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Rhys reached for her leg again and tightened his fingers around her calf. “Sit still.”
He carefully took off her boots and frowned as he saw that her stockings were soaked through. Just then, Anthea bustled in with a bundle of blankets.
“Anthea.” Rhys turned to her. “Please take out a fresh pair of stockings, a couple of towels, and a chemise for her ladyship. And then bring a basin with hot water, please.”
“Just a moment, my lord.”
As Anthea rushed to do as she was asked, Isabel looked at her husband. “Thank you for taking care of me, but I can fare on my own from here.”
Rhys ignored her, sinking his hands under her skirts and untying her garters. The ticklish feeling at her thighs had her clench her knees together. “Truly, this is unnecessary,” she tried again.
Rhys scowled at her. “My dear wife,” he said between his teeth as he rolled down one stocking. “I think you fared quite enough for one day. Now let me lend you a hand.”
He rolled down another stocking and glowered at the wet piece of cloth.
“That’s not fair. Just because I got caught in the rain—”
Rhys sat up on his knees, took Isabel’s face between his palms, and kissed her soundly. Isabel went limp in his arms as Rhys swept his tongue against her mouth.
He let go of her suddenly, and Isabel had to catch herself lest she fell. She frowned at him. “If you think that your kisses are some form of a—”
She earned herself another kiss. More urgent now as Rhys’s hands roamed her body. He undid the ties around her neck and took her cloak off. “I am your husband. And you shall do as I say.”
Isabel frowned again. Had he just kissed her so he could do whatever he wanted without her protesting?
Anthea placed all the items that Rhys required by the feet of the chair. She blushed as she scurried away, and Isabel realized that she’d seen Rhys kissing her!
Isabel’s cheeks heated from embarrassment.
“Stand up,” Rhys instructed as he tugged on her arms. They both stood, and Rhys started working on releasing her from her skirts.
“Rhys, Anthea could help with my clothing. You don’t have to—”
Isabel saw the annoyance in Rhys’s face before he kissed her again. This time he swept his tongue inside her mouth, sending tingles along her spine. Isabel stood on tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck.
When Rhys finally raised his head, they were both breathing heavily.
“Turn around,” Rhys whispered.
He put his hands on her shoulders and helped her do just that. Then, he started working on her buttons.
“You are not listening to me at all,” Isabel grumbled. “I am trying to raise my concerns. I am trying to speak to you like a rational human being, and you—”
She felt a rip before the gown fell in a heap to the floor. Isabel carefully turned toward him, in nothing but her unmentionables, her eyes wide. “Did you just rip my gown?”
Rhys shrugged. “It was ruined anyway. The buttons won’t give way, and it was soaked through.”
She looked down at herself and gasped in horror. Her gown truly was soaked through to her chemise, which now proudly displayed her nipples in all their glory. Isabel covered her breasts with her arms. She was ready to cry from the embarrassment.
Rhys let out a weary sigh. He leaned down and placed his forehead against Isabel’s. “I am sorry, darling,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “I just want to get you dry as soon as possible. I can’t let you catch ill because of me. Turn around and let me undo your stays. Then you can get dressed on your own.”
Isabel was so taken aback by the gentleness mixed with anguish in his voice that she turned around without saying a word.
He took off her stays and stepped away from her. Isabel looked at him over her shoulder. “Please, turn away.”
Rhys turned toward the hearth, and Isabel started ridding herself of the wet clothing. She took off her underskirts before the meaning of his words finally caught up with her.
“What do you mean because of you?” She slid her chemise off her shoulders. She was completely naked now, so she looked over her shoulder to make sure Rhys wasn’t peeking at her. “None of it is your fault.”
