Romancing the Rogue

by Kim Bowman

  Signed,

  A Loyal British Subject

  Chapter 12

  I can be your mistress.

  Adam had to remind himself to breathe. His body stiffened, and an uncomfortable ache settled in his groin. Throughout his captivity, he’d longed for her, but then there had been Grace and because of that—his love for her, his honor—he’d not succumbed to his base desires. Instead, he’d tortured himself with thoughts of her pale, white thighs quivering as he stroked her center. He’d imagined himself plunging into her heat.

  Now she was offering herself to him. He needn’t wed her. So why did he persist? Because she didn’t feel worthy of him. That much was clear. Considering Nurse Talbert’s condescension and Nick’s priggish treatment of her thus far, what would she feel any differently?

  Jagged fury slashed through him. Georgina had braved more than lauded war heroes. She was a better person than all members of the haute ton combined. It was he who didn’t deserve her. And, suddenly, it was very important that she say yes to his suit. For reasons he didn’t fully understand or care to examine.

  “I don’t want you to be my mistress. I want you to be my wife.”

  She troubled her lower lip, the ruby-red flesh he had dreamed about. “Why?”

  Her question brought him up short. He suspected his answer would determine hers. “When I…left Bristol, I tortured myself imagining the worst. I…” He looked beyond her shoulder, seeing the chambers that had served as his prison. “I feared they’d killed you, and the thought of that almost killed me. I looked for you. I need you to know that. I didn’t forget you.”

  A brown tendril escaped the harsh bun at the base of her neck. She brushed it away. “I—I know.” The strand bounced right back, refusing to be tamed.

  It didn’t take an expert spy to detect the lie in her words. He caught the dark curl, rubbing the silky tendril between the pad of his thumb and forefinger. He brought it to his nose, and inhaled the pure, clean lemony scent that was Georgina.

  She’d thought he’d abandoned her. He tried to imagine the terror she must have felt as a young woman without references, family, or money. Most women would have dissolved into a puddle of nothingness. Not Georgina. Sweet, determined, resourceful Georgina. At one time, he’d thought her weak. How wrong he’d been. There was a resolute determination in her to survive. She’d stared down some of the most unimaginable horrors and still managed to retain the aura of innocence and beauty that all but radiated from her.

  Finally, he found the words to her question. “Georgina, I care very deeply about what happens to you. After I’d been freed, I recalled your smile, your laughter, your pain. And I yearned to see you again. So marry me. I promise I’ll never hurt you, and I’ll tear any man who tried limb from limb.”

  Georgina’s lids fluttered like the delicate wings of a butterfly. His eyes roved a path across her heart-shaped face, settling on her full lips.

  He leaned down and claimed them as his, searching, tasting. He explored the flesh, sucking at her slightly fuller bottom lip and, when a breathy moan escaped her, swept his tongue into the moist cavern of her mouth. Adam settled his hands on her hips, dragging her close to him, his swollen shaft pressing against the soft flesh of her belly. She cried out, and her tongue met his in a violent parry and thrust.

  He tugged her skirts up, caressing the silky skin of her thighs, cupping her buttocks. Her whimper melded with his groan in a symphony of erotic delight. For too long, he’d imagined plunging his shaft deep inside her. Now, there was nothing stopping him. There was no Grace. No sense of honor. No—

  A knock sounded in the room like a gunshot. “Adam?” Nick called out. The interruption killed Adam’s desire faster than being dumped head first into the Thames.

  Adam yanked his lips away from Georgina’s with a violent curse. Her chest heaved, and her lashes fluttered against the pale skin of her cheeks. God, he wanted to kiss her again. Craved it like a starving man did food. He lowered his head—

  Nick’s peevish tone penetrated the hard oak door again. “Adam?”

  It seemed to shock Georgina back to the moment. Her body stiffened against his, and she made to pull away.

  He held firm.

  A lone brown curl fell across her eye. Brushing back the silken strand, he dropped a final kiss on her brow. Her eyes widened and the remaining color faded from her cheeks. She looked like a woman about to battle a beast, armed with little more than her pride.

  And he knew. He sucked in a breath. This is why he wanted to marry her. Not out of any silly sense of obligation. Not because she was alone in the world, though that would have been reason enough. He wanted to marry her because of her strength. Her goodness. Her courage. Adam trailed a finger over her jawline, tipping her chin upward, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Marry me, Georgina. I’ll take care of you.”

  She wet her lips. “I—”

  “Adam, if you don’t open this door, by God, I’m coming in—”

  Adam growled. “Go to hell.” He tossed the insult over his shoulder.

  A shocked gasp met his curse. Then silence.

  Adam rested his forehead against Georgina’s, sending a silent entreaty to the gods.

  It would appear the gods were otherwise engaged.

  The door opened, admitting his mother. Nick stood over her shoulder, arms folded, his mouth set in a hard, flat line of earlish disapproval. He slammed the door behind them, the reverberations echoing off the walls.

  His mother’s shrewd gaze narrowed in on Georgina. She pursed her lips. “What is the meaning of this, Adam?”

  ~~~~

  Georgina wanted the floor to open up beneath her feet. She wanted it to swallow her whole, and then have the carpet pulled above her mortified body for good measure.

  Meeting green eyes so like Adam’s, and so filled with stinging rebuke, robbed Georgina of breath. Attired in Wedgewood blue satin skirts trimmed with fine lace, the tall and gracefully elegant woman could only be Adam’s mother.

  She jerked her gaze away. Only to have it land on the earl of Whitehaven’s lowered brows, the pinched tension around his narrow lips.

  The years and years of her father’s sneering looks and hurtful barbs threatened to sweep her away into a sea of old hurts — hurts that still stuck like pinpricks.

  Standing beside Adam, with the hard muscles in his chest straining the fabric of his jacket, she should have found solace. Instead, it only served to remind her of her own inadequacies and failings.

  Then Adam slipped his hand into hers. His warmth pumped strength and support into her trembling fingers.

  “Good afternoon, Mother,” Adam drawled.

  The countess frowned. She cast another glance at Georgina. “Adam,” she murmured.

  Apparently, the earl had tired of false pleasantries. “For the love of God, release that woman’s hand now.”

  Georgina’s toes curled in her boots.

  You are worthless, Georgina.

  She swallowed, almost choking on the memories.

  Father is not here. He is gone. You are free of him and the pain he caused you.

  When she shoved back the pall of her father’s memory, she became aware of the quiet enfolding the room.

  She stole a peek from the corner of her eye. Adam studied her through hooded lids. Fury melded with something else; something that looked remarkably like…love.

  “Mother, would you tell Nicholas that if he disrespects Miss Wilcox one more time, I will lay him flat on this office floor?”

  The countess tapped a finger on the edge of her skirts. “Perhaps this might be a good time to introduce me to…what did you say it is? Miss Wilcox?”

  “He’ll do no such thing!” the earl barked. He took a step forward. “This woman is a maid.” He cast a glance toward the door, as if fearing that some passing servant should hear the horror of all horrors.

  The countess showed no outward reaction, with the exception of her elegantly arched golden eyebrow. “Is this true, Ada
m?”

  Adam’s fingers tightened around Georgina’s. She winced from the pain of his grip. He immediately loosened his hold but did not release her. “She is a nurse. And,” he looked down at Georgina, holding her eyes with his, “I’m going to marry her.”

  Silence met his pronouncement.

  His mother inclined her head. “Is that so?”

  Georgina pulled her hand free. “No!” She couldn’t marry him. Not with all the lies between them. When he finally heard her confession, he would withdraw his offer faster than her racing heart.

  Adam glowered at her. “I’m marrying her. With or without approval.” That statement was directed at the earl.

  Georgina expected a vitriolic outburst from the staid nobleman.

  It did not come.

  “Is…” His mother paused and, for a moment, her mouth opened and closed like a trout out of water. “Is there a reason for…for haste?” she finished, ever so hesitantly.

  The meaning was quite clear. Heat flooded Georgina’s cheeks.

  Adam shook his head. “There is no child.”

  “Thank God,” the earl muttered beneath his breath.

  She failed to hear the heated conversation that ensued.

  A child. Suddenly, the cold within her melted beneath a single frisson of warmth. It flickered like a small flame in her womb, spiraling, and spinning, and catching her afire. It grew and grew — the longing for a child sucked her into its fold, and she embraced it, wrapped herself around it, letting it consume her.

  She wanted this marriage. Needed it for reasons that were entirely selfish. Not all of which had to do with her and Adam, but also for the hope and dreams of a child. Yearning filled her — for the unborn child she would cradle to her breast, love, and protect with all her heart. In her mind, the babe had the look of a cherub; he had Adam’s pale golden curls and moss-green eyes. He was so real. So close, she wanted to reach out and caress his satiny skin. Her child. A person who would love her unconditionally. A person she would never fail. Not as her own mother and father had failed her.

  “Georgina?”

  She jumped, her heart racing.

  Three pairs of eyes were leveled on her.

  Adam claimed her hand. “If you don’t wish to wed me, I will not force you. But I—”

  Selfish, greedy creature that she was, Georgina’s answer sprang to her lips. “Yes!”

  The earl cursed.

  She ignored him. “I want to marry you. I…that is, if you still want to wed me. I—”

  Adam held a finger to her lips, silencing her. “I’m marrying you, love.”

  Georgina smiled. It would appear that sometimes people like her managed to find their own slivers of heaven, after all. Reality jabbed at the corners of her heart, but she forced doubt away. She shared her father’s blood, but they were not the same person. And she would be a good wife to Adam.

  Wife.

  Still the guilt twisted within her.

  “We’ll need to prepare her for London,” the countess was saying, her mouth pinched at the corners. “We’ll need to have a story for Miss Wilcox.” She looked at Georgina. “I imagine since you are to be my daughter-in-law, it would be appropriate for me to address you by your first name.”

  “Georgina.”

  “This is madness!” the earl shouted. He took two steps toward Georgina, jabbing a finger in her direction. “This woman isn’t fit to grace the front stoop of this townhouse, let alone marry Adam. This—”

  Adam had his brother by the collar of his shirt. The countess cried out, but fury thrummed through him. He dragged his brother up until they were eye to eye. “Do not say one more word. If you value me as a friend and brother, you will quit your insults. I’m marrying her.” He released the earl so suddenly the other man stumbled back, gasping for breath.

  “You’d choose this… this interloper over me?” he asked, a solemnity to that question.

  “I would.”

  Georgina’s heart lodged in her throat.

  Oh God, I do not deserve him. He is good and loyal and I am destroying the bond he shares with his brother.

  She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She tried to force them up through her constricted throat. To no avail.

  The earl took a step toward Adam, eyes ablaze with fury.

  But the countess placed a staying hand on his arm. “Stop,” she murmured. “It is done.”

  The other man wrenched free. “Surely you cannot agree to this! We know nothing about her.” He used the word as if discussing the lowest whore from the streets of London. He looked at Georgina, his eyes shooting sparks of fury and distrust. “She will hurt you, Adam. Mark my words. This woman is not to be trusted.”

  Georgina curled her fingers into tight balls. Jagged nails bit painfully into the palms of her hand, leaving indentations of guilt. The earl was right. Adam deserved better than a deceitful creature like her. Moments ago, she’d managed to silently convince herself that her birthright didn’t matter, had tried to separate herself from Father and Jamie’s treachery. Though she’d trade her right hand for this marriage, she couldn’t trap Adam this way. A confession sprang to her lips.

  Adam placed his hands upon her shoulders. “You don’t know anything about her. She is good, loyal, and loving. And you aren’t fit to touch the heels of her boots.”

  Screeching silence followed that definitive proclamation.

  The earl’s head whipped back as if he’d been punched on the chin. “Very well. I see how it is to be then.” He pinned Georgina with a final glare full of icy loathing. Then he spun on his heel and stormed from the room.

  The countess bowed her head. “Welcome to the family, my dear,” she said.

  The United Irishmen have been stalled by talks of peace between France and Britain. Now Fox and Hunter alternate their time between interrogating Mr. Markham and searching for centers of Irish support.

  Signed,

  A Loyal British Subject

  Chapter 13

  They were married two days later.

  For all his brother’s protestations, he’d still agreed to procure a special license from the Archbishop of Canterbury allowing the banns to be waived, even if it was, as Adam suspected, to avoid public notice.

  Georgina stood across from him, attired in a pale yellow gown. In spite of the dark glower Nick directed her way, an ethereal smile graced her bow-shaped lips. With the flecks of gold dancing in her eyes, she had the look of a fey fairy creature. In all the time he’d known Georgina, he’d seen her smile, laugh, but never had he seen this unabashed joy.

  The vicar turned a page in his book, though he did not even glance down at it. “I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment, why ye may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony, ye do now confess it. For be ye well assured, that so many as are coupled together otherwise than God’s Word doth allow are not joined together by God; neither is their Matrimony lawful.”

  Adam held his breath, half-expecting a barrage of protestations from Nick. They didn’t come. With a smile, he glanced down at Georgina. His gut clenched.

  Her cheeks had gone a sickly ashen gray, her eyes bore a tragic glimmer. Then she blinked, and it was gone.

  Her smile was firmly back in place, but the skin at the corners of her lips was stretched tight. He gave his head a clearing shake. Anyone’s happiness would be marred with Nick glaring holes of disapproval at their back.

  The vicar cleared his throat, and Adam yanked his gaze away from his bride. “Wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded Wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

  Love her. Comfort her. Keep her in sickness and in health.

  Georgina worried her lower lip between her teeth,
and it struck him like a bolt of lightning…she thought herself unworthy. She didn’t believe herself deserving of his vows.

  Oh, Georgina, my heart.

  “I will,” he said, willing her to hear the promise in those two words.

  The vicar turned to Georgina. She balanced on the tiptoes of her yellow satin slippers, like a bird poised to take flight. For the span of a single moment, he thought she might turn and flee. He sucked in a ragged breath as he faced the realization — he wasn’t marrying her out of any sense of obligation. He needed her just as much as she needed him. Mayhap more. She’d sustained him at his darkest time and even now, when the nightmares came, it was Georgina’s face that called him back to the living and kept him breathing.

  Breaking with custom, he reached for her gloved hand. The vicar’s shocked gasp blended with Mother’s. He ignored them. His touch seemed to infuse courage into Georgina. Her spine stiffened. The tension in her mouth eased, and her lips parted. A gentle sigh escaped her.

  And the ceremony continued. When it came time for Georgina to recite her vows, she looked up at him. Everyone and everything else fell away — Nick’s heated anger, Tony’s grin of amusement, Mother’s quiet concern. The vicar’s words faded to a droning murmur.

  She would be his wife. Prior to this moment, he’d not really wrapped his brain around the reality of it. He’d only ever entertained the prospect of marriage to Grace Blakely. Yet when he’d learned of her betrayal, he’d crushed thoughts of the future.

  But Georgina, he wanted her with a need that threatened to shatter him.

  The ceremony ended as it had begun. With silence. Even Tony had become a reserved bundle of formality. There was no breakfast. No well wishes. And, God help him, just then he hated his family for not welcoming Georgina into their fold.

  He took Georgina by the arm and steered her from the room, past the unsmiling faces. She let out a startled squeak, but he didn’t stop. He’d not allow them to mar this day. Georgina didn’t deserve a wedding that felt more like a funeral. They could all go hang.