Isabella's Secret Summer

by Tabetha Waite

  Mrs. Hopper waved a hand. “She’s fine, and so is Herb, although—” She snorted. “—after all these years he can be a cranky old curmudgeon at times.”

  Isabella relaxed. “He sounds like my father.”

  “Then I truly feel sorry for you,” Ethel noted, although the smile that followed eased her words. “I hope you don’t mind that I came in here to brighten up the room a bit. I daresay the entire castle is covered in gloom today.”

  Isabella’s stomach clenched with renewed warning, although she forced herself to remain calm. Naturally, her thoughts turned to Ridge. “Have you seen Mr. Claymoore this morning?”

  Ethel nodded. “I did. He set off at first light to hire a local messenger to deliver a letter to London, and then he intended to search the coastline for any sign of Lord Wistenberry.”

  Isabella’s spirits sank. “I see.”

  Mrs. Hopper must have misinterpreted her sudden upset, for she said, “Not to worry. Mr. Claymoore also hired a couple young gents from the village to keep an eye on things in his absence. Herb recommended Isaac and Ian, both strapping lads which he’s known since the time they were in short pants.” She paused and set her hands on her hips. “I should get started on the day. I have bread to make.”

  Before she could leave, Isabella scrambled to her feet. “Then I suppose we should get to work.”

  Ethel looked at her askance. “We?”

  “Of course.” Isabella returned. “I daresay I’m sick of wandering around these halls all day with nothing to do, while you and Claudia do all the work. No doubt you could use the help.”

  “But…” Mrs. Hopper eyed her in puzzlement. “You’re a lady. It wouldn’t be right if you toiled in the kitchens like a common scullery maid.”

  Isabella couldn’t help but laugh. “After the past few weeks, I feel far from refined. Besides, I refuse to except no for an answer.”

  Mrs. Hopper sighed. “Very well, my lady. I’m certainly grateful for any assistance.”

  “Good.” Isabella grinned. “Just let me get dressed, and I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

  After the older woman left, Isabella donned her front lacing stays. They had served her well when she’d run off with Simon and would do perfectly well again, now that her maid wasn’t able to assist her in dressing.

  After slipping on a simple white muslin, she brushed her hair and pulled it up into a chignon. She had just shoved the last pin in place when her door opened.

  She turned, expecting to see Mrs. Hopper, but gasped when she saw Claudia. Her maid was clinging to the doorframe, her eyes still glassy from the effects of the laudanum that the physician had left. Isabella rushed over to her side. “What are you doing out of bed?” she demanded.

  The other woman put a hand to her forehead. “I can’t neglect my duties—”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Isabella chided as she helped Claudia back to her room. “I’m perfectly capable of managing on my own until you’re recovered. The doctor said you suffered a nasty blow and need your rest.” Isabella urged her to the bed and tucked her under the covers.

  “My head does ache something dreadful,” Claudia murmured, as she lay down. “But I’m your maid—”

  Isabella cut her off once more, her tone becoming firm. “Yes, but you’re also my friend. Things could have ended so much worse yesterday. So until you’re fully recovered, I don’t want to see you out of this room again. Do you understand?”

  Claudia nodded. “Yes, my lady.”

  “Good. I’ll be back shortly with a tea tray.”

  As Isabella shut the door, she closed her eyes and leaned against the hard wood. After taking a bracing breath, she headed downstairs.

  ***

  Ridge returned to the castle just after lunchtime. His stomach was grumbling about being ignored, but he was more upset that he’d ridden as far away as Ramsgate to the north and Dover to the south, but either Wistenberry was that good at keeping his location a closely guarded secret, or no one was inclined to offer any information.

  Then again, he’d been hard pressed to concentrate on anything more than the memory of Isabella and their seductive little téte-á-téte in Liverpool’s study.

  Everywhere he looked, something reminded him of her, whether it was the sun shining off of the water to mimic the flash of playfulness in her eyes, or the wind blowing in off the shore that took him back to the day her copper hair had been whipping around her shoulders on the bastion. And now that he’d had more than a tempting taste of her lips, her scent coursed through his veins like the finest wine.

  He’d caused his horse to prance in agitation more than once, for he would be gripping the reins without even noticing it, the urgency to return to the castle and finish what they’d started the night before being a rather strong incentive in abandoning his search.

  But then, where would that leave Isabella? Since her safety was still a threat with Wistenberry on the loose, she didn’t need Ridge sniffing around her skirts as well.

  Thus, he returned to Walmer a bit more annoyed than when he’d left, but at least he could take a small measure of comfort in the fact his missive was on its way to Montgomery. All he could do now was wait for his fellow agent to join him.

  At this rate, he prayed it was sooner rather than later.

  As if fate took pleasure in tormenting him further, he walked into the kitchens — and froze. Mrs. Hopper stirred something in a bit pot on the stove, filling the air with an enticing aroma. But it was the sight of Isabella in an apron and kneading dough that caught his fascination and made his mouth truly water.

  He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, admiring the picture of domesticity in front of him. “Something smells delicious.”

  Isabella glanced up and he had to smile at the slight blush that tinged her cheeks. But that wasn’t all. Her face was streaked with flour, and even a section or two of her hair was lighter than normal, the delicate curls around her face drooping from the heat of the oven. In light of her appearance, he grinned, for she must have been having a fabulous time.

  But it was Mrs. Hopper who replied, “Oh, rest assured, Mr. Claymoore, we have something extra special prepared for you.”

  His lips twitched, a laugh threatening to break free. “I don’t doubt it.” He looked around for the men he’d hired to watch over the castle in his absence and frowned when he didn’t see them anywhere. “Where are Isaac and Ian?”

  Mrs. Hopper pointed her wooden spoon at him. “Don’t take that tone! They just finished a perimeter search, and I sent them out to the gardens to gather some apples for a pie.”

  Ridge didn’t reply, as Herb entered the room. He immediately chortled with delight, and he was glad to see that, other than the bandage wrapped around the older man’s head, he didn’t seem to be suffering any ill effects from his attack. “I can tell someone’s been busy doing some baking! It smells heavenly in here.”

  “I can’t take all of the credit,” Ethel returned proudly. “Lady Isabella has been an apt pupil.”

  “I can see that.” He grinned. “For I’m not sure which one is wearing more flour at the moment, Lady Isabella or the bread!”

  Mrs. Hopper turned to Isabella and put her hands on her hips. She looked at the lady with a critical eye, and then she started to chuckle. “Oh, you’re right!” She reached to a shelf above her and took down a silver platter that shone like a mirror. Smiling, she held it in front of Isabella’s face. “Take a look.”

  Isabella gasped the moment she saw her face was coated with streaks of dust-covered evidence from her recent culinary training. Then her lips twitched and her eyes lit with mirth as a giggle emerged from between her lips and she self-consciously wiped at her face with the back of her hand. Of course, this succeeded in making the situation even worse.

  “Why don’t you go get changed?” Mrs. Hopper suggested. “I can take it from here. I’ll have Isaac and Ian heat some water and bring it up for a bath before they leave.”

  “Ver
y well.” Isabella removed the apron from around her waist and hung it on a nearby peg. She turned to address Herb. “I’m relieved to see you looking so well, Mr. Hopper.. I daresay I was rather worried about you when we returned from Kingsdown yesterday.”

  He grinned. “Rest assured, my lady, it will take more than a ruffian or two to keep this old man down for long.”

  A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  Ridge watched her leave the room, knowing that he needed to speak to her about last night. He wanted to make sure they stood on the same ground, and that there were no expectations of renewing their previous engagement. Even if he might like nothing better, it wasn’t a good idea.

  As Mrs. Hopper returned to her duties, Herb headed outside, so Ridge slipped out of the kitchens. Now was as good a time as any to speak with the lady.

  She was climbing the stairs when he called out to her. “Lady Isabella.”

  She paused, and he noticed she gripped the wooden bannister. After a brief pause, she drew in a deep breath and then turned to face him. “Yes, Mr. Claymoore?”

  He didn’t miss the fact she was rather cool and composed, when in turn, his heart was about to pound out of his chest. He cleared his throat. “I wanted to speak with you about what happened between us—”

  She held up a hand. “You don’t have to say anything,” she interrupted smoothly. “It was a momentary distraction, a temporary weakness, but no doubt you will agree it will be in our best interests if we keep our distance from one another unless absolutely necessary.”

  He hesitated, for she’d quite taken the words out of his mouth. However, since she voiced the suggestion, he wasn’t sure it set very well. It was as if she was breaking things off with him, and his pride wasn’t comfortable accepting such a blow. “Indeed. I just wanted to ensure that we were both thinking accordingly.”

  Isabella clasped her hands before her and offered a smile that could be construed as polite. “This morning I realized that to engage in anything further than a simple acquaintance would be sheer folly while there is no suitable outcome for either of us. Once this entire escapade is over and Simon is in custody, I shall return to London, and do my best to put all of this behind me. Now, if you will excuse me?”

  With that, she lifted her skirts and turned her back on him.

  ***

  Isabella reached her chamber and shut the door behind her, exhaling heavily. She prayed that she was convincing enough for Ridge to believe all the lies that had tumbled out of her mouth, as that was all they were. She told him what she thought he wanted to hear, and while there was a certain truth to what she’d said, that it would be foolhardy in the extreme to continue any sort of liaison with him, she wanted nothing more. If he could bring her body to such heights of ecstasy with just a few flicks of his fingers, she couldn’t help but imagine what else he might be able to do.

  She shook her head and pushed away from the door. Isaac and Ian would be arriving with her bathwater shortly, so she began to gather the things she would need, items that Claudia normally set out for her. It was something that her maid did for her each day without complaint, and it made Isabella even more cognizant of how much Claudia was dedicated to her service.

  When there was a knock at the door, Isabella opened it to let the brothers from the village into the room. They poured the buckets of steaming water into the copper tub.

  Once they were gone, Isabella peeled off her gown and undergarments. She was thankful that Claudia had packed some of her favorite rose-scented oil, for a few drops in the water perfumed the air with its sweet scent. It was exactly what she needed as she sank into the tub with a sigh. Combined with the steam of the water, she closed her eyes and let the heat envelop her in its comforting warmth.

  The gentle ripples washed over her breasts, and she sucked in a breath, imagining that Ridge was there with her. And although she didn’t want to think of him, she allowed herself this one stolen moment to dream of his touch.

  Her pulse began to flutter madly as she dared to run her hands down the sides of her breasts, and then along the hardened peaks, pinching her nipples as she fell deeper into the fantasy. She moaned as her right hand trailed past her stomach and delved between her legs, while her other reached out to grip the side of the tub. Her back arched as her fingers found that same sensitive bud and began a steady rhythm that mimicked what Ridge had done to her. Her breath started coming in steady pants, and she knew that the building sensation that she was creating would soon crest.

  And she wanted it. Oh, God, how she craved it.

  With the vision of Ridge still in her mind, she imagined that his mouth was on her body, kissing and teasing her, until with a low cry, she soon found her release and called out his name.

  She opened her eyes, trembling in the aftermath of her desire, but the pleasure she’d felt was fleeting, for she was still empty and unfulfilled. Although she might have found temporary abandon on her own, her body still yearned for his touch.

  With a frustrated sob, she climbed out of the tub and shoved her arms in her dressing robe. She crossed the room and sank down in a chair in front of the fire.

  Isabella had to find a way of exorcising the demon of Ridge Claymoore before it was too late and he consumed her completely. Even so, she kept replaying his parting words from the night before—”If the time ever comes when we do copulate, I intend to take my time and not take the risk of being disturbed, because it won’t be over in a few minutes.”

  And yet, they had both been in agreement this afternoon that what had happened between them wouldn’t be repeated or go any further than it had.

  She laid her head back against the chair and shut her eyes. Why couldn’t life be simple? She couldn’t have Ridge and Simon had never wanted her, while the one thing she’d ever desired in life was apparently too much to ask for.

  Chapter Eleven

  Isabella rose to her feet and decided it was time to do something other than lament her own existence. So she got dressed and went to check in on Claudia. When she was confident that her ladies’ maid was sleeping easily, she headed outside to take a walk. She found that strolling out of doors always went far to restore any lagging spirits she might otherwise have.

  She headed for the top of the keep where she could look out at the sea, where the salty scent of the water was the strongest. The gray clouds from the day before were still heavy with the threat of rain, but it hadn’t dared to do so yet.

  As she stood there, an unexpected orange glow caught Isabella’s attention. It was a barely perceptible glint on the water from time to time, and she frowned, wondering what it could be. She glanced all around the shoreline and saw nothing, so she made her way around the circular roof, looking for the unusual source.

  It wasn’t until she reached the opposite end of the keep that her heart lodged into her throat. One of the outbuildings of the castle was lit up in flames.

  Fire!

  With her heart pounding in her throat, Isabella sprinted toward the staircase and flew down to the lower level. She came to a halt in front of Ridge’s chamber door, praying he was within as she pounded fervently. She heard a slight curse and then something crashed to the floor as he finally wrenched the door open. He had a pair of trousers held up to shield the lower half of his body, but the top half was bare.

  For a moment, she almost forgot the impending threat, as her gaze was riveted to those muscles that she remembered all too well from their late night swim. But then he growled impatiently, “What is it?”

  She abruptly remembered her purpose for being there. “There’s a fire,” she said still out of breath from her run. “In one of the outbuildings.”

  His face hardened, and he bit out another curse, this one even more foul. “Let me get dressed. Do not move from that spot.”

  He slammed the door, and Isabella paced in front of it, knowing that every minute was precious, and the more severe the issue could get.

  By the ti
me Ridge reappeared, his trousers and boots in place, a shirt on but left hanging loose, Mr. and Mrs. Hopper were rushing toward them. “Fire, Mr. Claymoore! In the storage shed!”

  “Lady Isabella just informed me of that fact,” he said curtly. As he walked briskly forward, tucking in his shirt as he went, Isabella, along with the porter and his wife, rushed to keep up with him. “Mrs. Hopper, you might want to stay with Claudia to make sure she doesn’t become alarmed.”

  “Of course.” Ethel bobbed her head and rushed back toward the maid’s quarters.

  Isabella wasn’t certain what to do, so she asked, “Should I also stay—?”

  “You are to remain by my side at all times,” Ridge returned firmly. He turned to Mr. Hopper. “Where are Isaac and Ian?”

  “They went home. I didn’t think we needed their services any longer since you had returned.”

  Ridge shoved a hand through his hair as they headed downstairs and outside the castle, toward where impending danger lurked. “It’s best to retrieve them now, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, sir.” Herb rushed off in the opposite direction.

  From here, it wasn’t difficult to ascertain where the mysterious glow of earlier was coming from, for the fire was already licking upward toward the heavens, the heat and smoke from the flames as it devoured its prey starting to clog the aromatic gardens.

  Ridge, in turn, led Isabella over to the outside spigot and began pumping water into buckets. “For the moment we’re not going near that shed,” he instructed. “Our efforts would be for naught against that blaze. What we need to do is make sure that it doesn’t spread.”

  Isabella nodded her head. “I understand.”

  “Good.” Once their buckets were full, they each hoisted one. “Let’s just hope that the villagers have something a bit more useful than a handful of buckets, so that we can ensure the castle is free from danger.”