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They lay like that for a few minutes, their labored breathing the only sound in the room. Rhys scrambled from the bed and went to her dressing room. He reemerged a few moments later, a wet towel in his hands.

He tipped his head toward her. “Do you mind?”

Isabel’s entire body heated in embarrassment. Did he mean to clean her? There?

Isabel shot up from the bed and took the towel from his hands. “Thank you, I-I’ll do it myself.”

She hurried to the dressing room to clean up after their moment of passion.

The creation of a babe sure left one in disorder. Her hair was tousled, her nightgown was rumpled, and their mutual juices were dripping down her leg.

She cleaned herself up then tried to arrange her hair back into some kind of semblance of order, but she feared she had not succeeded.

Isabel’s hands shook, and she felt confused.

She’d liked their coupling; she truly had. She’d enjoyed Rhys’s kisses and the moment of their joining was one of the most wonderful feelings in her life. But it was not the earth-shattering experience Evie was talking about. Had she done it wrong? Was she supposed to act differently? Should she ask Rhys about it?

She puffed a breath of air in frustration. Then, after a few minutes of fumbling in the dark dressing room, she stepped back into her room.

Rhys sat on the bed, his usual frown marring his face. His features smoothed as he saw Isabel, and he smiled.

Isabel returned the smile and climbed back into bed. Rhys helped tuck her in but didn’t follow her. Instead, he sat by her side and looked into her face.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

There. This was her cue to say exactly how she felt. Confused, conflicted, perplexed. Anything to let him know that they should be doing something differently.

“I feel rather sleepy,” she answered instead.

Rhys kissed her on the forehead and tucked the sheets over her body. “Then sleep, darling. I shall let you rest.”

And for the first time since they started sharing her bed, he walked to the adjoining room door, entered his chamber, and did not come back that night.

* * *

Rhys watched Isabel quietly from the doorway the next morning as she stood in front of the window, looking out into the gardens. She had a thoughtful expression on her face, and her brows were drawn together over the bridge of her nose.

She didn’t seem to notice that he had entered her chamber.

He had missed waking up next to her this morning and regretted his decision to spend the night without her. It had stemmed from the fact that he could not control himself around her.

He’d wanted to savor their first moment of joining; he’d wanted to taste her and bring her to the brink of passion, but the moment he’d entered her, he’d known he wouldn’t last much longer.

It was so incredible to be inside her. She was warm and tight, soft and welcoming. She was perfect. As a result, it took him less than two minutes before he spilled his seed inside her. And it took him even less to want her again.

The moment she had cleaned herself and emerged from the dressing room, he had already been hard and aching for her. He’d wanted nothing more than to bury himself inside her heat again and have his way with her. And perhaps more than once.

But she’d had a veil of confusion over her face, and when he’d asked her how she felt, she’d said she was sleepy. That had left Rhys no choice but to leave her alone.

If he’d stayed the night with her, neither of them would have gotten any sleep.

Rhys slowly walked into Isabel’s room and caught her by her waist. She shrieked and turned around, but her face split into a smile as she saw him.

“You frightened me! I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Apologies. I believe you were too lost in your thoughts.”

“I was.” Isabel smiled, stood on her tiptoes, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “But I am always happy for a distraction.”