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Isabel scoffed.
“No, truly. Ask him to not rush it and give you some time to get to know him out of bed. Unless, of course, you want children so badly.”
The last thing Isabel wanted was to draw it out. She wanted children, and she was afraid her time was ticking. “I would rather get it over with.”
Evie narrowed her eyes, her lips in a thoughtful pout. “Well, if you don’t want to delay things… Just ask him to take his time and be gentle with you. And try to enjoy each other’s kisses.”
“Kisses?” Heat crept up Isabel’s neck and to her cheeks.
“Yes. A kiss can tell you a lot about a man. If his kisses make you sag in his arms and flutters appear in your stomach, it is a sure way to conclude that the marriage bed will be pleasurable. But you have to give him a chance. Relax and try not to worry about anything. Try not to think about anything. Let yourself enjoy his kisses and touches… No matter how indecent.”
Isabel’s skin tingled in anticipation, and her breath came shallower than usual. The memories of Vane’s kiss heated her body.
Still, she frowned. She remembered enjoying Stanhope’s kisses, too, at least in the past. But she had not enjoyed the act. And perhaps the same fate waited for her in Vane’s bed.
“Thank you, Evie,” Isabel said with a smile. “But the truth is, it doesn’t matter if I enjoy the act or not. It will bring me children. And they will be the light of my life.”
Evie took Isabel’s hand in hers. “I am certain you shall have a lot more light in your life than that.”
* * *
The wedding passed in a blur. Isabel had been shaking like a leaf throughout the entire ceremony, and her nerves had been drawn so taut she wondered how she’d managed to stand upright.
The church had been filled to the brim with people. And more people had been standing outdoors waiting for the ceremony to be over so they could meet the bride and groom.
All morning, Isabel had concentrated on appearing happy and smiling so that now her cheeks hurt. But it wasn’t over yet. She needed to live through the wedding breakfast, and after that, she, her husband, and the rest of his brood, would travel back to his country seat.
My husband.
The words sounded foreign to her ears. Well, she’d have a lifetime getting used to them. Now and for the rest of her days, she was to be the Marchioness of Vane.
Isabel took a deep breath and ventured out of the ladies’ necessary. The moment she opened the door, the tall form of Stanhope appeared before her.
“Phillip?”
He grinned, visibly pleased that she’d addressed him by his first name.
“What are you doing here? I wasn’t aware you were even invited!”
He sniffed. “Of course, you knew. Do not pretend to not want me here. You sought to hurt me. Well, it worked. Now cease your childish games and kiss me already.”
He dipped his head, but Isabel turned away, squeezing her eyes shut. Stanhope kissed her cheek, then moved to her ear.
“Oh, stop! Or I’ll scream!”
“And risk the scandal? I doubt it.” He kissed her chin, and Isabel pushed at his chest.
“Stop it! Let go of me! I am a married woman now—”
“Exactly. And you are free to have your liaisons.”
“What?” Isabel stared at him in shock.
Was he delusional? At what point since their last assignation did he think that she’d be amenable to that?
“It was clever of you to get married. But now we can be together again, and nobody will bother to gossip or pay attention to our relationship,” Stanhope added hastily.
“Phillip,” Isabel said softly. She wanted to make him understand that she would never welcome his advances. And obviously, fighting him, arguing, and even stepping on his instep hadn’t helped him understand, so she’d have to try plain and calm words.
