by Eva Devon
“Well, I don’t know,” she said, amazed at the way his laugh had rolled over her, awakening her body like the sun to the earth in early morning. “It’s difficult to say how much courage one might have in such circumstances, but they would have saved the country a great deal of trouble.”
He smiled down at her then, his eyes glowing. “If only you had the handle of this country, Miss Bly,” he said, “then we would have no trouble at all.”
“You’re making fun of me,” she accused lightly, rapt by his nearness.
“Oh, no,” he returned as his broad chest expanded in a breath. “I truly wish the rule of this land was as simple as what you imply.”
“But it is not simple, of course.”
“No, and I think you know that already.”
She nodded, but then burst out, “But I often do wish.”
“If wishes were horses,” he cut in.
“Beggars would ride,” she agreed softly. “It is the country that we do live in, is it not? That beggars do not ride?”
“Are you going to take up the point of the poor?” he asked, lifting his hand to her cheek. As he twined a lock of her hair about his finger, he rumbled, “I shall not mind if you do.”
Her lungs would not obey her. She could scarce draw breath as he caressed her errant locks. “You cannot fool me, Your Grace,” she finally managed. “I’ve discovered that you take up the case of the poor quite often in the House of Lords.”
He tensed, pausing his movement. “You’ve been investigating me.”
“One should know as much as possible about their future husband, don’t you think?”
“Some might argue it’s best to know as little as possible,” he returned quietly, “and then one won’t be disappointed.”
“I cannot believe you mean it. Or if you do, tell me at once,” she said, feeling strangely drawn to him. He was so close. If she but leaned a few inches forward, they would touch, head to toe.
“For if that is how you feel,” she breathed. “I shall run from England, you know. I’m sure I could survive in Naples if I had to.”
He stared down at her from his considerable height, then laughed again. “How do you do that?” he asked. “You are such a surprise.”
“I hope a good one,” she replied as she tilted her head back to hold his gaze.
“You’re novel. I shan’t ever be bored.”
She laughed then, despite her nerves at his strong, broad body within reach of her own. “I don’t like to be bored either.”
“Then we are of accord on more than one thing,” he said, letting his fingers trail to her cheek.
Her heart slammed in her chest. No one had ever touched her thus. “A good thing, I suppose, for a marriage.”
“Yes,” he whispered, his thumb dragging lightly along her jaw. “And,” he began.
“Yes?”
His gaze heated. “Our kisses…”
“Are quite nice.”
“You liked them, did you?” His hot, dark eyes turned to her mouth, focusing upon it as if it were the most important thing in the world in that moment.
“Oh yes,” she rushed, “but I don’t like the fact…”
“Come now. You’re always so bold, Miss Bly. Tell me,” he urged.
She squared her shoulders, which only brought their bodies closer together. He noticed, his gaze flickering down then back up, but didn’t shirk as he urged again, “Tell me what you don’t like and I shall never do it again. A wife should be able to tell a husband what does and does not pleasure her.”
His words caused her knees to wobble. Pleasure? How much pleasure could one woman take? Even so, she did as urged, and said bluntly, “That you use kisses to, well, bully me about.”
“I,” he rasped, shocked, “bully you?”
“Indeed,” she said, fortified now that she had begun and at how he was listening to her.
“You do not seem to be the sort of person who can be bullied.”
“No, I cannot,” she said, relieved he had decided such a thing about her. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t attempt to bully.”
“It is not my intention to bully,” he stated. “It is simply my demeanor.”
“That is not an excuse,” she said. It was imperative she teach him to be kinder, to be a better man, even if he was already a capable one. “Just because it is your demeanor does not mean that bullying is not the result.”
He stared at her for a long time, his palm now cupping her cheek ever so gently.
“I see your point,” he said. “I don’t know if I can take it, but I understand it.”
She did not pull back, but neither did she yield. In fact, compelled by some strong force, she placed her hand gently on his arm. “I think you should take it, and I think you should attempt to do something about it. I don’t really think you wish to bully people, but that doesn’t mean you don’t.”
His gaze wandered over her face before he gave a single, subtle nod. “So, if I take your point and suggest that I kiss you again, would you care for it?”
“Since we haven’t tried it before, how can I possibly know the result?”
“Well, since you approve of research,” he stated, “I’m happy to oblige.”
“Oh yes,” she said, “research is of great import to me. I do think that consideration is the best way to discover one’s true feeling on a subject.”
“I like to consider you,” he said, lowering his head ever so slightly.
“You do?” she asked, astonished.
“Oh yes. You are a most interesting young woman.”
“Am I? Most people don’t seem to think so.”
“Most people are idiots,” he drawled.
She laughed wholeheartedly at that. “I cannot disagree.”
“Good,” he rumbled. “Another thing we are in accord of. Perhaps we shall not do so very badly after all.”
“Perhaps,” she said.
“But you’re not sure?”
“How can I be?” she said, tilting her face into his palm. “More research is required.”
Chapter Thirteen
Edward slid his hand to Georgiana’s waist, pulling her to him.
Bloody hell, this was what he wanted from the moment she had stumbled so innocently into his chambers. He did not believe in fate. But if he had… This was what it would have felt like. Of that he was certain.
Driven by a need so strong, he scarce could countenance it, he slid his fingers into the soft curls at the nape of her neck. Stunned that he was so consumed by her, he tilted her head back, and took her mouth in a hungry kiss.
Damnation, he’d been thinking of this for days. This was the price of his future and it was worth it.
He knew it in his very core.
Even though she was not the duchess he required, this passion between them would make up for everything. It had to.
Somehow, he knew it would.
The very thought defied all reason.
It defied everything he knew to be right and good. But there was no denying that the kiss between them burned like the sweetest fire, like hot whiskey lit by a blue flame.
He wanted to kiss her forever, and she seemed to wish the same thing.
She moaned softly against him as she swayed into his body. He adored the feel of her skirts caressing his legs.
He wished to strip her naked right then and there, but knew he could not, for people were expecting them downstairs. A part of him was unaccustomed to roared for him to not give a damn and tear the clothes from her body now so he might discover her.
He let his hands roam over her back, pulling her harder, closer to his body. He savored the soft curves of her and he caressed the crease of her lips with a light touch of his tongue.
Her mouth opened ever so slightly in surprise, and he let his to
ngue slip between her lips. She gasped, the hot, sweet taste of her almost more than he could bear.
He pulled back and looked down at her. “Marry me,” he ground out, feeling on the edge of control.
“I am going to marry you,” she said breathlessly. “Remember? I have no choice, nor have you.”
“Marry me now,” he growled. He had to have her. He had to keep her in his arms. To know that this wild need for her could be made sense of.
She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“Marry me immediately,” he repeated, holding her fast. “I don’t wish to wait, Georgiana. I want us to be married. I want to have you.”
“Surely, that would cause a great scandal,” she whispered, her eyes wide not with dismay but with curiosity and desire.
“We can marry in secret now and then have a large wedding later as expected,” he said quickly, convincing himself as well as his future bride. “One that will be the wedding everyone speaks of and knows of.”
“Could we?” she asked. “Have such a thing to ourselves?”
A slow smile tilted his lips at her logic. A logic he liked well. “We can go to the little chapel on my land this evening, be married, and then we can…”
“Do more research?” she replied before she nipped her lower lip with barely contained anticipation.
“Yes,” he said. “Then we can do whatever we like.”
“You and I can never do whatever we like,” she countered. “But I would like…”
“Yes?” he asked, a moment of tension holding him in its grasp.
“To feel more of this,” she said as she slid her arms up his shoulders.
“Then marry me tonight,” he said. “This is what we both want from each other, and there is no need to delay.”
Indecision darkened her face. “Is this all that we wish from each other?”
“I do not know,” he said honestly. “But for a husband and wife, it is a welcome place to begin. Be with me, Georgiana.”
“I suppose I should be glad that I needn’t fear you suddenly changing your mind.”
“I’m not that kind of man, Georgiana,” he assured. “I shan’t ever change my mind. You are mine, and you will always be mine, as my wife.” He stroked a lock of hair back from her cheek. “Say yes.”
She eyed him carefully then. “But what if…”
“Yes?” he asked, studying her, wishing he knew the words that would allay her fears.
“Do you truly wish this?”
He gazed down at her, unwilling to lie. “I truly wish to kiss you,” he said. “I truly wish to have you in my bed. And I truly admire you, even though I barely know you.”
“That is a diplomatic answer.”
He gazed into her intelligent eyes, eyes that wouldn’t be fooled with false platitudes. “It is the best I can do because it is the truth.”
“Then yes,” she said. “I will marry you.”
“Tonight?” he queried, hardly believing that he, the Duke of Thornfield was about to do something so rash.
“Tonight,” she agreed firmly. “Whatever shall I tell my sister?”
“Surely, you’re clever enough to think of something. It’s not as if the two of you are sharing a room.”
“We have shared a room since we were children.”
“Not anymore,” he said, holding her in his embrace. “Tonight you’ll be sharing mine.”
…
Edward wasted no time.
He dashed off a quick note to the bishop, who lived not but four miles away. He gave it to a footman and told him to take it posthaste. And, as he did so, he led Georgiana down to dinner.
The two of them entered the long dining room together.
He’d finished dressing without calling his manservant and she had watched transfixed as he’d donned his layers of clothing and tied his starched cravat.
It had amused him, that distinct fascination… And it had made him think of when he would be removing her clothing from her body in but a few hours’ time.
With his assistance, she had carefully righted her frock and she had done her best with her wild locks. The fact that they were both perfectly presentable did not stop the curious stares of her sister, his aunt, his cousins, and his good friend, Montrose.
Oh, why did he have to have guests right at this particular moment?
Why had he thought it a good idea to invite his cousins? Of course, he could not have known he would be suddenly foisted into matrimony. He certainly wouldn’t have believed that he’d now be counting the minutes until the blasted ceremony could take place.
The truth was he wished to have Georgiana entirely to himself.
She was such a strange, strange person. He found himself longing to make study of her, to discover her likes and dislikes, and to see what sort of young woman she was, aside from what he knew about her already, which was to say very little.
Of one thing he was certain. Georgiana Bly evoked a deep passion and excitement in him no one else had ever stoked before.
Wordlessly, for he never bothered with explanations, he led her to the seat next to Aunt Agatha. As his future duchess, she took the third most important position in the room, and he was happy to have her close to him. Soon, only he would take precedence over her.
But tonight, his aunt still held court at the opposite end of the semi-formal dining room.
Georgiana sat next to him across from the Earl of Montrose.
Her sister, Elizabeth, seemed to be holding her own next to Montrose, which was something that quite pleased Edward.
He wanted Georgiana to be supported by her sister. And given the nimble ability of Miss Elizabeth, he felt certain she would have it.
His cousins scowled at each other, shocked to be so out-played by someone so, in their opinion, beneath them.
The Earl of Montrose smiled, his eyes positively winking in the candlelight as he eyed Elizabeth. And Montrose gave Georgiana a curious stare.
“Your cheeks are most flushed, Miss Bly,” the earl observed. “Is the room too warm for your liking?”
Georgiana’s shoulders went back a little bit, but she met the earl’s gaze easily. “Oh, no. Not at all,” she replied without pause. “I just find myself to be in particularly good spirits.”
At that, Edward found himself even more pleased. It had been on the tip of his tongue to rescue her from any potential embarrassment. After all, he knew exactly what Montrose was intimating. But Georgiana had not been put out of sorts in the slightest.
“Och, I’m glad to hear you’re in such good spirits,” Montrose enthused. “Thornfield here does’na always put people into a good mood.”
“Indeed?” Georgiana queried as the servants began to do a silent, smooth dance of serving the first course. “I find him to be most pleasurable.”
“You find him pleasurable, eh?” Montrose said.
“Indeed, I do,” Georgiana replied, taking up her spoon. “He is a most intriguing fellow, and clearly believes strongly in certain things.”
“Well, that’s true enough,” Montrose drawled as he sipped ruby wine from a crystal glass. “But isn’t that true of everyone?”
Edward watched silently, curious as to how the two might get on.
“I think it’s particularly true of the Duke of Thornfield,” Georgiana affirmed. “He has a passion that cannot be denied.”
Edward almost smiled, something that he was rarely given to do but had been more inclined to do so of late, with Georgiana around. He liked his future wife and such a declaration.
She saw him as passionate, did she?
She was perhaps the only person who did in the entirety of the realm.
It was a new way of thinking about himself, and a way that he discovered he liked. Very much indeed.
Chapter Fourteen
The
Duke of Thornfield was a mystery to her.
At one moment, he was cold and distant, the next, passionate as any flame. Now, here at dinner, again, he was controlled, completely in his element, and everyone paid court to him.
Even his rather interesting friend, the Earl of Montrose, paid Thornfield his due.
She was very tempted to tease her future husband, to see how he might react, but such a thing would not be kind. There seemed to be something about him that just did not, in company, handle such oddity.
He was so used to being deferred to that anyone who might tease him, she suspected, simply did not. It also seemed to her, he was not given to the nuances of siblings and such banter.
Her sister, on the other hand, was having a most marvelous time discussing life at sea with the Earl of Montrose.
The Scottish man’s wild mane had been tamed somewhat about his rugged face, which was a deep bronze, likely from hours on his ship.
Georgiana listened, agog at the very idea.
How exciting it must be to go on adventures as he did.
Likely, she would never do such things. Still, she’d have more adventure as the Duchess of Thornfield than as a girl in a library.
“You look suddenly perplexed, my dear. Is something wrong with the soup?” the duke’s aunt asked.
“No, no,” Georgiana said. “The soup is most delicious. I’ve never had such a delightful concoction. The lobster is truly wonderful.”
“I’m so glad you think so,” Lady Strathmore replied. “Some people do not like seafood.”
Georgiana wished to say some people were silly, but she didn’t wish to be rude. Even if, for all intents and purposes, it was something Thornfield had said earlier that evening.
Unlike some, she was generally excited to try new things. There was such little chance for it in her own home. They were not given to luxuries from far away or food made with such skill. She and Elizabeth had often had to do with potato soup or various broths that were within the reach of their cook’s limited capacity.
It suddenly occurred to her she would be dining on fine and elegant food for the rest of her life. She looked over at her betrothed, who was glorious to behold. She wondered if he ate sweets at all. His body was so defined and so strong that she somehow could not envision him eating even one crumb of cake.
