“I suppose I want you quite badly,” she murmured.
“There can be no doubt about that, and while I want you just as badly, I’d also like to taste you.”
“What?” she squeaked, eyes wide as she tried to pull away.
He refused to let her go, leading her to the bed instead. “Trust me, love, you’ll enjoy this more than you can possibly imagine.” Once he’d settled her against the plush pillows, Anthony proceeded to kiss his way along her outstretched body, chasing away the tension that had filled her when he’d told her what he had in mind. It took a while for her to relax, but he enjoyed every moment, relishing the opportunity he’d been given to simply adore each and every part of her. When he eventually flicked his tongue against her place of desire, she gasped and groaned with such pleasure that he almost found himself undone.
He wanted her pleasure as much as, if not more than, he wanted his own, and the more he laved her, the closer he sensed her coming to her cli**x. Pulling back, he couldn’t help but smile at the dazed look upon her face as he climbed up between her legs. “This is bound to hurt a little,” he warned.
“That’s all right,” she said with sincerity gleaming in her eyes as she raised her hand to caress his cheek. “I want this—I want you.”
Anthony didn’t need a second telling, but he was determined to make this good for her and therefore took his time, no matter how difficult it was for him to stop himself from forging ahead. When he reached the proof of her maidenhood, he stopped, catching his breath as he braced himself above her. His body screamed for fulfillment, but he ignored it, focusing all of his efforts on her instead. “How do you feel?” he quietly asked.
“Strange . . . full, I suppose, and oddly complete.”
Reaching between them, he started to stroke her. “How about now?”
“Yes,” she breathed, her fingers splaying across his back as she tried to pull him closer. “Oh, God, yes. Please, Anthony . . . I need . . .”
And then she arched her back, pushing herself against him, and he complied, thrusting himself forward, burying himself to the hilt. A small groan of discomfort escaped her lips and he stopped to ask if she was all right. “Yes,” she said as she pulled him back for another breathless kiss.
With a sigh of relief, he withdrew from her a little, then plunged back inside. She groaned her pleasure, and he repeated the process until he felt her moving with him, their rhythm carrying them both on a wave of ever-increasing passion as they climbed the steep slope that would take them to the eventual place of ecstasy.
It didn’t take long before Anthony felt Isabella shudder as she tightened around him, crying out his name. He followed close behind, the rush of sensation that whipped through him at the moment of cli**x more powerful than any he’d ever experienced before. Breathing hard, he collapsed on top of her, spent and satisfied as he breathed in her scent.
“That was really quite . . . remarkable,” she said as he turned his head to place a tender kiss upon her temple.
Anthony smiled, his lips still pressed against her head. “Indeed it was, Bella, and do you know, I believe it’s only the first remarkable moment of many between us.” He could feel her skin grow warmer and knew she had to be blushing. Rolling off her, he scooped her up against his chest and hugged her close.
They remained like that for a while, and Anthony was just beginning to close his eyes, thinking her asleep, when she suddenly twisted herself around to face him with a rather pensive frown. “I would like to meet my grandparents,” she said, looking him squarely in the eye. “I know that you know where they live, and I . . . well, I’d like to make their acquaintance at the first opportunity.”
“I believe you ought to discuss that with your mother, don’t you? After all, she’s the one who had a falling out with them and ran off. It would probably be best if she makes the first conciliatory step.”
Isabella sighed as she relaxed back down against his arm. “She’ll never do it. It’s a matter of pride for her now, I believe, and while I can understand her reasoning, they’re my grandparents.” Her eyes met his again in an imploring way. “Don’t you think I should have the right to make my own decision—form my own impression of them? Not to mention what they must be going through. They probably think their daughter dead!”
“I can’t say that I disagree with you, love, but it’s a delicate situation. If you go behind your mother’s back she may feel betrayed.”
“And what about me?” Isabella asked, her voice filling with annoyance. “Ought I not feel betrayed for being lied to my whole life?”
“You have a point there,” he conceded.
“Besides, if I mention it to her she’ll only try to stop me—I’d rather she doesn’t know until I’ve met them myself and decided whether or not I’d like for them to be a part of my life.”
Anthony nodded. “Very well, then,” he said. “I shall send word to them. They are no doubt in London by now, but I can invite them up for the weekend . . . together with my mother and sister, perhaps, since I doubt your parents will allow you to come here alone and unchaperoned.”
“But if your mother or Lady Louise ask me to join them for tea, she’ll have no cause for protest,” she said, warming to the idea.
“That’s the plan, I suppose.”
Raising herself on her forearm, she gazed down at him and smiled the most dazzling smile he’d ever seen. His heart lurched. “Have I told you how much I love you?” she asked.
He pretended to consider that for a moment before saying, “I believe you may have, though I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”
She grinned. “Well I do—enormously.” And then her gaze turned hot and she lowered her lashes to offer him a seductive gaze. “Do you suppose we might have time for another remarkable moment before I have to return home?”
Blood pumping in his veins at her suggestion, he flipped her onto her back in one fluid move, eliciting a squeal from her as he placed his lips against her breast and quietly muttered, “I believe we might.”
Chapter 25
It took no small amount of organization for Anthony to pull off his plan of reuniting Isabella with her grandparents. He’d sent word to his mother and Louise first, but as eager as they’d both been to jump to his assistance, they’d had social functions that had been difficult for them to back out of without coming across as rude.
Eventually, it was decided that as long as the Deerfords were in agreement, they would come to Kingsborough Hall the following week so they could return to London in time for the Darwich Ball. Anthony’s mother had written to him, suggesting that if Lady Margaret and her parents were to reconcile as well, then the ball presented not only a good opportunity for Anthony and Isabella to announce their upcoming nuptials, but to welcome Lady Margaret back into Society with her husband by her side.
His mother signed off by saying that with the limited time available to them, she would place all responsibility of finding appropriate gowns for both Isabella and her mother on his shoulders.
Setting the missive aside, Anthony rolled his eyes and groaned. He detested anything to do with modiste shops, fashion plates, fittings and the like—hell, he himself was barely reasonably dressed at any given time, and his mother wanted him to help Isabella select a ball gown. Eyeing the side table, he decided that there wasn’t enough brandy in the world to make this task any more appealing.
Blast!
He loved Isabella, of course, and would do anything for her, but fabric selection at a modiste’s? Gah, but it was a most unpleasant thought. Still, it was important that she look her absolute best when she made her first appearance before the ton. With this in mind, Anthony found himself escorting both Isabella and her mother to Madame Bertrand’s, where he took a stand against a green silk—not that it wouldn’t have suited Isabella immensely, but the frost blue he’d seen the last time he’d been there would suit her better. Her mother, thankfully, agreed, and together they convinced Isabella to acquiesce.
For Lady Margaret, Isabella suggested a burgundy satin, and when her mother protested, it was Anthony to whom Isabella turned for support, which he happily gave, since it was a lovely fabric. “A bold color for a bold woman,” he said to his soon-to-be mother-in-law with a wink.
In the end, their errand was accomplished in record time—a feat for which Anthony gave the ladies full credit. To show his appreciation, he invited them both for tea at Mrs. Wilkes’ Tearoom, ensuring that they both selected a tart and suppressing a smile when Isabella deliberately avoided the one with apples. Seating themselves in a small nook, they each proceeded to enjoy their treats.
“Thank you again for ordering those gowns on our behalf,” Lady Margaret said as she took a sip of her tea. “The fabric was very dear, not to mention how much it will probably cost to—”
Anthony waved away her concerns with his hand. “My dear lady, you really mustn’t worry about that. It is my pleasure to ensure that you will both be equally stunning at the Darwich Ball. Tomorrow I will send my valet over to your house so he can discuss your husband’s attire with him.”
Lady Margaret leveled him with a frank stare. “You still haven’t told us what you intend to say when people start asking about Isabella’s identity and heritage.”
“I’m working on it,” Anthony assured her, though she didn’t look the least bit convinced. All he could do was thank his lucky stars that she didn’t know what his plan entailed, for she would undoubtedly quit the country before allowing him to reunite her with her parents or make a public appearance as the long-lost Lady Margaret.
Casting a sidelong glance at Isabella, he steeled himself. This was what she wanted, and he had to concede that if this situation could be resolved, Lady Margaret’s reputation could in all likelihood be restored, allowing her daughter to be accepted into Society with honor and dignity. It was most assuredly a battle worth fighting.
When Lady Louise and her mother the duchess stopped by the Chilcott residency two days later, Isabella was about to collapse into a bundle of nerves. She’d been looking forward to this day for almost a week, but now that it had finally arrived, something odd had begun happening to her stomach—as if it had suddenly decided that it didn’t belong in her body. Attempting bravery, she donned a bright smile as she wished her mother a pleasant afternoon, promising not to remain too long in her hostesses’ company. On quaking legs she then made her way toward the Kingsborough carriage, which stood waiting, and allowed the driver to help her up.
“Dear me,” Lady Louise said as Isabella seated herself across from her. “You look as if you’re heading to the gallows! I hope your parents didn’t notice, or they’ll think we have ulterior motives.”
“Which we do,” the duchess reminded her daughter.
“What I meant is that they might believe we’re trying to offer Anthony some time alone with his future bride,” Lady Louise said.