“There is this thing between us. This desire. I fold inside almost all the time. Flirting and laughing is no longer enough. And with you there is heat, even if there is nothing else but dislike and suspicion,” said Isobel as she turned to look at him.
Abe had not expected this frankness, this simple confession of need. His body stirred, eager, but he did not move. She spoke nothing but desire, dislike, mistrust. Could he ever replace that with the even basic tolerance marriage would require? He proved a little, testing how open she would be. “You know you are fertile. Why take such a risk again?”
Isabelle did look up then. The brown eyes that could look so cold seemed fancy soft in the lamplight.” We were young and foolish. We were to marry, so what did it matter to? And I was inexperien
