly.
Oscar’s eyes met hers as his mouth hovered over her own. He held her gaze as he tugged her wrists above her head, lifting a brow as if to mockingly ask if she was satisfied.
“Enter me,” Isabella desperately commanded. “I cannot wait—”
“Beg,” Oscar told her. He kissed down her neck, still keeping Isabella’s arms pinned above her head. “Beg for me, Isabella. Beg, for you do it so prettily.”
“I am your wife. I should not have to beg.” Her mouth twitched with a teasing smile of her own.
Oscar snarled into her jaw. “And yet I beg for your body day and night shamelessly. We may beg for one another forever. When you are you, Isabella, you are worth begging for. On my knees, braced over you, my body over yours. However you want me, I will plead for your pleasure as I enjoy hearing you do the same.”
Arousal pooled so achingly inside her that Isabella tucked her legs around her husband’s waist, only to find that she was being maneuvered into their favorite position.
Her legs instead draped over Oscar’s shoulders to allow a deeper angle.
Isabella shifted her hips against his freed length, gasping.
He moved his hips away teasingly, and the pleas fell easily from her lips.
“Must you keep me waiting so long?” she gasped. “Please, Oscar. Please. Heavens, I will beg for you on my knees as well, for how could I not? I crave your length. I crave everything you give me, every ounce of pleasure. Husband, please—please enter me.”
Oscar gave her a bruising kiss. “And how could I deny such beautiful begging?”
Before Isabella could answer, he had entered her in one swift thrust. She cried out at the fullness of him. No matter how much they coupled, she was always taken aback by his sheer size. He always took her breath away in many, many ways.
“I love you.” The endearment slipped out in the heat of their pleasure, and she breathed heavily, pulling him closer to seal their mouths. “I love you so much, Oscar.”
“I love you,” he answered, his eyes heavy with both love and lust, and he gazed down at her. He smiled, and she knew it was her favorite sight. She loved his roughness, but this soft moment never failed to make her heart pound harder.
“I am close,” she whispered, for she had yearned for him all day, and her body knew when her husband was home. Home was her; home was him.
“Release with me.”
There was something so much more desperate in his voice, and she clung to that. To the validation that she still sometimes needed. The validation that she was wanted, that she was enough for this man who had seen her above everybody else. Who had looked at her and somehow said, I want you.
When their climaxes came, it was with a few final wanton thrusts, Oscar hunting his release to prompt hers. Isabella cried out. Then, he released her wrists from his hold to link their fingers instead.
She held onto him, as she always did, and felt forever safe in his arms.
The End?