The distance between them vanished. His arms came around her and she was pulled gently until she could feel his heat burning through the thin stuff of her evening gown. Her knees were shaking. She raised her hands to press them on his chest and tilted her head intending to ask him to release her. She had no opportunity to speak. His mouth closed over hers in a kiss of such sweetness her fear melted.
His heart pounded beneath her fingertips. He was as disturbed as she and this gave her the courage to respond. Her hands crept up until they were around his neck and she buried her fingers in his dark hair. It was smooth and silky beneath her touch; she tugged at the back of his neck to bring him closer to her.
Then her feet were dangling free, his arms crushing her close and the pressure of his lips increased. His tongue ran along her mouth demanding entry to the moist recesses within. This was too much. She was overwhelmed by what was happening. Her body was responding to his lovemaking whilst her head was screaming no.
Suddenly she was free, but her legs gave way and without his arms to support her she would have sunk in a pool of green silk at his feet. “Sweetheart, I apologise, I did not mean to frighten you. Here, darling, let me carry you to the sofa.”
“No, I am quite recovered thank you, sir,” her voice was little more than a whisper but he took heed and did no more than guide her to the seat.
“Lady Isobel, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”
Shocked by the abruptness of his proposal she almost refused. He had not bothered to go down on one knee, but remained staring down at her as if impatient for an answer. “Thank you, your grace, I am delighted to accept.”
“Excellent. I shall ride down to Norfolk tomorrow to speak to your father and arrange the settlements. We will be married at Newcomb four weeks from today. I shall leave you to organize your bride clothes. Four weeks is sufficient I hope?”
Isobel wanted to tell him it wasn’t nearly enough time, that an engagement of a month was far too short. She’d hoped to get to know him better before the marriage took place. This would be a fruitless exercise. She had better become accustomed to being dictated to. The man she had just agreed to marry would brook no contradiction to his orders. Had she made a dreadful mistake?
“I shall be ready in time. Are we to have a wedding trip, my lord?”
He cupped her face and brushed her lips with his own. “My love, did you not say you were eager to spend time in the country alone with me?”
“I did, and April is the perfect month to spend in Hertfordshire.”
“Come, sweetheart, give me your hand, there’s something I still have to do.”
Obediently she held it out and he pushed a betrothal band with a perfect square cut emerald onto her ring finger. She gazed down and her eyes pricked— the ring was perfect. It also exactly matched the necklace she was wearing. Her hand strayed to her neck and his eyes followed it. Before she could retreat she was once more within his arms but this time his lips drifted across her neck leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
A strange languor made her limbs heavy. She relaxed against his arms, tipping her head back to give him access to her breasts. She was released abruptly and her future husband moved abruptly away to stand with his back to her. Was he unwell? Instinctively she stepped forward and touched his shoulder.
“Lady Isobel, return to the drawing-room to give your family the good news. I shall be with you directly.”
How inconsiderate— it would look decidedly strange for her to enter without him at her side.
She sighed and did as she was bid. Probably best to start learning to follow his dictums. One she was his wife he would own her. She would be considered his chattel, of no more value than his horse.
The next four weeks flew past. Her parents arrived from Norfolk and her bride clothes were completed. There was no time to repine, everyone told her she was the luckiest girl in the land. As the day for her departure to Hertfordshire drew closer she hoped her fears were unfounded. Bentley had rarely been alone with her, and then he left for Newcomb to oversee the preparations for her arrival a week before the wedding.
“Mama, I have scarcely had time to converse with my future husband. We have been acquainted but a few weeks— how am I going to manage living with a stranger?”
Her mother shook her head. “Isobel, child, you have the rest of your lives to get to know each other. There is not a woman in town that does not envy you. To be married to a duke who is not in his dotage is good fortune indeed.”
“We are not to have a wedding trip, did I tell you?”
“As you have no taste for travelling, my dear, I should think you are relieved to be staying put. Anyway, as he is marrying you to fill his nursery it is far better you remain in England. I doubt the physicians in other countries are as expert as our own.”
No more was said on the matter and two days before the wedding the baggage carts set off at first light and Isobel and her family followed after breakfast. There was to be a celebration ball that night for the most prestigious of his neighbours, and then the next day there was to be a garden party for the staff and tenants in order to allow them to pay their respects. A quiet family dinner would precede her wedding day. Her uncle, aunt and her cousins, Petunia and David, had accompanied them. David was two years older than Pet, and great fun to be with. Everything was a lark to him, including the thought of Isobel marrying a duke.
As the carriage turned into the drive of Newcomb, Isobel lowered the window and craned out like an urchin ignoring her mother’s demands that she sit down immediately.
“Look at that monstrous building— it must have hundreds of rooms. I’ve never seen anything so enormous in all my life.”
“Isobel, sit down at once. How can you express such a view about your future home? You should be grateful it is not in the north of England but a mere morning’s drive from Town.”
“I beg your pardon, Mama, but the thought of spending the rest of my life here is quite daunting. It must have a hundred staff to maintain it. How am I going to manage to run such a place?”
Her father frowned and cleared his throat noisily. Hastily she sat down, recognizing the danger signals. “Isobel, I am shocked by your disrespect. This place will not require your intervention; there will be a housekeeper and butler to take care of things. Your duty is to be a good wife and provide your husband with an heir.”
“Yes, Papa. I know what is expected of me, and apologize if I have given offence.”
A small army of liveried footmen were waiting to greet them. Where was Bentley? Then he appeared in the doorway and strode down the steps to snatch open the carriage door himself.
“My love, you are here at last. Come, let me show you around your new home.” Ignoring her parents, and the second carriage that contained the rest of her relatives, he escorted her inside. She was almost running to keep up with him.
“Please, my lord, should I not speak to the staff that were waiting to greet me at the door?”
“Absolutely not, darling girl. I have something to show you and it cannot wait. Remember, you will be my duchess the day after tomorrow. You’re answerable to no one here apart from myself.”
She was breathless when he stopped outside handsome double doors. Two flunkies bowed and opened them. “My word! What a pretty sitting-room. Is this to be mine?”
His delight at her reaction told her she had said the right thing. “I’ve had your apartments refurbished and redecorated. That’s why I have been absent so much these past few weeks. I wished it to be perfect for you.”
Her heart skipped and impulsively she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. Laughing he swung around like a child and kicked the door shut in the faces of his staff. “If there is anything I’ve forgotten, anything else that you wish for, you only have to ask.”
She gazed round the room, her eyes wide as she took in exactly what was there. She ran from one item of furniture to another exclaiming in pleasure. “A walnut desk, and a harpsichord. Look, an easel and everything I need to paint. I cannot believe it, you have chosen all these novels and they are exactly what I would have picked myself.”
“I spoke to your mother when I was in Norfolk and she told me of your interests. I have a stable full of horses you can ride. As I don’t care for house pets there are no dogs here for you to fuss.”
At the mention of her own beloved animals she felt a moment’s sadness. She would miss them sorely, but her siblings had promised to take care of Ebony and Othello in future. “You’re a kind and generous gentleman; thank
