The Sweetest Revenge by Dawn Halliday

the past, he annihilated all her resistance. How could he still have such power over her after so long? After what had happened between them?
    His firm jaw had pressed against her hand, so close to his full lips. How she had wanted to run her thumb over those lips. Deep trepidation had stopped her. But even now, the memory of touching him sent a tremulous heat skittering up her spine.
    “Are you shocked, Isabelle?”
    “Beyond…beyond words, I think.” She tried to laugh. “You are very brave, Anna.”
    Isabelle remembered how Lord Leothaid had invaded her body so many years ago. She imagined him invading her mouth in the same way. Would he moan her name, beg her to stay with him, beg her to satisfy him? A heaviness gathered between her legs, spooling prickling threads of heat to spread beneath her skin.
    Isabelle forced her fists to open, releasing the now-wrinkled fabric of her gown. She was not this sort of woman—she was shy, introverted, and reserved. Lust and desire were foreign sensations to her.
    Except with Lord Leothaid.
    Nay . She could not allow those memories to creep in. They aroused shameful, improper feelings no decent woman ought to have. She must, she must , govern her passions.
    But how could she when Leo was so near?
    She hadn’t touched a man in seven years. He was the only man she had ever touched.
    “Well, that is excellent!” Susan exclaimed, rising from the chair beside Isabelle’s bed. “Very good, Anna. Now he will know frustration. He will understand what it means to desire something unreachable, something impossible to attain.”
    Isabelle blinked at Susan in sudden comprehension. Susan was right. After he’d left Scotland, she’d dreamed unceasingly of his return. But then his brother had found that letter Leo had written to her, and all had been revealed.
    She’d been sent away in disgrace, but a part of her had still been confident in his love. She’d known he’d come for her. She’d waited. But he never came. Instead, he’d become a rogue and a rake, his conquests the subject of gossip throughout the kingdom.
    He had gone to whores and loose women to slake his lust, had become involved in tryst after tryst, had taken different women to his bed every night, while she had been alone, still dreaming about him. Still wanting him but knowing that he no longer wanted her.
    Anna’s revenge was perfect.
    Isabelle looked into her dressing table mirror and smiled.
    Behind her, Susan turned at the door. “Are you coming, Isabelle?”
    Isabelle’s hand drifted toward her hair. It had half fallen out of its chignon this afternoon and, as usual, was in complete disarray. “I’ve rung for a maid to fix my hair. I’ll be coming down soon.”
    More importantly, she needed to gather her wits about her before she saw Leo again. With a small, knowing smile, Susan followed Anna out the door, closing it softly behind her. The maid knocked moments later.
    As the girl swept her hair up into a tighter twist, a small shagreen case at the edge of the dressing table caught Isabelle’s eye. Reaching for it, she turned it lovingly in her hand, then flicked its lid open with her thumb. A wee unopened bottle of perfume lay nestled in the red velvet lining.
    Her great-aunt Mary, an accomplished perfume maker, had once supplied society with its stylish fragrances. When she was a child, Aunt Mary had created a scent just for Isabelle, with the subtle herbal-and-floral scent of heather and the slightest touch of sandalwood. When Isabelle arrived in London this past spring, Aunt Mary had given her this bottle, filled with the same perfume, as a gift.
    She pulled the stopper and applied a drop to each of her wrists and another at her collarbone.
    The maid’s round face broke into a cheerful smile. “’Tis a lovely scent, miss.”
    Isabelle stared at her reflection, blinking against flooding memories of being young and happy and blindly in love.
    The maid finished with a final tug on a strand of hair.