Page 28 of The Tailor's Treasure

Isabel gave herself a small shake, rolling her shoulders and bending her elbows.Each movement was easy, the fabric moving with her instead of straining.The armscyes, she noted, had also tightened, though there was still a gap in the area between the sleeves and the bodice.They'd have to adjust that."Good.Comfortable."

"Good."She looked over her shoulder just in time to see Constance give a satisfied nod."We'll need to try it on Leah, of course – the two of you aren't quite twins, though I doubt it'll be too tight on her."She reached out and smoothed down the fabric of the shoulder."You've more of a bust than she does, though I suppose that's natural enough.She's still a girl."

"And she hasn't had children yet," Isabel murmured, trying not to lean into Constance's hand on her shoulder.She had left it sitting there, casual as you please, as though she'd forgotten it entirely.Perhaps she had.Touch seemed to come so easily to her."She'll grow when she does."

"Mmm," Constance said."Could be, though it never happened for Matilda.Everything she gained while she was carrying went to her hips and stayed there.She was quite pleased about it."She moved her hand, finally – back to the lacings."Shall I undo these?"

"Might as well," Isabel said, and Constance got to work.She was still slow, every action deliberate – and it was worse now, because she was going down instead of up, and each time she pulled the laces through another eyelet, her fingers brushed against the thin linen of Isabel's shift.Now that she was close again, Isabel was warm – more than warm, in fact.She felt as though she were standing with her back to the kitchen fire, hot enough to singe.Every touch of Constance's fingers seemed to send sparks running up and down her spine, around to her ribcage and into her stomach.The room felt close, airless.Isabel opened her mouth to try and gulp down a breath, but all she actually managed to do was make a humiliating sort of squeaking sound.She was trembling and she knew it, but she couldn't seem to stop.

"Isabel?"Constance paused with her hands halfway down Isabel's back.It was not helping.Nor did it help when she took a hand and placed it back on Isabel's shoulder."Are you all right?"

"I –" The words wouldn't come any more than the air would.In vain, she tried to brace herself so the trembling, at least, would stop, but her body wouldn't obey her.She tried again."I'm sorry."

"You needn't be."The hand on her shoulder rubbed back and forth, Constance's thumb pressing small circles into the spot just next to Isabel's neck.That only made it worse."I used to dress women who didn't wish for Peter to see them unclothed.Some liked it.Others didn't.It's an odd feeling, I know."

"No, I –" This time, Isabel succeeded in drawing a breath, at least enough to speak."I – I like it.It – it feels good."

Constance went still and silent behind her and Isabel bit down hard on her tongue – too late, since the words had already escaped her mouth.She didn't dare turn around to see the look on Constance's face.Constance took her hand from her shoulder, and Isabel was about to exhale – whether out of relief or disappointment, she didn't know – but then the placed it, palm-down, just below the nape of her neck, and she ceased to breathe entirely.

"What feels good?"she said, her quiet voice echoing in the empty room."This?"She smoothed her hand down Isabel's back, stopping at her waist – Isabel whimpered – before running it back up again, strong and steady."Or this?"She pulled her hand away until only the tips of her fingers were still touching Isabel, skating them up and down her spine, drawing little circles on her skin through her shift.Isabel locked her knees to keep them from shaking, and only half succeeded.She could feel her heartbeat pounding through her whole body, hard enough to beat out of her chest entirely.She wasn't sure how she hadn't fainted; blood was roaring in her ears.Constance made no move to touch her below her waist, but just the sensation of her fingertips moving across small of her back, mapping out the divots above her hips, touching her where no one had touched – no, that wasn't true – touching her where no one had everaskedher to touch, had never touched her with the hope of bringing her pleasure, and that was the only reason she was doing it, the only thing she wanted – she couldn't stand it.She was desperate for more.It had to stop; she never wanted it to stop.

When Constance's fingers moved to Isabel's hip, she put her hand out blindly to catch them, trapping them where they lay.Slowly, slowly, she turned around to face Constance.Her face was blank, high spots of colour in her cheeks, her gaze steady as she met Isabel's eyes.Isabel wished she would give some sign of what she was thinking – what she wanted, if she was only doing this as a kindness or if it was something she desired.If her desires were something Isabel, a historic disappointment to lovers, was even capable of fulfilling.But she gave no sign, just letting her hand sit in Isabel's, perfectly still.Waiting, Isabel realized, for her to make the next move.

She knew full well that she ought to release Constance's hand, draw back, find some way to brush aside what had just passed between them so that they could retreat to solid ground.Blame weariness, or a poor choice of words, or – anything, really, as long as it washed away the past five minutes.She could find the words, sheknewshe could.But she couldn't make her tongue obey.

Constance twisted the hand that Isabel held, so that their fingers were laced together and their hands pressed palm to palm.Her skin was warm and dry, and even that slight contact was enough to scatter Isabel's thoughts entirely.Her eyes, when she lifted them to Isabel's, were round and heated and the look in them took Isabel's breath away.There were no questions remaining as to what Constance wanted from her.But she wouldn't take it.She was waiting – waiting for her.

No one had ever waited for her before.

Isabel lifted her free hand to brush an errant strand of hair away from Constance's eyes, then let her hand rest in place, cupping the round of her cheek. It felt hot under her palm; she could almost feel the blood beating under her skin.Constance licked her lips."Isabel," she said, so softly.She brought a hand up, so, so slowly, and let it rest on Isabel's upper arm."Will you," she said, and didn't go on.She didn't need to.

Isabel leaned in, closer and closer until she could feel Constance's breath on her face.When their lips first brushed, it was delicate, more of a caress than a kiss.Constance sighed, her mouth parting, sliding her hand up to cup the back of Isabel's neck.She didn't pull her in, but just that touch was enough.

The next kiss was different – urgent.Isabel gasped, winding her arms around Constance's back and pulling her in close.Constance leaned her weight against Isabel – it was fortunate that she was nearly a head shorter, or she might have knocked Isabel over entirely – and deepened the kiss, flicking her tongue across Isabel's lips.Isabel opened her mouth on instinct, and Constance slipped her tongue inside.Isabel moaned.It was burning hot, so hot that she shouldn't have been able to stand it, but instead she just wanted more.She put a hand to Constance's lower back, pressing her thumb against the dimple between her hips, and Constance gasped, hooking a leg around Isabel's.The movement made them both stumble, and Isabel tripped backwards until her back hit the wall.She'd held onto Constance to steady her when they fell, but now that they were supported by the wall, she could let them roam all over her body, and she did.Constance likewise was stroking her back, her sides, her thighs, trying and only somewhat succeeding in hiking a leg over Isabel's hip – she was too short, at this angle, to do it properly.Isabel grabbed her tighter and pulled her up.They were still kissing, but their movements had grown messy, almost desperate.Constance pulled back just enough to kiss her cheeks, her ear, her neck.Isabel could feel herself melting, almost sliding down the wall.They were nearly level, now.Then one of Constance's roving hands brushed against the side of Isabel's breast, and she jerked as if she'd just been shocked.

Constance pulled back slightly, worry in her eyes, but Isabel chased her mouth."Please," she said, "please –" Constance understood.She cupped Isabel's breast, fingers teasing at her nipple through the wool of the kirtle that she still hadn't taken off.Isabel wanted it off.She wanted Constance's hands on her bare skin, she wantedherhands onConstance'sbare skin, she wanted –

She registered, distantly, the scraping sound of the outer door against the floor, but her mind was too fogged with desire to take note of it.The next sound, however, was a more effective dash of cold water than anything else ever could have been: a voice in the other room, melodic and perplexed."Hello?"A pause."Is anyone here?"

Constance loosened her grip on Isabel and took a step back.She was able to only because Isabel's own grip had gone slack at the sound, all the passion and urgency rushing out of her like ale from a punctured barrel.She didn't want to imagine the look on her face, and was more than a little astonished – in the corner of her mind that still held space for such mundane thoughts – that Constance looked as composed as she did.But for a slight flush on her cheeks, no one looking at her would have been able to guess what she'd been doing seconds earlier.

"That's Leah," she said, impossibly calm."I'll go out and see to her – I doubt she'll stay long.You can wait here, if you like."

Isabel nodded numbly.If sheliked?What other alternative was there?To emerge with Constance, from Constance'sbedroom, and hope that Leah drew no obvious conclusions about what they had been doing?She had no intention of leaving the room; she would rather crawl under the bed and hide.

Constance seemed to see none of this in her face.She merely nodded, stood on her toes to kiss Isabel's cheek, and stepped back again, smoothing an errant piece of hair back into place."I'll be back in a moment," she said, and went out, only pausing to pick up the discarded dress pieces they'd left on the bed.With a stab of horror, Isabel realized she was still wearing Leah's dress – but she couldn't take it off now and hand it to Constance, there wasn't time.

She could hear, through the door – which Constance had closed behind her – Constance speaking to Leah, and Leah answering; but she could not, on pain of death, have understood or repeated what they were saying.She sagged against the wall, the rush of panic she'd just experienced leaving her nearly boneless.Constance had just walked out – like it wasnothing– like there was nothing to fear at all, like being caught at what they'd been doing wouldn't spell certain ruin for them both –

But – a voice seemed to whisper in her ear – it wouldn't spell ruin for themboth, would it?If Leah had caught them and told tales about it, or even just withdrawn her patronage out of disgust, it would impact Constance – she'd already said the job had rescued her from dire financial straits – but she had her husband, and a home, and no threat of losing them hanging over her head.Isabel hadnothing– only Walter, and she could lose him so easily.If Hilda somehow learned what she'd done, and decided it made her unfit to care for her son – or just used it as an excuse – the thought of it made her go cold all over.Had she really felt like she was burning minutes earlier?It felt as distant as a dream.

She had to get out, she thought – every moment she lingered was a chance of being caught, and then she'd have to explain why she'd been hiding.She had to get out, and get Walter, and flee back to the safety of Hilda's house.The thought of that place as safe would have been enough to make her laugh under other circumstances, but just then, it seemed like the safest place in the world.She had to get back; she had to set everything to rights.

She yanked at the laces of the dress with shaking fingers until they came loose, then peeled it off and laid it on the bed.Lacing up her own dress was a lost cause; after several attempts that failed, she gave up and simply wrapped her cloak tight around herself so that the half-open bodice wouldn't be visible.That done, she tiptoed to the bedroom door and eased it open, peering through the crack.

Constance and another woman – Leah, she assumed – were both bent over the cutting table, deep in conversation.Their backs were to both the bedroom door and the front door, which had been left ajar.It was perhaps ten steps between the two – she could make it if she moved quickly and quietly.It was that, or attempt to climb out the bedroom window, and that would only draw attention from people in the street.Besides, she was used to making herself as quiet as possible – and with the stakes this high, she couldn't afford to do anything less.She eased the door open just wide enough to slip through the crack, then paused to see if Constance or Leah had taken note.Neither had.Moving as swiftly and as silently as she could, she crossed the floor in six great steps – she'd miscalculated, but then, she hadn't accounted for the length of her stride – and then through the front door.

The first shock of the day's cold air against her face was bracing – enough to dispel some of the panicked fog that filled her head.She permitted herself one glance over her shoulder at the door – it stood still, a sight unsuited to her own turmoil – before turning away and walking at a pace that could only barely escape being called a run.