throat in a slow caress. “I could kiss this luscious mouth…these cherry lips forever…”
“Then you’ll have to keep me, too, as we are attached,” she returned breathlessly.
She sensed his slow smile against her lips. “What a shame…” His large hand came to rest on her thigh. Slowly it cruised up to her waist, over her ribs, lingered a while beneath her breast, and swept down the way it came. “If we go on like this much longer, you will have to stay with me forever,” he murmured, his voice was thick with need, his breathing growing harsher and heavier.
Yet he didn’t stop. His mouth moved possessively, leisurely over hers. As did his body. Shifting his weight to his arms, he moved atop her and lodged himself between her thighs in a shockingly thrilling, intimate position. Through the thin layers of her muslin gown she felt every inch of him hardening against her boneless body. His bulky frame radiated such heat she felt she was going up in flames. She lost herself in their long-drawn-out kisses. With each foray of his tongue her belly tightened, her body tingled, her response matured and intensified. The memory of his half-nude body sleek with sweat, laboring over timber, haunted her as some natural opiate. Of their own volition her fingers pulled his cambric shirttails out of his trousers and splayed over his bare back. His skin was warm velvet, stretched taut over finely tuned sinew. She fingered the two dimples at the base of his back and sailed higher along the muscled ridges flanking his spine.
A groan reverberated in his throat. He ground his taut body over hers, drawing a soft moan from her lips. Her feeble sense of propriety gave way to the dormant wanton awakening inside of her, wanting to eat him alive—and he seemed perfectly willing to let her do it…
A little voice began sobbing. “Danielli!” Isabel nudged Ashby aside and scrambled to her feet. With great tenderness she scooped the drowsy infant into her arms, murmuring soothing sounds, and encouraged Danielli to put her head on her shoulder and continue napping. “I should go,” Isabel whispered. “She’ll wake up any minute now and want her mother.”
Already on his feet, Ashby nodded grimly while tucking his shirttails into his trousers. He escorted them to the foyer in silence, but she was physically aware of his covert glances. Strange how neither one of them knew what to say when not too long ago they had conversed freely.
Phipps opened the front door. Two footmen carried Danielli’s perambulator down the front steps.
Ashby gripped her fingers, staying her inside. “Isabel…” His emerald eyes were on fire. A battle seemed to be raging behind those eyes. She sustained his gaze expectantly, her longing for him written across her face. “Thank you for a lovely visit,” he relented gruffly.
Her heart sank. He didn’t ask to see her again. “Thank you.” Dash it all. She couldn’t stand there all day moon-eyed with the door open. She smiled and tugged her hand. “Goodbye.”
His fingers opened stiffly, letting go of hers one by one. “Goodbye.”
As the front door closed behind her, Lucy pushed the perambulator in the direction of Seven Dover Street. Isabel hummed inside. If his farewell handshake was an indication of the way he felt toward her, then she would see him again. Soon.
Chapter Six
Isabel lay smiling beneath her white, lacey canopy, absentmindedly running her fingertips over her lips. Ashby had kissed her. She still couldn’t believe it, even after sniffing his masculine scent on her morning gown’s collar. The possibility that he merely gave in to his pent-up lust was inconceivable. He kissed her as though the world would come to an end if he didn’t.
Feelings were definitely involved or he would have turned to someone more experienced—and less “proper” than herself—to…accommodate him. One did not grow up in a household with two older brothers and not know that there were fancy women out there on the lookout for rich benefactors. Although, in retrospect, perhaps she was not as “proper” as she’d imagined herself to be. Why, if Danielli hadn’t interrupted them, who knows how far her naughtiness would have carried them? It was simply beyond her to preserve any semblance of propriety in this man’s presence. She stretched out on her bed, smiling dreamily. There was only one thing left to do—marry Ashby. The thought sent a jolt of excitement and anticipation through her. After flouting her family’s matchmaking attempts for four years, giving them nothing but excuses and grief, she was practically drooling over the notion of marriage. Marriage to Ashby.
Her bedchamber door slammed open, and her fifteen-year-old twin sisters pranced inside. “Izzy, come quick!” Freddy exclaimed. “You’ll never guess—”
“What?” Isabel scrambled off the bed, her heart beating a fast tattoo. Was he here? Had he come already? She checked her image in the dressing mirror and flounced after her sisters all the way down to the downstairs hallway, where Norris huddled with the servants around a table.
“Look!” Teddy pointed at a flower vase bursting with pink roses wrapped with matching curled ribbons. “This has just arrived for you! And there’s a card, but it’s sealed, dash it all.”
It was just like her rascally sisters to try reading her private correspondence. “That’ll be all, Norris.” Isabel dismissed the hive of speculating servants. She drew a steadying breath and took the card. The hand was unfamiliar. “My lovely Isabel,” it read, “I look forward to dancing with you this evening. Twice. Fondly, JH.” Oh. Her smile collapsed.
“Well?” Freddy nudged closer and read the note. “Who is it from? Who’s JH?”
“Lord John Hanson.” Isabel let out a sigh of disappointment. Her sisters, however, yelped with delight and leaped into song and dance. She reread the card. Fondly. That was interesting. “Fondly” was the term most gentlemen used. Ashby signed his “yours.” She hadn’t dared read too much into it before. Now, though, it seemed significant. “Mine.” She closed her eyes and smiled.
“Lord John Hansome.” Freddy let out a heartfelt sigh, covetously eyeing Isabel’s bouquet. “Isn’t he dreamy? His hair is spun gold. His eyes are as clear as blue water. His…”
“Water is colorless, you nitwit,” Teddy mocked her twin.
Freddy paid her no heed. “I wish I were old enough to waltz with Lord John Handsome!”
Teddy sent Isabel a petulant look. “It’s not fair that you, who balk at the idea of marriage, should have two dances with him in one evening while we don’t even get to wear long skirts.”
“You will, in three years,” Isabel returned.
“But it’ll be too late!” Teddy stomped her foot and snatched one of the pink roses for herself. “He’ll be old and married by the time we have our debuts!”
“How old do you suppose LJ is?” Freddy asked Isabel.
“LJ?” Isabel echoed. “Who’s that?”
“Lord John,” Teddy clarified. “It’s our pet name for the Golden Angel.”
“Oh. We have a pet name for him already?” Isabel chaffed. “Well, I believe he is eight and twenty. Thirteen years your senior. By the time you are my age, he’ll be five and thirty.”
“Oh, no!” Teddy cried. “He’ll be perfectly infirm by then!”
Blushing profusely, Isabel bit back a smile. “Not where
