Eloping with the Princess (Brotherhood of the Sword #3)(33)

Isabel’s mouth went dry, and she waited for what he would do next. Kiss her?

He looped her hand through the crook of his elbow and escorted her across the room then back again. Disappointment grew inside her. She wanted to run out the french doors that led into the gardens and keep running until her legs gave way. But this marriage was not about her, she reminded herself. This was about so much more than her or her happiness. The stability of their government rested, in part, on her being able to play the role of dutiful wife believably.

Dutiful wife or not, she certainly knew how to cross a room. This was nonsense. She supposed she could simply stop this ridiculous prancing about, grab his face, and kiss him, but she hadn’t the faintest notion of how to kiss a man. The brief kiss they’d shared at their wedding ceremony had been the extent of her experience.

She exhaled loudly, and it blew a puff of hair into her eyes. He abruptly stopped walking.

“Everything all right?” he asked.

“Yes. No.” She shook her head, uncertain if she should speak up. “It seems to me that walking across the room is not going to convince anyone of anything.” She stepped away from him and moved over to the settee but did not sit. “We have done this before, and evidently it wasn’t believable. I don’t understand how you’re supposed to tell what the state of someone’s marriage is simply by how they enter a room together. That’s ridiculous.”

“It is ridiculous.” He sat on the settee and she followed suit.

“What business is it of anyone’s?”

“Normally, it isn’t anyone’s concern.” He shifted on the settee to face her. “But your safety largely hinges on people believing that you couldn’t marry another man after a speedy annulment from this one.”

“Not merely my safety. These people don’t want to kill me. They do, however, want to kill our queen. We cannot risk her safety.” She looked up at him, and before she lost all courage, she blurted out, “Kiss me.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“If you want people to believe you’ve bedded me, then…” Then bed me, she wanted to yell, but before she could finish her thought, he braced his hands on either side of her face and moved his lips to hers. His warm palms cradled her cheeks, and he kissed her. His lips were on hers, soft yet firm, and completely perfect.

His tongue tantalized her—teasing, licking, and stroking until she thought she would go mad. She ran her hands up his back and pressed him down onto her, effectively lowering them back on the settee. The position gave him full access to her mouth. His tongue swept across hers, and shivers of pleasure cascaded over her like a delicious waterfall.

He settled himself atop her and kissed her more deeply. Aside from recognizing that she didn’t want this moment to end, Isabel lost all coherent thought. Lust, hot and wet, pooled in her center. She felt his arousal pressed hard against her belly, and she instinctively pushed against him. She wanted this, wanted him.

His hand slid up her abdomen and cupped her right breast. Even through her clothes, her nipples hardened. She arched her back instinctively. As much as she loathed the idea of losing her virtue here on a settee in his mother’s parlor, Isabel would overlook such a thing if only he’d continue.

His mouth left hers and trailed a hot line of kisses down her throat. He nibbled and licked at her collarbone and she closed her eyes. Jason. But she didn’t dare speak. And then as abruptly as his affection started, it ended. He pushed himself away from her and ran his hands through his hair. He stood, tugged at his waistcoat, and left her in the parlor without saying a word.

She smacked her hand into one of the decorative pillows. If she didn’t get some of this pent-up energy out, she’d soon lose her mind, but she knew better than to ask about taking a walk. She’d attempted that the other day and had been told she was not to leave the grounds of the townhome without her husband at her side.

She knew it had nothing to do with wanting to exert power over her and instead was entirely about her own protection. Still, it was frustrating. There had to be some way she could move her body enough to keep herself from going mad.

…

After their heated kiss, he had needed a fight. Less than an hour later, Jason was fully embroiled in a hand-to-hand battle with his valet, Ricks, when he heard the sound from the doorway. He turned at the intrusion, and Ricks landed a blow right to his lower abdomen. Jason groaned, but the pain of that strike was preferable to the unsatisfied desire he’d come up here with. One kiss and he’d been as hard as a randy boy. The fighting had helped distract him.

“I suppose I took advantage of you not paying attention,” Ricks said.

Jason grunted in response. “What is it?” he asked the housekeeper who stood in the doorway.

She nodded and then swiftly looked away from him.

He rolled his eyes at her ridiculous sense of modesty. It was not as if he stood there without a shirt. He merely wore no cravat or waistcoat and had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“Yes, my lord, I know we’re not supposed to interrupt you when you’re up here, but it’s Lady Ellis.”

Jason swiped the boxing gloves from his hands, dropping them on the padded floor. “What happened? Is she hurt?”

The housekeeper shook her head. “No, she is not injured, but she is, well, you should probably come see for yourself.”