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Isabella had snuck off into the Cullen's vast library to get a breath of fresh air from the loud music and flurry of constant movement of the ballroom. She was carefully walking through the tall bookshelves, looking at the shelves upon shelves of books, surely far too many for anyone to read within a single lifetime, in the gentle, steady lamplight.
She was alone in such a vast room, and such a thing would normally be quite terrifying to her, however, all the rooms of the Cullen Mansion, save for the private bedrooms, of course, were open to guests of their numerous Grand Balls.
Isabella wasn't expecting anyone else to be in here, quiet as it was, and thus was surprised to bump directly into Dr Carlisle Cullen, the head patriarch of the Cullen family. Isabella had bumped into him hard enough to bounce off, and would have fallen if it hadn't been for warm, strong arms catching her.
Isabella gasped and clutched at Dr Cullen's hand, heart pounding as she stared at his golden eyes, and he stared back at her for a second that seemed to last too short.
She blinked, and suddenly she was being pulled to her feet, with Dr Cullen's hands hovering at her elbow instead of wrapped around her waist. Isabella could still feel the imprints of his hands on her delicate waist- she was not wearing a corset today, after all, just a dress with a structured bodice that was hidden beneath a shawl that she'd taken off at the entrance of the library. She'd also declined to wear a hoop skirt or even that many layers like her friends did- she was dressed just enough to give off the appearance of someone socially acceptable, and nothing more- and looked rather plain in comparison. Then again, she was not interested in catching the attention of Carlisle's son, after all.
“Are you okay, Isabella?” He asked, voice smooth and deep, and Isabella suppressed a shiver at it.
“Thank you for saving me, Dr Cullen. I must apologise for my clumsiness, I truly did not see you or mean to bump into you,” she said, bowing her head and flushing in embarrassment.
Dr Cullen chuckled good-naturedly.
“No harm done, my dear. I was the one who rushed to the aisle to see who else had sought refuge in my library, is all. If anything, I'm the one at fault here,” he said.
“Oh, no no, the fault was all mine, Dr Cullen-” Isabella began, lifting up her head and shaking her hands to say “no”, not wanting such an esteemed gentleman to take the blame for her carelessness.
And then Dr Cullen caught her hands in his own, and Isabella's breath hitched in her throat.
“Isabella, please. You know that you do not need to apologize for what is not your fault. And you also know that you do not need to call me so formally when it's just us two in this library,” he said, stepping close enough to hold her wrists to his chest and rubbing his thumb against her pulsepoint.
Isabella struggled not to melt in his arms.
“Someone could see us. They could hear us. They could sneak in. They could see us exiting the library after each other. And this is a ball for you to find suitors for your son too. People will talk,” she whispered.
Dr Cullen- no, Carlisle- cupped her face gently. Isabella's mouth snapped shut and her eyelashes fluttered as she was pulled gently against the tall man's chest and found herself looking up at him.
“Isabella… that is not the only reason I'm hosting these balls, you know. It's been five years since my dear wife passed away, and my twins are only five years old. They both are in need of a mother, and I of a wife,” he confessed.
Isabella swallowed thickly.
“If you're searching for a wife, why have this with me?” She asked, feeling thoroughly hurt and betrayed and trying to pull back.
“Isabella, wait, please! Hear me out, my dear,” he said, hands on her shoulders to stop her from leaving.
Isabella sighed but waited, as he asked.
“The truth is that I've noticed you ever since you came to live with our beloved Chief Swan, and every single moment since then, my heart has warmed to you. You are young, yet so brilliant, and intelligent, and beautiful, and capable, and you are the woman who has made my broken, grieving heart heal again. Please, Isabella, I know you have your choice in men, and ones who are far closer to your age than I am, but when I propose a courtship to your father, I implore you to consider accepting it. It would be my honour to welcome you as my wife, and I truly enjoy your presence, far more than I should,” he said, and Isabella's heart hammered in her chest.
“Carlisle…” she whispered.
“Truly? You truly feel such affection towards me?” She asked, in that same incredulous whisper, while searching his eyes and seeing only golden sincerity shining brightly in them.
Isabella swallowed thickly, and trembled just a little bit, feeling so much elation and pure joy that she felt like floating up in the sky like a cloud.
And then, just as soon as that feeling appeared, it was dashed to bits, leaving her feeling devastatingly cold and disappointed.
“My father won't ever allow me to marry a man six or seven years my senior. He barely approves of the men my age for me. I rather suspect that he wishes me to remain within his household until I am old and withered, to be able to care for him until the day he dies,” she said, unable to keep her feelings of disappointment out of her voice.
Carlisle simply shook his head.
“Your father only wishes for the best for his daughter. You wish to be a doctor and a scholar, and I can count on one hand the number of father's I've met throughout my lifetime, all across the world, who would do everything they could to enroll their daughter in the appropriate classes and find a suitable mentor for her, despite how our society views women and their abilities. If your father didn't believe in you or want what was best for you, I don't believe he would have contacted me to arrange the mentorship between us as he did,” he said.
Isabella bit her lip, an un-lady-like thing to do, but Carlisle reached out and drew out her lip from between her teeth with gentle fingers, and she almost melted again. Especially when he brushed his fingers over her moistened lips, staring at them intently, almost as if he wanted to kiss her.
With Isabella's mother having moved to the countryside to care for her elderly parents, Isabella had moved to the city to stay with her father, the Chief Governor of the City of Forks. Before she'd left, however, Isabella had been given a thorough education on everything a woman would need to know about marriage, and the process of creating a child, and courtship, all of which she was grateful for. Isabella knew more than her fellow peers, and took the liberty of sharing all that she knew with the girls she regularly invited over for tea, lest they be taken advantage of by some unscrupulous young men trying to trick them into a courtship, or worse, that they did not want. Isabella had accompanied Dr Cullen and his eldest daughter, a nurse called Rosalie, or Rose to her affectionate father and friends, to a new patient of his: a young girl, who was with child, and didn't even know how it had happened. She had not lain or slept with anyone, yet she was with child- the poor girl had assumed that only by physically laying down would the child take, and didn't realise that standing up and being pressed against several hay bales in between her chores would also have the same effect. Isabella was grateful for the forethought of her mother in teaching her such valuable lessons.
It was such a pity that Carlisle was such a gentleman, and she too knowledgeable in this, to be able to be joined in bliss with him the way she yearned to be. If he truly courted her the proper way, and for longer than the average courtship, as he would have to do given their age difference, she would be the same age as his son was currently before he even touched her.
Not to mention how Rosalie would then have to become their chaperone, or have another person there solely to be their chaperone, whenever she continued her mentorship. Or it would have to be postponed until after the wedding, perhaps.
She shared her concerns with Carlisle.
“Do not worry about that, my dear Isabella. I will speak with your father and make all the necessary arrangements. All you have to do is attend the balls I will be hosting in the future, and accept the invitation to have a dance with me once the negotiations are complete. Do not tell your father that we have both been well aware of each other's affections. I need you to simply pretend to have one-sided affection towards me that you believe to be impossible to fulfil, and so you've simply kept it well hidden as you continue to work diligently under my mentorship. It's common for mentees to develop feelings for their mentors and vice versa, after all. I promise you, Isabella, when I publically ask you to dance with me, it will be the confirmation of a successful courtship, and I will prove several times over to you and your father how capable I am of caring for you as a husband should a wife,” he declared, and Isabella's heart raced in her chest.
“Carlisle,” she whispered, feeling the love and affection she had for him surge within her.
“Please kiss me now, I might combust if you don't,” she rushed out in that same whisper, and he looked at her with amused warmth in his eyes.
“I would not ruin your honour like that, my darling. You know that,” he murmured, even as he cupped her face and slid his hands down halfway to her neck, resting his thumb over her jugular.
“Carlisle… please? I'm so full of affection towards you, I cannot help it! A kiss cannot stain my honour, and it will serve to seal this promise between us,” she said, slightly desperate as she pressed herself close to him.
“It is what happens after the kiss that will stain your honour, Bella,” he said, and she didn't suppress her shudder this time.
“Well that's a bit unfair, isn't it? You've only called me Bella a few times before, and all of those moments were intimate enough that they could be compared to a kiss- or more- and yet, you refuse to actually kiss me now…” she complained, pouting gently.
Carlisle chuckled.
“You are adorable, Isabella. But you also seem to forget that for all the restraint that I have, I too am merely a man, and a man with one of the most attractive women in my arms right now. Even I have my limits, Isabella,” he said, looking at her with such intense desire that she felt a little bit dizzy and clutched onto his jacket tightly, rumpling the fabric.
And then Carlisle was leaning in, and tilting her head a specific way, and his soft lips were on hers, and Isabella just melted against him.
The kiss started out chaste, and was actually more than one kiss pressed to her lips, and then she tiptoed and pushed deeper into it, and one of his hands came around to press against her back, holding her close and deepening the kiss.
Isabella felt like flying, like a bird more than a cloud, and Carlisle's hand curled around the back of her bared neck, his hands large enough to be able to wrap almost all the way around the entire back of it with his fingertips pressed against the side of it. Isabella felt cradled by him, felt safe and- and-
Arousal was not a common thing that women felt, according to her mother. She'd be lucky if he found a man who invoked such feelings in her, and such feelings with one's husband was often the prequel to a large family. Many men had egos too fragile to understand this, but Carlisle sure did. Isabella was certain that she could never reject this wonderful man, no matter what or who might object to their union.
Isabella was feeling so aroused right now that she moaned involuntarily, and then all that she could do was whimper and stumble as Carlisle spun them around and pressed her against the desk next to them. Well. She slid her hands up to clutch at Carlisle's back, and he bent her over the desk, lips moving pleasantly over her own, until she was moaning more often than not, and he had grabbed her other hand and lifted it over her head to pin her wrist down against the table.
They broke apart suddenly, as sense seemed to come to Carlisle and he pushed himself back, while still hovering over her and pinning her wrist to the sturdy wood.
“We shouldn't. We can't. Isabella…” he gasped, and something fierce within her awoke at the sight and sound of the Dr Carlisle Cullen losing his composure like that, and all because of her too. It was heady, like the deep-bodied whiskey her father liked to drink, and Isabella felt almost drunk on it.
Carlisle roamed his eyes over the sight of Isabella pinned beneath him like this, chest heaving and face flushed and mouth well-kissed, as if he was committing this sight to memory. Isabella shivered, and licked her lips, and Carlisle almost lowered his mouth to hers again, even leaning down before catching himself.
“I think… that if we are to court each other, we'll need to put a temporary stop to our mentorship,” Carlisle managed, as he caught his breath.
“I don't think I have the restraint to be able to be around you all day, be as close to you as to work on the same patient or teach you principles from the same, singular copy of a book, and not lose control and-” he said, voice hoarse as he cut himself off before he could continue.
Isabella so badly wanted him to continue. She could feel the press of his body, his clothed nethers pressed right against hers, and she could feel a telltale bulge that let her know just how close to losing control he was. It was heady, to be the woman who made the unfailing, ever-composed Dr Cullen be the one to almost lose control, and Isabella wanted to reach out and touch him through his clothes, just to see what it would feel like, or of he would be the one to moan, or to hear how he'd say her name when she did.
And then Carlisle stepped back, reluctantly, judging by how his hands slid off Isabella's body, and he straightened and held his hands out for her to hold onto so he could pull her upright again.
“Isabella, I apologize for my lack of restraint,” he began, but she stood on her tiptoes and pressed a sloppy kiss to his lips, cutting him off.
“Never apologize for such a thing, my love, for I have never felt more wanted or desired in my life than this moment,” she whispered, raw and vulnerable.
His arms gently came to rest on her waist.
“How could anyone not want or desire you, my Bella? You are everything and more than any man could desire. You deserve to be treated like the fairest, most noble woman that ever walked these streets. I must apologise for not treating you with the utmost respect you deserve,” he whispered back.
Isabella pressed herself against him, and he reciprocated the hug.
“As a matter of fact, Isabella, I have something I've been meaning to give you for a while now,” Carlisle began, gently breaking their hug.
He reached into an inner pocket in his jacket, and pulled out a thin, small box.
“This was my mother’s. Esme didn't want it, preferring to wear her own mother's heirloom jewels, but I've always wanted to give this to my bride to wear, preferably on our wedding day. Will you accept it as a promise and a courtship gift?” He asked, holding the open box gently between them, and allowing Isabella to look down at the gently glittering golden necklace that lay against the dark velvet of the inside of the box, like golden stars against the night sky.
Isabella's breath caught in her throat as she shakily reached out to touch a fingertip to trace the delicate gold, and touch one of the bright red rubies inlaid within the necklace.
“Carlisle,” she whispered, overcome with emotion, as she looked back up at him with tears starting to pool in her eyes.
“I wish to honour you to the highest degree, my dear Bella,” he said, reaching a hand out to gently trace his thumb lightly against her skin.
To Isabella, the touch seemed to burn.
“With your mother's wedding jewels?” She asked in a whisper.
And then, “Esme… may she rest in peace. This won't upset her spirit?” Isabella asked in an even smaller whisper.
“Like I said, my dear. Esme wished to honour her mother in our wedding, and I wished to honour her choice by not insisting on her wearing my mother's jewels. I know not whether your mother also has such jewels to bestow upon you for your wedding, but I wish to honour you and our union differently, no less importantly, than I honoured mine and Esme's union. She would be proud, and quite happy, too, that it is you who wears my mother's jewels when she did not,” Carlisle said, with a tender softness in his eyes as he spoke of his beloved decreased wife.
Bella reached out and cupped Carlisle's hand on her cheek, intertwining their fingers in a much-too-intimate hold for them to do anywhere else but privately, and turned her head to kiss his palm with her eyes closed in reverence.
“I will never match up to such a woman as Esme was,” she whispered.
“You do not need to. I love you for who you are, Isabella, not for how well you can grow into Esme's position. Please don't live in her shadow like this, my dear. She wouldn't have wanted it of any of my future wife, or wives, whomsoever they may be. She told me such, on her deathbed, that she wished for me to remarry a woman who makes me happy, and to live a long and happy life with her. She would never wish for you to live in her shadow,” Carlisle said softly.
Isabella kept her head turned and lips pressed to Carlisle's soft palm for a moment longer, before turning to him with glistening eyes. They shared a moment of understanding, of grief, for the marvelous, spectacular woman that was Esme Cullen, whom they'd both grown to love, just differently, in spite of Bella's short acquaintance with her before her tragic passing.
“If that was Esme's wish,” Isabella began, “then I shall endeavour to make you the happiest man alive, and ensure you live a long and happy life by my side,” Isabella promised, and reached out to touch Carlisle's chest where she knew he kept a locket with Esme's picture in it around his neck.
“I promise both you and Esme, from all the way up in heaven where she is, that I'll make you happy, Carlisle,” she said.
Carlisle exhaled and seemed to melt into her embrace, and Isabella allowed herself to melt right back into him.
They stood there in silence for a heartbeat, then two, before Carlisle steeled himself and pulled away with a small sigh.
“When I bring my courtship to your father, will you wear these jewels on our wedding, and another set of courting jewels my mother bestowed upon me, to show everyone that you're mine, Isabella?” He asked again, softly and sweetly, just like he made her heart feel.
“Of course! I could never say no to you, Carlisle,” Isabella whispered, with all the love in her heart that she held for this man.
Carlisle leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers once more, just a simple, chaste kiss, that still sent her heart racing nonetheless. He cupped her face with one hand, and gazed at her for a moment, before slowly letting his lingering hand drop as he closed the box and tucked it away safely where it came from.
“I shall leave first then, Isabella. Do make sure sufficient time has passed by before leaving, too. It would not do to have rumours arise about us, especially before we can even begin courting,” he said, and Isabella nodded and pulled back, straightening her dress and hair while Carlisle straightened his coat and walked past her without more than a glance.
She turned and watched as his strong back disappeared around the shelf, and then snuck up to watch as he walked down the aisles and turned towards the door without a backwards glance.
Isabella found herself approaching a rather comfy set of armchairs arrayed around a table, and promptly sank down in one as she contemplated everything that had happened in such a short time today. Carlisle had kissed her! He had taken her first kiss! He wanted to ask her to dance with him! He wanted to marry her..!
She buried her face in her hands and tried not to blush or giggle, but it was rather difficult not to. She really loved that man, well and truly. And now she'd get to love him for all the world to see and know her as the new Mrs Cullen, too. Isabella couldn't wait.