Page 35 of Duchess in Disguise
“That does not mean you should have to endure this without treatment.” Isobel's fingers left his skin, and he heard her moving, preparing the herbs. “This may sting a bit at first, but then it should help with the pain and reduce the swelling.”
“I trust you.”
The words slipped out before Richard could think better of them, but he realized they were true. Somehow, despite everything, he trusted this woman. This stranger, who had afamiliar face, had burrowed her way under his skin in a matter of days.
Isobel's hands returned to his shoulder, this time slick with some kind of herbal preparation. The smell of it filled the air, sharp and a tad bitter, with an underlying earthiness. Just as she had warned, it had stung initially, but then a cooling sensation spread through the bruised tissue, dulling the ache.
“Better?” Isobel asked softly, her fingers working the preparation into his skin with gentle, circular motions.
“Yes,” Richard admitted. “Much better. Thank you.”
They fell into silence as she worked, and Richard found himself hyperaware of every point of contact between them. The warmth of her hands, the occasional brush of her body against his back as she leaned closer to reach a particular spot, the soft sound of her breathing.
In an effort to distract himself from his growing arousal, he cleared his throat and stated,
“While I greatly appreciate your enthusiasm to help me… Please do not demand that other gentlemen take off their clothes. That could lead to far more misbehavior than you had bargained for, Miss Wightman.”
He had done his best not to accidentally insult her as he had done previously, and his efforts seemed to work this timebecause she smiled and leaned forward, regarding him with a suspicious smile for a moment, before she then said,
“You know, you almost sounded friendly just now as well. There is no other way to explain this – you have a twin brother too, do you not? Who are you and what have you done with the duke?”
Richard stared at her for a moment, then he laughed out loud, startling both of them with how sudden it was, sending them both into a laughing fit. Isobel giggled, her eyes regarding him curiously with a smile, and she looked so lovely that he wanted to simply exist under her gaze.
It felt good to be with her and simply express joy. God, when was the last time he had laughed like this? Without any manipulative reasons or calculations, just pure, simple joy at another person's company?
When their laughter finally subsided, they were both smiling, and the atmosphere in the library had shifted into something softer, warmer.
“I am sorry,” Richard said, the words coming more easily now. “For how I treated you when you first arrived. For making you feel as though you were inadequate or foolish. You are neither of those things, and you did not deserve to be hurt by my foolish and careless words.”
Isobel's expression softened. “I accept your apology.”
“Thank you,” Richard paused, staring at her in silence after that.
Isobel noticed and grew curious about his fixated gaze. Soon, she couldn’t help but wonder.
“What? Is there something wrong?”
He took a breath, meeting her gaze steadily. “No, not wrong. Never. I was simply in awe of you. Although you look exactly like Valerie, I think you are much more beautiful. You are so utterly breathtaking.”
Isobel's breath caught audibly. “Richard?—”
“I mean it,” he continued, unable to stop now that he had started. “It is truly a wonder how you exist. How the mere thought of you sends me into a feast of thirst until all I can think about is you, writhing in pleasure beneath me.
Her eyes had darkened, her lips parting slightly. Richard felt his control fraying at the edges, felt the desire that was never far from the surface when she was near rising to consume him.
“Richard,” Isobel breathed, and there was no protest in her voice, only want.
He pulled her closer, mindful of his shoulder but unable to resist any longer. Their lips met in a kiss that started soft but quickly deepened, hours of tension and desire pouring into it. Isobel'sfingers curled against his chest, her nails digging in slightly, and the small bite of pain only heightened his arousal.
When he finally pulled back, they were both breathing heavily. Richard guided Isobel to straddle his lap – carefully, so as not to bother his injured shoulder – and she went willingly, gathering her skirts to settle against him daintily like the precious little thing that she was.
“We should not,” she murmured, even as her hands traced the planes of his chest, exploring with a curiosity that made him want to let her touch him everywhere.
“No, we should not,” Richard agreed, his hands spanning her waist. “But I find I do not care.”
“Someone could come in,” she pointed out, tone hushed.
“I locked the door after you entered.”
