“No,” he growled, heading for the stairs.
He should put her down. She was capable of walking, but he did not want to release her. Something fiercely possessive had been born in him the moment she had said, Do you not remember that kiss in Lord Russell’s garden? I was so completely taken with you that I’d have allowed you any liberties you wanted. But then you cooled.
Cooled? He had cooled? Dear God, there had to be some misunderstanding. He had lived that kiss every night since in his dreams. He had looked for it in every woman he’d kissed since. He’d come to believe he’d never experience it again.
Until tonight. Until her wordless surrender had taken him so by surprise that he’d nearly disgraced them both. Even now he knew gossip would be raging about their hasty departure. He’d wanted that, to flush their quarry, but now he was ashamed that he’d allowed Georgiana to be the subject of such talk.
Love? Georgiana? Again?
Her bedroom door was open and he kicked it closed behind them. No need to lock it since no one would bother them tonight. Clara would see to it. Though the lamps were not lit, the fire had been fed and little flickers of light scattered throughout the room. He placed her on her feet and she gasped and swayed as if she hadn’t breathed since they’d left Belmonde’s.
Her shawl fell to the floor and he threw his jacket on top of it, nearly overwhelmed with his need to have her naked. Quickly.
“Charlie, I don’t...” Her voice was a whisper.
No regrets. No second thoughts. “Let tomorrow take care of itself, Georgie. I’m not dead yet.”
For a moment he was flummoxed as to how to remove her new gown, but then he ceased to care. He’d buy her a new one. He’d buy her forty—every one an exact copy, and every one to meet the same fate. She caught his urgency and let the buttons fly when she pulled his waistcoat open and pushed it off his shoulders. She reached for his cravat as he parted her gown at the V of her neckline. The fragile silk gave way like mere tissue, leaving her corset and chemise to be dealt with. This one laced at the front and he drew the strings from their hiding place between her breasts.
That merest of touches sent a deep shudder through Georgiana and he was gratified. He wanted her shivering, trembling at his touch. God knew his own nerve endings were itching relentlessly, exquisitely sensitive and driving him toward release.
Unlaced at last, the corset dropped away onto the growing pile of clothes. His cravat and shirt fared the same treatment as her gown. But he slowed a moment to watch her pull her chemise over her head, her arms high and her rose-tipped breasts gloriously bare. He gripped her around her waist and lifted her to fit his mouth first to the right and then the left, teasing the crowns into tight little beads as she tangled her fingers through his hair.
“Charlie...Charlie...” she chanted, and each little entreaty spurred him on.
He laid her on the bed, pulled her slippers off and dropped them on the floor, then paused as he reached for her garters. Soft violet stockings that matched her gown were held up at midthigh by white satin garters and were so erotic that he decided to leave them.
He finished undressing himself, his gaze never leaving the sight of Georgiana, supine and stunning against pristine white sheets. Her eyes half closed, she licked her lips and crooked a knee to make a place for him between her legs. She could not have contrived to say anything so eloquent as that—the simple need to have him fill her and to kiss those lips.
But not yet.
“I want more from you than your acceptance this time,” he told her. “I want your participation.”
“Yes,” she purred. “Yes, yes...”
He lay down beside her, wondering how long he could maintain his self-control. Not long, he thought. But long enough to slow her down sufficiently to make it last. To make it memorable. There was a fine edge between release and completion, a matter of intensity, and he would teach her the differences and advantage of each.
Release first.
He knelt between her thighs, savoring the sight of her there, her olivine eyes glowing with unquenched passion. His. She smiled when she realized what he was doing—learning her, watching her, worshiping her. And she returned the favor, her eyes traveling down his chest to his shaft. Her eyes widened and he watched as she swallowed hard. His flesh tightened as his cock grew and twitched in response. Her breathing hitched and he eased himself downward until his mouth was level with those beckoning rosy buds. He flicked his thumbnails over them and she gasped. Slowly, he began to nibble at first one, then the other, until she crooked both knees to cradle him.
Reading that sign as readiness, he slipped one hand down to her core. Still nibbling her breasts, he stroked her, gathering her dew until his fingers slid easily into her. She moaned and her hips jerked upward. He could feel her internal quivering, and it only took a moment to bring her to a small orgasm. She twisted beneath him, panting, her chest heaving.
“That, sweet Georgie, was release,” he instructed.
“Oh!” She gulped. “Th-thank you.”
He chortled. “The pleasure was mine. And now for the rest.”
“Rest?”
He knew he’d only bought them a little time before the passion built to unbearable levels again. Though used to self-denial, he was not certain he could deny himself much longer.
He kissed his way downward, seeking her mound and the hidden nub with his lips and tongue while he spread her legs a bit wider to accommodate him there. He trailed his fingers down her inner thighs to the garters and stockings, reveling in the smooth heated silk so like her inner sheath. The comparison caused a wanting, an unrelenting need, that seized him, overpowering both reason and reluctance. He wanted Georgiana, and he would have her. Nothing on this earth would stop him. Ever.
He found her with his tongue and stroked deeply, drawing a surprised gasp from her. She tasted of sex and love, and her scent was an aphrodisiac to him. If he didn’t take her soon, he’d die of the pain.
Moments later her hands left his shoulders and gripped the bedposts so tightly her knuckles whitened. She began chanting his name again, this time with a hint of desperation. “Charlie...Charlie...help me, Charlie...”
Thank God. He rose above her, wanting to do this right. Wanting to give her the most intense pleasure of her life. She arched to him, her hands abandoning the bedposts for the less solid bulwark of his arms. “Now, Charlie. Please.”
Those words were piercingly sweet and utterly satisfying. She did not have to ask twice. He found her as surely as the stars point true north. Her thighs quivered as he entered her. She was heated and tight, her inner muscles gripping him in a snug velvet fist. He lifted and sank again, this time deeper. She fit herself to accommodate him again and again until she was writhing and keening as her inner muscles contracted rhythmically and tears trickled into the dark blond masses of hair beneath her.
And, at last, his control snapped. A kaleidoscope of rapture, pleasure and pain controlled him, overwhelmed him as he drove deeper into her one last time in a shattering finish unlike any he’d ever experienced.
When he was coherent again, when Georgiana’s eyes opened in sated wonder, he said, “And that, my love, was completion.”
* * *
Georgiana propped herself up against a mound of pillows and watched Charles dress. Broad chest, narrow hips and long legs all disappeared beneath proper clothing, but she would never look at him the same, clothed or not. She thought she’d always see him as he’d been last night—strong, confident, skilled and so very handsome. And so very...knowing. The dark shadow of his whiskers only added to his utterly masculine charm.
He turned to her as he tied an elaborate knot in his cravat. He smiled and his fingers faltered for a moment. “Damn, Georgiana. Must you look so tempting? I have half a mind to come back to bed.”
She glanced at the sl
ice of sun intruding through a gap in the draperies and stretched languorously. She did not want him to leave, anyway. “You may as well stay. Too late to fool the neighbors now.”
He laughed. “With any luck, they will think I’ve paid an early call. But it will not matter soon.”
“No? Why? Do you know who has been killing my husbands?”
“Not yet. But we shall be married by this time tomorrow.”
She giggled. “What are we going to say? That we acquired a special license?”
“I did. We are now permitted to marry without banns at any time and place of our choosing.”
“Quite thorough of you, Charles, and rather expensive. But do you really think anyone will inquire at the Archbishop’s office to see if we’ve told the truth?”
He sighed deeply, as if preparing himself for unpleasant news. A few steps had him at her bedside. He took her hands and brought each one to his lips for a tender kiss. “Georgiana, I have business to be about today. First, I am going to my local parish to arrange to be married tomorrow. Then I hoped to collect you so that we may inform my family and ask them to witness our vows. Afterward I have an appointment to interview a man who might have useful information. Oh, and Lord Carlington has invited us to dine at his home tonight. I hope you do not mind that I accepted for us both.”
“Mind?” She could scarcely think, let alone form a protest. “Marriage? Will your minister perform a mock ceremony? Surely that must violate some ecclesiastical ethic, Charles.”
“Nothing mock about it, my dear. We will be married. In law and in God’s eyes.”
“No! I mean...no. I cannot marry. And certainly not you.”
“I will not leave you to fend for yourself another day. Even Finn must sleep sometime. After our vows I intend to move your household to mine. My servants are used to keeping a lookout for trouble. And cheer up, my dear. If your luck holds true, you shall not be married for long.”
Ice formed somewhere in the region of her heart. How could he even jest about such a thing? “You will be hard-pressed to marry me, Charles Hunter, when I am standing there saying no.”
He smiled and caressed her cheek. A tingle of desire spiraled upward to firm her breasts. “Last night you said you wanted me, Georgiana. I took you at your word. You certainly did not act as if you found me unacceptable.”
She leaned her head against his chest and held on to his shirtsleeves. “Charles, I am terrified for you. I have wished from the beginning that I had not let you goad me into our ridiculous agreement.”
“Nevertheless...”
“No.”
“The only one trying to kill me at the moment is that scum-dwelling sewer rat, Dick Gibbons. That will not change whether we marry or not.”
He lifted her chin and smiled. “If I can keep you nearer, we will both be safer, Georgiana. I find that I am always trying to keep an eye on you, and that distracts me. Aside from that, there are other forces afoot. My name may offer you a measure of protection—privilege, if you will—should the worst happen.”
The worst? Should he die? But his deep violet eyes were so clear and convincing that she could almost believe him. “What forces, Charles?” He blinked and she knew he was searching for words. They must be very dire indeed if he did not want to voice them.
“For one, we’ve been intimate. You could be with child even now.”
Shocked, she glanced down at her stomach, suddenly foreign territory to her. With child? How she would love to have Charles’s baby. Warmth crept through her every fiber at the mere thought.
“I warn you, Georgiana, I will not father a bastard. My child will be mine. Recognized and raised by me. My heir. A Hunter.”
Her resolve began to crumble. “And when it’s over? When we’ve discovered the truth? And if I am not with child? By then you’d be stuck with me.”
“A burden I am willing to bear,” he said with a grin.
Married. She was going to be married. Again. But this time she wanted it with her whole heart. And was terrified of the consequences. But she could see his determination in every line of his body. She sighed and nodded. “Yes.”
His grin widened and he hugged her so tightly she was barely able to breath, then shrugged into his waistcoat and jacket. “I shall be back at two o’clock to take you to Lockwood’s house.”
“Please, Charles, tell them alone. They will have concerns and will want to be free to voice them in a way they would not if I were present.” She feared that Sarah, most of all, would feel betrayed by this development. No doubt she would never have agreed to help her if she’d thought her brother would be at risk. “I would not start our marriage with their resentment.”
“If you are certain.”
“There are things I should take care of, too. I have been putting off dealing with Aunt Caroline’s personal bequests and I will need to gather her papers if I am to remove to your home.”
He studied her face for a moment and she knew he wanted to protest. In the end, he saw the sense in her request. “If you wish. Then I shall call at seven to take you to Carlington’s.”
* * *
The wide white door opened and Georgiana handed the butler her calling card. A moment later he opened the door wider to admit her and Finn, who had been lurking at her back all day. “Lady Aston will see you, Mrs. Huffington.”
Surprised, she gave Finn a nod to wait for her by the door before she followed the butler down a wide corridor to another door on the right. She’d only meant to leave her card and perhaps make an appointment for a later date. Calling unannounced was discourteous, Aunt Caroline had always told her.
A flood of warm afternoon light spilled into the corridor and temporarily blinded Georgiana as she stepped inside wondering what she might expect.
“Ah, you’ve come at last, Mrs. Huffington,” a well-modulated voice spoke as a woman came toward her, her hand extended in welcome. “I have been expecting you since I learned of dear Caro’s death.”
Georgiana’s vision cleared and she smiled. She’d seen this handsome woman at various functions in the past, but they hadn’t been introduced and she hadn’t realized that Lady Aston had an acquaintance with her guardian. She appeared to be of Caroline’s age. “I am sorry if I’ve kept you waiting,” Georgiana murmured as she took the offered hand and dropped a quick curtsy.
The woman laughed and Georgiana instinctively liked her. No wonder her aunt had not given up their friendship, even if it had been through correspondence since her accident.
“No need. I have not been on pins and needles, my dear.” She waved at a grouping of chairs. “I knew you’d come to me sooner or later. Please sit down. I’ve asked Franklin to bring tea.”
Georgiana removed her gloves and perched on the edge of a chair facing Lady Aston’s. “I shan’t stay long, Lady Aston. If you were expecting me, I presume you know why I’ve come?”
“I do, indeed. You’ve brought me something, have you not?”
Georgiana opened her reticule and removed the packet she’d found with Aunt Caroline’s will. “Her instructions were emphatic that I should deliver it into your hands only and that only you should open it. I shall step out of the room if you wish, Lady Aston.”
She waved airily. “Not necessary, Mrs. Huffington. I believe I know what the letter contains.” She slipped a tapered fingernail beneath the seal, opened the packet and dumped the contents onto her lap.
A small brooch studded with tiny sapphires and diamonds flashed shards of light as the sunbeams reached it. Georgiana recognized it as one her aunt had often worn. She must have put it in the packet on their last visit to town. Then a folded piece of parchment emerged. Lady Aston unfolded the page and read, nodding at intervals.
Georgiana knew that she was to stay until the packet had been opened lest there be any questions, and now she wond
ered what questions Lady Aston might have. The whole thing seemed so mysterious.
After Lady Aston refolded the page and slipped it back into the packet, she lifted the little brooch and turned it in her hand, a melancholy smile hovering at the corners of her mouth. “Caro was given this by her father upon her completion of school. I always admired it so and she promised it would be mine one day. I had completely forgotten until I saw it again. How very like her to keep her promises to the end.”
“She was always a woman of her word,” Georgiana agreed.
“She was also lively and popular. Of all of us at Mrs. Horn’s school, she was most likely to marry well. Then...the tragedy. How very sad for a life so full of promise to end that way.”
Georgiana studied the stitching on her gloves to cover the quick tears that stung her eyes.
“Yet she wrote of you so often, Georgiana, if I may call you that?”
“Of course, Lady Aston.”
“You were her chief interest in life after her father died and she fetched you home. Her letters were full of the news of your accomplishments and successes. And I can see for myself that she did not lie about how beautiful you are.”
She never realized that Aunt Caroline had bragged of her. That knowledge was bittersweet. It would have been nice to know while Caroline was still alive. “Thank you.”
The thought suddenly occurred to her that, if Lady Aston had been at school with Lady Caroline, perhaps she had known Georgiana’s mother, too. “Did...did you know my mother, Lady Aston?”
“I loved her like a sister. She was my best friend,” the woman said, her tone lowering with sadness. “And she remained my best friend until she died six months ago.”
“Six...” Georgiana could not comprehend that statement. Her mother had died two-and-twenty years ago. Aunt Caroline had died six months ago. Aunt Caroline...
Lady Aston leaned forward and patted Georgiana’s hand. “I see you have caught my meaning.”
Georgiana’s pulse raced and she felt peculiarly light-headed. “Aunt Caroline was...was...”
Harlequin Historical February 2013 - Bundle 1 of 2: Never Trust a RakeDicing With the Dangerous LordA Daring Liaison Page 64
