‘That’s not true,’ she protested, laughter sneaking into her voice. ‘We were taken by surprise when you visited, that’s all.’
‘I can hardly blame the animal. Luke has that effect upon first acquaintance,’ Max jested and the table broke into laughter.
The convivial mood continued, much to her pleasure, until Luke’s pointer finger traced a line along her hip, below the table’s edge and out of sight of their host and hostess on the other side. She nearly dropped her goblet and narrowly managed to set it on the damask tablecloth without a spill, her pulse in a maddening race towards an unknown finish line, one that promised daring and pleasure if she didn’t expire first.
He’d scooted his hand atop the table, undetected, though her skin tingled through layers of skirts and undergarments. She’d only just reconciled the shock of his attendance and heart-stopping handsomeness in fine dinner attire. One glimpse of his dimple and she may as well melt into her soup. She wriggled in her chair, ordering her body to relax.
‘When Nate comes home I’m ready to relent. He’s wanted a dog for some time, but I considered him too young for the responsibility. Now he can have almost anything he wants.’
The unequivocal love she detected in his words touched her soul, a tug of sympathy so strong she looked away for a moment. Of course he cared deeply for his son, she never held a doubt, but to hear this six-feet-tall, broad-statured gaming-hell proprietor avow his intentions publicly proved overwhelming and endearing. Her heart turned over.
The table grew quiet, everyone aware of the solemnity contained in Luke’s honest admittance. Then he broke the moment just as quickly.
‘Of course, I’ll not make the mistake of purchasing a pug.’
The well-timed quip reversed the mood and she laughed along with Vivienne and Max, caught unaware a second time by the weight of Luke’s palm settled atop her thigh beneath the serviette. Good lord, what did he mean to do? She could barely string a thought, never mind continue the congenial conversation. He gave her leg a deliberate squeeze and then his touch disappeared as quickly as it materialized to leave her wondering, wanting and perplexed. When she turned to him, he was addressing a question to Max, his hands busy buttering a piece of bread, the action so congruous, she questioned her sanity.
But no, her skin burned from the heat of his caress. It seemed as though she ached for his touch, everywhere, sensitive within her blasted corset, and between her legs, God help her, she grew wet and anxious. How would she eat dinner and make pleasant conversation in this condition? A tight knot of desire formed in her stomach and dared her to taste the plover eggs in caper sauce on her plate. Botheration, they hadn’t even begun the main course.
She inhaled a breath and sipped her wine. Perhaps he needed to be taught a lesson and who better than the governess at the table. Two could play at his naughty game. Certain she’d snare the tablecloth in her inexperience and bring dinner to ruin, or worse, expose her wanton behaviour, she decided upon another approach. Invention was born of necessity and, right now, she meant to provoke a bit of agitative revenge.
Dropping a slipper gently to the carpet, she inched her stockinged foot closer to his boot. Good fortune swayed in her favour. Luke had worn jackboots cut off at the ankle and that much more accessible. As her toes slid up the smooth leather her anticipation climbed in tandem. The table burst into amusement at something Max said and she used the distraction as the perfect opportunity to initiate seduction, running her toes beneath Luke’s trouser hem above his lower leg and higher to his calf, the glide of silk over hard muscle inadvertently wreaking havoc on her composure more than expected. She dashed her foot away as if she’d touched it to the fire, aware Luke had gone incredibly still, his jaw slack for an almost imperceptible moment.
Then he swung his gaze to hers, his eyes aglitter with mischief, a beatific smile complete with dimple at her bold flirtation. With surety, she resembled the salmon plated in front of her, pink in colour, filleted for all to see. Sadly, she’d lost track of any thread of current conversation although it did not escape her notice how genuine and honest these friends were with each other. The men might consider themselves lowborn and below the level of respectability, but she begged to differ. Society’s elegant circles had nothing on the strong, loyal friendship found here.
‘What has you looking flummoxed, Georgina? Are you not enjoying the meal?’ Vivienne’s voice expressed concern.
She eased past the tightness in her throat. ‘Everything is delicious.’
Luke watched her still, and something sinful sparkled in his eyes with her statement.
‘Georgina is an excellent chef,’ Luke shared. ‘In Coventry, she prepared a divine dinner of partridge and blackberry.’
His boot caught her slipper under the table, twining around her ankle in a playful nudge.
The devil.
‘That sounds wonderful. You must share your recipe with our cook before you return home.’ Vivienne bobbed her head in encouragement. ‘Although I should be more careful about what I eat. I’m beginning to waddle.’
Max chuckled at his wife’s deprecating comment and it was a good thing because Georgina had gasped, Luke’s hand again near her lap, his finger drawing tight, lazy circles on her thigh as if all those layers of cloth were nonexistent. Good heavens, how much of this could she endure? She already found breathing a deliberate task, chewing and swallowing near impossible.
‘You’re stunning.’ Max viewed his wife with unabashed adoration. ‘If you increase during the pregnancy, that gives me more of you to love.’
Georgina wished for that most of all. More than bone-melting kisses, tender compliments or even seductive flirtation under the tablecloth. She wished for someone to love her as Max did Vivienne and Luke did Nate, with such intensity that nothing and no one would ever stand in the way. It was a grand wish locked in her heart for safekeeping. One which she wondered would ever come true.
Chapter Nineteen
Clubs, spades, hearts and diamonds. Luke mentally recited the litany, a phrase he’d employed whenever he needed to summon patience. He averted his eyes to his friends across the table. How was it possible he could perceive the light scent of apricots despite the table was filled with aromatic dishes? His body intuitively sought hers, detected every nuance, demanded he paid heed. He’d located her in Coventry as a means to reclaim Nate, but now he wondered how he would let her go. What secrets did she hide? And why would he choose to complicate his life when he’d just begun to reclaim normalcy? Too many thoughts crowded his brain and he drained his wine glass in response.
When she’d walked into the room, his body jolted to awareness, demanding he ravish her there on the Aubusson carpet, one particular muscle in lead of the battle cry. He’d whispered in her ear, explored every detail of her appearance with his eyes, but that couldn’t quell his need to touch her. Too much fabric kept him from her impossibly soft skin. And her breasts, her full, delicious breasts with the hint of inviting flesh displayed above her neckline right there in front of him, procured torture. Yet he couldn’t touch, couldn’t steal a caress as he did under the table. It was enough to drive a man mad.
Dinner finished at last and, as was habit, the group retreated to the parlour for port and conversation. With Georgina’s help tomorrow, he would confront Dursley and hopefully discover the whereabouts of Nathaniel. He prayed his son was still in London or nearby, not on a packer for America, or worse, sold and bound for a faraway land. His thoughts ran all over the place because his half-brother proved a heartless cur who could not be trusted. Anyone who would steal a child had no code of conduct or moral compass to guide decision-making. As much as he repressed the worst scenarios, at times they seeped through.
But now circumstances were different.
‘If you will excuse us, Georgina and I need to discuss our plans for tomorrow.’ He glanced in her direction and she rose from the settee where he’d tasted her the night before, together finding pleasure in each other’s arms
. Did she think of it? Was it the reason she’d chosen that seat? ‘We can talk in the garden.’
‘Do not trouble yourselves,’ Vivienne hurried to answer. ‘I’m exhausted. Max and I are going abovestairs. Besides, the evening air is too chilly for a stroll. Stay in here as long as you’d like, and Luke, as you see yourself out, please mention to the butler to inspect the house and secure it for the night.’
Max led Vivienne from the room and Luke settled next to Georgina on the plush settee.
‘Are you nervous about tomorrow?’ He lifted her hand from where it rested on her skirt, enveloping it with both of his own.
‘No,’ she reassured. ‘Though I’ll be relieved when Nate is returned safely.’ She drew a short breath, as if stopping what she might have said.
‘What is it?’ Compassion and genuine kindness showed in the depths of her crystal-blue eyes. ‘Did you wish to say something more?’
She smiled a gentle curve and canted her head as if she considered her words with great care. ‘Nathaniel is a fortunate child to have you for his father.’
‘Thank you.’ Somehow their bodies had moved closer, without intention or predisposed thought. ‘And then, after tomorrow, you’ll return to Coventry.’ He exhaled fully. ‘To Lord Tucker and his son.’ He hadn’t meant for the words to come out as they did, laced with a hint of covetous ingratitude.
‘He depends upon me.’
Her words sounded forced, stiffened by the action of stating them.
Did she believe her explanation sufficed?
‘I imagine he would.’ They’d leaned closer still. Pulled by a force neither she nor he controlled. ‘But then I imagine all kinds of things.’ His mouth hovered over hers. All he need do was lower his chin, angle his head, and touch his lips to hers.
‘Knowing you has exceeded my imaginings.’ Her words were whisper-soft.
‘Has it now?’ The minx. Did she have any idea what she did to him? Another breath and his tented trousers would reveal the truth of it.
‘And your friends are fortunate as well,’ she continued.
‘You have that reversed, I’m sure.’ His answer stirred the delicate hairs at her temple.
‘Are we friends then?’ Her eyes flitted away, concealing her inner thoughts.
So close. ‘I would think a bit more than that.’
She coloured with a fetching blush, her lashes bowing down in an endearing gesture of sudden shyness. Nary a hair’s-breadth separated them now, their breath warming each other’s lips in wait of the kiss.
She whimpered, a keening sound that proved his undoing, and he crushed his mouth upon her, sliding his tongue inside to twine with hers, the embrace all at once fervent, anxious, as if the precious, elusive moment could be lost if they did not act immediately. Pleasure spiked through him, fire-hot with demand, and they melted into the kiss as a result.
She tasted like wine and woman and so many fantasies he’d played through at night alone in his bed when he’d missed her smile and voice, her company most of all. She must have perceived the same urgency, her hands coasting up to grip his shoulders as he skimmed over her curves, tracing her delicate spine to settle on her luscious bottom.
‘Georgina,’ he rasped, unable to keep hold of whatever he meant to say, his brain wiped clear of thought and reason, his body acting on primal physical need. Perhaps he merely wished to murmur her name, prove she was real in his arms.
She broke away, her breath in shallow puffs, her hair mussed in the most delightful way. She looked like she’d just tumbled from his bed and the erotic image hardened his cock. He wanted her. All of her. The truth undeniable.
How had he become so enchanted in nothing more than a few weeks?
He wasted no energy on the riddle, his mind useless at the moment. He threaded his fingers through her hair, losing another set of hair pins to the carpet, promising himself with some otherworldly cognizance he would purchase her new ones. Hundreds if it made her happy. And then he would joyfully cast them away.
He watched the slide of his fingers through the lengths. Shallow firelight in the hearth lent a gleam to the strands, myriad colours, rich sable, mahogany and chestnut. Every time he admired her hair he noticed richer hues. He fought against need until at last his brain resurrected its function and he forced a deep breath in search of clarity.
‘I’d like nothing more than to take you against these cushions. Lower you under me, gather up your skirts and answer the unassailable captivation that has not abandoned its command since the first time I laid eyes on you.’ He breathed a tremulous inhale. ‘But until we’ve accomplished our goal, sweet Georgina…’ He traced a fingertip across her cheekbone and then down, skimming over her kiss-swollen lips. ‘…I dare not do a thing to discombobulate emotion.’
Her wide eyes searched his face and she placed a quiet kiss to his lips. ‘I understand.’
‘I knew you would.’ He smiled, a grin that shined inward as well as out. He smoothed her hair from her cheek, not quite ready to stop touching her, allowing his breathing to even before he forced himself to separate their embrace.
‘I will be ready first thing tomorrow morning.’
Did she mean to reassure him? The lady was precious indeed.
‘Have you decided how we will proceed?’
She continued and straightened her skirts. The gesture seemed intimate in an entirely different way than they’d experienced within their kiss. As if he watched his wife prepare for a social event or, more entrancing, ready for bed within their rooms. He measured the observation, pleased with the overall fit, and found another smile.
‘Yes, I’ve worked out the details. I’ll summon Dursley to the hell under the belief I’m returning his journal.’ Her brows furrowed and he waved away the impending question, dismissing explanation as unimportant. ‘Then I shall confront him with what I know, explain how I’ve sought you out and your willingness to collaborate testimony. You may watch from the window in my office without him ever knowing you’re inside The Underworld.’ He paused and stood to create distance as he further unfolded his plans. ‘If Dursley realizes he is well and caught, you may not ever have to face him, but if my half-brother proves as thick-skulled as usual, your appearance will solidify my threat to call upon the magistrate and thereby force his hand to reveal Nate’s whereabouts.’ His voice dropped lower as he continued, the conclusion most vital.
‘It shall resolve.’ She stared into his eyes. ‘I believe it so.’
‘I hope that’s true.’ He held her gaze. ‘Otherwise, all is lost.’
The sun shone with promise the following morning and Georgina hardly ate, the breakfast tray provided in her guestroom unappealing in light of the goal ahead. A carriage arrived to take her to The Underworld and, after a brief exchange with Vivienne and a hug of well-wishes, she climbed into the conveyance and worked to calm the drumming beat of her heart. She told herself it was nothing more than a kindness for a friend, a courtesy she offered to help someone with a problem before she would meet with her sister and solve her tangled predicament, but she was far too clever to fall for transparent foolery.
The coach rumbled to a stop before she could explore the issue further and she hurried up the stone steps, the panel opened and closed in less than an exhale. She followed Luke past his office to a short row of windows in the far hallway, a view of Bond Street offered below. As much as she wished to placate or comfort, she knew better than to speak a word. She couldn’t imagine the turmoil of his uncertainty, but she tried anyway. When had his worriment become her own? Weeks ago in Coventry, most certainly.
‘He’s here.’ Luke didn’t say more and didn’t have to, his face half hidden in shadow, his shoulders taut with apprehension, though anger rolled off him in waves.
She followed him to his office where he deposited her in front of the glass window, the curtains furled so she had visual access to the gambling floor. Then, with a touch to her elbow, he left, unwilling to waste another moment. She wouldn’t be able to
hear their conversation, but that mattered not at all. She could read Luke’s face and understand his mannerisms as though they were her own.
The door below opened and her breath caught. Luke came through the threshold first, followed by two men, not one as she’d expected. She assumed the first gentleman to be Viscount Dursley, a vague similarity between him and Luke evident, but her breath snagged as soon as she saw the second gentleman. It couldn’t be. Her heartbeat quickened to an unnatural pace.
Lord Ferguson, an associate of her father and a family friend, entered behind the viscount. Botheration, she could never proceed to the hell floor and offer support if needed. Of all the men in England, why had Dursley brought an acquaintance and why did it need be someone she knew personally? She turned from the window and back again, as if she’d witnessed an aberration and it would now reveal itself a trick of her mind, but no. The three men stood in heated conversation. Luke’s fury showed in his every action and, though it was all silent pantomime, the reverberation of the exchange seemed to tremble in her soul. She needed to move closer. Luke’s idea of keeping her safely tucked above spoke highly of his consideration, but it also rendered her helpless.
Pressed tight against the glass, she watched as Luke produced a book from his breast pocket and slapped it onto Dursley’s chest. All the while Ferguson remained a step behind, his occasional interjection she could not imagine. Ferguson represented exposure and exposure meant surrender once word spread of the scandal. If she entered the fray, as a close confidant of her father’s, Ferguson would be off to report of her appearance without second thought. She needed to make a choice, sacrifice staring her in the face, her own reflection on the glass. In truth, her detriment was little cost in comparison with the strength of her love for Luke, wasn’t it? She could never live with herself were she to prevent a reunion with his child.
Decision made, she started towards the door, tired of running and at the same time fearful of discovery. She would risk her own future, just as she had once already, for Luke, and for love. Still, her previous actions complicated more than repaired problems. While she yearned to resolve her future on her own terms without the influence and interference of her family, it would take little work for her father to track her down, or worse, place trouble at the doorstep of The Underworld once Ferguson revealed her whereabouts. Her heart twisted as she entered the hall, emotions at war with logic, unsure of her decision as she dashed away.
The Last Gamble Page 19
