Josie Dennis (2 page)

He sounded like he harbored more hope than certainty, and Isabella knew the reason. General Tilman was not a man to be crossed, and when he’d heard that Catherine had no fortune of her own he’d tried to send her off in the night. To Isabella he’d been everything gentlemanly, for
she
had a fortune and a generous dowry as well. Truth be told, he frightened her more than Frederick, but for far different reasons.

“Would you go there, Catherine?” Isabella asked her.

“I am not the timid girl I was last year, Isabella.” She lifted her chin, her eyes narrowed. “Although, I cannot help but wonder why this request comes now.”

“Frederick has sold out his commission,” Henry said.

Isabella’s head snapped to him, and she didn’t miss James’s notice of that fact. Schooling her expression, she gave a graceful shrug. “Your brother will be there, then?”

“I imagine so,” Henry said. “The season doesn’t begin for another month at least. No doubt he has taken up where he left off.”

John quieted him with a shake of his head. What was Henry talking about? What had Frederick gotten up to at the abbey last year, aside from his scandalous and delicious actions toward her?

“I don’t know if I want my sister there,” James said.

“She is no longer just your sister,” John put in.

James acknowledged that with a nod. “Even so.”

“I will not allow my father to be anything but the generous host he puts forth in his letter,” Henry said. “You have my word.”

“You shall accompany us, James,” John said. “Do you think your father would have any objections, Henry?”

Henry shook his head. “I don’t imagine so.”

Isabella’s stomach churned. James was to go to Norrington Abbey? While Frederick was there? What if he told James of her shameful behavior last year? Divulged that she’d teased Frederick to a point past heated glances and come-hither looks until he’d demanded she surrender what she’d dangled before him for weeks. He’d touched her then, drove his fingers deep inside her until she’d shattered. Then he’d laughingly left her wanting something more. She supposed she should be grateful he hadn’t spoiled her, but she couldn’t rouse the sentiment. Now she was going to have to face him again. And James would be there as well?

How she would survive the visit, she had no notion.

* * * *

James watched Isabella throughout dinner from where he sat across from her, seeing the haunted look lingering in her beautiful eyes. Green and gold, brown and amber, they’d captivated him from the first. Tonight she was dressed as finely as usual, wearing a bronze silk dress that made her skin glow. Taken with her perfect oval face and shapely body, she was a tempting package. She was the sister of his sister’s husband, yet his wild attraction toward her was anything but familial.

He’d made the mistake of being alone with her but one time, in the expansive formal gardens of Thorne Manor. She’d sparkled in the sunshine of that rare temperate afternoon, all golden hair and creamy skin. Her sweet, lemony scent had filled his head. Her full, rosy lips had teased and taunted him until he’d nearly taken her up on the blatant offer she’d made.
Kiss me
, she’d said. Ah, how he’d longed to do that and more.

Turning his attention to his brother-in-law, he attempted to follow the conversation at the other end of the table. It seemed at times that John and Henry communicated without words, with only Catherine aware of their discourse. John took excellent care of her, that was certain, but Henry seemed to put her welfare above all else as well. It was deuced strange.

When John and Henry rose, James realized that dinner was concluded. He scrambled to his feet, his cheeks hot. He’d been so focused on Isabella he’d lost track of time and circumstance.

“Shall we go into the parlor?” John asked.

They nodded and murmured agreement, all but Isabella. James looked over at her as they left the dining room. She still wore that fretful expression and he fought the urge to ask her in company what was troubling her. Ever since Henry brought up the impending visit to Norrington Abbey she’d appeared ill at ease. What, aside from the general’s ill treatment of Catherine, had happened there?

He didn’t dare reveal his interest in Isabella, not in front of his sister. Catherine already had designs on their match, of that James was certain. He was just as certain that his modest fortune and sedate future as a vicar was something that would never draw the vibrant girl’s attention for long. She was above him, in station and temperament. That sad fact was the very reason he’d resisted her brazen advances, though he’d longed to indulge himself.

“I believe I shall forego cards and sherry tonight,” Isabella said as they passed the grand staircase.

Catherine’s brow furrowed, but James knew she wouldn’t make an argument. She cared for the girl like a sister.

“Are you all right, Isabella?” Catherine asked her.

Isabella looked at James, her eyes a bit frantic, and gave a shaky nod. “Yes, yes. I have a bit of a headache, is all.”

The others said their good-nights to her and waved her abovestairs but James lingered. He watched her go and caught her worried glance over her shoulder one more time as she climbed the stairs.

He attempted to make suitable responses to the conversation in the parlor but his mind was upstairs with Isabella. After what he deemed a reasonable amount of time, he made his own excuses and retired. He didn’t head for his own guest chamber, however. No.

Urged by every fiber in his body, he made his way toward Isabella’s room.

Isabella sat before her vanity long after her maid assisted her into her nightdress and left her alone. She couldn’t bear to stretch out on her luxurious bed, knowing that sleep would elude her tonight despite the arrangements. Henry’s news had set her head spinning and she knew sleep, if she achieved any, would be most troubled.

They were all going to Norrington Abbey! James was coming along, but that thought did not elicit one bit of comfort. No, instead it confirmed the fact that she would have to face her past behavior toward Frederick while wrestling with her current feelings for James. How had she landed in the middle of such a mess?

John had said that her games would catch her up one day, and if he knew just how they’d done so he’d laugh—and then throttle her.

A knock came at her door, and she rose with a resigned sigh. Either Catherine had seen through her ruse or was checking on her well-being. No matter which reason, she felt guilt stab at her.

She pulled open the door, shocked to find James standing there. “James!”

“Isabella, I was worried…” His voice trailed off as he ran his blue eyes over the front of her.

She felt her nipples pinch tight against the thin fabric of her nightdress. Oh, why hadn’t she thought to put on her wrapper before going to the door? “Why are you here?”

He stepped past her into the room and she quickly closed the door. “You shouldn’t be in my room, James.”

He shrugged. “I well know it, but I couldn’t stay away. What is troubling you?”

She ran her fingers through her hair, noticing that his gaze followed her fingers. She held her hands at her sides. “Am I not allowed to excuse myself from another dull evening?”

His dark brows rose. “Are we not stimulating enough for you?”

“That is not what I meant.”

“Perhaps you are anticipating the sparkling conversation and delightful company at Norrington Abbey.”

Something in his tone struck her and, taken with his rigid posture, she suddenly knew precisely what it was. “You’re jealous!”

“Of what, pray?” he countered.

A sense of power infused her, that familiar feeling of knowing a man was captivated by her. He’d been quite stingy with such attentions, and she reveled in them now. She did not want to tease and taunt this man, however. No. She wanted to fan the flames of the desire she saw in his eyes.

“Are you worried about the general, perhaps?” She turned and sashayed away from him, letting her nightdress swish and sway.

“No.” His response was strangled.

She stopped and glanced at him over her shoulder. “About the captain, then? Oh, he is strong and handsome to be sure.”

His jaw clenched. “He has sold his commission.”

She flipped her hair over one shoulder and faced him. “He is just a gentleman, then.” Her gaze ran over his fine form, held stiff now. His eyes glittered with desire. “As you are.”

“Are you comparing me to that reprobate?”

She laughed. “Surely you don’t listen to tales, James.”

He stepped closer and she could smell his scent. It was a heady mix of brandy and cloves yet surprisingly fresh. She breathed in as he brought his face to hers.

“Not tales, Isabella.” He bent his head, grazing her neck with his lips. Her skin tingled from the contact. “His brother and yours both attested to his behavior. In and out of the abbey.”

Her pulse tripped. “W–What?”

John and Henry couldn’t know what she’d done with Frederick. No, they surely told James only of Frederick’s reputation.

“What do
you
know of Frederick?” he asked softly. His tongue flicked over the sensitive spot at the base of her throat. “What is your connection to that…gentleman?”

“Nothing.” She sighed, letting her lids drift closed. “We have no connection.”

He lifted his head, and she opened her eyes. His gaze was riveted to her mouth and her lips tingled. Would he kiss her at last?

“Dare me again, Isabella,” he rasped.

“D–Dare you?”

“Dare me to kiss you.”

She licked her lips, her breath coming fast. “I dare you, James.”

He brought his mouth to hers, teasing for a moment before settling over her with a growl. She’d never imagined such passion hid within him! His tongue drove into her mouth, and she gripped his shoulders to keep from sinking to the floor. His taste was as compelling as his scent and she felt herself melt against him.

“Ah, Isabella,” he moaned, trailing kisses over her throat. He cupped her breasts, teasing her nipples through the thin lawn of her nightdress. “You feel so bloody good.”

His words were rough and hard. She’d never heard him curse before. “Touch me, James.”

He urged her toward the bed and she sank down onto the counterpane. He loosened his cravat and shed his jacket. Her woman’s flesh swelled, moist and hot, as she watched him. He was finely wrought, his muscles apparent through his shirt.

“Will you take me?” she asked.

He stilled. “Did Frederick Tilman take you?”

She shook her head. “No!”

He nodded, apparently satisfied by her denial. He stretched out over her and she fell back. His hands stroked over her legs, easing her nightdress up toward her waist. She shivered as she spread her thighs wider.

“He touched your pussy,” he said.

There was no censure in his tone, just certainty.

“Yes.”

He closed his mouth over one nipple, tugging with his moist lips. The sensation was delicious.

“Did he taste you?” he asked.

She shook her head. His fingers were so close to her pussy as he teethed her nipple. “Taste me, James.”

He lifted his mouth from her breast and she gasped as cool air drifted over her wet nipple. He gave it one slow lick with his tongue then buried his face between her legs. She was stunned.

“James!”

His tongue was deep inside her, stroking and licking as her body flushed hot and cold. Frederick had touched her, true. He’d made her come like she hadn’t known she could. But this! She’d never imagined such a thing.

She began to tremble now, focused on nothing but James’s tongue on her flesh.

“You’re so sweet,” he murmured before renewing his attentions.

In a flash she began to climax, hearing her cries of completion as if from far away.

When she opened her eyes she found James staring down at her. “My God, you are amazing in your release.”

Her cheeks heated now. How could she be embarrassed after losing herself so completely?

“Promise me, Isabella. Promise me you won’t give yourself to Frederick Tilman.”

She came up on her elbows and attempted to gather her scattered thoughts. “Promise you?” Her pique grew as she regained her senses. She flicked her nightdress over her still-trembling legs. “What, pray, do you promise me?”

James pulled back, indecision clear on his face. “I am not in a position…”

“Go,” she said, not troubling to keep the irritation from her voice. “I trust you will not carry this particular tale?”

He looked wounded, and she wished she could take back her words. “I would never speak of you so, Isabella.”

He bent to kiss her, but she turned her head. “Good night, James.”

Grabbing up his jacket, he straightened and stared at her once more. He finally turned and walked toward the door. If he looked at her again before he left she didn’t know it. She’d already turned away from him.

How dare he set such an edict? He knew she was a virgin, despite what she’d done. First with Frederick and now with him. She’d never let a man touch her before, no matter how much they’d flirted and teased. That was before Frederick, who’d given her the very first taste of pleasure. Before James, who had made her soar out of her own body. And now she was to endure the company of both of them at Norrington Abbey.

She might not make either man a promise, but she would make one to herself. Neither gentleman would touch her again.

Pity that she didn’t believe herself for one moment.

* * * *

“They are coming, then?” Frederick asked his father.

The general tossed back his brandy and shrugged. “At last.”

Frederick thought for a moment about all that happened at Norrington Abbey last year. Secrets and hidden passions, perhaps more than the abbey had ever held in its thick stone walls. Then that last night when everything had changed. “I never thought to see Henry again.”

“He is your brother,” the older man said. “I believe I might have been a bit unreasonable when last he was here.”