Isabella withdrew and apologized as Nancy spilled her tea. She wasn’t sure what she had done to cause it, but she was sure it was her fault. She seemed quite prone to spilling things in Isabella’s presence. That woman could be such an enigma. One moment she was clumsy and uncoordinated, and the next she was smiling like that.
She had not been prepared for that devilish grin. Nancy must have known what that look did to Isabella. There was no way a woman like that could wield a look so engagingly rakish and not know.
And that quip about her… box. Isabella had spent enough time at Greek Street to know that comment had nothing to do with the gift. Involuntarily, she became distractingly aware of her own femininity as Nancy slid her hands slowly over the sides of the parcel. Her touch was so gentle, as though she held a tender thing. Isabella took a steadying breath to suppress the thrill that prickled up her spine, but her effort was wasted. Nancy tugged at the ribbon, the fabric rasping as it came undone under her touch. She fingered the seam of the lid, pausing a moment before finally lifting it open.
Isabella pressed her lips together and reminded herself that it was just a box and nothing else. Still, she would never look at a parcel the same way again.
Watching Nancy don the new hat did nothing to dull the rising tension she was feeling. The sharp lines of the brim and stark contrast of silver on black suited her. It was such a strong and masculine look, and she made it look good.
“It does look very smart,” Isabella said. “More so on you than it did on the mannequin. Indeed, I find myself a little jealous that it should be on you and not I.”
Isabella paused, teacup halfway to her lips, as her addled brain caught up to the actual words she had just said.
“By which I mean that it would not look so good on me as you. The hat. On you. Not me. Of course.”
She could feel her face growing hot with embarrassment. Well, this was going tits-up.
“I’m sorry, I’m making a fool of myself, aren’t I? I only wanted to show my gratitude. For what you did to Harcourt, for helping me get Sophia back.” Isabella gestures vaguely before continuing. “For daring me to embrace my own scandal. You’ve changed me, and I am grateful for you.”
Isabella finished looking quite sheepish, tearing her eyes from Nancy to look down into her cup.
RP with @nancy-birch continued from here.
Nancy tried to still her heart, which was fluttering like a cage of bloody blackbirds at Isabella’s words. She touched the brim of her hat as an uncertain smile spread across her lips. She was lucky that she wasn’t still holding her cup or she would likely have dropped it. Isabella’s attentions always seemed to have the effect of making her utterly bewattled.
But as Isabella stumbled over her compliment, Nancy grew in confidence. It would be such a little thing to touch her wouldn’t it? To reach across this rickety kitchen table and take her hand in hers... It wasn’t that Nancy never touches women. She is always there with a comforting pat or embrace. A sheltering arm placed round some young battered thing in need. But a touch that might lead to something more... that is what paralyzed her. She had been woefully out of practice in such matters since Mags.
But as she sat across from Isabella’s luminous blue eyes, she began to think that it might not be so hard. To take her hand, to lead her into her small room, to press her mouth against that long, pale neck, seeking those lush, teasing lips with her tongue, to delight in each other. There must be a way to touch without hurting- like how she learned to use to birch rod- learned how to strike without blistering her own hands, to lash without turning her own wrist. Perhaps she could also learn to touch and be touched without the painful coils and snares of the past rising up to strike her heart.
She didn’t know if it was the warmth of the gin or the heady warmth that always flows through her every time she is in the presence of Isabella, but it allowed her to she gather the courage to be as raw and fearless as Isabella thought her to be.
She reached across the table and took Isabella’s hand in her own. Nancy’s hand was covered in her leathers. They left the tips of her fingers free to caress Isabella’s hand just so.
“You can be on me any time you please, lady,” she said as her mouth spreads into a cheeky grin.
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