"I'm not!" Isabella whispered-yelled suddenly. "I just want... I don't know. To connect more. To give him something special. Something that would make him want more? I want to give him something that he would never forget in a hurry, even after we part ways."
Ella, who had begun to refill their cups, froze mid-pour. "Did you just say, 'After we part ways?'" she asked.
Isabella blinked at her teacup. "The marriage… We had an agreement. The marriage will be annulled once I provide him with an heir."
Ella's usual teasing smirk softened into something more serious. "No offence, my lady, but that doesn't make sense to me. If we are talking about the same man I saw in that gambling house some nights ago, then forget it. You're not going anywhere."
"No. Leofric is a man of his word," Isabella said, but even she didn't sound convinced.
"Then why go through this stress…?"
"I–I don't know." She looked away, her shoulder slackening. Ella let out a dramatic sigh and lunged forward, straddling Isabella like a cat pouncing on prey."Ella!" Isabella yelped, half-laughing.
"Oh, I thought I'd go to my grave with all my tricks, and now here you are, begging for them!"
"This feels improper!" Isabella tried to reason.
"Improper is my middle name," Ella declared proudly.
Isabella squealed. "Get off me!"
"Fine, fine." Ella laughed and plopped back down beside her. "My first rule is to never fall in love with your victim. But this is a special case, I will make an exception."
"I can still follow the rule!" Isabella insisted.
Ella gave her a look but said nothing. Then, more seriously, she asked, "Have you ever touched your husband?"
Isabella flushed and said. "Well... yes. When he was injured."
"Not like that," Ella said with a wink. "I mean really touched him. Touched him in a way that makes him lose his senses. In a way that makes him tremble."
Isabella shook her head. "I don't think this is a good idea, Ella."
"Oh, don't be a goose," Ella teased. "You've got a fine man who likely walks around with tension in places that need easing."
Isabella's brows drew together. "What does that even mean?"
Ella leaned back, hands behind her head. "I'm just saying, if I had Sir Leofric for even one night—"
Isabella's eyes rounded. "Don't you dare finish that sentence!"
Ella laughed again. "Alright, alright. I'll behave. But seriously, have you ever touched his... You know?"
Isabella stood so fast that she nearly toppled over the tea tray. "Absolutely not!"
Ella roared with laughter. "You're too easy, my lady."
Isabella tried to hold a stern expression, but a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "You are wicked."
"I've been called worse." Ella stood. "Wait here." A few minutes later, she returned with an old book bound in dark leather. "This," she said proudly, "is my guide to seduction."
Isabella looked at it like it might bite as she echoed, "Guide to seduction?"
"Don't look so scared," Ella said, flipping it open. "Let the act of seduction begin."
Isabella gasped loudly when Ella flipped to a page that should have been buried beneath the floorboards of a monastery. "What in the name of all that's holy is that?" she whispered, eyes wide. "Good heavens! That's... that's her legs over his shoulder!"
Ella smirked, unfazed. "And quite a firm grip, too. Look at her face. That's not a woman in distress, darling. That's a woman seeing stars." Ella lounged comfortably beside her on the chaise, sipping wine as though she were reading poetry rather than turning the pages of something scandalously forbidden.
"What's this book?" Isabella asked again, eyes full of disbelief.
"A masterpiece," Ella said with a satisfied sigh. "Hand-illustrated, passed down by courtesans wiser than both of us."
"There's a drawing of a man... upside down," Isabella whispered hoarsely, eyes skimming one of the pages. "And is he—? Oh sweet heavens, I think his legs are in the air."
"That's position twelve," Ella said casually. "I call it the Devoted Duke."
Isabella choked on air as she slapped the book shut with force. "This book should be burnt. Drowned in holy water first and then burnt to ashes!" she declared, holding it up as if it might corrupt her soul.
Ella snatched it back with a dramatic gasp. "Don't you dare! This is sacred knowledge. Do you know how many years it took to gather this?"
"I think I've gone blind," Isabella muttered, covering her eyes.
"Oh, stop being dramatic," Ella said, her fingers prying the cover open again. "Here, look at this one."
"I will not—" Isabella looked away.
Ella chuckled, "My Lady, be brave. This one's far more elegant. See how she arches?"
Isabella peeked through her fingers, then blinked. "Her spine is going to snap."
"Not if he's holding her properly," Ella replied, tracing the drawing with her fingertip. "It's all about balance and mutual trust. This isn't just filth, my dear. It's art. Strategy, even."
"I doubt Her Majesty the Queen would agree," Isabella said half jokingly.
Lowering her voice, Ella said, "Well, Her Majesty probably hasn't had an orgasm since the coronation."
Isabella snorted before she could help herself, then slapped a hand over her mouth. "Ella! You'll get us both hanged!"
Ella shrugged with an evil glint in her eyes. "I've already made peace with it." She patted the open book and leaned in. "Now. This is where it gets interesting."
"I'm terrified," Isabella said honestly.
"You should be. But also excited," Ella said with a wink.
They spent the next hour awkwardly, hilariously, experimenting with positions using pillows, the chairs, and much giggling. Isabella blushed her way through half of it, often swatting at Ella's hands when she got too enthusiastic.
But gradually, something shifted in her—curiosity bloomed into confidence, and the nervous energy turned into laughter.
"Do you know why this works?" Ella said at one point, brushing an imaginary dust from her skirt. "Because it's about power. Women are told we shouldn't want too much. Shouldn't take the lead. That pleasure is for men, and modesty for us. But that's nonsense. They have made us believe men are the hunters and we're just deer who happen to trip into their snares."
"Quite the poetic image," Isabella murmured, half amused as she glanced at the book again.
Ella continued. "The truth is, men are so easy to ruin once you know what you're doing. One brush, one well-timed kiss, and they unravel. And when you ask for more—when you demand more—they become yours—helpless, even."
She leaned in, eyes sparkling. "It's why they always come crawling back to me. Even the ones with wives and children waiting at home. It's not magic, my lady. It's knowing your worth in the bedroom."
Isabella swallowed. "It still feels… unladylike."
Ella raised a questioning brow at her. "And do you want to be a lady, or do you want your husband to never forget the way your name tastes in his mouth?"
"I—Ella!" Isabella's cheeks flushed. There was a beat of silence. Then Isabella asked softly, "Is it wrong that I want him to want me like that?"
"No," Ella said gently. "It's only wrong if you don't believe you deserve it."
Isabella stared down at the open book again. The woman in the drawing was confidently straddling her partner, hands tangled in his hair, her expression wild and free. "I don't think I could ever…" Isabella trailed off, voice hesitant.
"Why not?" Ella asked, looking at her thoughtfully. "He's your husband, isn't he?"
Nodding, Isabella said, "Yes."
"And he's... well, I don't want to objectify, but he's Sir Leofric. The war Lord."
Isabella let out a reluctant laugh. "You're not wrong."
Ella leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Then show him the side of you he never expected. That you're more than duty and decorum."
Isabella grinned, "That's where you are wrong, Lady. Duty and decorum are the least of things Leofric thinks of me."
Ella nodded with a proud smile. "You will have to show him that you want him not because you must, but because you choose to."
*~*~*~*
The sun had dipped low when Isabella returned to the manor, the hem of her gown gathering dust as she stepped through the grand doors. Her heart still fluttered from everything she had just seen, heard, and practised.
Dear heavens, practised!—and the wine hadn't helped matters.
She was halfway up the staircase when she spotted Judith near the entrance hall, straightening a vase of fresh lilies.
"My lady," Judith greeted warmly.
Isabella forced herself to walk with composure. "Judith. Is my husband home?"
"Yes, My Lady. He's in your chambers."
Perfect, Isabella thought, squaring her shoulders.
Just as she turned to go, Judith stepped forward. "My lady, forgive me, but there's something I've been meaning to discuss with you. It's been weighing on my mind."
Isabella blinked. Now? "Oh, Judith, I promise, we'll talk about it—soon. But right now, I've… I've got a matter of great urgency."
Judith looked puzzled but nodded. "Very well."
Isabella offered her a small smile and rushed on, nearly bumping into Eric and Robert in the corridor. They raised their hands in greeting, mildly confused by her haste.
"Gentlemen," she said quickly, trying to tame her hair with a few fingers. "Busy evening. Carry on!"
She practically flew up the last few steps, stopping at the chamber door to gather her breath. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the handle.
This is it, she thought. No more shy glances. No more leaving him with polite goodnights and barely-there touches. Tonight, I will make Ella proud—but preferably not the one with the leg over the shoulder, she thought to herself.
She closed her eyes and whispered to herself. "You are not a deer," she said. "You are the hunter." Drawing in a breath, she pushed open the door and froze.
Because what she saw made her heart drop straight to her shoes.