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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.”

Rhys ran a hand through his hair, his back still turned to her. “How can you say that?”

Isabel put on a fresh chemise and turned fully toward him. “What exactly are you to blame for?”

Rhys rounded on her. “Everything! None of this would have happened if I had just controlled my temper and not acted like a complete arse this morning! And if I—if I paid more attention to who I hire, perhaps that wouldn’t have happened either.” He said the last an octave lower.

Isabel shook her head. “You were right to be angry with me,” she said quietly.

Rhys approached her and sat her back down on the chair. “I wasn’t. Now let me clean you up to atone for my sins.”

He poured hot water into a basin, hiked up Isabel’s skirts, and proceeded to wash her feet and calves.

Isabel picked up one towel off the floor and started drying her hair. “You were quite rude,” she said with a smile. “I will not deny that.”

Rhys winced.

“But you were right. It was all my fault.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Rhys shook his head. “The truth is… The truth is I blamed myself. I was too angry because… because”—he took a deep breath, for it seemed to be impossible for him to say the words—“this is not the first time something like this had happened.”