Page 59 of The Lover's Eye
“Isobel.Are you—?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”When he continued to study her, she kissed him slowly, sweetly.A kiss to convince.“Unless you are not interested?”
She giggled as her tease altered his features, turning them into disbelief, and then—the most searing gaze she had ever beheld: determination.He was going to prove her wrong, and she could hardly stand waiting.
Giles put his mouth to hers again, but it did not stay there long.It drifted, both quick and languorous, dampening her throat, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts above the low neckline of her gown.
It was a taste of just how much he had been holding back.It was more than Isobel had dared to realize, and yet she had little energy to spend contemplating it.She was losing all her inhibitions as he worked off the sleeve of her gown.
“Giles,” she said suddenly, stiffening.
He stopped at once, his muscles going frozen under her hands.“Yes?”
The concern over his features melted her, adding even more emotion to the simmering feeling low in her belly.“I’m fine,” she said, smoothing his rumpled curls.“It’s only”—she glanced meaningfully toward the doors—“you’ve left them open.”
He laughed softly, pulling her against him and squeezing.“Oh, thank God.I thought I’d hurt you.A door is an easy fix.”
He released her, practically skipping to close and lock both doors.When he turned back, Isobel’s breath caught.She had pushed off his waistcoat, and the muscled lines of his chest and abdomen were visible through the sheer white shirt.And lower down, pressing against his trousers …
Marriane had given her an eleventh-hour, comprehensive teaching on the marital bed.But knowing what to expect did not alter seeing it—her husband, fully aroused, sauntering toward her with a look that ran deeper than lust.
“I don’t wish to frighten you,” he said, running the backs of his knuckles down her arm.“I was thinking we could start slowly.Just me touching you.And then, tonight, if you wish to resume …”
“Our getting to know one another?”Isobel asked softly, chuckling as his touch raised gooseflesh over her limbs.
“Yes,” he smiled.“If you wish to resume getting to know one another, I will bemorethan happy to oblige you.”
She nodded her agreement, and found herself lying on the unfamiliar bed, inhaling the scent of clean linen.Giles lay beside her, the tall proportions of him more real, more palpable, now that his body fitted against hers.He kissed her patiently and all-consumingly, until her lips parted in wordless want and her limbs grew restless.
She ran her fingers over the different textures of him—the stiff muscles of his chest and arms, the hollow ridges of his back, the broad sinew of his thighs which had so long distracted her.He was earthy and sweet, dreadfully tempting, perfectlyhers.
He seemed to sense her layers of clothing gave her a sense of security, and did not try to remove them again.He kissed the hot skin bordering her gown, instead, leaving cool dampness along the swell of her breasts and the curves of her shoulders.
His hand eased under her skirts, gliding along her stockings and up the inside of her leg with self-assured deliberation.“I have dreamt of this since the day I met you,” he breathed, his voice roughened to a timbre that made the hair on the nape of her neck stand up.
“Of … touching me?”Isobel managed to ask, her words split by heavy, rapid breaths.She had gone limp in anticipation of his touch—for he was grazing the soft curls between her legs, now—and her left hand lay resting against his cheek.
He turned his head to kiss the knuckle of her fourth finger, just above her sapphire ring.“All of it,” he whispered.“All of you.”
His words sent an ache of longing through Isobel’s chest.Yes.Yes.She had dreamt of him, too, holding riveting hope just below the surface, never believing it possible.But here he was, telling her she was home, that she was his, and leaving not an inch of room for her disbelief.
Giles eased his searching touch farther between her legs, his roughened fingers settling on her center and making her gasp.He distracted her with his mouth and his gentle fingers, with softly uttered assurances that had her mind straining, struggling to decipher his words.He would take care of her … she could trust him … relax …
His tactic was masterful.Soon, Isobel’s tense muscles loosened, focusing only upon the patient rhythm set by his fingers.Pleasure was blossoming in her body, and she found herself pushing against him in a subconscious plea for more.
Her skin was hot, a light sweat starting along her back.She could easily imagine shedding every layer of clothing now—but she wouldn’t dare move out of his touch.She caressed his freshly shaven cheek, which was already roughening with a shadow of dark stubble, and kissed him until she couldn’t breathe.She squeezed his face in her hands, their scorching breaths mingling, and caught one look into his eyes.
Her husband’s eyes.Her lover’s eyes.
Bottomless blue, deeper than the sea, laden with desire.
The building sensation crested into brilliance, then, and Isobel dug her fingers into his neck and shoulders, uttering his name on a muffled cry.Pleasure broke from the confinement of where it had begun, thrumming through her from head to toe.Her fingers and toes spasmed, her eyes clamped closed, and slowly, her body settled, rendered limp and useless and relieved.
Giles waited until she stilled, smiling when she smiled.He ran his hand gently down her leg, and finally answered.“Yes, my love?”
21
Isobel had much rather continue being in Giles’s embrace than think about ‘that business’—writing to her father.But she acknowledged the necessity of it.
