by Kim Bowman
He ground his teeth. Is that what she cared about? How this appeared to society? It doused his sympathy and quashed his regret. “Is this about you? Is it all about you?”
She shook her head. “N-no.” A lone tear slid down her cheek.
“No?” He advanced angrily, swiping a hand at the air. “I wasn’t betraying you with Grace.” Joy lit her eyes, brighter than the moon that peeked from behind the clouds. “Does that make you happy? That you have me wound around your sweet little finger?”
The happiness in her eyes faded, giving way to the shadow of doubt. “No,” she rasped.
“Were you spying on me?” he barked.
Georgina shook her head, and curls tumbled out of her artful arrangement of chocolate brown locks. Two long strands of silken hair nestled in the crevice of her full white bosom.
His breath caught. In spite of it all, he wanted to lay her bare and make love to her until he drove reality from their life, until nothing but sated desire remained.
Suddenly he needed her. Right or wrong. He needed her like a starving man craved food.
Adam started forward. He stopped in front of Georgina. A mere hair’s breadth separated them, but it may as well have been the Nile for all the space between them.
He pulled her into his arms, and their lips met in an explosion of angry desire. He yanked her skirts up with one hand then shoved down her undergarments. He worked the flap open on his breeches, and his shaft sprang free. Georgina moaned and reached down between them to caress his shaft. She took it in her long fingers and stroked him up and down. With a groan, he arched into her skilled hands.
He parted her thighs and — there against Lord Ashton’s stone wall, with the tinkling echo of the orchestra playing in the far distance — claimed her, plunging deep inside her welcoming heat.
Her head fell backwards as she bucked against him. Adam thrust, once, twice, their flesh slapping hard in a relentless meeting of skin. “It’s not enough,” he rasped.
He spun her around and bending her low against the balustrade nestled his manhood at the base of her buttocks. She whimpered, rocking her hips against him, searching.
“I want you.” He bit her shoulder.
She cried out.
“I want all of you, Georgina. Even as I want to hate you. I cannot.” He slipped inside inch by agonizing inch. “Tell me you want me.”
“I do,” she whimpered and with a hard thrust he pushed deep. “I’ve always wanted you.”
His eyes slid closed as her words washed over him. She could not ever love him as he loved her. Even with her deception and lies and the truth of her birth...he loved her. And he hated himself for him. She accepted every single inch of him. She squeezed him with clever inner thigh muscles, milking his shaft.
Adam flexed his hips.
Georgina gasped, buckling against him. But he wouldn’t let her fall. He gripped the sides of her hips and kept her upright, continuing to grind against her.
She pushed back as if trying to get closer to him, and it felt like blissful revenge that she should ache for him, that she was as tortured as he would be until he drew his last breath on this cruel earth. He would fuck her and leave. But for now he’d take what was his. He pumped his hips again. Hard. Punishing her with merciless strokes. She didn’t complain. She moaned loud enough to attract the notice of any person happening to pass by. He didn’t care.
“I love you,” Georgina moaned, arching against him.
He continued to plow into her, ignoring her breathy declaration.
Her head fell forward as she bowed to his masterful conquering. “I want you. Even if you do not you want me,” she breathed.
Adam nipped her lobe hard. He clenched his jaw to call back the words of love on his own lips. He could not bare himself to her. Not again.
She angled her head over her shoulder, looking at him through passion-glazed eyes. “How can someone who hates me make me feel like all I want in the world is right here?”
Ah, Georgina. I hate that you’ve lied to me. I don’t know how we can go on with all the mistruths between us. But I can never hate you.
“No more talking,” he demanded, his tone pleading to his own ears.
Adam filled his palms with her pale, plump breasts, rubbing the pebbled nipples between his thumb and forefinger. A spasm coursed through her body, and he felt it all the way to his shaft buried in her hot, honeyed core. It fueled his erection, sent blood rushing to his member.
She flung her head back, and her chocolate curls came undone in a cascade about them. “Yes, Adam!”
Adam grunted, feeling like a primal beast taming his mate. He continued to plow her. Harder. Deeper.
“Tell me you want me,” he demanded roughly, gripping her hips hard in his hands. Suddenly, it mattered very much that he knew she wanted him. He needed to know that her body and heart both ached with the same agonizing intensity.
She moaned in response. It wasn’t enough. He needed her to say it aloud. Needed her to know that for all her deceit and all her treachery, in this moment he was the one in complete and supreme control. “Tell me, Georgina,” he repeated. He pulled out of her.
She raised sooty lashes to look at him. Desire blazed in her fathomless eyes. “Only you. I only want you.” Her hips pumped as if seeking him.
He closed his eyes tight as her words washed over him and in that moment he allowed himself to believe the truth of those words. When nothing but lies had ever existed between them, he believed she’d never wanted anyone but him.
He slammed into her on a groan, his shaft convulsed in rippling tides of spent desire. Georgina’s body went rigid in his arms as she toppled over the precipice of ecstasy. Their breathy moans blended long after they’d reached sexual release.
Adam pulled away. Dropping her skirts, he stuffed himself back inside his breeches.
Georgina leaned over the balustrade, clinging to it as if it were the only thing keeping her from falling over. She panted roughly, while the round swell of her buttocks was presented to him like a carnal feast. Hunger roared through him, and his shaft stirred at the sight.
Adam swiped a hand over his eyes, agony lanced his heart. Georgina had managed to penetrate his every defense. She’d crept inside his heart, mind, and now it would seem he didn’t even have control over his body’s cravings.
Words of love died on his lips.
He had to sever this connection, or she would use it to destroy him.
“Thank you for that, sweet Georgina.”
She sucked in a gasping breath, Adam straightened his jacket…and left with a feeling that he was as cruel and evil as the men who’d imprisoned him.
~~~~
Georgina heard the steady click of her husband’s fast-retreating steps until they were no more than an echo bouncing around inside her head.
She focused on that curt, staccato rhythm for it saved her from thinking about the vile, ugly words he’d hurled at her only moments after demonstrating such beautiful mastery of her body. Stopped her from focusing on the fact that he’d taken her like a common street whore in a place where anyone could have seen them. And that she’d panted and moaned just like the whore he thought her to be.
Georgina became aware of the jagged stone biting into her flesh, cold and unyielding — just like her husband’s heart. She shoved herself back from the wall with a gasping sob. Tears fell down her cheeks and chest to stain the ground.
Her hair hung in a riot of untamed curls. She could only imagine the sight she made. If anyone were to see Adam Markham’s new wife good and tousled, as if she’d been taken against a stone wall… A cackling laugh escaped her that would surely have seen her committed to Bedlam had anyone heard it.
She buried her face in her hands and wept until her lungs ached. When she’d stumbled upon the tableau of Adam with his former love, her already broken heart had lost another layer. Then he’d confessed that nothing untoward had happened. Even though Georgina had seen them with their lips pressed a
gainst each other’s, she’d not thought of anything but his denial. What reason had Adam to lie? He’d already demonstrated he had few qualms when it came to hurting her with words. So why not let her believe he had been about to make love to Grace?
He had taken her into his arms and made almost violent love to her body. And she’d let him. Because she loved him and, shamefully, because she’d wanted it as much as he had. Mayhap more.
Now, Georgina had to acknowledge the truth—her husband would never forgive her and most certainly never love her.
She had to leave. The host’s library would no longer suit. Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, she swiped her hands across her cheeks, wiping away the evidence of her grief.
Georgina bent down to retrieve her scattered hairpins then set to work righting herself as best as possible.
“Hullo? Georgina?”
At the familiar voice, her body turned to stone. “Tony.”
He stood six feet away. He widened his eyes. The horror in green irises so much like Adam’s told her exactly how she looked with her flyaway hair and badly rumpled skirts.
When he spoke, his words were surprisingly devoid of emotion. “My brother thought it best if I had your carriage brought round.”
Her heart surged. “He did?” For all his anger, Adam had still thought of her.
Tony averted his gaze to a point beyond her shoulder. “Nick did,” he said almost apologetically.
“Oh, of course. Thank you,” she finished dumbly, as a wave of heat coursed to her cheeks. Of course her husband hadn’t thought of her after he’d stalked off. She hated the lash of pain at such a truth.
Tony held out his arm. “I know a way to the entrance that won’t take you through the ballroom.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Georgina hurried over and took his arm. She allowed him to steer her on a winding path through the house. They reached the foyer. A servant was waiting to assist her into the almost luminescent aquamarine cloak. Georgina tugged the hood up, relishing even the small protection from any potential witnesses.
She had her foot out the door when Tony called out to her. “I’m sorry,” he said gruffly.
Georgina held up a wavering hand in farewell. “Thank you for everything.”
He looked like he’d say more, so she fled to the carriage. The middle of Lord and Lady Ashton’s foyer in view of gossiping servants was no place to discuss anything.
A footman opened the door to the spacious carriage and assisted her inside.
The door jerked closed with such speed, she gasped. She pushed her hood off.
Her heart puttered to a halt then resumed beating as if she’d run a country mile. She opened her mouth to scream, but the gloved hand of a stranger covered her mouth, drowning out her plea for help.
The horses sprang forward, carting her off to certain doom.
Chapter 22
Georgina whipped her head from side to side, and managed a glance back at her captor before he had her anchored firmly in place. Her eyes widened. She clawed the large hand clamped over her mouth. Her efforts were ineffectual against Stone’s sheer strength and power. What a fool she’d been. She should have learned long ago to trust no one. No one but herself.
“Please, don’t fight,” a third, familiar voice said.
“We won’t hurt you,” Stone whispered against her ear.
In all her darkest moments, she’d expected her father or Jamie would end her. She’d never expected to face this black devil again who’d surely quash her as though she were nothing more than a gnat on his sleeve. Her teeth chattered. She flailed her arms and legs, and twisted about.
His grip slackened, and Georgina bit down hard on his hand. Even through his kid leather gloves, her teeth managed to penetrate flesh. He cursed but still held fast.
She jerked her foot down on his heel, wrestling for freedom. In the thick cloak of the carriage’s darkness, her eyes slowly adjusted and the face of her other captor shifted into sharp focus.
The Duke of Aubrey!
Chills wracked her frame as she tried to imagine the bored, lascivious nobleman’s intentions. Oh God, what did he want with her? Adam had already made it abundantly clear that he wouldn’t care what happened to her. He wouldn’t search for her. She was alone. Once again. As she’d always been.
The thought breathed life into her struggles.
“I already said I liked you, Mrs. Markham. I have no intention of harming you,” the duke drawled, seemingly bored by her show of protest. He looked to the third man, whose face was concealed in the shadows. “I’d imagine we’re far enough away to not attract notice if she screams.” He glanced back at Georgina. “They won’t, you know. Hear you, that is.”
Georgina wrenched her neck, attempting to break free of Archer.
The duke gave a curt nod, and Archer dropped his hand.
She sucked in a series of rasping breaths. What sick game were they playing with her?
“I needed to speak with you,” the duke said.
The same sense of helplessness she’d known at her father’s hands returned. There would be no one rushing to her rescue. If she were to get out of this situation, she would have to help herself. Georgina took a deep breath and collected what wits remained to her. She brushed the black curtain.
The duke frowned. “No need to look outside, Mrs. Markham.”
She dropped her hand to her lap.
“A woman of your intelligence must be curious to know what you’re doing here.”
“I had rather wondered about that,” she said. Her husky response seemed to amuse them.
They chuckled and exchanged looks.
Georgina seized the momentary distraction. She reached for the door handle.
The duke yanked her back.
“Don’t do anything foolish, Mrs. Markham. You’d be crushed beneath the wheels of the carriage,” he said, with a small frown.
Did he speak from concern or had those words contained the hint of a threat? No matter. She’d braved her father and Jamie for the course of her life, she’d not allow one such as this to intimidate her. She tipped her chin up. “What do you want?”
“Tell us about your work for Fox.”
Adam’s steely promise to see her pay for her sins surfaced. He’d turned her over to these men. She wanted to curl up in a ball and wallow in the endless depths of her misery, but she was a survivor — she had no intention of allowing them to… to do whatever it was they did with the daughters of traitors. “That isn’t an answer, Your Grace.”
Stone and Archer chuckled. The duke scowled at them and then returned his attention to Georgina. “We’ve spent several years trying to determine exactly where your loyalties lie.”
At his admission, Georgina’s stomach turned. For years, she had been closely watched by these powerful men and had been none the wiser. “You watched me?” she asked, her voice flat.
“Oh, we did more than watch you, Mrs. Markham,” the duke said matter-of-factly. “We corresponded with you. It took us some time to realize that the woman penning the notes was in fact the Fox’s daughter. You see, we couldn’t quite piece together how someone who proclaimed their support for the Crown would withhold such a vital fact.”
Staring back at the duke and the aura of power radiating from him, Georgina knew that if this man sought retribution she would stand no chance. She was a survivor. She was not, however, indestructible.
Georgina bit her lip.
He leaned forward across the seat, bringing the harsh angles of his face into sharper focus. “It is now quite clear to all of us. You are loyal, my dear.”
Georgina didn’t care to examine what her fate would be if he believed otherwise. “Who are you?”
He seemed unfazed by the impudence of her question, but ignored it nevertheless. “Do you know about your husband’s role with the Crown?”
Georgina compressed her lips into a tight line, biting back a stinging retort. The Duke of Aubrey was very nearly ro
yalty and she had to be mindful of that, but she’d not betray her husband by talking to him. “If you trust I’m loyal, Your Grace, then surely you must realize I will not disclose intimate details about my husband to you. Or anyone,” she added, glancing pointedly at the other silent figures in the conveyance.
The duke inclined his head. “Brava, my dear.” Adam’s mocking use of those very words shot through her brain, and her face contorted with pain. She yanked her gaze away.
The duke was far too perceptive not to detect her show of emotion.
“Your husband was informed about your father.”
Gooseflesh dotted her arms. Understanding dawned, dark and ugly. “You told him,” she breathed.
“As I said, you are intelligent,” the duke complimented. He did not, however, apologize.
Georgina wanted to reach across the carriage and shake him until he hurt as much as she was hurting. “Why would you do that? Who are you that you would destroy…?”
Our happiness.
The duke arched a single black brow. “Surely you didn’t intend to live the rest of your life as a lie? Would you deceive him forever?”
Damn him for being right. Yet… that was just what she’d hoped—that she and Adam could live out their lives with the simple omission of her birthright. She’d even begun to believe that her father and Jamie would dissolve into nothing more than an empty memory… until Jamie had reappeared, dashing those hopes.
Georgina swiped a weary hand across her face. “What do you want?”
The duke didn’t miss a beat. “I’d like to enlist your help.”
“My help?” How could she possibly help the Duke of Aubrey?
“The Irish radicals are getting close to staging their revolt. I need to prevent that.”
Georgina fisted her hands at her side. So this was what the Duke of Aubrey wanted of her. He wanted her to betray her father. Over the years, she’d told herself she hated him. She’d contemplated all the vile atrocities he’d carried out and had readily believed she could see him brought to justice. She just wasn’t sure if she could be the person to put the noose around his neck.
