by Cheryl Bolen
Daniel swung to face him grinning like a schoolboy. “So I have you to thank. We were just coming to find you. We have a favor to ask.”
Rufus looked between the two of them and his smile died. “Best we go back to the house and find Rheda then. I don’t do favors without her approval.” At Daniel’s raised eyebrow, he added, “Well, not that she knows about.”
Chapter 7
The carriage was approaching the house and her father’s snores didn’t help to steady her nerves. When they arrived home her mother would no longer be in residence. She’d taken her father into Newmarket on the pretense of Christmas shopping while Billy, Tessa, and Jimmy her father’s valet and Tessa’s husband, moved her mother to Hascombe.
Georgiana prayed none of the other servants saw them go. Tessa and Jimmy now worked for her. They could never go back to Wentworth. They would be her mother’s caregivers. While Billy… she prayed hard that no one saw Billy helping with the escape. He insisted on staying at Wentworth to guard her, and Daniel agreed.
She decided to let her father sleep until the carriage came to a halt. How long would it take for her father to learn his hold over her had escaped? She swallowed down her fear. Her father was a cruel man and she worried how he would react. Perhaps, as Daniel had said, she should have gone with her mother. But if they both went her father would suspect the Hascombe’s. Hopefully he would think Georgiana had merely sent her well away, he’d have no idea the Hascombe’s were helping her.
As they drew up to the steps, leading up to the front door, she noticed the commotion and knew her mother’s absence had been noted. She literally jumped out of the carriage before it had fully stopped.
“What is it Burton?”
He stood ringing his hands. “It’s Lady Wentworth—”
“What’s happened to my mother?” she cried. “Is she ill?” and she made to move past Burton up the steps.
But Burton cried out, just as her father stepped from the carriage. “She’s gone. And so are Tessa and Jimmy.”
The whole county could have heard her father’s roar. What she had not expected was the hand that suddenly wrapped around her throat almost lifting her off the ground. “You… You will tell me where you have hidden her or by God I’ll—”
“My Lord, perhaps this would be best handled in private.” Burton’s calming voice brought her father out of his murderous haze. His hand loosened at her throat and she began gasping fresh air into her lungs. He grabbed her arm and began pulling her up the stairs. She didn’t have the breath to stop him. She saw Billy’s worried face peering round the corner of the house. He’d go for help.
Her father swung her round and pushed her into the drawing room closing the door behind him. She crawled along the floor until the settee was between then. “You will tell me where you have put my wife or I will beat it out of you.” It wasn’t the words themselves, merely the way he said them. He was calm. Too calm.
“I have no idea where Tessa has taken mother. I was with you. I am not party to this.” Her fingers were crossed behind her back.
He moved slowly toward her. “You must think I’m stupid. Tessa would not move your mother without your say so.” He reached out and swiped the vase off the stand and watched it smash against the slate fire surround. “Now tell me where she is.”
She got to her feet and used the back of the settee to support her shaking legs. She hoped Daniel would not be too long. “No. I won’t tell you. I’m done being used. I know what you have planned. You’ll wait for me to come into my trust and then you’ll use mother to make me sign it over to you. And then you know what you’ll do? You’ll gamble it all away like you have everything else, until I have nothing left.”
Another step closer.
“Nothing left. You stupid girl. You will marry and marry well. You don’t need that money. Your face is your fortune. I have already made an arrangement with Lord Featherstone.”
That was the last straw. “Selling your own daughter now. Is this what it has come to? Why am I not surprised? I wouldn’t tell you where mother is if my life depended on it.”
“It just might,” he threatened.
She threw her head back and laughed. “No. I’m far too valuable alive. If I die before I marry, the money goes to my cousin.”
Her father halted in his tracks. “Pain has a distinct way of making people talk.”
“I swear I won’t tell you no matter what you do to me, but I will tell everyone who will listen about mother and my trust fund, if you lay your hands on me. So unless you want our neighbors and villagers to see me covered in bruises then I’d think again.” Georgiana could see the fight beginning to leave her father. He suddenly understood her conviction. She taunted him. “If you need money sell this estate and leave mother and me alone.”
Her father sunk down onto the nearest chair. “Sell the estate. I could go to the Americas. Men are making fortunes out there in the plantations.” It was as if she no longer existed. He sat talking to himself his excitement building. “No stuffy society watching and condemning everything I do.”
She silently thought to herself it would be a wise move to leave England should any of the men her father had duped with worthless nags, seek restitution. She also knew when he left it would be the last time she’d ever see her father. Titles meant nothing in the Americas and she did not doubt her father would end up dead on the end of a sword, pistol or knife.
She couldn’t seem to care. He’d never been a father to her in the real sense of the word.
She took the opportunity to walk round the outside of the room and head for the door. He didn’t even try to stop her. Burton, bless him, was hovering outside and his look of relief made her suddenly remember the staff. She hoped the new owner of Wentworth would keep the staff on. She would try to ensure that happened.
“Are you well, my lady?”
“Perfectly, thank you. Lady Hascombe has invited me to spend Christmas with them. Can you organize my luggage to be packed and get the carriage ready?”
She forgot all about her father as she did the final wrapping of her gifts for the Hascombe family, and she hoped Daniel would love the solid silver brandy flask she had bought him.
She’d just finished wrapping Wilton’s toy soldiers when she heard heavy boots pounding up the stairs and the door to her room flew open. Daniel stood in the doorway, his eyes wild and his mouth set in a firm line. His eyes found her across the room, and he strode over to her and ran a finger along the bruise forming on her neck.
“I’ll kill him.”
She took his hand and placed it on her cheek. “I’m fine. But thank you for coming for me.”
“Did he do anything else to you.”
She shook her head. “No. I made him see it would not be in his best interests to hurt me. Besides, I think he’s made other plans. I reminded him he could simply sell the estate. It’s worth about the same as my trust fund.”
Daniel pulled her to her feet and ran his hands over her body as if not believing she was well. “I want to find him and squeeze the life out of him.”
She pressed a kiss to his nose. “He’s not worth it. I just want him out of my life, and my mother protected.”
Tension still wracked his body, she could see it in his shoulders and the way one of his hands was fisted closed with his knuckles white.
“Daniel, just help me walk out of this house and never look back. With mother safe I feel as if a weight has lifted off my shoulders. It’s Christmas and I want to use it as a turning point in my life. I want to celebrate it with you because you have made it possible, and I’ll never forget your kindness.”
The tension turned from violence to sensual at her declaration. Both of them noticed they were in her bedchamber, and the large four-poster bed was like a flaming beacon.
She wanted this man. Wanted him here and now. Maybe it was the aftermath of her father’s violence, or maybe it was the power swimming in her veins. Her destiny was now her own. And she wanted to
grab it with everything she was.
He must have seen the longing in her eyes because he reached for her; palm curving about her jaw, he tipped up her face, drew her close. He studied her eyes—as if searching for permission, searching for what she wanted. She didn’t even contemplate hiding herself from him.
“I need you to be sure.”
Her gaze focused on his lips. She watched, mesmerized, as he drew in another breath. Opened his lips to speak again—
She stretched up, drew his head down, brought her lips close to his and murmured, “I want you. No. I need you.”
He covered her lips with his, kissing her voraciously, all consuming. She heard her maid slink from the room and close the door so they were totally alone.
She couldn’t even remember how he got her clothes off but suddenly she was standing naked in front of him, and she reveled in the wantonness of this moment. She’d never felt so free.
Or so desired.
Daniel’s hands slid over her bare skin like a whispered caress. Reverent. Worshipping. Claiming...
He closed his arms about her, pulling her close, molding her to him. Any suggestion of stopping him died the instant she’d set eyes upon his face, on all he said in just one hot, burning gaze.
Naked in his arms, she clung, and returned his kisses greedily, avidly—flagrantly encouraged him to seize, take, and claim.
Halting, he asked, his voice a husky promise, “I should make Christmas wishes more often.”
On a groan, he lifted her and turned with her in his arms to face the bed. He let her down, sliding her body down his, his hands cupping her bottom, pressing her to him, molding her softness against his erection while his tongue plundered her mouth, leaving her a mass of aching need. Heat bloomed and fire took hold—she wanted more.
She reluctantly eased back from his kiss. “I want to see you. See if you’re all I imagined,” she added breathlessly.
With eager hands she pushed his coat wide, trapping his arms. With a curse, he let her go, stepped back, wrenched off his coat, and flung it aside.
Her eyes widened at the violence behind the movement. He stilled. “I’d never hurt you. You do know that?”
In answer she stepped back into his embrace, her lips brazenly seeking his, her hand covering his heart. She knew the man he was. Gentle, giving, kind—loving. Loving was why she found him so attractive, why he and only he would do for her journey into passion.
Georgiana acted on her newfound desire, yanking the halves of his waistcoat apart, stretching to slip it from his board shoulders. Impatiently he pulled his shirt over his head, and finally she had her hands on hot, rough, skin. She ran her fingers over his chest and stomach, the muscles beneath rigid and locked. His chest was a wonder of rough hairs the color of a lion’s mane. She leaned into him and licked. He tasted divine, addictive.
He once more plundered her mouth, his hands closing about, and then provocatively kneading the globes of her bottom. The long muscles framing his back flexed like steel beneath her wandering hands. She ran her fingers down his back, counting the ribs as she traced the muscles leading her down his sides and back to his waist, to caress the rippling bands across his abdomen. They rippled at each touch.
Gaining courage, her fingers quested lower. He sucked in a breath and held it as she lightly traced the prominent line of his erection. He stilled, his lips on hers, his tongue in her mouth, when she reached for the waistband of his breeches. As she undid the flap, he groaned into her mouth. Thrilled at her newfound power, Georgiana hurriedly undid the rest and slid one hand inside the opened flap, and found the rigid length of him. Hot with skin so very soft and smooth...
He was under her spell, entirely focused on her hand and what she was doing. Her fingers explored freely, and learned the size and shape of him. He was solid, larger than she imagined. He more than filled her hand. Growing bolder, she closed her fingers around him, circling him, and this time his groan was accompanied by a shudder.
She knew she was playing with fire, but she took her time fondling his sac; wonder blooming as it tightened in her hand. She could feel the surge of heated passion rising through him, provoked by her play, and it rose in her body in kind. She throbbed and grew damp between her thighs.
His mouth finally left hers, but he didn’t stop her games. He truly was a saint because he let her play. She could see the tension in his neck, the cords tight as a bow.
Daniel clenched his jaw and endured her touch, when all he wanted was to throw her on the bed and sink into the heaven he knew he’d find there. He wanted to bury himself so deep and let her wrap those gazelle-like legs around him.
Though she was innocent, her touch was pure heaven, her instincts sound. He watched the wonderment in her smile and another surge of heat, of pure unadulterated desire rose, hardening and lengthening the part of his anatomy that was currently the determined focus of her being. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold himself in check.
Not long, as it turned out. He made the mistake of looking down as she sent her thumb stroking over the aching head of his shaft and found a latent drop. She looked deep into his eyes, brought her thumb to her lips, and tasted, murmuring approval.
Control slipped. He caught his breath, nudged her face up and found her lips again, drew her into a drugging kiss, and ruthlessly, deliberately, took over. He didn’t hold back. He seized and devoured, claiming her mouth, her lips, with a promise of what else he’d claim this night.
He would dictate the pace. He impatiently drew her hand away and efficiently divested himself of the rest of his clothes.
He looked magnificent. A Greek God come to life. She took in the sight, drank in the glory.
He drew her close, then closer until there was not even air between them. Silken skin caressing his chest, her arms, his erection, cradled in her softness, while he plundered her mouth, holding her and her senses captive.
Georgiana tried to move closer. She wanted him more than she’d wanted anything in her life. Far from resisting, she sank into his arms, gave herself up to his commanding kiss, surrendered and waited, nerves tight with anticipation, for him to make her his.
Without breaking their kiss, he lifted her and climbed onto the bed. The sheer curtains closed behind him, enveloping them in their own world.
They were on their knees facing each other and Georgiana let out a cry of disappointment when his lips left hers, only to moan in relief as his mouth found one tight, furled nipple.
His hot mouth suckled and savored. Her head fell back; her gasp shivered through the room. He feasted like a starving man. He laved her breasts, suckled, nipped—sending arrows of heat to her core. His hot mouth gave such pleasure she prayed he never stopped. Her hands closed on his skull, holding him to her; she was never letting go. His mouth was heaven on her flesh.
She rode the waves of delight he evoked. His hands roamed her curves while his mouth devoured her breasts. A wild wantonness erupted within and she reached for him. She gloried in the feel of his hard body, the evidence of his desire never more real. Georgiana stroked his cock once, and he growled deep in his chest. He urged her back on the bed and she went willingly. Her skin was flaming, her body melting, all her senses heightened and in scattered disarray. He followed her down, one knee rising and pushing between hers, parting her thighs, exposing the musky scent of her arousal to the room.
Georgiana was momentarily embarrassed when his muscled thigh, raspy with masculine hair, rode against her dampness, but his groan of admiration saw her glory in abandoned excitement. He deliberately shifted, pressing against the most sensitive spot, knowingly winding her tight... Her breath tangled in her throat.
She traced the rock-hard muscles in his arms as he braced himself over her, his other knee joining the first, pushed her legs apart, spreading her thighs so he could settle between them.
Their eyes locked and silently communicated. He looked down her bare torso to where their bodies would join and the set of his face told her a
ll she needed to know. The angles and planes of his handsome face were sharp with desire. There was an elemental rawness of conquering male, and it thrilled her. She cupped his face and nodded.
He lowered his head to place a gentle kiss on her lips as he shifted between her thighs. The hardness she’d been caressing probed her slick entranced and she tried to relax, tried to memorize her first taste of his broad, blunt head and its inherent strength and heat as he inched slowly within her.
“Relax, my darling. Breathe slowly. I promise I’ll try and make it as painless as I can.”
He flexed his hips and pressed further in. She felt every inch of his hardness, stretching and filling her. He reversed direction and she let out the breath she’d been holding.
He repeated the process several times, each entry just that little bit further. Each short stroke enough to tantalize, to drive her insane. She moaned his name.
He covered her lips, took her mouth, adding to her screaming senses. She was combusting from the inside. Soon she was lifting her hips, writhing on the bed, urging him for more, her body aching, wanting...
He continued teasing her, only just entering her and then withdrawing, until she was wet and open and almost delirious with desire. Moving in a rhythm that was as ancient as time.
She lifted her head and found his lips. He took her mouth, his tongue mimicking his delicious torture below. He slid deeper, and his tongue plundered, ruthlessly. He settled more heavily between her legs, and she felt the power and strength of him.
Then he thrust powerfully.
She cried out in surprise, his mouth capturing her strangled gasp.
He stilled above her, raining kisses all over her face. “The pain will dull in a few moments. Are you all right?” The concern was very evident in his voice and the worried green of his eyes. He tenderly stroked down her side and molded his hand to her hip.
The sharp pain lessened to a dull ache and she could feel him throbbing within her. She could not help but move. At the slight lift of her hips, he drew back, and gripping her hip, he pressed in again. There was no pain this time. He didn’t stop but drove on, all the way in, steadily pushing deep, stretching her, impaling her. She tried to remember to breathe at the sensation of him, hard and strong, embedded deep within her, filing her fuller than she’d imagined.
