Her pulse skittered along with her heart as she paused.
Beatrice’s gaze sharpened, her steps slowing. “Go on.”
“Well… we were caught.” Isabella started cautiously, uncertain of how to broach the subject with her sister. She had told Beatrice all of her secrets as far back as she could recall, but this was different.
“By whom?” Beatrice’s face softened to a curious frown.
“Who else? The Duke of Everthorne, Bea!” Isabella blurted.
Beatrice let out a loud gasp; her eyes widened in shock.
The words then began to pour from Isabelle’s lips in torrents. “His temper flared, and he confronted his grandmother. I—” She paused, shifting her head to the side a little. “I didn’t appreciate the tone and manner with which he spoke to her, so I intervened, and things got a tad heated.”
“Kindly explain what that means, Bella,” Beatrice interjected more firmly, concern marring her brow.
“We…” Her voice grew softer. “Things spiraled beyond control… and… and there was a kiss,” she muttered the last bit, avoiding her sister’s gaze.
Beatrice halted mid-step. “A kiss? In front of everyone?”
Isabella’s face burned beneath the cool wind as she quickly shook her head and then nodded. “We were alone after the argument with his grandmother, but yes, there was a kiss.”
“You kissed the Duke of Everthorne?” Beatrice demanded her voice dripping with disbelief while her eyes continued to widen.
“Hekissed me,” Isabella corrected quickly. “Or—no—well—perhaps both.” Her voice tangled, flustered. “I hardly know how to explain it. I did not stop him, but I did not initiate it either. It all happened so quickly.” The color continued to rise in her cheeks as the memories came flooding back.
He had pushed her against the wall, but she had not resisted. His lips had burned against hers until every part of her body had ached, yet she had returned his fervor with gasps and moans of encouragement.
What came over me?
Her breathing began to quicken as she questioned her own actions in all that had happened.
“Explain it slowly,” Beatrice urged, breaking into her thoughts and pulling her aside beneath a large, bare oak. “I want to hear every detail, Bella.” Her eyes glistened with curiosity as they once again checked to see if they were alone.
Isabella pressed her gloved fingers together, staring at the ground. Her heart pounding, as if the memory itself were alive and trying to escape.
“Wh… when he stepped toward me,” she said quietly, “I didn’t move; I could hardly breathe and—” Her pulse quickened as the memory played vividly in her mind. “He backed me against the wall,” she whispered. “His voice, it was low, and demanding and so close, I could feel the warmth of it against my lips…”
Beatrice’s eyes widened with blatant intrigue as she seemed to hold her breath. “Did you like it?” she asked, embarrassment flushing her cheeks.
“That is hardly the point,” Isabella muttered, cheeks inflamed as she quickly shook her head.
“Itabsolutelyis the point,” Beatrice teased, gripping her hand tightly. “If you enjoyed it, it certainly means something!” She continued to whisper, yet her words grew frantic with each syllable.
“Well, it was not gentle,” she considered. “It was intense. As though he had been trying not to do it for far too long. I could not think. I could only feel. My entire body felt… untethered…”Her voice cracked, revealing her conflict more clearly than she wished as she swallowed hard.
Beatrice regarded her with deep sympathy, mingled with excitement. “And you reciprocated.” Her voice was gentler.
“I—yes,” Isabella whispered, realizing that she could no longer deny her eagerness. “I hate that I did. For a moment, I felt as though I had stepped out of my own skin. Nothing made sense except him. I hate that it happened, Bea. His kiss consumed me and rendered me utterly powerless…”
“You are not foolish for feeling something, Bella.” Beatrice touched her arm gently, tilting her head to the side with a compassionate gaze.
“I do not even know what I feel,” Isabella confessed, her breath shaking. “I do not like him. Truly, I do not. He infuriates me. He unsettles me. And yet…” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “Why can I not stop thinking about him?”
She shut her eyes, still recalling the seat of his kiss against her lips and the way her skin had responded to every touch.
He haunts me.
She could hardly believe what she was confessing to her sister, but it was an undeniable fact. She had felt intrigued by him at first, yet now he consumed her mind as if the kiss had allowed him to take possession of her being.
