“Absolutely.” Her hand darts out, catching my hip in her hold. I am certain my bones are melting under the heat in her eyes as she says, “Do you know how often I dwell on the memory of every time I have touched you? Every conversation? Every time you laughed? Each serious explanation of some research or ...”
She leans forward to kiss me, and I turn my head. Her lips brush my cheek.
She says, “I have always wanted you at my side. You were my first kiss. I watched you for months, but my tongue was like a weight when I tried to speak to you. Your clever sister arranged to meet me that first night, and I went thinking she was going to tell me how to talk to you. Instead, you were there.”
Isabeau steps forward. I will either be chest to chest with her or retreat. I back up into an empty—and clean—horse stall.
“I tried to tell you what I felt with my hands and my lips, with those tiny flowers you liked so much.” Isabeau shakes her head. “Icrawled on my hands and knees plucking those so often. My love couldn’t want roses or some other huge blossom. You had to like the smallest of blossoms.”
“Yet you still picked such huge bouquets of them.” I smile at the memory of her mud-covered, grass-stained gowns. “I pressed many of them in books.”
“Let me love you.” She stares at me, and I think I can see the immensity of her feelings in her eyes. “I can show you how I feel even when I don’t say the right words.”
I shudder at the flood of need that fills me as she steps closer. All because of her gaze, that’s all she has to do to make my body feel molten. I still back away from her again. “I know how you feel, Isa.”
Isabeau steps closer. “Do you need my words then? I have no flowers, but I can tell you everything if you need assurances. I sent you a microscope. That man in Regina Centrum? The ocularist you liked?”
“Sir Bartholomew?”
“You named a grotesque on my home after him. I was jealous, but I sent you that microscope.” Her hand curls possessively around my hip.
“We were no longer speaking then.”
Isabeau shrugs. “And yet, I still wanted to lock you in my castle and guard over you. I thought if I could keep you there, you would accept my offer of marriage eventually.”
“I never heard your offer,” I remind her.
“Hearing that monsters will try to hurt you ...” Isabeau makes an angry sound. “I would build a tower and lock you away from any claw or fang. That’s what I was thinking when I ran. I want to build walls to keep every threat away from you. And in our tower, I will ravish you over and over until you promise not to fight them.”
Despite my resolve, I gasp at the thought of it. “I would escape, Your Grace. Your temper changes nothing about thegeas. Ihunt, Maudite. It’s who I am until my death. I must seek out the faeries that are not to be in our world, and I must kill them.That is my destiny.If you cannot accept that, we cannot be together.”
“When I am awake and you hunt, I must be at your side,” Isabeau demands. “Iwillprotect you. I will make you mine.” She puts her hand on her heart. “I feel like you always have been mine.”
I lift my chin, feeling like I am negotiating a surrender. “I like the ravishing part of your plan, but I cannot shirk my duties because you want to treat me like a noblewoman.”
“If I can make you beg, you will stay in my home, and I will accompany you in the daylight hours when you hunt.” Isabeau’s hand tightens on my hip like she is trying to brand her skin into mine. “Say yes, love.”
“I will agree to stay at your castle when I am not at my home. My weapons are all here, though,” I explain, although I carefully avoid mentioning that she will be abed in the hours when I must hunt. “You can move into my manor, too.”
“Yes.” She brushes her nose against my throat and gently bites. “I cannot be apart from you, not if you are in peril.”
“I want to kiss—”
The rest of my sentence is lost under Isabeau’s mouth. She sways toward me, and I am in her arms where I want to be. This time there is no hesitation. I melt into her embrace.
When I jerk back to stare at Isabeau’s lust-blown eyes, my voice sounds raw. “I cannot give you an heir or be the duchess you deserve. I’m afraid I am not what you need. If I say yes, and I fail you—”
“I know what I need, love. I needyou. I always have. I want to be at your side as you research or hunt or sleep.” Isabeau presses me back to the wall. “Don’t run away from me because I am worried about you.”
Isabeau puts one palm flat on the wood and crowds close.
I draw a shaky breath. “I could escape right now if I wanted.”
“I’d let you if you wanted to flee, but ...” Her lips are against my throat again, and this time I tilt to give her better access. Her words are warm against my skin as she says, “You want to be here as much as I do.”
The question hovers there, so I assure her, “I do, but you cannot simply seduce me every time you panic or I do.”
“Why not?” Her leg presses between mine. “I like seducing you.”
