A/N: Thank you ever so much to those who have taken the time to review. Your feedback is so hoped for and so incredibly inspiring! Richard and Isobel have come a long way together, haven't they? Well, they're about to take it a step (or several) further.
I must warn you that this is a very, very strong M for activities that take place when there is deep love and trust between a married couple.
And once again, enormous thanks to ChelsieSouloftheAbbey for being my beta ninja ... and also for answering my incessant questions about content and direction ... and advising me on plausibility :) I would have abandoned this by now if not for you. No lie.
Music credits this chapter: "Warm Ways," by Fleetwood Mac, written by Christine McVie. "A Red, Red Rose," by Robert Burns.
***Updated 1/27/16 - The songs mentioned herein are available on my Spotify. Search for Username: ericajanebarry , Playlist: Worthy and True. They add to the story.***
~ejb~
Sleep easy by my side
Into gentle slumber you can hide
I, I'm waiting for the sun, to come up
I can't sleep, with your warm ways
Forever, forever love
Together, together love
You made me a woman tonight
Dream until the morning light
I, I'm waiting for the sun, to come up
I can't sleep, with your warm ways
Forever, forever love
Together, together love
Isobel didn't know how long she'd slept, but when she woke she was instantly aware of two things. The first was that Richard was curled around her from behind, both of them still nude, his arousal pressed against her bottom. Secondly, that her hips and thighs were sore in a way they had not been in decades. Both realizations sent tiny darts of pleasure to her center, and she pushed her bottom back against him. He was right there, precisely as she had longed for him forever, and he was hers. There would be no debauchery in making love right now, this minute … if she only dared to wake him.
Her body responded to the nearness of him and she arched back into him involuntarily. Subtle, Isobel, she chided herself, but before she had the opportunity to worry about whether she'd woken him, Richard's arm came around her, palm pressing against her lower abdomen, and he rolled his hips into her as he kissed the back of her neck, his mouth hot and open against the sensitive skin there.
"Hello, Isobel." She heard as well as felt his lusty voice.
"Mmmm, Richard. Can't sleep, thinking about us making love." Her voice was breathy and the press of his hand caused her muscles to jump.
"You want me again." It was a statement, not a question, spoken directly against her skin in his delectable brogue.
"Yes, I want you," she answered, moving her hand atop his. Their hips began to move in concert; small circles, delicious friction. "Ohh, when you touch me there ..." she began.
"Yes, I can feel what it does to you. I can take you just like this, lover. Is that what you want, hmm?"
Isobel arched her back, crying out sharply. "God, yes, Richard!"
He responded by nipping at the back of her neck, and the hand holding her to him slipped down into her folds to brush against her center.
"So ready, Isobel. Feels incredible," he rasped, and somehow her desire was heightened by the fact that she couldn't see him; could only feel. So many years longing for this, and now the feeling of her husband all around her was beyond the scope of every imagination she'd had, and she would not hold back on letting him know it.
"Yes. Do it," she cried, and sucked in a breath when the head of him brushed against her. He canted his hips and she felt him filling her; the long, hot slide and the relief at no longer being empty. "Oh, lover, nothing feels like this," she exclaimed. "Stay still, just for a moment. This is what I've wanted, Richard. God, this."
"Isobel, you feel like heaven," he breathed. "I love you, my darling. I love you so." He was desperate to touch more of her, but he settled for kissing and nipping at her shoulder blades.
"Oh, how I love you," she answered, rolling her hips against him. "Move for me, Richard." As they were, his movement was limited to rolls of his hips, but she moved against him in counterpoint and it was hot, and slow, and deep. The angle was incredible for Isobel, as he moved again and again over the very origin of the ache inside her. He alternated between stroking the highly-sensitized skin of her lower abdomen and kneading her breast, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Every one of his ministrations built Isobel to a frenzy and she writhed against him, unable to keep silent. He smiled against her. Even in bed, or perhaps especially in bed, her true colors showed.
"You're so close, Bel. God, you feel good. Let it go, lover. Let it go for me," Richard soothed as he felt her begin to tighten around him.
Isobel moved her hand atop his again, clutching desperately at his fingers. "Oh, darling, oh, Richard, I love you! I'm -" And she broke, reaching behind her to grasp his bottom, the only way she had of telling him not to stop moving. The force with which she came took her by surprise. It didn't stop. My God, it's never been like this, she marveled, unable to say it to him.
When the pulses slowed, Richard caressed her again, massaging her breasts. When she recovered, Isobel turned to look at him over her shoulder. Richard's breath caught when he saw the love and desire, satiation and yet still longing.
"Ohh, Richard. My God, darling. You need to move, don't you?"
She was right. After feeling her climax around him he wouldn't be far behind her, but he was desperate to move now.
"Mmmm, yes, Bel, but only if -" He tried to minimize his needs, but she wouldn't have it.
"No, shh. Come here, lover," she said, rolling over onto her hands and knees. Richard could not believe his eyes when he took in the sight of her, looking back over her shoulder at him from beneath her long, dark lashes, her beautiful bottom raised in the air.
"Jesus, Bel … no one but you," he stated with utmost admiration, and he knelt behind her and entered her in one stroke. Isobel was highly sensitive after her climax. She could feel so much, as if every nerve ending was attuned to him. If she had thought before that she'd never felt anything like this, then she now experienced yet another first. This was for him, to be sure, but for Isobel it seemed as if she could no longer distinguish where she ended and he began.
"Don't be gentle, Richard. Take what you need. I love this," she breathed.
Needing no further encouragement, he quickened his pace, wrapping an arm around her waist as he moved against her. Isobel panted, overcome by sensation. Again he was moving in such a way that he connected with her deepest need. She felt him struggle to stay with her and crooned to him, "Let go, love; let go," and he shattered. She heard him cry out to her, Gaelic and English and all of it lovely, and she sobbed at the beauty of him; so vulnerable, all hers.
"Isobel," he sighed, thoroughly sated.
"Lie down with me. I want to hold you," she said softly, and he lay on his back as she curled against him on her side, wrapping her arm around him. He took her hand, lacing their fingers together, and she was taken aback at the love in his eyes when he looked at her.
"You are an amazing lover," she said, looking straight into his eyes. "Richard, it has never been like this for me." Even now, she could feel him as if they were still joined.
"Nor for me," he said softly. "It's love, Isobel. I know you had it before and I never have, but it's the depth of our love that makes this so profoundly intense."
She nodded against him. "I can feel what you're feeling. Our souls touch when our bodies come together. I love you so much, darling. It's increasing by the moment, and it was already a living entity, all its own."
"I love you, my bride. And I'm never letting you leave this bed!" He grinned at her, his eyes sparkling. She laughed and traced his smile with her fingertips.
Richard was first to wake in the morning, and he found himself pinned beneath his beautiful, sleeping bride. She lay fully on top of him with her head pillowed on his chest. He smiled, recalling their evening and overnight activities. Isobel was a marvel. Oh, if only he had known that it was words she needed. King Solomon's; his. Whatever words would have made clear to her that she was the only woman for him, that she was ethereally beautiful and wholly desirable. He'd have said them back in 1912, if only he had known. My God, but we'd have had years together, he thought.
Though she was asleep he could hear her voice soothing him. Oh, but darling, we're here now. She didn't need to say it; he knew her so well. It was the way she lived her life. Yes, there'd been terrible, unfathomable pain. She was still in the throes of it, with Matthew's death. But Isobel astounded him in the way she took hold of whatever moment she was in, and made the most of it.
His nature was quite the opposite. He reacted to pain by locking his emotions away. If he didn't acknowledge it, that was nearly the same as not feeling it, or so he'd been telling himself for a good forty years. It wasn't healthy, and he didn't even need to be a doctor to know that. He had much to learn from Isobel's example, and he was elated at the knowledge that he now had the right to spend the rest of his life doing just that.
Richard could not help but touch Isobel; this treasure in his arms. It thrilled him to watch her sleeping soundly. She was improving in that regard from the earliest days after losing Matthew, but many nights still found her awake and restless. There were certainly more options available to him now with which to soothe her, he realized, once again unable to hide a smile.
Oh, last night.
He tangled his fingers in her hair, finding it incredible that most of it was still such a lovely, rich caramel. How he reveled in the freedom to wind her curls around his fingers. His fingertips traced her hairline and she sighed in her sleep. The sound was so beautifully intimate that it made Richard's breath catch. He knew her in this way now, after so many years of longing.
Richard registered the change in Isobel's breathing and knew she would soon wake. He wanted her to awaken on her first morning as his wife feeling as loved and treasured as she had the night before. He slid his hands down the length of her spine, from shoulders to hips and back soothingly. He began to sing softly to her, sharing words with her once more.
O my Luve's like a red, red rose
That's newly sprung in June;
O my Luve's like the melodie
That's sweetly play'd in tune
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I:
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry:
Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun:
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o'life shall run
And fare thee weel, my only Luve
And fare thee weel, a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile
Isobel lifted her head from Richard's chest and blinked at him, smiling sleepily. He grinned at the image she presented. She looked extremely well-loved.
"Good morning, my bride," he said, kissing her forehead.
"Mmmm, good morning to you. What a way to wake up! Careful, darling, you're setting the bar awfully high for yourself. Burns on our first morning as husband and wife!"
"A risk I'm willing to take, my darling. God knows I wasted enough time. How are you this morning?" His hands reached down to hold her around her waist, thumbs tracing circles on her bare skin.
"I feel wonderful. Sore, but in the very best way. And warm, and loved. How are you?" She scooted closer so that she could kiss him quickly before he replied.
He returned her kiss with fervor. "Feeling like the luckiest man alive. Do you know how it felt to wake up with you this close?" The wonder in his tone of voice truly astounded her.
"Yes, I believe I do," she smiled. "A girl could get used to this." She kissed him again, and he opened her mouth with his, and their hands began to wander over warm, bare flesh. They spent long moments kissing and touching for the sheer fact that they could.
Isobel broke the kiss but her forehead remained resting against Richard's. "I've demanded an awful lot of you; the least I can do now is feed you. Shall we order up again this morning?"
He smiled gratefully, continuing to run his hands over her curves. "You'll forgive me if I can't stop touching you. You're a wonder, Bel. I'll order breakfast; why don't you take a bath? It will help the aches."
"Look at me," she insisted, regarding him fixedly. "Never apologize for wanting to touch me, Richard. You remember our conversations, yes?" He nodded. "I never dreamed I'd know love like this, and I want it all with you. And the soreness? It's delicious." He watched in wonder at the way her mouth wrapped around the word. "There's only one activity that causes that, and I rather hope to be feeling more of it soon."
He shook his head and grinned. "That beautifully candid mouth," he said with admiration, kissing her lips once more.
Richard rang down to the concierge for breakfast while Isobel soaked in the en suite's luxury bathtub. She had poured in a good measure of Yardley's lavender bubble bath and sank down until only her head remained above the water. Oh, what a difference a day makes.
She had been attracted to him from the first time she visited the hospital upon her arrival at Downton. True, what stood out to her initially were his eyes. The brightest, clearest, most crystalline blue; reminiscent, she later realized, of her mother's. One glance into the depths of those eyes had quite literally taken her breath away.
But there was more. His hands. A lifetime of caring for patients had made them strong, sure, and, at the same time, gentle. His long, slender fingers held the tiny hands of newborn babes, the syringe full of adrenalin that saved a young farmer's life. They held stethoscopes and wielded scalpels with precision, and now they had mapped her own sensitive skin, so long untouched, and had brought her pleasure the heights of which she had not known even in the marriage of her youth.
His voice. Oh, if she had known ten years ago the power of his voice to completely melt her defenses! She had worked alongside him all that time, had lived in his home for several months now, and yet she would never have known he had the capacity to speak such intimate words to her so vulnerably. In so doing he had reached across the divide between them and, for as close as they were, there was indeed a divide. No one was ever left to wonder about Isobel's thoughts on a matter. She spoke them as they came to mind, in a kind manner more often than not (such refinement had come with age), but often without much thought given to the impact of those words upon the hearer.
Richard, on the other hand … If he did not have patients to see or meetings to attend, he could easily go all day without speaking to a soul. His thoughts were his haven; his opinions well-developed, but not often shared unless asked for. When they had come together, her grief was so fresh and so deep that there had been little need for words. It had been enough that the arms that held her while she wept and the lips that kissed her tears away had belonged to him. She had heard him say clear as day that he loved her. Last night, however, she had needed to hear the words behind the feelings he held within his heart for her, before she could relinquish her fears and search out the courage with which to become one flesh with him. And he had delivered in spades and, in so doing, had freed her to become the wife and lover that he needed, the one that she so desperately needed to be. The gravity of what he'd done for her was finally apparent to Isobel. He knew her so well already, and this was only their first morning as man and wife.
She was just about to call out to him, to ask him to come to her so that she could express her gratitude, when he appeared in the doorway. She hadn't realized her eyes had slipped closed in her reverie until his lips brushed her cheek and she found herself surprised by the contact.
She opened her eyes and smiled. "Hello, love," she whispered.
He could hear the strain of barely-concealed tears and he reached out and traced the crease between her brows in that wordless way of his. What's wrong?
She saw the concern in his eyes and shook her head. "I'm fine, Richard. I'm just … struck by how much you love me, by how well you know me and the lengths to which you've gone to make it apparent." She sniffed, but the tears were there in the corners of her eyes and as one rolled down her cheek she felt his lips brush it away.
He knelt beside the bathtub and reached under the water, taking her hand. His expression was difficult to read but if she had to put it down to anything, she'd have called it regret. He laughed mirthlessly.
"I recall a conversation in which you told me what I'd have to look forward to in marriage and not to put you up on quite so high a pedestal because you're only human," he began and she nodded, pulling on his hand until he was close enough for her to kiss the corner of his mouth. He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose as well before continuing. "Oh, Isobel, the truth is I've been a damned fool. Why couldn't I see what you needed when it was so bloody obvious? Yes, I tell you I love you now. And I'll never stop telling you. But what if I'd said it all those years ago? What have we missed, and what could we have had? It's hardly the case that I'm so wonderful now. It's more akin to being slapped in the face with the knowledge of all the time I've wasted because I couldn't open my mouth and say the only three damned words of which I've ever been certain."
Isobel sat up. "No. No, Richard, don't do this. Come here, in here, with me."
Richard looked at her, dumbfounded, for a moment, but he stood, shucked off his pajama trousers and took her proffered hand. She slid forward, making room for him behind her. He leaned against the backrest and parted his thighs, pulling her back against him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and gloried in the feel of her, warm, wet, naked, touching him.
As if reading his mind, Isobel asked, "How does this feel?" She wove her fingers through his and rested her head against his chest.
"Wonderful, Bel. Like heaven," he answered, allowing his hands to smooth along the flat plane of her abdomen.
"And it's yours, now. Anytime you want; whenever you need. This is the time for us, Richard. As much as we may wish we had come together sooner, we weren't ready for it then. But we're here now, and we have this love that we're only just beginning to discover, and yet already it's so profound! If I had to wait this long in order to appreciate it when it came to me, so be it. No regrets, darling. Only love."
She couldn't see him smile but she knew he did. "I knew you'd say that. I suppose I needed to hear the words."
She turned around to face him. "Funny, that's just what I'd been thinking before you came in. Richard, first of all, I'm your wife now. If there is anything you need from me, you need only ever ask. And I know you're a man and you think it's a sign of weakness to admit you need anything, but darling, it's me. I have nothing but the deepest love and respect for you, and nothing's going to change that. Ask me, Richard. Words cost me nothing, you know that. And even if they did, you deserve to hear them. That was what I wanted to say to you. I recognize the magnitude of what you've done for me. How you've gone completely against the grain in speaking to me about your love and desire for me. You laid yourself bare to me, in every manner of speaking."
She kissed him sweetly before she added, "And in so doing, you have brought me into my own. All this, and we've barely been married twenty-four hours! Now do you see why it had to be this way? Would a younger couple have been able to withstand this intensity? I was half of a younger couple once and I can tell you unequivocally, I couldn't have."
He pulled her into his arms and brought her forehead to rest against his. "I suppose you have a point. I can say that when we met, I was certainly not thinking as half of a whole. You were beautiful, you were brilliant, and I wanted you. If you'll pardon my saying so, I believe we are a bit like your Matthew and Lady Mary, in that we needed time to learn how to love one another."
"But we differ from them in that the intensity between us is borne of living, and of letting life grow us each toward the other, even if it seems in hindsight to have been far too long in coming."
They were silent for long moments as they held one another, the warm water swirling around them. Richard was still processing all that Isobel had said and she recognized his need to do so. She ran her fingers over the muscles of his chest and abdomen with a delighted smile upon her face.
Finally he concluded, "And when I need to be reminded of all these things, I will ask you, Isobel."
Hello there! If you've made it this far would you please send me a little review and let me know? Thank you so much for reading!
