Chapter Thirteen
Isabella burst out into the night air, taking several bracing,deep breaths. She ran over to theedge of the nearestcastle wall and grippedthe cool stone. As she stared out over the vast horizon of the sea, she was tempted to scream, or elsecontinuerunningdown to the beachwhere she could allowthe wavestocarry her away. Shecertainlycouldn’t imaginegoing back to such an empty life, even if it was the one she’d been born into. The very thoughtwas enough to make her ill, the meal she’d just partaken of turning sour in her stomach.
She’dall butforgottenhow much she’d hated the“social niceties,”whichwere nothing more than derogatory comments wrapped up in flowery prose.Andthat wasall it would be if she returned, thesympathetic murmurs followed by nasty, snide comments behind her back.
As much as shemight have longed toseeher family, shehad no doubt that the earl’s remarks rang true, thather parents and brotherhadallreactedin that very manner, for an untarnished reputation was essential to being accepted among the upper ten thousand. It was a fact that had been pounded into her head from the time shehad been taughthow to sit properly.
While shehad been grateful for the things she’dhadgrowing up,when so many people had suffered with so much less, the ease of a simple life was all she wanted now. Sheyearned tobe able to visit with whomever shewantedwithout fear of retribution.The class distinctionwas one of the reasons Isabella hadconsidered moving to America when her friends hadoriginallyintroducedthe idea.The idea of freedom had appealed to her, butjustnot enough where she was willing to give up her dream of Simon. Shehad believedthat if she could just get him tofall in love with her, things would be perfect. But littlehadsherealizedthat her hopes had been doomed from the beginning.
Shelost track ofhow long she stood there, buther skin prickled with awarenesstheexactmoment she was no longer alone.
It was strange how two people, who knew so little about each other, could share such a magnetic connection.
She smiled, not even trying to hide the facthewas there. “Mr. Claymoore.”
Isabellaheard his boots treading on the stones, drawing closer to where she stood. “How did you know it was me?” His deep voicepenetrated every nerve ending ofher skin.
She shrugged.“Call it intuition.”
There was the light brush of his fingers as they trailed across her neck.She shivered.
“And what would you call this?”he asked softly.
Heavenly.She swallowed. “Ticklish.”
He breathed on her ear. “And this?” he murmured.
Her heart lodged in her throat. “Teasing.”
“And what about this?” His mouth connected with the pulse beat at the side of her neck. “What would you call that?”
She inhaled sharply and said, “Tantalizing.” He gently turned her to face him and she saw that wondrously wicked grin on his face.
She sighed.“What are you doing out here? Iwas under the impression thatwe should keep our distance from each other.”
“I did say that, didn’t I?” He shrugged. “In that case, I suppose I can’t be trusted.”
“As ifthatwas ever in question.”
He laughed—a rich, throaty sound. “I suppose I deserved that.” He turned serious and ran a light finger down the side of her face. “I know what Lord Liverpool said upset you.”
Therewas no usedenying it. “It doesn’t matter if itdid. There’s nothing that can be done about it.” She moved away, adding the distance that she needed to thinkaround him.“My family relies on the approval of theton.It’s just the way ofsociety. I didn’t expect any less after what I did.”
Ridge snorted. “That doesn’t make their actions any less reprehensible. They are still yourblood.”
She turned back around to face him. “In London,positionis thicker than blood.”
He paced back and forth in front of her, his agitation clear in his abrupt movements. “I’ll never understand the nobility and their ridiculous ideals of what is acceptable and what isn’t, when no one really abides by the rules anyway.” He sighed heavily and shoved a hand through his hair. Turning his face to the sea, his handsome face in stark profile, he whispered so softly that she nearly didn’t hear him. “I wish Icouldtake you away from all of this.”
***
Ridge hadn’t meant to speakhis true thoughtsaloud,but when he heard a light gasp from behind him, herealizedthat he had. Was he upset about speaking from the depths of his chest?Not really. But then, he hadno cause to be this woman’s hero. There was nothing to be gained by offering a false hope that he could save her from the heartache that would eventually come. She’d already suffered from Simon’s ill treatment. He could give her nothing but the same.
And yet, when he thought of her returning to the same shallow life that she’d endured before, knowing that she was worth so much more than what society allowed her tobe, it made him angry. He wanted to shout at the heavens and call down the rain and drown the enemies that had made her life so miserable.
Unfortunately, as he didn’t have the power of the Gods, he had to settle withtracking down Wistenberryand finishing what he’d started. At leastthatwas something he could do. Forher.
“I’m leaving for France tonight.”
