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The Watchmaker`s Lady

***

On the surface, The Watchmaker’s Lady is a deeply sensual tale

about a forbidden affair between a man and his Victorian sex doll.
But if you dig a little deeper beneath the kink, you’ll discover a
heartwarming romance between two soul mates who manage to
find each other—and stay together—despite overwhelming odds.

Matthew Goddard’s lover Isabel may be a clockwork automaton,

but that doesn’t prevent them from enjoying forbidden, uninhibited
sex at every opportunity.

Chapter One

Shrewsbury, Massachusetts, 1840

At half-past nine in the morning, the door to the shop of

“Matthew J. Goddard, Watchmaker – Clock Repair” swung open,
inviting in a blast of crisp November air.

Behind the main counter, Matthew glanced up from his oak

rolltop bench, his right foot pausing over the flywheel treadle. A

lady, obviously wealthy, stepped through the opening. She sashayed
toward him, cloak and skirts rustling softly. A gleam of anticipation
lit her hazel eyes.

Matthew openly studied her. He’d never seen her in town before.

She was probably new to the area, or hailed from nearby Worcester.
Many people were moving there, and often sought recreation in

idyllic Shrewsbury.

The lady’s pine-green bonnet had a single, wide bow. Cascades of

spaniel curls framed her powdered face. Matthew’s gaze traveled
over her high cheek bones and too-full lips before dropping to her
cloak. Its dark, stylishly cut fabric covered her dress completely, but

flashes of pine-green trim peeked out from beneath the hem.

Matthew stood. He bowed slightly as the lady approached the

counter. “Good day, Madam. How can I be of service?”

“You’re Mr. Goddard?” she asked breathlessly, her gaze darting

about the shop.

“I am.”
Her gaze finally settled on his face. “Oh, thank goodness. I’m in

the right place, then. My name is Mrs. Benjamin Rutherford. My

husband and I recently moved here. We’re in the south end. Are you
familiar with the area?”

Matthew nodded. He’d been born here. “Shrewsbury is a fine

community. You made an excellent choice.”

“I couldn’t agree more. A… close friend and neighbor

recommended you, quite highly, as a matter of fact.”

She produced a brown velvet reticule embroidered with flowers

The Watchmaker````````s Lady

and opened the drawstrings. Her black-gloved fingers withdrew a
pocket watch. This item she placed upon the glass countertop, a

light clink echoing in the wake of her action. “It’s my husband’s
watch. I accidentally dropped it, and now it doesn’t work.” She

didn’t sound very remorseful.

Matthew picked up the piece and turned it around in his hands.

The Vaucher Frères open-faced, rose-gold pocket watch—he

estimated 18 karats—was well constructed. Indeed, it was a far cry
from the low quality Swiss watches that had infiltrated the market

these days. He opened a drawer behind the counter and pulled out
some precision screwdrivers and tweezers. “Does your husband
know you dropped it?” he murmured.

The lady blushed and looked down. “Not yet. I was hoping you

might be able to repair it before he finds out.”

One corner of his mouth curled upward as he spread a piece of

clean white linen in a tray and placed the tray on the counter.
Working carefully, he removed the case. It took him only a moment

to discover the source of the problem. “It’s not broken. The oil has
dried up, however. I can lubricate it for you. When do you need it
back?”

“Ah, within the hour, if you could. Don’t worry about the cost. I

can compensate you handsomely for the rush work.” Mrs.
Rutherford moistened her lips. They shone a bright pink in the

lantern light.

“I can start immediately.”

She nodded. He showed her to a chair where she could sit and

wait. Returning to his bench, he reached for a bottle of French clock
oil, which in his opinion was the best around. The standard oiling

only took about twenty minutes. He called Mrs. Rutherford back to
the counter when he was finished.

Once again, her flickering gaze swept over the shop. It was as if

she expected someone else to appear at any moment, or was looking
for something.

Matthew gestured to the display case behind her. The walnut-

and-glass shelving housed a collection of quality watches and
jewelry. Some were unclaimed items he had previously repaired.

Others were undiscovered treasures he’d found at a bargain during

his occasional travels. “May I interest you in some of my finest

pieces? Perhaps your husband would like a monocle, or some
diamond stud pins.”

Mrs. Rutherford gave them an obligatory, yet cursory glance.

“They’re all lovely, but….”

Matthew braced his hands palm down upon the counter and

regarded her expectantly. “Yes?”

She dropped her voice to a whisper as she met his piercing gaze.

“Truth be told, I’m interested in your… other service.”

Matthew smiled warmly, knowing it would put her at ease. “Ah,

yes. Well, it just so happens that I recently completed a new
product. Would you like to see it?”

Mrs. Rutherford nodded eagerly. “I would, very much.”
Matthew placed the empty tray in a storage cabinet and put away

the tools. They negotiated a price for the repair job and she paid
him in coin. She placed the watch back into her reticule.

Stepping from behind the counter, Matthew motioned to a door

on the far right. “This way, please.”

He opened the door and ushered her through. He followed her

into the small, private parlor and locked the door behind them.

Thick red-velvet curtains dressed the room’s only window. Accented
with gold tassels, they were drawn together for both warmth and

privacy.

Flocked burgundy wallpaper swirling with a floral design

surrounded them. A rosewood divan occupied the center of the

room. Near the left wall, two matching rosewood chairs flanked a
pot-bellied stove. Strategically placed lanterns throughout the room
emitted a soft, inviting glow.

Matthew placed his hands above Mrs. Rutherford’s shoulders.

“May I?” he asked, turning his voice deliberately low and husky.

Mrs. Rutherford nodded, and allowed Matthew to aid in the

removal of her cloak. Like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, her
dress burst free in a riot of color, ribbon, and frilly lace. Suppressing

a smile, Matthew wondered if she ever dressed up this nicely for any
other occasion. He hung her cloak upon the coat rack. She handed
him her reticule and he hung that up as well.

He gestured to the divan. “Please make yourself comfortable.”

The Watchmaker````````s Lady

While Mrs. Rutherford settled onto the cream-colored fabric amid
crinkling skirts, he crossed the room and added a few more pieces

of wood to the stove. Soon, the parlor was ablaze with heat.

“It’s a lovely place,” she said.

“Only the best for my special customers,” he said, flashing a

knowing grin.

Mrs. Rutherford smiled demurely, her lashes fluttering

downward.

Withdrawing a brass key from his waistcoat pocket, he opened a

large, ornate jewelry cabinet opposite the divan. He withdrew a
hand-sized object, momentarily hiding it from her view. “Are you
ready?” he asked.

“I…I believe I am,” she replied.
Matthew pulled up a low stool and sat before her. Mrs.

Rutherford took a deep breath, her generous bosom swaying with

mesmerizing grace as she did so.

Matthew placed the object on his palm and held it before her.

The cylindrical brass disk had a dome on top and a small
indentation on the underside. “You may hold it, if you like.”

Gingerly, Mrs. Rutherford accepted the offering. She turned it

over and rubbed the indentation with a gloved finger. “What does it
do?” she asked.

“It stimulates circulation.”

Her gaze turned inquisitive. “How does it work?”
Matthew pointed to a tiny key attached to the dome. “You wind it

up. The more you turn it, the greater the improvement on your
circulation.”

“It’s very light.”

“And inconspicuous,” he added.
“My friend did say I could depend on your sense of discretion.”
Matthew bowed his head in acknowledgment.

“Mr. Goddard, I am…innocent in the matters of such…devices.

Where… I mean, how do I apply it?”

“Wherever you like.”
Hesitantly, she placed the device against her cheek. “Like this?”
“You could, but there are also other uses. Let your imagination be

your guide.”

She visibly swallowed. “I would like to be perfectly clear on its

application.” She held out the device. “Would you be so kind as to
demonstrate it for me?”

He took it from her, deliberately making his fingers linger against

hers during the exchange. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice firm. “I would like you to apply it where

it will benefit me the most.”

Both of them were breathing deeply now. The first time was

always rather exciting. Matthew nodded. “All right, then. If you

would be so kind as to recline back, we can begin.”

He placed a hand against her back and guided her down. As her

head and upper back connected with the slanted armrest, her

voluminous skirts lifted. Nearby, the fire crackled pleasantly.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked. A stray hair had fallen against

her cheek. He gently pushed it into place with his fingertips.

Mrs. Rutherford nodded.
“I promise there won’t be any pain or discomfort.”

“That’s what my friend told me.”
“You must thank her for recommending my services,” he said.

“I’m going to start now.” He took her hands and placed them on her

stomach. “Watch as I wind it up so you know how to operate it.”

He rotated the key around and around and around. Mrs.

Rutherford watched in silence, her eyes riveted to the motion of his
hands as he manipulated the tiny mechanism.

Several minutes later, he stopped. “I’m going to attach it now.”

“Where?” she squeaked out.
“To your most private place. It’s highly receptive to stimulation,

and will ensure your ability to extract the most good from the

device. Surely your friend gave you some idea about what to
expect?”

Mrs. Rutherford nodded vigorously. “She did. I’m ready.”
Matthew pushed aside her skirts with one hand. He did not need

to look, preferring to make his way by touch alone. That seemed to

keep his special customers relaxed while he demonstrated his
intimate products. It also added a layer of erotic anticipation to the
process.

The device had already begun to vibrate. He palmed it in his right

The Watchmaker````````s Lady

hand and thrust it beneath her skirts. “I need a bit more room,” he
whispered, nudging her left knee.

Mrs. Rutherford obliged by spreading her thighs apart. Matthew

skimmed the back of his hand against her stocking, enjoying the

forbidden feel of the silky material against his skin.

Gently, slowly, he used his index finger to widen the slit of her

drawers. His fingers dove among the tight curls of her pubic hair.

Mrs. Rutherford’s core pulsed with heat and moisture. “My, you are
ready,” he murmured. He glanced at her face. A light sheen of sweat

adorned her forehead, and she stared wide-eyed at the subtly
suggestive artwork painted upon the ceiling.

He continued to watch her expression as he fitted the device,

indentation side down, to the tiny, hard nub his finger had brushed
against only moments before. He held it there, feeling the strong
vibration as its clockwork structure pulsed against her.

Mrs. Rutherford felt it, too. She gasped loudly.
At first, she lay still, absorbing the impact of the sensation. Soon,

however, her hips started moving. Matthew cupped the device
firmly to keep it in place as her pelvis lifted. “Would you like to
replace my hand with yours?” he inquired.

“No!” she cried out, her hips bucking even more. The rustling of

her dress as she twisted about sounded like a pleasant rainfall.

Matthew placed his free hand on her right knee to steady her.

Beneath the device, Mrs. Rutherford grew increasingly slick. The
vibration was making his hand throb almost to the point of

numbness.

She slid her left hand up and down her bodice. Her right

suddenly latched onto his left thigh and squeezed it hard. Matthew

couldn’t prevent the rush of blood. His cock sprang to life, growing
unbearably stiff within the confines of his trousers. Arousal was
inevitable when he bore witness to this kind of behavior. But there

would be no relief for him—not yet, and certainly not with his
customer.

While he found a certain satisfaction in providing such a unique

and needed service, the interactions felt ultimately hollow. One-
sided. Empty. Despite his physical reaction, he sometimes felt a

kind of revulsion in response to the superficial personalities of

women like Mrs. Rutherford. But he had a just cause for his

underground—and dangerous—business. Secrecy was imperative
because the consequences would be dire if the husbands of
customers like Mrs. Rutherford ever discovered his “practice.”

He created a variety of these devices. Some he sold, others he

used to help his special customers soothe away tensions for a fee.

The demonstrations helped convince his customers of his products’
value. At times, though, he dreaded having to make a big show of
the procedure. He sometimes felt like a circus performer, or a

favorite pet doing tricks.

Matthew could hardly complain, however, as their patronage

funded his needs in a way none of them could ever imagine.

Focusing his attention back on Mrs. Rutherford, he discovered

that she was near to bursting, like a ripe peach. Her hips thrust

upward with a steady rhythm. A trickle of moisture ran from one
corner of her mouth. She was whimpering, the sound increasing
with each passing moment.

Matthew pressed the device down even harder, spreading his

fingers wide. That did the trick. Mrs. Rutherford cried out her
pleasure as her body stretched, stiffened. Her mouth gaped wide as

she panted. After a few moments of frenzied movement, she
collapsed back onto the divan.

The device was starting to wind down, so Matthew removed it.

He quickly found some handkerchiefs. The first he used to wipe
Mrs. Rutherford’s private area clean. He used the second one to

wipe the clockwork device free of her fluid. The third he used to dry
his hands. His fingers reeked of her pungent scent. He’d have to
wash them thoroughly after she left. He wanted no trace of her on

his skin.

“Are you well?” he asked.

Her eyelids fluttered open as her lips spread in a relaxed smile.

“Oh, yes, quite so. Thank you, Mr. Goddard.”

“May I interest you in this device?”

Mrs. Rutherford nodded. “Yes. I’ll take it today.” She sat up and

smoothed down her skirts. “I trust you don’t keep an account book
for these kinds of… exchanges?”

Matthew nodded. “That’s right.”

The Watchmaker````````s Lady

“Well, then, I can pay you in coin, or”—Mrs. Rutherford stared

with unabashed interest at the hard mass pushing against his

trousers—“other ways.” She licked her lips.

“Actually, I would prefer to negotiate a trade.”

She looked at him, disappointment crossing her features. “Oh?”
“Yes. I require payment in the form of an article of your

clothing.”

Her brows shot upward. “I see.” Then her expression brightened.

“I believe we can come to an arrangement.” She reached out her left

arm. He helped her stand. Crossing to the rack, she opened her
reticule and pulled out a pair of exquisite white gloves. She held
them high. “Will these do?”

Matthew’s heart thumped at the pristine sight. “Indeed, they

will.” He smiled. “A very equitable exchange.” He pointed to a
nearby table. “You can leave them there.” He wrapped the device in

a fresh handkerchief and handed it to her.

Mrs. Rutherford slipped the package into her reticule. “Well, I

must be going now.”

Matthew held out her cloak and she eased into it. He escorted her

to the front door of the shop, impatient for her to leave.

“Thank you, Mr. Goddard. I’ll be sure to recommend your

services at the next opportunity.”

“I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Mrs. Rutherford. Have a

lovely day.”

She exited the shop, a bounce in her step.

No sooner had she stepped out than Matthew locked the door.

He rushed back into the private room. Using the basin there, he
rinsed his hands. When his hands were dry, he scooped up the

gloves. He stroked the soft, smooth material between thumb and
forefinger.

After locking the door of his private parlor, he practically ran

toward the door that led to his living quarters behind the shop. By
necessity, he had installed a number of locks on the door

connecting the areas. His hands shook with excitement as he
inserted each key.

The dining room was on the first floor. He had converted the

downstairs master bedroom into a workplace. Therefore, he used

one of the two second-floor rooms as a sitting room and the other as

his bedroom.

Matthew took the squeaky wooden stairs two at a time. Just

outside the entrance to the sitting room, he took a moment to

compose himself. He smoothed down his hair and straightened his
waistcoat and jacket. Clearing his throat, he stepped into the room.

“Isabel?” he inquired, his gaze seeking out the figure sitting on

the turquoise blue medallion-back sofa. “Look, dear, I’ve brought
you some new gloves.”

Chapter Two

Matthew crossed the room as quickly as his feet would allow.

Gingerly, he sat on the sofa beside Isabel. Remains of her mid-
morning tea lay on the small cart at her knees. A copy of Boston’s

Independent Chronicle was spread out beside her. He smiled. The
newspaper’s presence promised a lively discussion between them
after supper. Often, their discussions served as a prelude to even

more exciting events.

Matthew draped the gloves across his hands and presented them

with a flourish. “Do you like them?” he asked, wanting desperately
to please her.

He imagined her excited gaze dropping to the gloves, as well as

the exclamation that followed. “They’re beautiful!”

“I think so, too. They’re the fanciest pair you have now. Here,

let’s try them on.”

Raising her left arm, he inserted her stiff brass hand into the

opening. Drawing them on required careful maneuvering. In the

end, they had to make do with leaving some space between her
blunt fingers and the tip of each sheath. But the material reached to
her jointed elbow, lending her arms a graceful and delightfully

feminine appearance.

Matthew slowly stroked the material from her elbow to her wrist.

The color didn’t match her utilitarian brown frock, but he didn’t

care.

“I love them, darling. Thank you.”

Matthew blushed. Isabel was prone to using affectionate terms

like “darling” and “my love.” The phrases always sounded
deliciously forbidden and never failed to incite a fluttering in his

belly. “Only the best for you, my sweet Isabel.”

He raised his head, and their gazes locked. Her eyes were like a

net he couldn’t escape, not that he ever wished to do so. Reaching

out a hand, he caressed the wave of dark hair sweeping back from
her face. It had taken him a month or so to learn how to properly

style her hair. He liked to think he’d done a decent job of it. “I was

so lucky to find you when I did,” he murmured. Lost in her beauty,
his thoughts drifted back to that day.

About one year earlier, he’d made his weekly trip to the Bailey

Brothers General Store on the corner of South and Main. At first, it
had been a visit like any other. Signs of an extra cold winter were in

the air, so he’d purchased a new scarf. Being the only watchmaker
in town, he repaired watches and clocks for the family and their
employees in exchange for needed household goods.

After dropping off some torn trousers that needed patching, he

ambled around the store to pass time before dinner. Bailey Brothers
featured numerous articles of ready-made clothing for men,

women, and children on display. They sold everything from hats to
coats to fancy evening wear. Matthew rarely socialized, so he didn’t

need to invest in many formal clothes, but he enjoyed looking all
the same.

Truth be told, he’d been lonely since striking out on his own and

setting up a branch of the family business in Shrewsbury. He
wouldn’t have minded spending his hard-earned money on a wife.

Unfortunately, in all of the past ten years, he had yet to meet a

companion compelling enough to interest him. Besides his work,
his interests lay in everything mechanical, topics of a scientific

nature, and politics, things few women cared to discuss. He didn’t
see the point in sharing a home with someone who couldn’t sustain
a decent conversation. Was that a strange way of thinking? Perhaps.

Sometimes he felt as though he’d been born in the wrong

century. The people of this time were all wrong for him, and he was
all wrong for them. But he refused to become something he wasn’t

just for society’s approval. Furthermore, he had no desire to marry
for status or money.

Matthew sighed heavily as he strolled through the aisles. Perhaps

he’d be better off resigning himself to the life of a bachelor.

The sun shone brightly into the shop. Dust motes danced like

fairies in the golden rays. Matthew’s stomach rumbled as he edged
his way around a stack of haphazardly piled crates. It was time to
eat. But as he passed by the rear of the shop, a scene through the

open back door drew his attention. Stepping across the threshold,

The Watchmaker````````s Lady

he walked over to investigate.

A jumble of assorted items filled an uncovered wagon. Harnessed

to the wagon was a chestnut mare. She eyed Matthew briefly as he
approached, nickering softly. He shook his head apologetically, as

he didn’t have a treat to offer her.

He studied the wagon’s contents. By the looks of them, the Bailey

brothers must have done some cleaning. There were overflowing

bins of assorted fabric scraps, bent display stands, and various rusty
parts from broken dressmaker tools. Nothing he could use, really,

except for— Matthew stopped cold in his tracks. What’s that item
there?

Beneath an old, musty blanket, he noticed a mass of dark hair.

With a start, he realized it must be a wig. Of course. That was all.
Still, curiosity grabbed hold of him. He lifted the blanket and moved
it aside. Gently, he rested a hand upon the raven-black mane. It felt

like human hair. The thick, wavy locks were dirty and matted.
Matthew smiled wryly. Even a ship has fewer tangled knots than

this rat’s nest.

Something hard lay beneath. Might as well see this through.

With a single motion, he swept the hair aside.

Matthew’s heart nearly stopped in his chest. The hair was

attached to a bisque porcelain head. An adult-sized woman’s head.
The sight shocked him to his core. All he knew was that he couldn’t

look away.

Transfixed, he stared into her large glass eyes. Framed by black,

painted-on lashes, they were smoky blue and tantalizing beyond
reason. Despite the dirt and grime, he could tell that her face had
been tinted with a realistic looking skin color. Her bold brows lent

her a majestic air. The gaudy rouge on her cheeks echoed the bright
color of her lips. Even the chipped “skin” on her right cheek, as
though a scar, was perfect in its imperfection.

Matthew was amazed to discover that he was shaking, and that

his hands were sweating. Even more astonishing was what he did

next.

“What’s your name?” he whispered, unable to comprehend why

he would even ask such a thing.

“Isabel.”

Matthew jumped. He swore he had just heard a woman’s voice

whisper “Isabel” right back to him. Where had the voice come from?

Whirling around, he searched the outside lot. No one was there.

He stuck his head through the shop door, his gaze darting among

the shelves and displays. Other than Edgar Bailey speaking with a
female customer at the front, the place was empty. Matthew rubbed

his chin hard, seeking composure he didn’t feel.

Despite the strange experience, he returned to the wagon. He

stared at the porcelain face in wonder. It—no, she—stared back at

him. Her expression appeared wistful, as though she wanted
something. Or someone.

Me?

Matthew’s heart began thudding as her gaze wove a web of need

around him. He wanted her. He had never been more certain of

anything in his life.

Hold on now. What was he thinking? She probably wasn’t even

for sale. And what would it mean if he bought her? Though he was

undoubtedly unstable in the head to think in such terms, the power
imbalance related to that kind of transaction bothered him. One
simply did not purchase a companion.

Or a wife.
Oh God. Have I lost my mind?

There was only one solution to his dilemma.
“I’m Matthew Goddard,” he mouthed, not daring to speak louder

lest anyone within hearing brand him as a lunatic. “I’m the town

watchmaker. Would you… like to come live with me?”

Not surprisingly, an immediate answer wasn’t forthcoming.

Matthew wiped his damp hands against his coat. This is ridiculous.

Go. Now. He turned to leave.

“I’d like that very much.”

His breath caught in his throat as ever so slowly he turned

around to face her again. But before he could collect his thoughts,
footsteps approached from behind.

“Well, Mr. Goddard, I see you’ve discovered our family jewels!”

Edgar Bailey laughed heartily, his wide-open mouth topped by a
thick salt-and-pepper mustache.

Still in thrall to Isabel’s web of desire, Matthew barely managed a

The Watchmaker````````s Lady

smile.

Edgar was pulling on his coat. “I’m about to haul this rubbish off

to the pit,” he said, referring to the refuse area on the edge of town.

Matthew went cold at the thought of beautiful Isabel languishing

in a cesspool of rotten food and animal carcasses. He couldn’t allow
that to happen. However, if he appeared unduly interested, Edgar
might become suspicious of his intentions. He frowned as he

considered his options.

Noticing his expression, Edgar quickly amended his earlier

statement. “But if you want anything here, I’ll give you an
uncommonly good price.” The shopkeeper attempted to rearrange
the heap into a more organized display. Mostly he just substituted

one mess for another. “Everything is broken or damaged, but I
daresay an industrious fellow like you could find a way to salvage
some of it.”

“How much for the head?” The words flooded forth before

Matthew could stop them.

“What? Oh, that.” Edgar blew out a breath, the stream of mist

visible in the cold air. “Yes, hmph. That thing. We were going to use
her to display hats. Are you sure you want it? It arrived months ago,

poorly packed and with a nasty chip on its cheek. I’d completely
forgotten about it until I started making room for new inventory.
Can’t use it now.” Edgar cocked a brow. “What use might a

watchmaker have for a mannequin head, if you don’t mind my
asking?”

Matthew hesitated. He dreaded having to misrepresent the

situation, but he felt as though he had no choice. He couldn’t
possibly leave Isabel to the fate of that godforsaken pit. A rescue

was in order. “I have…a niece. She lives in Boston.” (At least that
part was true.) “Her birthday is coming up.” (Also true. His niece
had a birthday every July 6.) Matthew fingered a lock of the

mannequin’s hair. “This would make a lovely clockwork doll for a
present, wouldn’t you say?”

Edgar peered more closely at it, eyes squinting. Then he pulled

back, beaming. “It would at that! Ingenious, my good fellow. Your
niece is a lucky child.” Edgar clapped him on the back. “Come on,

then. I’ll wrap it up for you and we can settle your account.”

Chapter Three

Striding up Main Street with his scarf draped around his neck

and his new purchase tucked under his arm, it was all Matthew
could do not to run. Appetite forgotten, he quickly covered the half

mile to his home.

Leaves crunched beneath his feet as he crossed his lawn. He

entered through the side door, which led to his workroom, and

locked it immediately. Scant sunlight shone through the grubby
windows, so he lit a few lanterns.

After pushing aside a jumble of tools and parts from the nearest

table, he set down the package. Without bothering to remove his
coat or scarf, he tore apart the twine and coarse paper, revealing a

sturdy box.

Matthew paused, taking a deep breath. He laid his hands against

the lid. Schooling his expression into a welcoming smile, he opened

the box. “Hello, Isabel,” he said quietly. “Welcome to your new
home.”

It seemed as though her unblinking stare could see right through

him. Matthew felt his cheeks grow hot. Never had a woman stared
at him with such brazen interest.

“Hello, Mr. Goddard.”
“Please, Isabel, call me Matthew.”
Was he imagining things, or did her smile grow a shade wider?

“Hello, Matthew.”

“Hello,” he said again. He rubbed the back of his head. This was

strange. He’d never shared such an instant connection with another
person before.

Isabel sighed in appreciation. “Thank you for saving me from

that awful pit.”

“It was the least I could do.”
“Are we at your home?”

He nodded. “Our home, if it pleases you.”
“It does! Would you be so kind as to show me around?”

The Watchmaker````````s Lady

“Oh! Of course. How rude of me. Here, let’s get you out of that

box.” Matthew chided himself silently over his inconsiderate

behavior. He obviously had much to learn about how to treat a lady.

He chucked off his coat, scarf, hat, and gloves. He pulled Isabel

from the box and cradled her gently in his arms. He held her facing
outward, so she could see each room as he walked.

Matthew conducted a lengthy tour of both his home and shop.

He wasn’t sure what to say except things like “This is the dining
room,” or “I restored this tall case clock after it had been in a fire,”

and “Well, this is, you know, my bedroom. That’s the, uh, bed.”

At the time of their first acquaintance, the room next to the shop

was simply a storeroom—a nearly empty one at that. Only later did

he renovate it for his secret business.

Isabel seemed to enjoy looking at the items, not only in the

shop’s display case, but also in his work area. She actually seemed

interested, too, if her questions about how this or that tool worked
were any indication. He couldn’t believe his good fortune. But was

she really so fascinated, or just being polite?

The tour having concluded, Matthew brought her back into his

living quarters. He knew it was two in the afternoon because eight

clocks started chiming throughout the whole building.

“Matthew?” Isabel began.
“Yes?”

“I’m awfully grimy. Would you be so kind as to clean me up? I’d

do it myself, but….”

“Of course! Yes, right away.” Silently, Matthew chastised himself.

“I’m terribly sorry, Isabel. I should have thought of that sooner.”

“It’s all right. I was excited about our meeting, too.”

He placed her on the dining room table. “The kitchen’s out back.

Please excuse me a moment while I heat some water and gather
some rags.”

Matthew retrieved a bottle of vinegar and placed it on the table.

Within a half an hour, he had assembled everything he needed, not

the least of which was a sturdy comb to untangle Isabel’s hair.

He went to work. Cleaning her face, ears, and neck was fairly

easy. Soap, water, and a gentle cloth removed the dirt and grime.

Her hair, however, required over two hours of repeated washing

and combing. Matthew was terrified he might cause her discomfort

or inadvertently tear out her hair, so he proceeded very carefully.

His gentle, meticulous work paid off. By the time he was finished,

her face practically glowed with health. Her black tresses had a

lustrous shine. He tenderly arranged them about her face, enjoying
his newfound role of nurturer. “There. How do you feel now?”

“Thank you so much, Matthew. I feel wonderful!”
Sitting before her at the dining room table, he began to stroke

her hair, his palm tingling at the contact. “You look wonderful,” he

murmured. Covering her scar would come later. It took him months
to acquire suitable cosmetics without raising suspicion. In the end,
he bought some from a member of an acting troupe.

“If you don’t mind my saying, I think you look very handsome. I

particularly like your chin. It’s so strong and determined-looking.”

Overcome by a sudden surge of emotion as well as a heated

blush, Matthew turned his head aside. “Uh…thank you,” he
stammered. Her frankness was incredibly addictive.

Then his gaze locked on the room’s single window. A chill shot

through him. Anyone could look inside and discover them. “Pardon
me,” he said, and rushed to the window.

He quickly drew the curtains shut. Fists clenching the soft material,
he bowed his head and willed his thumping heart to slow down. He

couldn’t afford to be so careless in the future. Isabel deserved every
ounce of his protection.

“Matthew? Is everything all right?”

He resumed his seat at the table. His palms itched to touch her

hair again. “Yes, of course. I just wanted to ensure us privacy.”

“I’m glad you did that. I want us to become better acquainted,

and no one should interfere.”

Matthew nodded, marveling at how closely her thoughts

mirrored his.

“Would you mind…coming closer?”
He folded his arms upon the table and rested his chin on his

forearm. Now they were face-to-face, their noses barely an inch
apart. “Is this what you mean?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice sounding breathless. “Matthew?”

“Yes, Isabel?”

The Watchmaker````````s Lady

“How long can I stay with you?”
Matthew smiled indulgently. “As long as you like.”

He wondered if a storm was approaching, because the air

between them seemed charged with electricity. Matthew was aware

of little else, save for a nearby clock ticking off the seconds with
steadfast regularity.

She breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m glad. I like you very much.”

Matthew’s smile grew wider. “The feeling is mutual.”
He imagined her biting her lips. Despite her outward confidence,

she seemed anxious about something. “I’m not like other women,
you know.”

Gingerly, he traced the scar along her cheek, and then continued

the caress all the way down to the corner of her mouth. “I know. I
wouldn’t want you any other way.”

“As soon as I saw you, I knew you were the man for me. One

who wouldn’t judge me.”

“Never,” he whispered. A fierce urge to defend her against any

and all threats rose within him. “This might sound strange, but I
have the feeling we were meant to be together.”

“Oh Matthew, you feel it too?”

Matthew nodded. He was enjoying their conversation, but he

couldn’t stop looking at Isabel’s lips. Were they as soft as they
appeared? Well, as soft as he imagined? He wanted to discover the

answer so much it hurt. With his index finger, he traced them. First
the upper one, then the lower.

“Mmm…that feels nice. You have such gentle hands.”
He caressed her left cheek with the back of his hand. “You don’t

mind me touching you?”

“No, not at all.” She moaned softly as he ran his fingertips along

her hairline. “No one has ever touched me like this before. Please
go on, if you don’t mind.”

The deep intimacy of the moment caused Matthew to breathe

harder. But he kept his caresses slow and easy, not wanting to scare

Isabel away. He lost track of time as he explored her face with his
hands, or ran his fingers through her hair and massaged her head.
All the while, she moaned and whimpered and gasped beneath his

touch.

At one point, he discovered Isabel staring at him rather intently.

“Matthew,” she began, her voice sultry and inviting, “Perhaps we
should become even better acquainted now. Are you thinking what
I’m thinking?”

“Yes, I do believe I am.” Not only were his thoughts aligned with

hers, but he also felt consumed with an overpowering desire to give

her everything he had—his home, his mind, his body, his soul.
Anything that would make her happy, he would give to her.

“Show me.”

Resting a hand against her cheek, Matthew tilted his head until

he found just the right angle. On a sigh, he pressed his lips to hers,
sealing their bond with his warm breath.

Until that kiss, part of him had been aware that Isabel’s voice in

his head was his own invention, that he was indulging in a

prolonged daydream, but now the boundary between reality and
imagination disappeared altogether. At once, he sank into a wild,
exuberant fantasy.

He moaned against her mouth, delighting in the sensation of her

tender, full lips. Matthew cupped both sides of her head and
deepened the kiss even further. He had a feeling that his “strong,

determined-looking” jaw could kiss her all night if she so desired.

Isabel kissed him back with astounding fervor. Before long, she

was parting her lips in a clear invitation. Wasting no time, he slid
his tongue between them. He shouldn’t have been surprised by how
wet her mouth had become, but he was. She accepted him eagerly,

as if she were sitting down to a grand meal after a fast. Pressing his
lips against hers felt warm and good and right.

Only a few moments passed until his cock began to stir. It

strained against his trousers, begging for release. Isabel’s little
gasps as they kissed made him harder than he’d ever been in his

life. He peppered her face with kisses and whispered her name
repeatedly.

“Oh, Matthew! This is delightful. I’m so glad we found each

other.”

Moaning, he buried his fingers in her hair, delighting in the

heavy feel of her wavy locks. When he returned to her mouth, she

boldly thrust her tongue between his lips. She ran it across his teeth

The Watchmaker````````s Lady

and nearly to the back of his throat. He felt like she was devouring
him. Her bottomless hunger made his spirit soar.

Matthew shifted in his seat but couldn’t find relief. He craved

more. With a groan, he tore himself away from her sweet kisses.

Jumping to his feet, he kicked aside the chair. He began
unbuttoning his trousers. Between his excitement and his shaking
hands, the process took thrice the amount of time it usually took.

Finally, though, his cock was free. His trousers pooled around his

feet. Now that he was standing, Isabel was at just the right height

for what he wanted. What he needed.

“Isabel,” he panted, his right hand grasping his turgid shaft. “As

you can see, I’m very aroused.” He pumped his cock a few times,

feeling vulnerable and exposed, but also hot and ready. “I’d be
honored if you were my first. Would you be interested in… using
your mouth down here?”

“Oh, yes, Matthew. You’ll be my first, too! Come closer.” She

licked her lips, and then opened her mouth to receive him.

There’d been no hesitation on her part. Astonishing. He pushed

the tip of his cock into her mouth, nearly dying from the pleasure of
even that small contact. When she flicked out her tongue and

swirled it around the head, he gritted his teeth at the wild new
sensation.

Isabel pulled back just a little. “Do you like what I’m doing?”

“God, yes. Please don’t stop,” he growled, placing his free hand

on top of her head. He pumped his cock a few more times and then

slipped it back into her mouth. “That’s it. Can you take a bit more?
Oh…that’s good…that’s very good.” He pushed himself into her until
she’d taken half his length. Then he pulled out, hesitating only

briefly before thrusting back in again.

Before long, she was swallowing him whole. He felt her chin

bump against his scrotum. It would be worth burning in Hell for

this kind of raw pleasure. Matthew pumped in and out of her
mouth, slowly at first, building a comfortable rhythm. Isabel

worked her lips around his shaft with boundless enthusiasm. When
she squealed in excitement, he took it as an invitation to thrust
faster, harder, deeper.

Gliding against her slick, hot tongue felt euphoric. With a rough,

hoarse cry, he spilled his seed deep inside her throat. Isabel held

steady, absorbing every last, sticky drop.

Panting, Matthew collapsed onto the chair. His cock was so

sensitive he didn’t dare touch it any longer. A cool draft sent

gooseflesh cascading across his bare skin. He felt utterly spent, and
deliriously happy.

“Matthew? Are you all right?”
He leapt to his feet, hastily pulling up his trousers. “I’m fine.

Never better.” He sighed happily. “You’re incredible, simply

incredible.” Then he scooped up a rag from the pile he’d brought
earlier. “Here, let me clean you up.”

After wiping away all traces of his seed, Matthew held her tightly

to his chest. He never wanted to let her go. “Thank you, Isabel.
You’re the most beautiful and considerate woman I’ve ever met. I’m

so glad we’re together.”

“Me, too,” she said, her voice muffled. “When will you be excited

again?”

Matthew laughed, his first true laugh in many years. “With you

around, I doubt I’ll ever stop being excited.”

“If only….” Isabel stopped short of her thought.

“Yes? What is it?”
“I wish I could make you happier.”

Matthew’s mouth fell open in shock. “But you do make me

happy! You do that just as you are!” he gently protested.

“I know. But I would like to do more. You see, I have needs as

well. And for that, I require something else. I really do.”

“And what might that be?” Matthew leaned in dangerously close

to her smooth cheek for the reply. It came in the form of a whisper.

“I need a body.”

Chapter Four

In the days that followed, Matthew and Isabel enjoyed hours of

kissing and other delights during every spare moment.

With the exception of his shop during business hours, he kept

her with him everywhere in the house. She slept in bed with him, of
course, but they also took their meals together. In the morning, the
dining room seemed much brighter now that she was there. Isabel

didn’t mind that none of his plates or cups matched. She said the
mishmash of styles made the table look more festive.

During his midday break, they would sit in the parlor and

Matthew would read her the paper. She enjoyed the political
columns the most. Isabel had a sharp, analytical mind. In fact, she

wanted to learn everything she could about his work. So with the
door locked against intruders, he took her to his workshop and
explained every repair in extensive detail. He even showed her how

to build a watch.

“Some day, I’ll make one of my own,” she said.

Matthew’s heart swelled with affection upon hearing her

declaration. “Some day,” he agreed.

All the while, they would chat and flirt and exchange smoldering

looks. Suggestive comments flew back and forth between them,
often leading to a sweaty entanglement of lips and hands on the
parlor rug or in the bed.

Matthew hadn’t realized how empty and lonely his home had

been until Isabel’s melodic laughter rang throughout it. He would

have spent even more time with her if it weren’t for his work. But
now that he had a lover to support, he needed to succeed in
watchmaking more than ever.

Within a week after bringing Isabel home, Matthew fulfilled her

request: He made her a body. Using thick thread and whatever
spare cloth he could find, he crudely sewed together a torso, arms

and legs. The body was very primitive, filled with hay. It also lacked
hands and feet. The biggest challenge was finding a way to keep her

head attached. It kept rolling off at the most inopportune moments.

He was terrified at the thought of her falling to the floor and
splintering into a million tiny pieces.

Isabel felt such enthusiasm over her new addition, however, that

she immediately invited him into bed. After recovering from the
shock of her bold proposal, Matthew locked out a whole day’s worth

of customers. Perhaps the decision wasn’t financially sound, but he
simply couldn’t resist her charms. He was now convinced she’d
been created just for him, and he for her.

After helping Isabel into the bed, he built a roaring fire in the

grate. He stripped off his clothes and threw them over the back of a
chair. Strutting about nude with the woman of his dreams waiting

for him felt thoroughly invigorating. Wasting no further time,
Matthew went to the bed.

Before lying down, he drank in the sight of her. Only her head

was visible, her black tresses splayed across the pillow. His gaze
traveled over the outline of her figure beneath the quilt. Now he

understood how lush a woman’s body could be. Even with just her
head, Isabel had been a fantastic lover. But now…now he could give
her pleasure, and they could join as they never had before.

“Hurry, Matthew. Don’t keep me waiting.”
Matthew’s cock was so hard he could barely stand it. He joined

her beneath the covers, the bed creaking every time he shifted.
Balancing on his right side, he slid one arm beneath her neck and
another around her waist. In the process, Isabel’s right arm shifted

onto his left shoulder. The simple gesture spiked his excitement all
the more.

He began caressing her. The feel of the coarse cloth beneath his

fingertips and palms only contributed to a more dangerous,
delicious fantasy. From head to toe, he pressed his naked body to

hers, an act that sent him into raging need. Panting, he embraced
her tightly, the stuffing crinkling as he pulled her closer and closer
against him.

“Oh, yes, Matthew, yes! The way you touch me feels so good.

Could you go lower? Rub your hands on my bottom.”

Eager to oblige, Matthew slid his hands down her back. His

fantasy enhanced the contact, and the sensation flowed seamlessly

The Watchmaker````````s Lady

from cool, rough cloth to warm, soft skin. When his hands cupped
her round, generous bottom, Isabel’s lips parted in a gasp of

pleasure. He kissed her then, both their mouths open, wet, and
hungry.

As they frolicked, the room grew stuffy and hot. Throwing off the

blankets, Matthew began rubbing his cock all over her. He wanted
to mark her as his in every way possible. He took his time, savoring

every texture her body had to offer. The fine hairs of her legs tickled
him. He also favored the way his hardness sank into the pliant skin

of her stomach.

“We should do this every day,” Isabel said with a languorous

stretch. “I feel relaxed and excited at the same time.”

Her action riveted his gaze to her breasts. Matthew had only seen

one pair of breasts in his life, and that was a fleeting glimpse of a
pair belonging to a tart who had once openly propositioned him on

the streets of Boston.

Isabel’s supple breasts were a hundred times more magnificent,

though it took several different fantasies to decide on which size he
liked best. Beneath his hardworking gaze, they swelled to the size of
ripe melons. Mouthwatering, to be sure, but they overwhelmed her

figure.

What about small and pert? Her breasts shrank down to the size

of nectarines. He palmed one of them and gave it a light squeeze. It

felt lovely, but… perhaps a bit larger. The breast grew under his
hand, enough to fill it. He felt the pebbling of the nipple.

“Oh, I like these!” she purred. “Can you make the tips pink?”
Now she had nipples the color of pink roses, with large areolas he

could sink his teeth into. Matthew felt drunk on the sight alone.

“What would you like to do next?” he asked.

“Lick my breasts, darling,” Isabel coaxed. “Suck them as long

and hard as you want. It will feel good for both of us!”

Matthew was determined to please her as much as she pleased

him. By the time he finished, her chest was soaked and her nipples

tauter than a bowstring. Now on his knees, Matthew gazed down at
her. Her smoky blue eyes were taking in the sight of his broad chest
and its dark, rough hair. He thrust out his hips, enjoying the way his

penis lengthened and thickened under her penetrating stare.

Reaching down between her thighs, he gently rubbed the folds of

her slit. Her dark curls felt silky against his callused fingers. He
tested her wetness and felt her beckoning heat.

Isabel was breathing as fast as he was. Her hips bucked against

his hand. “Take me, my love. Everything I have is yours.”

Though his cock jerked in response to her words, Matthew

hesitated. Was this wrong? No, of course not. This was love, and
love was never wrong. Any doubts along this line were lingering
holdovers from his father’s stern lectures. He would have to try

harder to keep those thoughts in the past, where they belonged.

He had spent years trying to distance himself from his family’s

restrictive attitudes toward natural pleasures. At times, triggers

would occur. Memories would pour over him—a flash of light here,
an irregular shadow there… his father had branded him well.

Matthew could still see the sickle’s blade gleaming, its cracked

oaken handle gripped tightly by his father’s massive right hand. The
man had caught him pleasuring himself in the cornstalk field. Even

at the age of thirteen, Matthew had endured far too many
punishments to doubt the pious man’s threats to cut off his
genitalia.

Running and hiding became essential skills for survival.
Later, subterfuge became a lifelong ally as he encountered the

same repressive beliefs among greater society. But instead of
making him conform, he just started thinking about sex even more.
If anyone knew how many lascivious thoughts were in his head,

he’d be branded a sexual deviant. He’d be forced to leave town.

Somehow, though, he retained hope that things would change—if

not in his lifetime, then in the future.

With that soothing thought, he cast aside all doubt regarding the

validity of his relationship with Isabel. It didn’t matter what anyone

else thought. It only mattered what she thought.

But even if he and Isabel were meant for each other, was their

relationship all too one-sided? In his daydream, Isabel was

drowning in pleasure below him. Her core throbbed with blood and
heat, and she deserved the same wonderful release that he’d been
enjoying. But what about her mannequin self?

Matthew paled at the thought that he was exploiting her for his

The Watchmaker````````s Lady

own selfish, carnal needs. She couldn’t actually give him permission
for intimate relations, even though he’d imagined her amenable

from the start. She’d given him verbal permission to take her from
the Bailey Brothers store, but was that enough?

“Maybe we should stop,” he blurted, though every fiber in his

being protested.

Isabel frowned.“Why are you saying that? Don’t you love me?”

He reached down and cupped her left cheek. “I do, Isabel. Believe

me, I adore you. But I don’t want to risk taking advantage of you.

Especially in… in unsavory ways.”

The Isabel of his fantasy palmed her breasts. Then she began

rubbing them. Delicate fingers kneaded both nipples, nipples that

responded to her touch with unbelievable swiftness. Then one of
her hands snaked down and fingered her cleft right before his eyes.
“Does this look like a woman who’s worried about unsavory

relations?” She flashed a wicked smile.

Dream-Isabel and real-Isabel alternated quickly before him.

Matthew rubbed his temples hard, reinstating dream-Isabel.
Perhaps she was right. “If you ever want me to stop, then say so,” he
told her.

“Thank you for that.” Isabel reached for him. “But today, I want

you inside me. Now. Take me as hard as you’ve been taking my
mouth!”

God, she was so abandoned. So different from other women! The

average lady these days wouldn’t even think about sex, let alone

speak of it. No one must discover his secret lady. No one at all. He
wanted her all to himself.

He draped himself over her soft body. Placing a hand on her left

thigh, he eased her legs apart. Isabel took control at that moment,
spreading her legs wide to accommodate him.

Matthew grasped his cock and positioned himself at her opening.

A few drops of his seed leaked out. He used it to wet her, but he
needn’t have worried. She was already slick with moisture, a

gushing river during spring thaw.

“Kiss me, Matthew. Right now!”
He obliged her with a raw, hot meeting of lips and teeth and

tongue. Then he plunged his cock inside her.

Isabel arched her back in response, the act drawing him in

farther. Her body felt soft and warm, especially her breasts. He
gripped a mound of the decadent flesh as he pushed himself more
deeply inside. When he felt her lips close around one of his nipples,

Matthew lost all reason.

He fucked her. He pummeled her. With each thrust, he ground

his pelvis hard against hers. Matthew grunted loud and
uncontrollably. The bed frame shook, slamming into the wall each
time he shoved into her and sending down shards of plaster.

Isabel met him thrust for thrust. She threw her arms around his

shoulders and locked her legs around his buttocks. Her tight
channel clamped around his penis, suffocating it with pleasure.

Abruptly, her body grew stiff and she arched against him for a long,
long time. Because her eyes never shut, he witnessed the pure joy

flooding them.

Matthew increased his pace. His thrusts became frenzied. Sweat

coated him, dripping everywhere. The final, rock-blasting release

tore a shout from his throat.

Panting explosively, Matthew rolled onto his back. After catching

his breath, he turned onto his side and pulled Isabel close in a

possessive embrace. They lay there together, whispering terms of
endearment and relaxing in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

These lovemaking sessions continued for months, until one

particularly harrowing event threw their routine into chaos.

Chapter Five

As usual, Matthew awoke next to Isabel with an erection. Dawn

had broken, flooding the cozy room with ethereal light. Feeling
sharp and alert, he coaxed her awake with gentle kisses and

strategic fondling so they could begin their morning tryst.

“Good morning, darling,” Isabel said as he guided her toward

him. Then he imagined her frowning.

He propped himself up on an elbow. “What’s wrong?”
“Something doesn’t feel right.”

He grinned mischievously. “A little sore, perhaps, from our feats

of last night?”

“No, it’s not that. I feel…itchy. Oh, no.” Her eyes went wider than

usual. “I can feel them, Matthew, even now.”

“Feel what?”
“Look at me, Matthew.”

His brows sloped down in confusion. “But I am looking at you.”
“My body, check my body!” Her voice sounded shrill, urgent.

Troubled by her distress, Matthew immediately threw off the

quilt. He ran a hand from her shoulder down to her waist. Nothing
seemed out of place. What in heaven had Isabel so agitated?

Then he saw something emerge from the seam at her hip. He

narrowed his eyes and bent forward for a closer inspection. The
object was tiny and brown.

Then it moved again.
Isabel broke the silence with a long, anguished cry. “Matthew,

help me. They’re crawling around everywhere inside me. It feels
horrid!”

Gripping the cloth at the seam, he ripped apart her torso. There,

in the stuffing, he spotted the tell-tale cluster of oval, reddish-
brown insects. Actually, he spotted a rash of clusters. Isabel was
infested with them.

“I can’t bear for you to see me like this.” She turned away from

him in shame, but he caught a glimpse of the tears streaming down

her face.

“Isabel, don’t fret. You’ve nothing to be ashamed of.”
She sobbed harder.
Without even bothering to dress, Matthew took the body and

burned it in the kitchen hearth out back. While the roaring fire
consumed the invading pests, he glanced up at the bedroom

window. Even from that distance, he could hear Isabel’s wail of
distress. Gritting his teeth, Matthew slammed a fist against the
brick wall so hard his knuckles came away with a bloody smear.

How could he have been so thoughtless?

As her old body turned to ashes, he ran upstairs to provide Isabel

what comfort he could. “I’ve destroyed them. There’s no need to

worry now,” he told her upon entering the bedroom.

“You’re not a lady,” she rebuked. “You wouldn’t know.”

He embraced her and sighed. “You’re right. I’m very sorry. Please

accept my apologies.”

He stroked her hair and tried every soothing word he knew, but

her muffled cries told him she needed more time to recover from
the shock.

Eventually, he set her on the desk so she faced the window.

Perhaps the bucolic view of meadow and trees would help calm her
jittery state. “Isabel,” he said, “believe me when I say that I will

make this right, no matter what it takes.”

Isabel remained quiet and unblinking. She was upset and rightly

so.

Matthew’s new quest began. He dressed and set about boiling all

of the bedding. Then, he repeated the process, and then again for
good measure. As the blankets dried, he washed and combed

Isabel’s hair, carefully inspecting her scalp for more bugs. None
were present.

After a quick dinner—Isabel declined to join him as she didn’t

feel hungry—he left the house in pursuit of pyrethrum powder. He
practically ran all the way to Bailey Brothers. Upon his return, he

remade the bed. Then he dusted the pyrethrum generously between
the sheets.

That night, still clearly distraught about being “unclean,” to

Matthew’s horror Isabel declined any and all sexual contact. After

The Watchmaker````````s Lady

hours of tossing and turning, he came to the conclusion that she
needed a new, sturdier body, one impervious to insects. And that

required coin.

Over the next few weeks, Matthew devoted all his spare time and

money on the resources he’d need to build Isabel a better body. He
knew it wouldn’t be easy—the important things in life rarely were—
but her resulting smile would be worth it. This thought drove him

onward.

From dawn’s first breath to cold midnight air, he feverishly drew

complex designs with precise engineering. He had to create more
than a working design. It had to be an elegant solution, one that,
like a superbly constructed watch, reflected the perfect

synchronicity of their love.

Because he frequently had to make replacement watch parts and

experimented in new designs, he already had a private foundry set

up in a small, well-ventilated brick building behind his house. He
scoured his shop for any spare brass parts he could find, and then

spent the better part of a day purchasing the rest. His search took
him as far as West Boylston. A blacksmith he knew there supplied
the brass he needed without question.

First, Matthew created the molds. Second, he melted the brass.

Third, he made the castings.

The tedious process required the utmost concentration. Through

it all, he was a man driven, sacrificing sleep and sometimes even
meals to please his lady with this new gift.

In the end, his hard labor resulted in the creation of a gleaming

brass body. Pocket watches were one thing, but this—this was true
artistry.

The brass figure boasted sleek, feminine curves and jointed

limbs. In honor of Isabel’s perpetually aroused state, the twin
mounds of her brass breasts sloped to hard, alluring peaks.

He’d also fashioned her hands and feet. A pair of neck clamps

allowed him to detach her head when needed, such as for washing

her hair. It was a prudent strategy because his cock often found its
way between her thick, glorious tresses.

An intricate clockwork mechanism filled her new figure. At the

center of it all was a shiny brass heart. Like a flesh and blood one, it

was the nexus of her internal rods and gears. Matthew had poured

all his artistic passion into her heart’s construction. The metal
organ was a symbol of their everlasting love.

When Matthew wound a small crank at the base of Isabel’s neck,

she could move her arms and legs. She could only walk a straight
line for a few minutes, but at least it was a good start. Given more

time, he was sure he could modify her body so she could perform a
variety of functions.

He was particularly proud of the smooth, secret hollow he’d

created at the base of her torso. Her sheath was tight and snug, and
precisely the right size for his fully erect cock.

On a Sunday morning, when Isabel was complete, Matthew

helped her into a sitting position on the sofa. The light streaming in
through the window made her shine like a star.

“What do you think?” he asked, sitting beside her. His penis grew

heavy and engorged as his mind raced with visions of what he and
Isabel could do with her new body. He fought back his lust,

however, knowing her emotional needs came first.

“It’s…incredible, Matthew.” He imagined tears forming at the

corners of her eyes. “That violation was a nightmare. But now, I

feel whole again, and clean.”

He took her left hand and held it between his. “I only want to

make you happy.”

“I know. And you’re so very talented.” She smiled coyly. “I’m

aware of the modification you created for me. I’m like a real

woman now.”

He squeezed her hand, the metal warming beneath his touch.

“You’ve always been a real woman to me.”

“A woman with much more freedom. We can go for walks.

Didn’t you say there was a lake nearby?”

He swallowed. “Yes, Lake Quinsigamond.” He didn’t tell her

about the logistical challenge of transporting her there unseen.

“That would be lovely. I’d like to go on a sunny spring

morning.”

“I’ll find a way,” he said. And he would. But for now, they’d have

to be content at home. Lips curving into a devious smile, he pressed

her left hand against his groin. The metal felt heavy and

The Watchmaker````````s Lady

uncommonly good.

“Matthew! You’re excited again,” she said, her voice sounding

breathless with anticipation.

“Yes,” was all he could manage, his own voice rough with need.

She smiled at him. “You’re like a volcano about to erupt, aren’t

you?”

Matthew’s heart filled with joy. Isabel understood him so well!

He kneeled at her feet and kissed her hands. “Are you well enough
to…?” He blushed, still feeling shy about propositioning her so

openly.

“Yes, my love. In fact, I feel rather wound up.” She giggled. “I

was hoping you could remedy it.”

“Anything for you, my lady.” He quickly shed his clothes. The air

was cool, but his body was hot. Kneeling at her feet again, Matthew
began his seduction by brushing his lips across her thighs.

“Oh, that feels wonderful.”
Her brass skin felt cool at first, but soon warmed as he caressed

her with his hands and lips. He kissed and licked her belly before
working his way up to her breast. As his mouth closed on the
nearest peak, Isabel communicated her happiness with a contented

sigh.

Rubbing her breasts, Matthew spread a path of fire up her chest

with his mouth. Then he kissed her neck while molding his body to

hers. When their lips finally met, his imagination broke free.

They writhed against each other on the sofa, her delicate

feminine flesh lighting him on fire. She seemed even more eager to
make love with him than before. He ran his hands all over her body,
even dipping several fingers into her cleft. Their moans of delight

echoed throughout the room.

“I want to try something different,” she whispered, nipping at

his ear. “Let’s be like wild animals and completely surrender

ourselves to pleasure.”

Matthew opened his mouth to respond, having never considered

that kind of indulgence, but a knowing look from Isabel silenced
him. She was right. She was her own being, and if she wanted to
explore new ways of joining, why not? Their time together was

precious and should result in mutual gratification.

“Anything you like.” He carefully helped her turn over so that she

was on her hands and knees on the sofa.

Her soft, rounded bottom poised high in the air. He could even

smell her earthy, womanly scent.

Isabel spread her legs wider. “I’m ready, Matthew. Are you?”
Grasping her wide hips, Matthew sank into her from behind.

Both of them groaned in appreciation as his cock filled her. Only ten
weeks had passed since they’d had relations, but it felt more like ten
years.

He experimented with long, slow strokes and quick, sharp

thrusts. When he asked Isabel which kind she liked best, she said
she enjoyed them all.

When she begged him, with a few colorful terms, to keep going,

Matthew became a cyclone of lust. He rode her hard and fast. He

couldn’t take his eyes off the way her breasts whipped back and
forth as they moved together. When they climaxed, as one, all the
clocks struck ten in conjunction with his spurting seed and her cries

of delight.

That day was only the beginning of their erotic adventures. With

her new, flexible body, Matthew took Isabel in all kinds of positions

all over the house. Sometimes he would wind her up so that her
limbs rubbed against his while they made love. The sensation was

intoxicating. He wasn’t the only one to initiate their couplings,
either. The woman was insatiable.

Nothing compared to the feeling of claiming her so thoroughly.

Without a doubt, Isabel was branding him as hers just as strongly.
If she commanded him to carry mountains across the heavens, he
would do it. Matthew had never felt more energized, more alive.

But then something happened that made him realize Isabel was

more than simply a lover.

One evening in bed, while recovering in each other’s arms after a

particularly strenuous bout of lovemaking, she spoke. “My
darling?”

“Yes?”
“I’ve enjoyed our pleasures, truly I have, but what about in

between those times? You’re in the shop for many hours each day.

Must I always parade around naked like this?”

The Watchmaker````````s Lady

Matthew smiled as he stroked her cheek. She wants to be a real

lady. My lady.

He knew, then, that he’d have to fund an entire wardrobe for her.

But how would he acquire suitable clothes? Shrewsbury was a small

town. If he began purchasing dresses, and especially women’s
undergarments, people would become suspicious.

Buying clothes also required money, or at least a service or other

goods he could trade. His meager savings, now depleted from the
creation of her brass body, wouldn’t be enough to fund what she

needed. Furthermore, he’d neglected his garden and didn’t have any
fresh vegetables to sell. Matthew set his mind to the task of solving
this problem.

Later that week, he birthed the idea of his secret business. It was

so secret, in fact, that he kept all the sordid details from Isabel.
Given that their romance was so fresh and tender, he wasn’t sure

she’d understand that it was the only way a man of his station could
make extra money without resorting to thievery.

The venture required clever, wondrous products and expert

seduction of certain female customers. Matthew gambled on the
assumption that many of the wives in town lacked sufficient nerve

stimulation and that their husbands were negligent in that regard.
His intention was to correct such an imbalance, albeit in a highly
forbidden, ecstasy-inducing manner. Fortunately, his assumption

turned out to be both correct and highly lucrative.

Since many of his clockwork stimulation devices required proper

instruction in their uses, he transformed the storage room next to
the shop into a lush parlor of pleasure, ostensibly for demonstration
purposes. At first, the new venture was exciting. It stimulated not

only the underserved appetites of his special customers, but also
those of himself. Armed with a new set of fantasies, Matthew played
them out with Isabel far into each night.

In exchange for his unique devices, his special customers—all of

them female—paid him in the form of women’s clothing. Sometimes

the customers brought the clothes themselves. Other times, they
sent items delivered by anonymous couriers. Unfortunately, he was
dependent on his customers’ schedules. Therefore, five months

passed before he could acquire Isabel a set of undergarments, all

provided by different women. Still, given the tendency of people to

gossip, he felt that route was much safer than buying the clothes at
Bailey Brothers or even out of town.

Within three months after that, he procured two dresses, one of

which was the brown frock she presently wore. Clothes added an
exciting new element to their couplings. Matthew and Isabel began

having sex with her in varying stages of undress. He particularly
enjoyed it when she wore nothing except her corset.

When Isabel inquired how he had obtained her clothing, he

explained that he created one-of-a-kind accessories that only the
wealthy could afford. She pressed him for more information, but he
kept his answers vague. He knew she felt frustrated by his

evasiveness. He certainly felt guilty that she lacked the mobility to
discover the true nature of his secret business for herself and in

turn confront him about it. Even so, he was more driven to avoid
incurring her wrath. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her.
Anyway, it wasn’t as though he had intercourse or touched his

customers more than was necessary.

In time, though, he started to grow bored with the process. His

special customers were often vapid and vain. The only reason he

continued was for Isabel. He loved her and her alone. If he could
make enough money from his new venture, perhaps they could

move somewhere exotic and live together without fear of discovery
or judgment.

However, that was far in the future. For now, at least, she had a

new pair of gloves.

But at what cost? How long would his secret business survive?

All of Matthew’s special customers were aware of the risks to their

reputations, so no one asked him any questions about his
conditions of service. Still, the likelihood of discovery remained

extremely high. If a particularly inquisitive person was to happen
on his shop at the wrong moment, disaster would surely strike.

Now, nearly a year after Isabel first came to live with him,

Matthew realized he’d have to begin making plans for her safety. He
simply couldn’t allow her to fall into the wrong hands. He knew
firsthand about the devils lurking beneath the pious facades of the

ignorant, hypocritical townsfolk. They’d tear Isabel limb from limb.

The Watchmaker````````s Lady

They’d smash her beautiful head and grind the shards into dust.

Matthew blinked his eyes, the violent imagery jolting him from

his trance-like state of contemplation. He’d been quiet for a long
time as he revisited the evolution of their relationship. Isabel, God

bless her soul, had been her usual patient self.

Swallowing past a hard lump in his throat, Matthew placed

Isabel’s gloved hands between both of his. Industrious thoughts

raced across his mind as he formulated plans for a new addition
he’d have to make beneath the house. He fervently hoped he’d

never have to use it.

Chapter Six

Armed with a pickaxe, Matthew began carving out a safe room

for Isabel that very day. In the windowless area beneath the house,
he decided to create a space behind the north-facing brick wall.

Prying the bricks out was relatively easy. The remainder of the
project required days of backbreaking work to coax a wide enough
space from the cold, hard ground behind the wall.

Still, there were benefits. As the cave-like room grew larger, he

developed stronger, firmer muscles. Isabel noticed his new,

sculpted body and demanded that he put it to proper use. With his
stamina at an all-time peak, he fucked her harder and longer than
ever before. Sometimes he marched upstairs and took her right

after a session of digging. That was because Isabel told him that she
once spontaneously climaxed at the sight of his naked, dirt-streaked
chest.

Matthew also began recording the events of their daily lives into

a journal. Beginning with their first meeting, he transcribed nearly

every conversation and lively discussion, or at least a summary. He
included descriptions of their lovemaking sessions in all their
glorious detail. Most importantly, he wrote about how very much he

loved her.

One day in late November, about a month after he completed the

safe room, he ended up with a dramatic entry he never expected to

write.

It all started one morning at breakfast.

As usual, Matthew and Isabel were seated at the dining room

table. He thought she looked utterly captivating in her fan-front day
dress. The design was scattered white floral sprigs against a hunter

green ground. He would buy her a hundred of them if he could.

Steam rose from two mugs of strong, freshly brewed coffee. One

thing Matthew appreciated about his lover was that she never

complained about his cooking. While she didn’t love everything he
made, she at least sampled each dish. And if their budget demanded

The Watchmaker````````s Lady

the simplest of fare, she consumed it with relish.

By necessity, their lively debate about local politics wound down

since Matthew had to open the shop for the day. He poured himself
fresh coffee to take with him, and then bent down to kiss Isabel on

the cheek.

“I don’t want you to go.”
Matthew paused, his cheek pressed against hers. “Neither do I

want to leave, but I must work. I have several demonstrations
scheduled for today. If I make the sales, I can acquire a new dress

for you.”

“Matthew, those demonstrations still puzzle me. I want to know

exactly what it is you do in that room.”

Her demand threw him off guard. Matthew felt his palms start to

sweat as he straightened. “I’ve explained all that. I demonstrate my
clockwork devices. Some of them are like…toys. If the customers are

impressed with their performance, they buy them.”

“What do grown women need with toys?” Her tone was sharper

than usual.

He swallowed. “They’re nothing more than, well, something to

pass the time with. You know how frivolous these women can be.”

He imagined Isabel shrugging.“Yes, but at least they can go

places. I’m tired of being in the house all the time. I have a proper
body now. Could we please travel somewhere together?”

Matthew regarded her sadly, his heart growing heavy. He hadn’t

realized she’d been feeling so restless. Frankly, he’d been feeling

that way himself. As much as he relished the thought of showing off
his lover in public, the inevitable scandal would only result in
disaster. He sighed. “You know we can’t. At least, not yet.”

Staring into space, Isabel said nothing. Lately, a melancholic

mood had been striking her. He wasn’t sure what was causing it.

Wracked with guilt, Matthew thought hard for a solution. “I

know! I’ll buy you some books. It’s far past time you had something
new to read while I’m working. Maybe I can locate stories with a

faraway setting.” He kissed her soundly on the lips, but she barely
responded. “I have to leave now, Isabel.”

“Have a wonderful day, Matthew.”

He winced. Normally she called him “my love.” He’d better find

some damned good books, because he hated seeing her unhappy.

How could he possibly explain to her about the culture in which
they lived? Once again, he wondered if he and Isabel had been born
at the wrong time. The mores of nineteenth-century America were

far too repressive, always threatening to strangle free spirits such as
theirs.

“Goodbye, darling.” He trudged off to the shop.
His workday began with a series of special customers. The third

one was Mrs. Davenport, the most regular one of them all. Today,

he had something particularly unique planned for her.

A gust of wind practically blew the blonde-haired Mrs. Davenport

into the shop. “I do believe a storm is on the way,” she sang out

gaily. “Quite unusual for this time of year, I’d wager.”

“Is it safe for you to be here?” Matthew inquired, checking the

sky through the main window. Dark clouds were gathering.

“I’m not worried,” she replied. She dropped her shelf clock into

Matthew’s waiting arms. “You gave me shelter during a storm.

What harm is there in that?” Then she winked.

Matthew smiled dutifully and placed the clock on the counter. He

would repair it later. This was the third time that month it had

“broken.” There was nothing wrong with the clock, either. It was a
fine piece from Birge Mallory & Company. No, Mrs. Davenport

simply had voracious appetites. The clock was a convenient excuse
for the demonstrations he knew she craved. If he’d been a wife with
a husband thirty years her senior, he would have craved them, too.

They retired to the parlor. Moments later, the storm rolled in.

Thunder crashed and thick sheets of rain beat relentlessly against
the parlor’s single window. Occasionally, lightning flashed, seeping

between the cracks in the curtains. Periodic drafts made the
lanterns flicker.

Unperturbed, Mrs. Davenport removed her hat and coat. While

Matthew hung them for her, she reclined on the sofa. “So, Mr.
Goddard, what special something do you have for me today?”

Matthew headed for the jewelry cabinet. “A highly unique device.

My best one yet,” he said. While extracting the item, he couldn’t
shake the feeling that something was wrong. More precisely, it felt

as though something was out of place, but he couldn’t detect

The Watchmaker````````s Lady

anything missing from the cabinet.

He turned back to his customer. The main feature of the new

device was its brass phallic casing. The casing was attached to a
garter-like belt. Matthew explained how Mrs. Davenport could

attach the adjustable belt to her waist. After winding up the device
at its base, she should insert it into the parts requiring ministration.
The clockwork propulsion would then vibrate as well as move the

phallic device back and forth. He informed her that the discrete
woman could wear it beneath her dress and extract pleasure from it

all day long.

Mrs. Davenport squealed in delight and clapped her silk-gloved

hands. “Oh, you simply must show me how it works this very

instant!” After stripping off her gloves, she stood and raised the
hem of her skirts so he could access her nether region.

Matthew attached the belt to her hips. The artificial phallus was

long, but not too thick. He’d kept freedom of movement in mind
when he designed it. He helped Mrs. Davenport lie back on the sofa.

Needing no prompting, she immediately spread her thighs for him.
Through the slit in her drawers, he could see her moist, pink folds.

Rain continued to beat against the building as he wound up the

device. When he could wind it no more, he gripped the base and
slowly began inserting it into Mrs. Davenport. That was when he
heard the gasp.

The sound had come not from his customer, but from the vicinity

of the curtains. Matthew glanced up just as lightning flashed. What

he saw struck him with shock and terror.

Staring at him from behind the curtain was Isabel. The stark light

cast her face in a pale, ghostly hue.

Matthew nearly choked on his own breath. Below him, Mrs.

Davenport squirmed. “Don’t stop now, Mr. Goddard. I want the full
demonstration.”

He hastily thrust the phallus all the way in, prompting her to cry

out in surprise. Within moments, the soothing vibration distracted

her.

Matthew ignored Mrs. Davenport’s theatrical response to the

stimulation. He could only stare at Isabel in astonishment as a

preternatural chill spread through him. Was he going mad? How,

how, how in the name of all that was holy had she gained entrance

to the room? Only he had the one key, and when he was dressed, he
carried it with him at all times. But never mind how she’d gotten
inside. She couldn’t even walk without him winding her up.

It’s impossible.
Or was it? Matthew’s hands began to shake. Did it matter how

she arrived here? She’d caught him in his lie, and they both knew it.
Worse yet, if Mrs. Davenport saw her, Isabel would be as good as
dead.

But what bothered him the most was the expression on his

lover’s face. The hurt, the pain, the disappointment—all of it
conspired to pierce his heart with a thousand daggers. What have I

done?

As Mrs. Davenport writhed on the sofa, her legs rubbing against

Matthew, Isabel’s expression turned to one of anger. Her warm,
smoky blue eyes filled with icy contempt. No words were needed.
She was furious with him.

Matthew went cold, all the way from his heart to his fingertips.

Whatever happened, he couldn’t lose Isabel.

Narrowing his eyes, he glanced down. “Mrs. Davenport, the

demonstration is over,” he said.

“I’m not done yet!” Her eyes were closed. She was rubbing her

nub with both hands while the device bored into her. Her strong
scent threatened to make him gag.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Davenport, but you most decidedly are.”

Matthew plucked the phallus out, making a face upon his contact
with the slick residue. Without a care for her comfort, he yanked off
the belt. As if it burned, he threw the device onto the floor.

“What? How dare you!” Mrs. Davenport struggled to sit up, her

face red with both arousal and anger.

Matthew stepped back. “You need to leave. Now.”
Mrs. Davenport took a moment to compose herself and smooth

down her dress. “I’m sure you didn’t mean to order me around like

that, Mr. Goddard.” Her voice carried a note of disdain. “Have you
forgotten who my husband is?”

Her husband was the mayor of Shrewsbury. “No, but he’s not

here now, is he?” At that point, Matthew probably should have

The Watchmaker````````s Lady

backed down and used some social niceties to placate her, but he
was too riled up to care. Foremost on his mind was Isabel’s safety

and well-being. He strode to the door. As Mrs. Davenport
approached, he thrust her hat and coat at her. “The shop door is

open. Please see yourself out.”

His act was the height of rudeness and he knew it, especially

given the inclement weather.

Mrs. Davenport pinned on her hat with quiet efficiency and

slowly drew on her coat. Upon finishing, she said, “I don’t know

what’s gotten into you, Mr. Goddard, but you’ve made a terrible
mistake.”

“I don’t need your money anymore.”

She tsked while stepping through the door. “That’s not what I

was referring to.” She stalked away, muttering.

As soon as he heard the shop door swing shut, he raced over and

locked it. His feet felt like lead as he walked back to the parlor. Now
came the worst part. He wiped a sheet of perspiration from his

brow. Would Isabel still be there when he returned?

Heart pounding, he reached the doorway. She was still

“standing” by the curtain. “Isabel—”

“You lied to me.” She didn’t yell or screech. She simply stated a

fact.

He channeled his anxiety into a tight fist. Be a man. Own up to

your responsibility. “You’re right, of course, and I shouldn’t have
done that. It’s just that… I didn’t want to bother you with the sordid

details.”

“Your excuses are worthless, Matthew. I know what I saw and

you were being unfaithful to me. Why did you do it?”

Her livid stare burned into him. He hung his head, unable to

withstand the guilt uncovered by her soul-baring gaze. “I wanted to
buy you beautiful clothes, and possibly more.”

“Is that all I am to you? An object of lust?”
His head snapped up. “No! It’s not like that at all! I’ve told you

how much I love you.”

“How can it really mean anything when you’ve lied to me?

When you cavort with strange women and use sex toys with

them?”

“Isabel, I don’t give a damn about those women. I only did it for

the money.”

“Are you sure, Matthew? I’ve been very accommodating. I’m

happy to satisfy any need you have, especially those of a carnal

nature. But you still pursued intimate relations with other
women.” Her voice wavered, as if she was on the verge of tears.

“Aren’t I enough for you?”

Matthew rushed over to kneel before her. He took her hands in

his as he gazed up at her. The anguish in her eyes devastated him.

“Of course you are, darling. I’ve never wanted anyone for a wife but
you. Please believe me, Isabel. Please. I never had sex with any of
those women.”

He imagined her hands pulling away from his grasp. “You have a

strange definition of sex, then.”

Matthew felt his face grow hot. He rubbed his palms against his

thighs. “I realize what it looked like, but I only played the game so
that I could provide you with enough clothing. I’m a watchmaker,

Isabel, with limited means, and thievery wasn’t an option. In time,
I’d hoped to have enough resources to build you an even better
body.” He pinched the bridge of his nose hard, fighting back fear.

The realization that she might leave him over his secret business
chilled him to the bone. “Your happiness is my only mission in life.

I’ll do anything to make you happy, Isabel. Anything.”

Isabel paused before answering, absorbing his heartfelt words. “I

wish you had told me all of that sooner.” Matthew leaned forward,

and her hand came to rest upon his head. Her voice softened as she
continued. “Your love, fidelity, and acceptance are far more
important to me than clothing or a fancy body.”

He reached for her right hand and kissed it fervently. Perhaps

she wouldn’t leave him after all. The fact that she’d give up so much

just for him sent joy cascading through his heart. She must really
love me.

“I’ll find a way to support you without resorting to such

scandalous behavior. I promise.” Slowly, he rose to his feet. “Mrs.
Davenport was the last. No more special customers or naughty
devices, I promise. And let the brightest stars above be my witness,

I am a man of my word.” He took her right hand in his. This time,

The Watchmaker````````s Lady

she didn’t pull away. “Isabel, will you sit with me? So we can talk?”

He imagined her hand squeezing his, and even the soft, dewy feel

of her palm.

“I’d like that.”

He wound her up so she could walk to the divan. They sat

together, enjoying the simple pleasure of holding hands. They spoke
of commitment, of trust, of love. Matthew stopped worrying about

money. The most important thing was that he and Isabel were
together. She was all that mattered.

Several hours later, Matthew’s stomach rumbled. He stretched

his arms above his head. “I suppose I’d better get supper started.
Are you hungry?”

She grinned. “With all the talking we did, I’m more than a bit

peckish.”

“I’ll heat up some of that stew, then.” He rose to douse the

lanterns. As the last one went dark, he heard a rumbling noise
outside. “Do you hear that?”

“Yes. Is it more thunder?”
“Possibly, but the rain seems to have stopped.” Threading his

way carefully to the window, Matthew peeked outside.

His stomach lurched. The sound hadn’t been thunder.
Beneath a drab, overcast sky, a mob of angry-looking men was

marching down Main Street. Many of them carried guns.

All of them were headed straight for his shop.

Chapter Seven

Sheer panic made Matthew’s gut roil. There was a slim chance

the men were headed somewhere else, but that was a very slim
chance indeed. He hastily pulled the curtains tight. There was no

time to waste. He had to hide Isabel.

“Matthew? What’s wrong?” Her voice trembled with fear.
He rushed to her side. “Hurry! You must go to the safe room.”

Matthew scooped her up, making sure to cradle her delicate head
against his chest.

They exited the parlor. Some of the lanterns in the shop still

glowed, so he kept to the shadows as much as possible.

“Matthew, I hear voices. What are they saying?”

Matthew heard them, too. Still carrying Isabel, he stood next to

the shop door, on the side opposite the window.

One voice grew distinct from the others. “Goddard! We know

you’re in there. Get out here, you filthy vermin!”

Was that Henry Carver, the banker? Others called his name as

well, or resorted to insults. They sounded familiar, men he knew
from town. The businessmen. The politicians. He suddenly realized
all of them had one thing in common.

They were the husbands of his former special customers.
He quickly made the connection. Mrs. Davenport. She’d been far

angrier than he realized. She must have contacted the other women

as soon as she left his shop, or at least the ones she knew.

“Get out here now and take your punishment, you defiler!”

Matthew gritted his teeth. Those lying bitches!
Next came loud, forceful accusations that he’d been corrupting

the souls of the women with the “Devil’s devices.”

The shop door rattled. Within moments, it shuddered violently.

Then, it shuddered again. The sharp end of an axe broke through
the door, hurling splintered wood across the floor.

They were trying to break in!
“Matthew? I’m scared!”

The Watchmaker````````s Lady

Matthew gripped Isabel tightly and left the safety of the shadows.

As they crossed the center of the shop, something large and heavy

came crashing through the large window. It missed them by mere
inches. Matthew shielded Isabel with his body as glass shards flew

everywhere.

He ran as fast as he could to the secret compartment he’d built in

the basement. Strangely, the door connecting the shop and his

living quarters stood wide open. How could this be? He swore he’d
locked it earlier. Isabel’s mysterious escape still haunted him.

Myriad shadows gripped the basement like black ice, but there

wasn’t enough time to light a lantern. He began descending the
steps.

In his haste, his foot slipped. He toppled sideways. Oh, God!
Isabel slipped from his grasp, her head lolling. It passed within

inches of the brick wall. A second later, Matthew slammed into the

same wall. Adrenaline surging, he repositioned his right arm and
clutched her head to his chest. Sharp pain flared in his left ankle as

he fought to keep Isabel from falling.

A cacophony erupted above them. Thud, thud, thud. More glass

breaking. Shouts reverberated all around them. The men were

gaining on them.

Trying to ignore the screaming pain in his foot, Matthew limped

down the remaining steps. He gingerly placed Isabel in a sitting

position against one wall.

He released the concealed latch of the hidden room and pulled

open the entrance. He limped over to Isabel and picked her up.
Then he carried her inside and laid her on her back.

While arranging her limbs into a comfortable position, he

realized he’d forgotten something important. The journal!

“Wait here, Isabel. I’ve got to get the journal.”
“Matthew, no! Don’t leave me alone!”

Amid her frantic protests, he half ran, half climbed up the

basement stairs. He looked around the house wildly, expecting to

run into the mob at any moment. Fortunately, they hadn’t yet
breached the doors. Ever since bringing Isabel home, he’d secured
his house as if it were a fortress.

Where had he last used the journal? He pulled at his hair until

the answer came. Upstairs, on his desk in the bedroom. He had to

have it. He wouldn’t allow these oncoming beasts to poison it with
their eyes. Matthew took the stairs two at a time, cursing in
frustration every time his injured ankle gave out on him.

Once on the second floor, he rushed into the bedroom. The

journal lay on the desk, safe and sound. He grabbed the journal, a

reservoir pen, and an inkwell.

He tripped four times on his way back. As he passed through the

dining room, he heard the back door burst open. His heart

pounded. Only a thin wall now separated him from the intruders.
Isabel must remain safe!

Praying they didn’t stop him from reaching her, Matthew leaped

over the threshold to the basement. His left ankle refused to
cooperate and he went tumbling down the steps. The back of his

head hit one sharp corner of the stone steps. For several terror-
filled moments, he lost all sense of control and orientation.

“Matthew? What’s happening? Are you all right?”

“Y-yes,” he croaked. “I’m coming for you, Isabel.”
After rubbing his eyes a moment, his vision cleared. His head,

however, still throbbed. When he reached back to investigate, his

hand came away bloody. From his current vantage point, the
basement entrance appeared upside down. At all costs, he had to

secure the door leading to the basement. With a ragged gasp, he
rolled over. Then he began the arduous crawl back up the stairwell
as pain lashed through him with each step.

Somehow, he managed to shut the door and lower the heavy

wooden bar into place.

He slid back down the steps. He had to find his journal and

record everything that had happened that day. He couldn’t discount
the possibility that he and Isabel would be separated for a long

time. He had to anticipate the fact that despite his best efforts, she
would be discovered. Therefore, he had to protect her in any way
possible. Perhaps a sympathetic soul, upon learning about her,

might be persuaded by his written words to keep her safe for him
until his return.

He scrambled for the journal and pen, only to knock over the

inkwell. Horrified, he watched as its contents quickly sank into the

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earthen floor.

Matthew desperately dabbed the nib into the remaining ink,

bringing up specks of mud with it. Then he sat down at the opening
of the hidden room. Though he could barely see the page and his

head felt as though it was about to split open, he began to write.
After summarizing the events of that day, he wrote one brief, final
note.

Throwing aside the pen, he crawled into the room and tucked the

journal into the crook of her right arm. “Isabel, it’s time.”

“What do you mean?”
“I have to lock you in,” he said hoarsely. “I can’t let them find

you.”

“You’re coming in with me, aren’t you?”
Matthew drew in a long, deep breath. “No. I have to draw them

away. They must never know about you!”

“No, my love, no no no! Don’t leave me!”
“They’ll kill you, Isabel. I refuse to allow that to happen.”

Matthew drew her into his arms and held her tightly. “I ran from
my father long ago, but I can’t do that now. You’re the only thing
that matters to me, Isabel. More than my life itself.”

When she began to cry, his heart nearly broke. For a moment, he

did consider joining her. But he wouldn’t have been able to properly
secure the door from inside the room.

While stroking her hair, he said, “We live in a dark time, my

sweet, especially for people like us. We’re too different. It devastates

me to have to leave you, but it’s only temporary. I have to face them.
After I draw them away, I’ll come back for you. Then we’ll escape—
together.”

Her eyes practically glowed in the ethereal light. “Do you

promise?”

He tipped her beautiful, tear-stained face up to his.

“I promise.”
He kissed her, then, a long, gentle kiss filled with yearning and

hope.

Matthew tore himself away, though it felt as if his heart was

being ripped from his chest. He made her as comfortable as

possible before limping his way to the door.

Just as he was about to close it, Isabel spoke. “Matthew?”

“Yes?”
“I’ll wait for you. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
His throat constricted with grief, Matthew shut the door without

a word and locked it. He had designed it to be invisible, so it now
blended in with the wall. Only blunt force would be able to breach

it.

I will return for you. Rubbing his aching head, he turned to look

up at the basement door. He could hear the thump of footsteps.

Between the wooden slats of the floor above his head, he saw the
shadows of the men as they searched for him. The mob had
infiltrated his home, but at least Isabel was safe.

An angry voice reached him through the door. “There’s no way

you can escape now, Goddard. You’re going to burn in Hell, and

we’re going to be the ones to send you there! Do you hear me?”

What did that mean? Alarmed, Matthew climbed the steps. He

lifted the bar and pushed open the door. It refused to budge. He

threw a shoulder against it. Nothing. They must have barricaded it.
Shit.

After a while, the footsteps and mutterings faded.

He had to escape. Perhaps they meant to return for him later.

When they did, he had to lead them as far away from Isabel as

possible. Any punishment they inflicted upon her would be a
hundred times worse than what they could ever do to him.

Matthew returned to the basement floor. He would find some

tools and use them to break out. As he began his search, he noticed
an acrid smell.

Then the smoke came.

As though blasting from the mouth of Satan himself, the roiling

mass rushed into the basement through every open crack and

fissure. Matthew heard a distant whooshing sound.

The mob must have set fire to his shop and home. Damn them!

Weren’t he and Isabel entitled to a little happiness?

Matthew redoubled his attempts to escape, but was quickly

overcome by a violent fit of coughing. Harsh smoke filled his lungs.
His throat burned like a furnace out of control. He felt himself

growing weaker by the moment.

The Watchmaker````````s Lady

He collapsed to the floor, wheezing uncontrollably. His chest felt

unbearably tight. Matthew shut his eyes against the onslaught of

pain as his breathing slowed, and then became dangerously
shallow.

Blackness drank him, followed by silence.
He never woke up.

Chapter Eight

Three hours earlier…
While the rain fell gently outside, Matthew sat with Isabel on the

divan in the parlor and simply talked. He felt so happy that she had

given him another chance that he could barely keep his tears from
falling. Isabel’s voice sounded so soothing and melodious that he
never wanted her to stop. She was speaking frankly, too, about her

expectations of him. He admired this trait tremendously and
reveled in the fact that she felt so possessive of him.

Matthew leaned forward to nuzzle her hair. Right at that

moment, a knock sounded at the shop door.

Isabel paused mid-sentence. Matthew paled.

“Matthew, that hurts.”
He’d been squeezing her hand too hard. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry.”
“It’s probably a customer.”

He released her hand and rolled his shoulders to unknot the

tension lodged there. “You’re right. I’ll go get rid of him.” He

headed for the door.

“Or her.”
Startled, Matthew turned around. Isabel was smiling. Teasing

him. He waved a hand in acknowledgment. “I’ll be back in a
moment.” He closed and locked the parlor door.

As soon as he saw the figure through the main window, he

groaned. This customer was female. A new one. Dressed in a
resplendent cloak and bonnet, she carried a white parasol with blue

ribbon trim. Who had referred her, he wondered? Well, she’d have
to find another watchmaker, even if it meant taking a buggy to
Worcester.

She rapped on the door again, louder this time. Matthew braced

himself and pulled the door open a crack. “I’m sorry, Madam, but
I’ve closed for the day.” He moved to shut the door.

Faster than he could blink, she rammed her parasol into the

opening. “I must speak with you, Mr. Goddard. Your life is in

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danger.”

Matthew froze. “Whatever do you mean? I don’t understand.” He

was so alarmed by her proclamation that his grip on the door eased.
The woman pushed her way into the shop with a strength that

surprised him.

Once inside, she studied the room with a large helping of

curiosity. He groaned inwardly. Clearly, this woman was another

“special” customer seeking his services. She’d only said his life was
in danger as an excuse to enter.

“Pardon me, Mrs.—?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “I am

indisposed and unable to assist you today, or any other day. I must
insist that you leave.”

She turned to face him, her gaze penetrating. Then he saw her

eyes. They were the most brilliant shade of blue he’d ever seen on a
woman—save for Isabel. Inexplicably, his palms grew damp. “I’m

sorry, do I know you?”

“Yes. Yes, you do.” The woman held out her white-gloved hand.

“I’m Isabel.”

Matthew’s eyes widened with terror. Refusing to take the

proffered hand, he backed away. This was a highly bizarre situation.

Have I gone insane? His gaze flicked to the parlor door. No. It’s
only a woman with the same name. Pure coincidence. Calm
yourself!

“I’m sorry, Miss Isabel, but I don’t recall meeting you. I have to

go now. Please see yourself out.”

Matthew ran to the parlor. With shaking hands, he unlocked the

door. Then he rushed inside and locked it. To his immense relief,
his one true Isabel was still sitting on the divan. Matthew leaned

against the door for a moment, trying to catch his breath.

“Who came calling?” Isabel inquired.
“Some madwoman,” he whispered. “I sent her away.”

“That’s a relief. Why are you whispering?”
The door moved violently against his back. Matthew scowled.

“What the hell?”

With the force of a hurricane, the door flew wide open. Matthew

went tumbling to the floor.

Isabel! She must not be discovered. He scrambled toward a

wardrobe where he kept some linen. He grabbed the topmost quilt

and ran back to the divan. He threw the flowery quilt over his lover
and stood in front of her. Arms splayed out, he cut the intruder a
menacing glare. “No! You’re not allowed here. Get out!”

Stranger-Isabel stepped into the room. She was swinging her

parasol as if she owned the place!

“Matthew, please listen to me.”
“There’s nothing for you here. I’m not making the devices

anymore.”

“That’s not why I’m here.”
“Then what do you want?”
She strode over to the divan and firmly pushed him aside. If he

didn’t know any better, he would have guessed she possessed the
strength of a man. Or two men.

She reached for the quilt.
“Get away from her!” he roared.
Matthew dove for her arm, but she easily kept him at bay with

her other one.

To his utter horror, she removed the quilt. Matthew felt as if he

were going to have a heart failure.

For a few moments, the strange woman only stared at his secret

lover. Eventually, her lips spread into a shy smile. “Hello, Isabel.”

Matthew blanched. How did she know her name? When he’d

first encountered Isabel at Bailey Brothers, there had been no one
near him. He frantically searched his memory. There’d been only

one customer, and she’d been conversing with Edgar Bailey. Was
this stranger some kind of lunatic who’d broken into his home to
spy on him without him realizing it?

He finally found his voice. “How…how do you know about her?”
Isabel turned to him with a proud smile, her eyes gleaming.

“Because I am her.”

Matthew clutched his head. “I don’t understand.”
Her expression turned sympathetic. “I know this is difficult for

you. However, you must believe me. I’m your Isabel, come to life.”

Matthew slowly rubbed his face with both hands and then forced

them down to his sides. “I know I have a highly unusual

relationship. But we only want to be left alone. Even if you’re a

The Watchmaker````````s Lady

figment of my imagination, can you please just go away?”

Stranger-Isabel shook her head. “You’re not insane, Matthew. I

can explain everything.” She gestured to the rosewood chairs. “Will
you please join me?”

Matthew sighed in exasperation. He was exhausted and simply

wanted to go to sleep with Isabel tucked close against him. But
something about this stranger compelled him to stay. “All right. But

only for a minute.”

They each took a seat. The tall case clock in the corner ticked

relentlessly in the still, quiet room. Matthew glanced over at his
lover on the divan. That’s odd. She’s been awfully quiet.

Stranger-Isabel cleared her throat. “I’ll get straight to the point.

Matthew, I’m what you’d call an automaton. But where I come
from, in the year 3050, my kind is known as an android.”

He rolled the strange word around on his tongue. “An-droid.”

Now he knew for a fact that he’d gone mad.

“Yes. It’s a very advanced form of automaton. In fact, I’m nearly

indistinguishable from a flesh-and-blood human.” She removed the
glove from her right hand. “Here. Hold my hand. Feel its warmth.”

Matthew gaze slid back to the divan. “No. I shouldn’t.”

“You need more proof. I understand.” Stranger-Isabel brought

out her reticule. After pulling apart the drawstrings, she reached in
and pulled out a journal.

Matthew’s jaw dropped. His journal. Except that now, it looked

old and yellowed. “How did you get that?”

“Allow me to explain. Not long from now, a mob will attack this

house. They’ve discovered your secret business. To keep me—
Isabel—safe, you will hide her in the room beneath the house. You

will include this journal, which describes everything about your
relationship.”

“How did I meet Isabel, then?” he asked sharply, not certain he

could trust her story at all.

“At Bailey Brothers,” she responded. “You discovered my bisque

porcelain head beneath an old, musty blanket.”

Matthew paled. “My God.”
“There’s more. Your final entry in the journal was a note. Here,

I’ll recite it for you. ‘Dear Friend, If you find this journal, you’ve also

found my Isabel. She is my lover, my wife, and my soul mate. If you

are reading these words, then I, Matthew J. Goddard, Watchmaker,
am no longer alive. I beseech you, please care for Isabel as if she
were your own. I tried—and failed—to give her the happiest and

most rewarding life I could. I hope she can find it in her heart to
forgive me. Please tell her how much I love her. All the best,

Matthew J. Goddard.’”

Matthew’s brows slanted together. “I…I wrote that? When?”
Stranger-Isabel nodded. Her eyes looked shiny, and her

expression was sad. Matthew wondered if she was about to cry.

“You see, Matthew, after the mob attacked, they set fire to the

house. You were trapped in the basement and died there.”

His mouth went dry. It was one of his worst fears come true,

apparently. “How did you discover the journal?”

“After your passing, I remained hidden in the secret room for

hundreds of years. A family renovating their home on this plot of
land discovered me.” She wiped a tear from the corner of her left

eye. “And your skeleton.”

Matthew rubbed his temple hard, not sure what to believe

anymore. “My God,” he said again.

“It seemed as though someone had covered your body with large

amounts of dirt.”

“To avoid a scandal,” Matthew said quietly. “And then what

happened?”

“I was lucky to have been found by a well-to-do, yet eccentric

family. They cared for me—well, ‘preserved’ is more like it—and
studied the journal.” She took a deep breath. “Given the advanced
technology that exists, the family decided to commission an android

in Isabel’s likeness.

“Once I was ‘born,’ as it were, my family informed me of my true

origin. They gave me the journal and I read it.”

Matthew stared at her, wondering at the way her voice had

suddenly grown thick with emotion. “And?”

“And I fell in love with you. Your words are extremely vivid, not

to mention arousing.” She reached into her reticule and pulled out a
handkerchief. She began rubbing it against her right cheek. A thin

layer of concealing cream began to disappear. When she lowered

The Watchmaker````````s Lady

the handkerchief, Matthew gasped.

A scar was on her cheek—exactly like Isabel’s.

Matthew sank to his knees before her. He reached up and gently

traced the scar with his fingers. Perfect in its imperfection. Tears

welled in his eyes. “It really is you, isn’t it?”

Isabel nodded, her eyes closing as she pressed her cheek against

his waiting hand. Then she guided his hand down to her bosom.

“The brass heart you created beats inside me even now.”

Matthew stared at her in wonder. He could feel the very heart of

which she spoke pulsing beneath his palm. His own heart swelled
with emotion. “Isabel!”

Her eyes fluttered open, flooding him with her smoky-blue gaze.

“There’s more. Science advanced so far by 3050 that time
manipulation became possible. With the help of my family’s
considerable influence, I applied for the use of a device that enabled

me to ride a closed time-like curve back to the past. Still, even that
process alone took close to four years after I decided to come for

you.”

“I…see.”
Isabel squeezed his hand, the one still resting against her breast.

“I have a confession to make.”

Matthew nodded, inviting her to continue.
“It was I who moved Isabel into the parlor. I came back at that

precise moment to effect the change. While you were in the shop, I
placed her behind the curtain.” She placed a warm, smooth hand

against his cheek. “Can you forgive me? I only did it so we could be
together. Otherwise, you might not have ended your secret business
when and how you did.”

Matthew blew out a breath. It was almost too much to absorb.

But at least he wasn’t insane. He concentrated on the feel of her
hand against his cheek. She was right. She felt exactly like a human

woman.

“Will you come with me to the future, Matthew? My conveyance

is very near.”

“I—” Matthew withdrew his hand and looked toward the divan.
Isabel followed the line of his gaze. “You won’t be leaving her.”

She took hold of his hands. “She’s already in the future, Matthew,

safe and sound.”

A rumbling noise began. It came from outside. Matthew rushed

to the window and pulled aside one of the curtains. Peering out, he
discovered the source of the rumbling.

Beneath a drab, overcast sky, a mob of angry-looking men was

marching down Main Street. Many of them carried guns.

All of them were headed straight for his shop.
He cursed. Damn that Mrs. Davenport! She must have persuaded

the other women to reveal his secret out of anger.

Isabel shoved the journal back into her reticule and went to his

side. She tugged on his arm. “It’s not safe for you here. They think
you raped those women and want to kill you. Please, Matthew,

won’t you come with me?”

He looked at her, unsure how to respond. Her proposition was

fantastical beyond belief. Could he trust her?

The shouts of the mob grew louder.
Isabel’s grip on his arm tightened almost to the point of pain.

“Matthew, time is running out. You must decide, and quickly!”

Chapter Nine

Matthew closed his eyes. He could barely comprehend this turn

of events. However, all evidence pointed to this an-droid woman
telling the truth. She knew facts she couldn’t possibly have learned

except by reading his journal.

Even if they were both lunatics, what would be the harm in being

together? Then there was the not-inconsequential matter of the

dangerous mob. Regardless of his own desires, he also had to
consider the safety of his original Isabel.

Matthew turned to Isabel-from-the-future. He inhaled deeply.

Squarely meeting her gaze, he said, “I’ll go with you.”

She smiled. “You just made me deliriously happy. I’d embrace

you, but there’s no time. We must hide her,” she said, gesturing to
original Isabel.

Matthew picked up his clockwork lover and followed android

Isabel from the room. Just as they passed the shop window, a large
object came crashing through. The heavy boulder missed them by

inches.

“Hurry, Matthew!” With a regal stride, Isabel led the way to the

basement.

Matthew placed original Isabel in the hidden room. He kissed

and hugged her good-bye.

“Don’t forget this,” Isabel told him. She held out his original

journal.

He gaped at her. “That was on my desk on the second floor. How

did you get it so fast?”

Future-Isabel shrugged. “I ran.”
Matthew would question her about that ability later. He placed

the journal in the crook of original Isabel’s right arm. Then he
closed and sealed the door. “What next?” he asked.

“We leave. Our transportation is behind the house, near the

woods.”

She led the way up the basement stairs and out the back door.

Angry shouts were all around them now, calling Matthew names

and demanding that he come out. Repetitive thunks seemed to
indicate they were attempting to break down the doors. More
projectiles sailed through the windows, shattering the glass and

splintering wood. Clearly, they intended to terrorize him with their
violent acts.

He and Isabel slipped out the back door, unnoticed for the

moment. “This way,” she told him.

She led him around his foundry and into the rain-dampened field

behind his house. Matthew glanced back. Would they escape
undetected? Dare he even hope?

“Here we are,” Isabel said.

Matthew frowned at the hope-killing sight: a four-wheeled

Concord buggy. He had expected something like a magician’s box,

or a metallic contraption, but not this ordinary object. His stomach
flip-flopped as he cut Isabel a sidelong glance. Now who’s the crazy
one?

Upon closer inspection, however, he noticed that the horse

drawing the buggy wasn’t entirely real. It didn’t smell like a horse,
for one thing. The animal had a static, glassy-eyed stare. Its boxy

lines and inert nature indicated the presence of an automaton, one
disguised to look like a horse.

He studied the buggy’s construction. Boasting an enclosed back,

a top, and black leather upholstery, it was the most elegant one
Matthew had ever seen, let alone ridden. The three-reach side

suspension promised a smooth journey. But a journey to where?
“Will this take us into the future?”

“Yes. Do you trust me, Matthew?”

He nodded slowly. He had no choice but to trust her. If anything,

his entire relationship with Isabel had shown him that things

weren’t always what they seemed.

As they strode toward the buggy, one of the attackers appeared

from behind it. A dark scowl twisted the man’s face. With bulging

arms, he raised his musket. “Stay where you are, Goddard. Hey!” he
shouted to his companions. “I’ve got ’im!”

Matthew’s blood turned to fire. He couldn’t allow that bastard to

harm his precious Isabel. But before he could even raise his fists to

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defend her, Isabel planted herself in front of him. She pointed the
tip of her parasol at their attacker.

“Isabel, no!” Matthew gritted his teeth. A parasol against a

musket? Pure madness!

“Stay back!” she ordered.
A blaze of electricity arced from the parasol’s tip. Racing through

the air like a snapping viper, it slammed into the attacker. The

musket flew out of his hand right before the energy blast knocked
him flat. After a moment, it was clear his smoking hulk wouldn’t

rise again.

Matthew stared at Isabel, thoroughly awed. “How does that

work, exactly?”

“I’ll explain later. We’ve got to hurry!”
At the buggy, Matthew cupped her elbow. “Allow me,” he said,

assisting her onto the seat.

Isabel responded with a shy, but delighted smile. “Thank you,”

she murmured.

Matthew ran to the other side and leaped onto the buggy. His

eyes widened at the sight before him. Instead of reins and a simple
dash rail, the buggy had a bizarre panel of instrumentation. He

would have to inquire about it later, however, because a glance
toward the house informed him that the mob had discovered their
presence. They were charging toward them like a pack of wolves. He

opened his mouth to warn her.

“I see them.” Isabel’s fingers were flying over the panel so fast

they were a blur. “Sit back and relax.”

He frowned. Relax?
Matthew watched in horror as five or six of the men raised their

weapons. He and Isabel were easily within range. The crack of
musket fire exploded in the air. Matthew clenched his teeth. There
was no way he could protect Isabel now. If we’re to die here, at least

we’ll die together. He braced himself for the end.

Isabel reached for his hand. They held on to each other tightly.

Just as the whistle of advancing musket shot reached his ears,

1840 Shrewsbury disappeared. The buggy plunged into darkness.
Matthew gripped the edge of his seat. It turned out that he needn’t

have worried. The buggy didn’t shake or tilt. In fact, it didn’t even

feel as though they were moving at all.

Matthew felt his chest. He was intact. They must have eluded the

musket fire after all. He breathed a sigh of relief.

He became aware of light surrounding them. The buggy was

outlined in some kind of glowing matter. Additional light rose from
the control panel. Matthew looked out into the darkness beyond. If

he stuck his hand into it, what would happen?

Isabel placed a hand on his left thigh. He abruptly forgot about

their surroundings. The touch sent a bolt of excitement racing

through him.

“We’re almost home,” she said. Then she gave his thigh a light

squeeze before returning her attention to the controls.

Home. Matthew couldn’t imagine what Future-Isabel’s home

looked like. But he figured that as long as she was there, he was

bound to be happy.

Chapter Ten

A short time later, the darkness surrounding the buggy washed

away as though someone had thrown a bucket of rainbows at it.
Isabel shut down the time machine and faced him. A warm, inviting

smile lit her face. “Welcome to your new home.”

Matthew rubbed his face. Dare he believe it? He was in the year

3050.

They were on a partially open platform jutting out from a tall

building. Matthew stared aghast at the vast city before them. Being

so high up, the sight nearly made him dizzy.

Buildings of glass and metal soared high into the sky. Their sleek

architecture was unlike anything he’d ever seen. Higher still were

more buildings, but unattached, like islands floating in the air.
Strange airborne machines zipped among them all. Some of them
displayed words and moving pictures. A blazing sun shone over it

all. Nearly every surface sparkled brightly, making his eyes ache
after their dark trip.

Matthew’s mouth fell open. “Am I really here? Is this real?”
Isabel laid a hand upon his arm. “Yes. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I can

show you around the city later. Right now, though, I’d like to start

making up for lost time. Let’s go inside.”

Glancing down, Matthew saw that the buggy’s control panel was

now dark. He noticed Isabel gathering her skirts. “Heavens, where

are my manners?”

He jumped off the buggy and raced around to her side. Isabel

allowed him to assist her down, bracing her hands upon his
shoulders as she descended to the platform. Matthew couldn’t help
but think that she felt perfect in his arms.

Taking his hand, she led him toward a large set of double glass

doors. Leaving the open-air platform behind, they entered the
building. Inside the well-lit room, which he guessed was some kind

of parlor, the air was cool and refreshing. Hints of a flowery scent
teased his nostrils. As Isabel began to describe her residence, she

removed her cloak and hung it on a coat rack. Matthew did a

double-take. It looked suspiciously like the rack in his previous
home. He waved a hand at it. “How did you…?”

Isabel giggled while removing her bonnet and gloves. “It’s a

replication. You’ll discover many familiar items here. I thought they
might help you adjust to your new home.”

She hooked an arm though his and began taking him on a tour.

Despite the luxurious surroundings, he had eyes only for her.

When they had finished, Isabel invited him to have a seat on the

sofa. It was ivory, plush, and frilly, like the kind he’d always
imagined buying for her one day.

“Would you like something to drink?” she asked. “Or eat?”

Matthew didn’t trust his stomach to keep any food down. “A glass

of water would be fine, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Oh, none at all.” She went to a black oak sideboard and poured

water from a glittering crystal pitcher. “Here you are,” she said,
handing him the glass.

Matthew stared at her as he accepted the glass. Unlike the herky-

jerky movements of original-Isabel, future-Isabel’s were smooth
and graceful. “Thank you,” he said. He raised the glass to his lips.

The clear-looking liquid intrigued him. It’s clean, pure taste made
him gasp. “Ambrosia,” he said, quickly draining the glass.

Isabel smiled as she joined him on the sofa. “The food’s quite

good here. I think you’ll enjoy all the discoveries that await you.”

Matthew placed the empty glass on the low-lying wood table next

to the sofa. Perhaps the water had affected him more than he
realized, because he was feeling very bold. “Does that include you,
Isabel?”

Her cheeks turned a fetching shade of pink. She glanced down, a

coy smile upon her lips. “Yes.”

Matthew shifted so close to her that their thighs made contact.

He wondered if she noticed the mass of flesh stirring beneath his
trousers. How long before they could make love? But he shut down

the thought as soon as it had come. He and Isabel ought to become
acquainted before embarking on intimate adventures. At the very
least, he needed to know if a relationship with him was what she

truly wanted.

The Watchmaker````````s Lady

“Isabel, we should talk.”
She slid a hand onto his thigh, her fingertips nearly at his groin.

Matthew resisted the urge to grab her hand and press it against his
cock. “What would you like to talk about?”

“I want to make sure this is what you really want. Meaning us.

Here, together.” He cleared his throat. “I feel responsible for your
wellbeing. Given your… unique origin, I don’t want you to feel

exploited.”

Isabel curled her other hand around his neck, sending tingles

exploding across his skin. “You wouldn’t be here if I felt exploited,
Matthew.” Then she exerted pressure on his neck, forcing his face to
within an inch of hers. “Could we talk later, perhaps?”

“If it pleases you…uh…ungh….”
Matthew grew silent as Isabel’s warm, soft lips pressed against

his. He quickly discovered that imagining a kiss and performing one

in reality were two extremely different things. He wondered if he’d
actually died in the basement like his journal described, and being

here with Isabel was heaven. But she felt too real, too warm. He slid
his hands around her waist and pulled her closer.

The hot, wet feel of her mouth was unlike anything he’d ever

known. If her moans were any indication, she seemed to enjoy it
when he used his tongue to explore her lips and teeth, so he did that
a lot.

Their kisses grew more daring. Matthew thrust his tongue inside

her mouth, seeking out every crevice and lapping up every drop of

wetness. The minute he paused to take a breath, Isabel would attack
his mouth with equal fervor. They spent so much time kissing that
the sun began descending toward the horizon. Somehow, the room

in which they cavorted stayed lit with nary a candle in sight.
Matthew gave the phenomenon little thought as he began trailing
kisses all over her face.

“Matthew,” Isabel said, her voice breathless, “this is beyond

wonderful, but I need more!”

As he had done with original Isabel, Matthew began sliding his

palms all over her bodice, both front and back. But he paid
particular attention to her breasts. They swelled generously beneath

his hands. “Tell me what you want.”

Isabel cupped his groin. “I want to get naked and make love on

the bed. Everything you did with Isabel long ago, I want you to do
with me.”

Matthew nearly came then and there. His trousers had been

painfully tight for the last hour, and he could feel wetness gathering
at the tip of his cock. “Lead the way,” he urged.

They couldn’t stop kissing or touching each other on the way to

the bedroom. Halfway there, they stumbled against a nearby wall.
Capturing her hands, Matthew pushed her back against the

patterned surface. Using her raised hands as anchors, he pressed
against her. He wanted her to know how hard he was, from his lean,
hard chest to his thick, hard cock. He buried his face in her hair and

his pelvis between her thighs.

Isabel whimpered with delight as he rocked against her, his

tongue swirling around her left ear. He could have stayed there all
night, but knew an even greater adventure awaited them in the
bedroom. Pulling back, he took her hand and led her onward.

The bedroom was a sumptuous, ornate affair. The walnut canopy

bed, with its intricate scrollwork design and white chintz netting,
was its centerpiece. A soothing purple and white palette of flowers

and vines decorated the furniture and walls. Sinfully thick rugs
covered the glossy wooden floor.

Barely had they entered the room when Isabel tore off his

waistcoat and yanked his shirt from his shoulders. Riiiiip went his
wool undershirt. She wasn’t any gentler with his trousers, either.

The buttons flew off in all directions. At long last, his unbridled
cock reared high, like a proud stallion. Matthew kicked the
confining clothing away as fast as he could.

Isabel dropped to her knees, a predatory expression on her face.

She wrapped her right hand around his wide shaft. “Don’t expect

any mercy,” she said, just before taking the whole length of him into
her mouth.

Matthew doubled over from the shock of pleasure. The sensation

of being inside her mouth was indescribable. His fantasies had been
pale imitations of the real thing, like a cheap watch trying to
compete with one of exquisite design and function.

Isabel gripped his naked buttocks with an ironclad grip. With

The Watchmaker````````s Lady

one hand, Matthew hung on to a nearby wardrobe for support. The
other he threaded into her hair. Her dress and bodice slid

deliciously against his naked skin. He growled as she pleasured him
with her mouth, using a smooth, steady motion. He thought he’d

known what excitement was, but he’d been sorely mistaken. And
everything she did with her lips and tongue only made his
excitement soar higher.

Guiding her head, he increased the pace. Soon he realized there’d

be no turning back if they continued this way. His cock was slick,

making it easy for her to increase her rhythm, which she did with
abandon. “Isabel,” he rasped. “I’m going to release soon if you keep
that up.”

She moaned in delight and sucked him with renewed vigor.
Matthew felt his knees grow weak. Pleasure was radiating

outward from the point of contact, consuming him. He couldn’t

hold back any longer. Surging, pulsing bliss tore through his cock.
With a series of quick, powerful thrusts, he spilled his seed deep

into her throat. A single cry leapt from his own as his legs gave out.
His cock slipped from her mouth. He tumbled to his knees and
threw his arms around her.

“Isabel…Isabel….” Matthew felt utterly humbled by her gift. He

planted wet kisses on her lips and cheeks, tasting the residue of his
secretion as he did so. “Thank you. Words can not express…. Thank

you.”

Isabel giggled. “You can thank me better by helping me get

undressed.”

That request instantly revived him. Together, they removed her

clothes. Both nude now, they faced each other. Matthew had

fantasized about her body a thousand times over, but nothing
prepared him for the animalistic appeal of a real woman’s body.

Android or not, to him, she was real.

She began running her hands all over his torso. Matthew grabbed

them and yanked her close, crushing her breasts to his chest. They

rubbed against each other from that position and started kissing
again. Cool air rushed in from somewhere, soothing their hot
bodies.

They mutually paused for breath. “Let’s get on the bed,” he

murmured.

Matthew guided her onto her back. The mattress was firm and

supremely comfortable. A smile curled his lips. I could easily get
used to this kind of luxury.

He started kissing and touching Isabel everywhere, bringing to

life fantasies that had previously only existed in his mind. He licked

her neck. He kneaded her breasts, delighting in the way they
seemed to merge as one when he pushed them together. Taking a
huge nipple into his mouth, he sucked it long and thoroughly.

Isabel writhed beneath him, panting heavily. Matthew feasted on

her sweet flesh, reveling in the fact that the more aggressively he
made love to her, the more violently she writhed beneath him.

He trailed a path of kisses down her belly. Because of his secret

business, he’d learned a few things about how to give a woman joy.

When his mouth connected with her secret treasure, he brought all
his knowledge to bear upon Isabel. He wasn’t sure how a woman
was supposed to taste, but she tasted incredible.

With the pad of his thumb, he used small, circular motions to

stimulate her nub. At the same time, he penetrated her with his
tongue.

Her hips bucked. “Matthew, that feels so good! Can you put it in

deeper?”

If anything was guaranteed to make his cock swell to a hundred

times its normal size, it was Isabel’s palpable excitement. As the
flesh between his legs grew heavy and distended, Matthew obliged

her, pushing his tongue in as deeply as it would go. Isabel moaned
in response, grinding her pelvis against his face.

“Oh darling, I need you inside me!” She tugged his hair. “Please,

can we do that now?”

Matthew gasped as he pulled away. He couldn’t help but look at

her cleft. Its plump folds looked as swollen as his cock felt. He ran
the back of his hand across his mouth and grinned. Wet, too.

Moving fast, he covered her body with his own. Giddy

anticipation ran through him. If her womanly core was anything
like her mouth, he was going to go insane with happiness.
Anchoring himself on his elbows, he settled between her open

thighs.

The Watchmaker````````s Lady

One well-aimed thrust later, he was buried deep inside her. For a

time, he couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Her smoky blue gaze was

flooded with arousal as she gazed up at him. “Kiss me,” she
whispered.

Matthew swept his lips across hers. At first, he tried to be gentle

and take things slowly. But Isabel wasn’t having any of it. She
bucked against him as though jolted by an electric shock. Her long

legs wrapped around his waist as her arms clutched at his back. Her
channel tightened around his cock, searing hot and saturated

beyond belief.

Eventually, primal instinct took over. He drove into her like a

wild bull.

Isabel cried “More, more, more!” as her climax hit. She didn’t

show signs of slowing anytime soon, so he kept pumping in and out
of her.

His balls constricted dangerously. “Isabel,” he managed to grind

out, “I’m going to release!”

“Yes,” she panted, “come with me!”
With a lung-bursting breath, Matthew released the flood. His

cries of pleasure joined hers. He lost track of how many times his

cock spurted inside her. Moments later, he collapsed on top of her
voluptuous body, almost blacking out from the rapture.

Feeling wonderfully, incredibly spent, Matthew drew Isabel into

his embrace. They lay together for a long time, speaking only with
cuddling and feathery kisses.

Isabel broke the silence. “I meant to tell you. Your original Isabel

is stored in a nearby room. Do you want to see her?”

Matthew nestled closer. He palmed one of her breasts, enjoying

its supple feel. “I appreciate the offer. Perhaps later.”

He felt as though he could finally put his first relationship to rest.

Original-Isabel would always hold a special place in his heart. But

now it was time to give her real-life counterpart all the love he had,
for all eternity, because she deserved nothing less.

That thought gave rise to a burning question. “Isabel?”
“Yes?”
“In this future time, can a man become an android? That is to

say, if he wanted to.”

A happy smile broke out upon her face, as vivid and bright as the

sun. “Yes, my love. You most certainly can.”

About The Author

Heather Massey is a lifelong fan of science fiction romance. She

searches for sci-fi romance adventures aboard her blog, The Galaxy
Express.

When she’s not reading or writing, she’s watching cult films and

enjoying time with her husband and daughter.

Red Sage Publishing

The Leader in Women’s Erotic Romance

Sensual fiction written for the adventurous woman.

Featuring the best in women’s ultra sensual and spicy fiction, satisfying your

desire for more.

Visit our website and discover delicious temptations and spicy fantasies!

www.eRedSage.com

Document Outline

The Watchmaker`s Lady
About The Author
Red Sage Publishing

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