The Woman in the Lake by Nicola Cornick

Author:Nicola Cornick
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Graydon House Books
Published: 2018-12-20T20:33:27+00:00

13

Isabella

Summer 1763

“I HAVE SEEN the future,” I said. “It appears delightful. I am a famous artist respected for my designs and I am married to someone other than Eustace, someone by the initial B.”

I looked at Dr. Baird—John—under my lashes as I spoke, hoping that he might take the hint. We were lying in the hay in one of the barns tucked away on the edge of the estate. It had been John’s idea; I think he liked tumbling me like a milkmaid, and I must admit that I liked it too, although the hay was rather too prickly.

John was stroking my bare arm thoughtfully, watching the play of his fingers over my skin, rather like a connoisseur admiring a precious object. For that was how he viewed me, as something infinitely rich and valuable that he possessed, at least for now. It was very agreeable to be treated like rare china, but there was a darker strand to his obsession with me too. Often he would make me strip off my clothes and simply lie naked, exposed to his gaze. Sometimes he would touch me at will whilst I must stay quite still and silent beneath his hands and his mouth. His greatest satisfaction was to make me abandon myself to him in wanton delight, begging like a harlot to be pleasured. He loved to shock me, once undressing me in the gardens in full daylight and taking me standing against one of the statues of Eustace’s worthy ancestors. How that rough stone scored my skin. How much he enjoyed having me literally under the nose of my husband’s ancient family.

He never hurt me, as Eustace had been wont to do, but even so there was an intensity in his possession of me that disturbed me. Gone was the sincere and respectful man I had known in London. Now, for example, it was as though he was not even listening to me as his hands swept over my bare body and he studied me absorbedly, as though I were a marble statue or a work of art.

“What an imagination you have,” he murmured.

I immediately felt irritated that he was not listening to me properly. He was like every other man I had known; he could think only of one thing when he was in the throes of desire, and it was not conversation.

Truth to tell, the affair had already lost a little of its charm for me. I am fickle, I know, but I cannot seem to help myself. Once the initial thrill of a liaison has faded, I soon find myself finding fault. With Gower, for example, I soon noticed that his breath smelled of wine and although he was an accomplished lover, he would always relieve himself loudly in a piss pot immediately after we had coupled. Then there was the Earl of Farne. I do not believe that Eustace knew of my dalliance with Farne because it was a matter of a few nights only. I fled his bed when I discovered he could only rise to the occasion if he spanked me first.

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