Page 36 of Rescuing a Tantalising Heiress
“I won’t ask for forgiveness this time,” he said, and he kissed her again, her passions rising as she clung to him, desiring more.
Isabella knew she was an innocent. She had no mother or sister to teach her of such things, and Anne would be far too embarrassed to speak on such intimate terms. Only the pages of her books, with their occasional veiled references, had educated her as to what occurred on the night of one’s marriage, or of what passed between lovers in moments of intimacy such as this. But a kiss was but the prelude, and Isabella could only wonder as to what now lay in store.
For a married woman,she told herself, for she could only imagine the scandal if what had passed between her and Edward was known.
“You needn’t, but…well, what…do you still want to walk with me tomorrow?” she asked.
It sounded such a foolish thing to say, but Isabella was uncertain as to what the meaning of the kiss they had shared could be. The viscount nodded.
“I do,” he replied, and Isabella smiled.
“I’m glad,” she said, blushing under his gaze, as now he offered her his arm.
“And do you still wish to help me with my correspondence?” he asked.
Isabella, too, nodded. There was nothing she would like more than to spend the day with him, and perhaps more…
“If you don’t think it’s…appropriate, I’d understand,” she said as he helped her towards the door.
But Edward only waved his hand dismissively.
“Who’s going to know? It hardly matters, does it? Let them talk. But no one knows you’re here. We’ve realized that much, at least. If we want to enjoy it, why not? But don’t tell Augusta,” he said.
Isabella knew it was wise not to do so. The viscount’s sister was a delicate creature, and her own marriage had been a failure. If there was to be a courtship—and here, Isabella was speculating—it would not do to have it revealed so quickly.
In truth, she did not know what the kiss had meant—it had all happened so quickly—or whether it would be forgotten the following day. But in the moments after her first kiss, and with Edward at her side, Isabella could not have felt happier.
Chapter 15
The floorboard outside Augusta’s bedroom creaked. Edward held his breath. He was anxious not to wake his sister, even as he saw Isabella safely to her door. She turned to him and smiled, still limping but no longer in such pain, thanks to Edward’s ministrations.
“Goodnight,” she whispered, holding her candle aloft, the light of which illuminated her pretty face.
Edward smiled.
“Goodnight,” he replied, waiting until she had closed the door.
He breathed a sigh of relief, creeping back along the corridor, though still feeling fearful of encountering one of the servants along the way. Marston was often awake at strange times, and there was no telling if Hetty or Millicent might still be awake. But he met no one, reaching his own rooms without incident and shutting himself in with a further sigh of relief.
Oh, dear, what have I done?he asked himself, knowing he had overstepped the mark and taken a liberty he should not have done.
The Duke of Burlington had charged Edward with taking care of Isabella. He had not intended to kiss her. It had…
“Just happened. She kissed me…well, she didn’t. I kissed her—didn’t I? Oh, what a thing. You fool!”he exclaimed to himself, setting the candle he had taken from his study on the bedside table and pulling off his boots.
He tossed them across the room in frustration and flung himself back on the bed, still fully clothed, cursing himself for doing the one thing he knew would only lead to trouble.
“And what if she falls in love with you? Or you fall in love with her, and…”he said to himself, even as the creeping realization of his feelings now enveloped him.
Hewasfalling in love with Isabella, as much as he had tried to prevent himself from doing so. He had kept his distance and behaved in a perfectly gentlemanly fashion towards her, but there was something about her; she was different from other women.
“That’s what everyone says about the woman they fall in love with. But it’s true—she’s different because she’s under your roof, under your protection. All that nonsense about not telling anyone? What were you thinking? When was the aristocracy ever able to keep secrets?”Edward said to himself, and he groaned, fighting an internal battle in his heart and his head.
Reason told him the futility of what he had done, whilst his feelings towards Isabella only seemed stronger as he thought back to the intimacy of the moment they had shared together. The memory of their kiss lingered, even as Edward tried to dismiss it as an idle gesture.
“She won’t even remember it in the morning, will she? She wouldn’t. It meant nothing. We kissed. It’s hardly a marriage proposal, is it?”he reasoned to himself.
But reason had nothing to do with it. Edward had kissed Isabella because he felt something for her—a tenderness, a sense of protection, a growing feeling of love. Itwaslove, and Edward was angry at himself for allowing his feelings to run away with him. It was far easier to avoid a woman after a ball or a soiree, a snatched kiss forgotten in the sober light of morning. But this was different—he would see Isabella at the breakfast table.
