But that kiss, as wondrous and startling as it was, had left an ache in her body. It was an ache that no amount of more kissing could assuage. It was an animal demand that wanted, needed, more. Of that more, she had no experience, but that man did.
His kiss had sparked something new into life inside her.
There is one way you can convince him to show you his experience, a small voice niggled. Seduce him. Isn’t that what Montfort wants from you anyway?
But she knew down to the marrow of her bones if—when—she carried out the seduction of Lord Percival Bretagne, it wouldn’t be for Montfort.
Chapter 13
Isabel wasn’t hiding her presence, but neither did she announce it.
Still, she was far enough away that she couldn’t hear the contents of his conversation with Michael, which suited Percy well. Part of him wished she would discreetly leave.
Another, possibly larger, part hoped she would stay.
“Razing it to the ground is your best option.” This from Michael.
Percy’s gaze swept over the jagged walls of the ruin, three quarters of which lacked a roof, then out to the sea, gray as the sky above. “I rather like it.”
Michael scoffed. His brother scoffed at least three times a day. “Romantic ideals still intact, little brother?”
Percy tried not to grind his jaw, and failed. Michael had delivered a direct hit by alluding to the frivolous young buck Percy had once been. But he’d be damned if he gave Michael the satisfaction of acknowledging it. “This place has history,” he said.
“A history best forgotten.” Michael gave his thigh a light slap with his riding crop. “It’s crumbling to bits. Better to get rid of it, but your choice.” Another slap of the crop. “And your responsibility.”
Percy held his brother’s gaze. “I take my responsibilities seriously.”
“See that you do. The old man can’t take another of your japes.” That bit of business concluded, half a smile twitched about Michael’s mouth, which was as much of a smile as one was ever to see from the perpetually serious Exeter. He pointed toward Percy’s left eye. “You might want to put a cut of beef on that.”
Percy touched gingerly fingertips to the bruise beneath his left eye. It had already faded to a muted reddish brown. “I ran into a door.”
Michael shook his head on a gusty chortle. “That must’ve been quite a massive door.”
“He was,” Percy replied, drawing another laugh from his brother.
Percy knew the instant Michael noticed Isabel. His smile fell and the humor in his eyes faded, replaced by a hardness. That hardness suggested Michael thought Isabel another of his brother’s japes. That he wasn’t wrong on that score sat at an uncomfortable angle inside Percy. Michael gave Percy a curt nod in parting as he strode from the area, dipping his head in passing acknowledgment as he swept past Isabel.
Percy and Isabel’s eyes met and held across the distance. His heart gave a ragged thump, and air became difficult to inhale. Her tongue gave her lips a nervous lick. His eyes dropped to her mouth. They couldn’t help themselves.
Into the hushed space entered last night.
His lips upon hers, insistent, demanding.
Her sway, her surrender.
“For my actions last night,” he found himself beginning, unsure where he would end, “I offer my sincere”—that was a stretch—“apology. It was a moment of madness.”
Isabel’s eyes narrowed into green slits, and Percy suddenly felt that he’d somehow stepped in quicksand. Once one set foot in it, one was sunk. A long moment drew out, her direct gaze never wavering. Percy shifted uncomfortably on his feet. At last, she spoke. “You speak of a one-sided desire. Yours.”
Soul-deep shock raced through Percy. Was she truly implying what he thought she was?
“But,” she continued.
“But?”
“But what of my desire?”
She was.
Isabel pushed off the wall at her back and took a few steps forward. Percy’s insides did a little flip. “You think you had the only say in the matter? And who is to say whose desire was greater? Mayhap I should be apologizing to you?”
Percy’s breath refused to budge from his lungs as his wickedness surged, heady at the prospect of the myriad ways she could offer her apologies. But . . .
She was a virgin.
He couldn’t recall ever having been spoken to thusly by a virgin.
“Have you considered the possibility,” she continued, “that I wanted your kiss with every fiber of my being?”
“I,” he began and stopped. The woman continued to stun him speechless. It was all he could do not to push her up against that wall and explore what more she might want with every fiber of her being. His swelling cock agreed with the idea with every fiber of its being.
Stop this, man. The conversation could proceed no further down this path. It was time to right it. Now. “I need to ask you a question.”
“Yes?” she asked, her contralto voice not making matters any easier.
“Are you being coerced?”
“I am exactly where I want to be.”
“By Montfort.”
Desire vanished from her eyes in an instant. Good. Except, already he missed it.
“Why were you in Number 9?” he asked. “Women like you don’t inhabit such places.”
He could see by the rapid rise and fall of her chest that she’d become short of breath. He’d given up on an answer when, at last, she spoke. “There is a debt.”
There. As he suspected. “What sort of debt?”
Doubt had her pressing her lips together. He could see she was already regretting her words.
“I can help you,” he pressed.
“Why?” she shot back.
“Why?”
“Why would you help me? I’m naught more than a pawn in this game. So, why would you, Lord Percival, help me?”
How had this conversation gotten so twisted around? He would give her the truth. She wouldn’t settle for less. “I need your help.”