Page 58 of The Lover's Eye
Would her husband expect them to share a bed?
This was the question raised in Isobel’s mind when Giles came striding back into the room, having divested himself of his coat and cravat.His shirtsleeves were pushed up slightly, revealing the tender anatomy of his wrists and forearms, and he held a book.When he saw her face, he stopped at once.“Is something the matter?”
Isobel adjusted a nonexistent loose pin in her hair.“No, of course not,” she said brightly.
Giles looked at her for an extended moment, then turned and stared behind him at the open door.“You did not realize our rooms joined.I apologize for not mentioning it.I assure you I will not disturb you, if you are concerned—”
“No.”Isobel’s voice was firm, anxious to assuage his discomfort as much as her own.“I am not concerned.Only … surprised.”
He nodded, looking at the clothbound volume in his hands.“I set this aside for you,” he said, covering the distance between them.“I thought you might enjoy it.”
“‘Plato’s Epigrams’,”Isobel read aloud, running a thumb over the embossed title.“Thank you.This will make for excellent bedtime reading.I can hardly rest until I’ve had at least a few pages of a book.”
“It helps me, as well,” Giles said.“I often have difficulty sleeping.”
Their eyes connected, Isobel’s breath quickening under the confines of her dress.“Will you ever, um,” she paused, clearing her throat.“Ever be here?In this bed?”
“Not until you wish me to be,” he said simply, his eyes warm and steady.
His easy sureness was something Isobel found herself in raptures over.It was a quality no one else in her life possessed, and it instilled in her a reassuring comfort she hadn’t even realized she was missing.
“I told you I want to know you,” she said softly, peering up at him beneath fine lashes of black.Her fingers tightened around the sharp edge of the book.
“I want to know you, Isobel.Probably more desperately than you realize.But I have put you at a disadvantage, not being able to court you properly.”He raked a hand through his hair, ruffling the salt and pepper waves.“Do not feel pressured to fulfill the full role of being my wife yet, if you need time …” He let out a quiet groan, rubbing his chin with his hand.“I sound like a damned idiot.”
“No, you don’t.”Isobel sat the book on the bed and took his hand.His scent seemed stronger without his coat, wafting to her in a delectable mix of mint and salt air.“I think you sound very gentlemanly.Very sweet.”
They both chuckled, soft and nervous vibrations that filled their throats.
“What I mean to say is I will wait on you,” Giles said.“For however long you need.”
He never mentioned how abominably Isobel had been treated before, but it was an unspoken knowledge between them.She could feel it now, his promise that he would never allow her to feel fear or pressure from his touch, regardless of his desires.
“That is just why I do not need extra time,” she said, her voice brightening with sensuality.“I trust you.”
She placed her hands on Giles’s chest as she had done that day on the terrace.Without the heavy weight of a coat and lapels, her palms perceived the warm skin beneath his silk waistcoat and thin shirt.He mimicked the memory, too, raising his hand to rest softly on the arc of her jaw.His thumb stroked her bottom lip.
“May I?”he asked, his breath coming in short, heavy striations.
“You may,” Isobel whispered, her voice no more than a hot gust on his thumb.
Slowly, Giles bent his head to hers, not stopping until his lips brushed the apple of her cheek.He kissed her lightly there, trailing down to kiss her ear, now the bent of her chin.Isobel’s breath quickened as her desire for his lips to take hers heightened with each teasing touch.
She ran her hands up to his neck until his soft curls filled the tender spaces between her fingers.A soft moan left Giles’s lips, and she smiled.It was a special thrill, knowing she could return the torture.
He drew his mouth to hers now, kissing her parted lips with slow, tender efficiency.He showed each corner and crease diligent attention—a thorough, undoing kiss, that made their first one seem chaste by comparison.Isobel responded in earnest, recapturing his mouth each time he paused.
“Isobel,” he breathed, pressing his lips to her forehead.He wrapped one arm behind her back and pulled her face against his chest, caressing gently.
“Yes?”She relished the warm solidity of him against her cheek.She imagined sleeping like this, and suddenly, knowing their rooms adjoined was no longer shocking.
It was electrifying.
“As much as I would love to remain here, I think we should attend to those matters we talked about the other day, and then have some lunch.Do you remember?”
Her heart faltered.“Yes.”
He started to pull away.She knew he was interrupting the moment out of concern for her comfort, and suddenly realized it wasn’t what she wanted.Possessed by uncharacteristic boldness, Isobel unclasped the first button of his waistcoat, stretching on her toes to be nearer to him.He looked down at her hands with unfiltered shock.
