My hand goes to her buttons, and at first, she doesn’t speak. Her attention is riveted as I unfasten her shirt and leave it gaping open. All that’s between me and her bare skin is the fabric of her stays. The small curve of her breasts is delectable, and I lean in and kiss her there.
“Not the kiss I was expecting,” she whispers.
I reach behind her and loosen the eyelet ribbon of her short stays. It’s barely boned, but when last I removed her shirt, she wore no stays at all. Her breath hitches as I loosen it enough to slip downward, where it catches on the top of her trousers. “What about this kiss?”
I gently kiss her nipple, suckling it until it hardens, and then repeat the gesture on the other side. “Beautiful Isabeau,” I murmur. “Was that the kiss you were hoping for?”
“No. Yes. Both,” she says shakily. “I fear I am greedy. I wantallyour kisses, love.”
I kiss her breasts, the curve of her shoulder, the column of her neck, and every so often the plump lips that part on shaking gasps and soft sounds.
“I’ve missed this part of our friendship,” I say quietly, feeling like anything louder than a whisper might break this magical moment. “The kissing part.”
She chuckles softly. “I have missed every part of you being in my life, Gabrielle.”
I lace my fingers through hers and lead her into my bedroom.
Isabeau looks at the bed that stands in the center of my room. She glances at me, and then back at it. “I have dreamed of this moment.”
“Me, too.”
“I thought you had to tell me some secret first?” she prompts.
Now that the moment is here, I simply don’t want to confess. I don’t want to end this moment with secrets and bleak truths. I am afraid she’ll be disgusted or laugh or ... I can’t think of all the ways the truth could break this fragile beautiful thing between us. My fears threaten to swallow me alive.
“Give me today first.” This time, I’m the one who’s being greedy, and I know it. “Please?”
“Nothing can be so bad—”
“Isa, I want this with you, and I’m afraid if I ... if I have to wait ...”
She leans in and kisses my words away. When she pulls back, she says, “I want everything with you, no matter what secret you are afraid to share.” A bitter laugh slips out before she adds, “I am acursedduke. I cannot see the stars ever again. Me, with my love of constellations ... So I doubt that anything you are hiding can be so bad.”
“Can we not talk about secrets for just today? When I next see you alone, ask me. I will tell you everything.” I finish removing her stays and push her jacket and shirt off. They puddle on the floor, looking somehow scandalous there. “I swear.”
“I never could tell you no, love.”
Curious, I ask, “Do you want to?”
“No, that’s far from what I want right now.” She steers me toward the bed. “I won’t ask any questions.”
“I have some other kinds of questions,” I whisper, face turning red despite the alcohol I drank earlier. Aloud I muse, “I guess not all my fears were washed away. I need ...”
“Anything.”
I admit, “I understand how men and women have relations. I tried that.”
She growls but says, “But?”
“How do we—how dowomen ... obviously youcanhave sex because I hear about your conquests all the time. I’m not sure how.”
Gently, she says, “Most of my supposed conquests are no more than kisses and caresses.”
“Here?” I ask, stroking her breasts again.
“Some. Other places, too.” She directs me to the bed. “Dress on or off?”
“Off?” My voice quavers. I’m uneasy at the thought of being naked, but I’ve never trusted anyone as much as I trust Isabeau.
