Georgette suppressed a shiver. “Was his neck also broken?”
“No. With Vesta, that was a mercy of sorts. As if the killer didn’t want her to suffer, but he did want her to asphyxiate.” Nathaniel shook his head. “With Mr. Bagley, it seems as if the killer didn’t mind causing him pain.”
Trying to penetrate the mind of a murderer was an uncomfortable place. Unlike the room where Georgette now found herself. “Where are we?”
“I keep a little pied-à-terre in Cheapside. It suits my purposes when I want to be in London, but I’m not keen on staying at the family town house.” He stood and paced the room like a caged lynx, raking a hand through his hair. “Don’t worry. No one fashionable could possibly know you’re here.”
“I’m not concerned for fashion and you know it.”
“You should be.” He rounded on her and leaned down to face her, nose to nose. “A woman in your position should fill her days with trips to the milliner and taking tea with the patronesses of Almack’s instead of traipsing about Covent Garden fretting about the lives of whores.”
She leaned away from him so far she lost her balance and flopped back onto the feather tick. Didn’t he realize the life he was prescribing for her sounded empty as a pit? “Do not presume to tell me what to do.”
“Someone sure as hell needs to. Georgette, don’t you realize I could have been someone intent on doing you real harm?”
“Real harm?” Since when was seducing her out of her maidenhead not considered harm? “After last night, I find your concern for my welfare a tad misplaced.”
He lifted a cynical brow. “You’re not trying to blame me for that, are you? As I recall, you’re the one who came to my bedchamber.”
Drat the man, he was right, but she wasn’t about to admit it to him.
“I will allow that I seduced you,” Nathaniel said, easing down beside her and leaning on one elbow. He reached over with his other hand and traced the lacy edge of her bodice. A wicked little thrill trailed after his touch. “But you made the choice to come to me.”
He leaned down and kissed her.
She hated herself for not turning her face away, but she couldn’t bear not to feel his mouth on hers. Every time Nathaniel Colton kissed her, the world tilted a bit further on its axis and she imagined a future where she wasn’t destined to bear a royal heir or spend her years smiling woodenly at the collective nonsense that was life at court.
The only trouble was the life Nathaniel seemed to want for her sounded just as hollow. She was expected to be purely ornamental when she longed to be useful.
But if he were at the center of that conventional existence, might she be able to bear it? Better yet, might she be able to change things so she could have him and a higher purpose?
When he finally released her lips, she was halfway to believing her fantasy was possible. But that didn’t change the fact that he’d made off with her as if he were a common highwayman and she an ill-gotten bauble he’d exchange for coin later.
“I made the choice to come to your room last night, I’ll admit it. But I’m not here now by my own choice,” she reminded him.
“No, you’re not, but it’s for your own good. You want a bit of schooling on the ways of the world. Being a marquis’s daughter only matters to some. There are others who would do as I’ve done and worse.”
She snorted. “What more could they do to me?”
“Trust me, Georgie, you don’t want to know.”
A dark shadow passed behind his eyes and she wondered what malignant memory streaked by for him. Something from his days in the war? Remembrance of the nights of debauchery after he returned from the disaster at Maubeuge? Whatever it was, it clearly grieved him.
If he wished to speak of it, she’d listen, but she wouldn’t try to pry it out of him. Her favorite tutor had been fond of saying that every soul in the world bore a secret too deep for the telling. If you only knew it, the knowing would break your heart.
And it might break the heart of the one who shared it to know that you, too, were now burdened with the weight of it.
Some things were not meant to be spoken aloud. Like festering things in the earth, they were too terrible for sunlight. They were things each person must work out in fear and trembling for themselves until finally the demons were, if not cast out, at least stilled.
She’d never really understood that tutor till now.
“What will you do with me?” she asked in a small voice.
A crooked smiled lifted one corner of his mouth. “An interesting conundrum. A bound woman presents a number of fascinating possibilities.”
He began to undo the row of buttons that marched down the center of her bodice. Much as her nipples tingled at his fingers’ nearness, nothing had changed since last night.
He still hadn’t spoken a word of love to her. And however much her body wept for him, she couldn’t allow him to take her again if their joining was of no more import to him than if he’d been a stallion covering a mare.
“Please don’t,” she said.
She didn’t know whether to be glad or sad when his hand hovered between one button and the next. But in that slice of a moment, it occurred to her that she knew why Nate had not spoken of love.
“You’re sad that I’m not Anne,” she blurted out.
“No. I know full well who you are, Georgette.” He studied her face as if he were committing her to memory. “I’m the one I’m not sure of. All I know for certain is that I’m not the same man who loved Anne. He’s dead. I think he died in France. Or maybe he was dead before he went there and just hadn’t had the good sense to fall down yet.”
There it was again. That shadow. The specter of something unspeakable hung over them for a moment.
“I’m not a very good man, Georgette,” he said as he worked the knot that held her arms fast. “I’m sure that’s no news to you.”
She started to protest, but he covered her lips with two fingers.
“Let me get this out and then you can berate me all you like.” He finished untying her and rubbed her arms to make sure the circulation was restored. “You see, no matter how terrible a man is, sometimes he can’t help but lift his gaze above himself.”
The adoration in his dark blue eyes surprised her.
“I’m no angel,” she whispered.
“Thank God,” he said devoutly. “If you were, I’d never find the courage to tell you…that I have feelings for you.”
Her heart threatened to hammer its way out of her ribs. “How did you reach this astonishing conclusion?”
“With great difficulty.”
“Careful. You’ll turn my head with such flattery.”
He made a low growl of disgust in the back of his throat. “I’m doing this all wrong. What I mean is, you’re not like anyone else I’ve ever known. You don’t fit any of the rules.”
“I rather think you’re not overburdened with a need to follow them either. Else I wouldn’t find myself a prisoner in Cheapside.”
“I won’t keep you here if you want to leave.” Despite his words, he covered her body with his, careful to prop himself up on his elbows. She welcomed the weight of him.
“But I want you to stay,” Nathaniel said as he gazed down at her. “Always. I love you, Georgette.”
There were still questions, still gaps in the tenuous bridge he’d built between them, but she suddenly felt no need to ask him anything else. He was here. She was here. It was enough.
His mouth found hers and teased her lips till she opened to him. She answered him, groaning into his mouth, all her pent-up frustration melting into the wonder of his lips on hers.
His fingers tangled themselves in her hair. Then he pulled her head back so his mouth could trace the curve of her jaw and down her neck to the hollow at the base of her throat.
He loves me.
A weight lifted from her, leaving her feeling slightly giddy, as if she’d drunk too much sherry on an empty stomach. Her fingers plucked at
the buttons of his waistcoat. She swept his jacket from his shoulders.
He raised up to divest himself of the garments, then paused to look back down at her.
“No, don’t stop now,” she said and sighed with pleasure when he returned so she could unbutton his shirt.
His blessed mouth danced over her collarbone to the tops of her breasts where the lace of her bodice strafed her tender skin. Only a few inches down and a thin couple layers of fabric separated her nipples from his lips. When he straightened to look down at her, she wanted to grasp him by the ears and pull him back to those aching tips, but something in his gaze stopped her.
“What? What is it, Nate?”
“I want to see you.” His eyes flashed feral in the dimness. “Let me look at you, love.”
With breathless tenderness, he rose from the bed and pulled her to her feet so he could undress her completely. She surrendered to his capable fingers. Pieces of her wardrobe fluttered to the hardwood around her like leaves in autumn, a glove here, her lacy stays there.
She bit her lip to keep from whimpering with need when he reached under her hem to ungarter her stockings and roll them down. When she finally stood before him in nothing but her chemise, he tugged at the silk ribbon tie between her breasts. The knot unraveled under his clever fingers.
Georgette unraveled too. He spread the opening of her chemise wider till both her breasts were exposed, tight-tipped and throbbing for his touch.
“My God, you’re beautiful, Georgie.” Nate ran a finger down the valley between her breasts. Then he traced lazy circles around each of them and cupped them as he kissed her again.
That now familiar downward pull in her belly throbbed in earnest. His thumb flicked over a nipple, sending a jolt of heat from her breast to her womb.
“I want to see you too,” she gasped as she tugged his shirt from his trousers. He bent to help her whip it over his head. She let the shirt fall from her grasp.
Georgette was no artist, but she recognized fine symmetry and elegance of line when she saw it. “I never thought it of a man before, but you’re beautiful too.”
Nathaniel stood before her, his muscles bunched and hard. Even in the dim light, Georgette saw half a dozen shiny scars marring his torso and arms, old wounds from his days as a soldier.
She lifted a tentative hand to the one that sliced across his chest, missing one of his brown nipples by a hair’s breadth.
“Does it hurt?” she whispered.
“Not now.”
She pressed her lips against the scars, one by one. She wished she could kiss away the horror behind them all. As she kissed his old hurts, her nipples brushed against him, sending the tight knots into an agony of wanting.
He trembled under her mouth.
When her kisses traveled down his ribs, his breath hissed in over his teeth. Still, he held himself in check and let her explore. She kissed his navel, darting her tongue into the small indentation.
He groaned aloud.
She brushed the bulge in the front of his trousers with her breasts and he pulled her upright to kiss her again.
Hard this time. His hands slid over her, this time bunching her chemise in his fist, rucking up the yards of material to bare her legs and buttocks. His fingers grasped her bum and pressed her against his feverish body.
His heat flowed into her, melting her insides.
Burned alive and not caring one whit.
Nate released her mouth long enough to pull the chemise over her head. She stood naked before him, but seeing the slack-lidded passion on his face, she felt no need to cover herself. It didn’t occur to Georgette to be ashamed.
Instead she worked furiously at the buttons over his hips. She ran her hands down the loosened sides of his trousers, tugging them down his thighs along with his smallclothes. She reveled in his warm, hard flesh and the tiny hairs tickling her palms.
For a moment they stood breathless, drinking in the sight of each other. Nathaniel cupped her cheeks and searched her face for a moment. He didn’t need to say anything.
She could see the love in his eyes.
They came together in a flurry of kisses. The world slipped away and Georgette was aware of nothing but the glory of his skin, warm and vibrant, against hers. They fell as one back into the soft nest of the feather bed.
He stroked her everywhere—the crease of an elbow, the hollow behind her knee, the skin of her inner thigh. Every touch was potent with meaning, charged with longing. She ached to hold him inside her.
“Come to me, Nate.” She raked her nails up his ribs when he entered her slowly, moving with him, urging him in.
He finally filled her, plunging in with hard thrusts.
She looked up at him in the shadows and saw only the feral glare of a male animal in extremis. He was passion-blind as he moved within her, mindless, unable to stop. She welcomed him, raising her hips to meet each thrust.
Oh, the feel of him. Hard and strong and hot.
Blood pounded in her ears, in her womb, throbbing with life. A coil within her constricted, wound tight, stretched thin till it finally burst in bone-deep spasms. Her body shuddered its release.
Then Nate came, arching his back, and driving as deeply into her as he could. Georgette felt the warmth of his seed pulsing into her.
So much for guarding against conceiving a child, she thought absently.
It didn’t matter. Georgette gathered him close, accepting him with greediness. She wanted all of this man she could possibly hold.
He collapsed on her, nuzzling at her neck. He was still beyond speech, but she knew exactly what he meant by the low groan that escaped his lips.
Beyond the shuttered window of Nate’s Cheapside flat, the world spun on, ever faster. But there in that capacious feather bed, it had stopped its dizzying pace for a bit, spooling down to a slow, slightly wobbly roll.
Georgette decided if she never rose from that fluffy bower it would be quite all right.
Until Nathaniel uttered one word.
“Damnation.”
Twenty-eight
Mercy covered Reuben’s face with kisses. “Oh, ye’re all right. Tell me ye are.”
Blinking slowly, Reuben opened his eyes and smiled. He sat up, drawing Mercy into his arms. “I’m better than all right. I’m…I’m…”
The world began to spin a bit and his eyes threatened to roll back in their sockets, so he let himself sink back onto the fluffed up pillows. His head pounded like a pickaxe, but if that was what it took for Mercy Atwood to admit to loving him, he’d willingly accept the blows.
“I guess I am a little done in, at that,” he admitted.
“Just lie still for a bit,” she said as she extricated herself from his arms and scurried over to the dresser to fetch him a small goblet of wine. “The doctor says as ye can have a bit to drink once ye wake. First the man said water, but where in London would we find a glass of the stuff that’s fit to drink, I ask ye? So he finally allowed wine would do. The only bit of good judgment I got from the man, but ye’re sensible now, as much as ever ye were at any rate, so it seems he may have known more than I credited him.”
“And I know more than you credited me too,” Reuben said, still nearly giddy with the knowledge that she loved him. “It was your voice that woke me.”
Mercy cocked her head and slanted him a questioning gaze. “How much did you hear?”
Would she take it back now that he was fully awake and facing her?
“How should I know? A fellow can’t be expected to know what he hasn’t heard, can he?” He tipped up the goblet and drained every drop of the sweet red stuff. The vintage served at the House of Pleasures wasn’t the first-rate fare the marquis kept for his table, but Reuben figured it was just as potent. “You could have been talking for days for all I know. And changed the subject a dozen times with no help at all from me.”
“There was only one subject,” Mercy said, her expression softening. “You.”
His chest swelled and
he felt as if he could run all the way to Snowdon and back with a full barrel of water balanced on his shoulders. If only his head didn’t feel as if it was about to detach itself. “You were talking about me? Well, some folk might say that’s a mighty thin topic.”
“And yet I plan to make a study of it, and I’ll apply myself a damn sight better than I do with milady’s reading lessons.” She leaned down and gave him a smacking exclamation point of a kiss. Then she straightened suddenly. “My lady. Oh! Reuben, she’s gone missing and we have to—”
He reached up and stopped her by pressing his fingertips to her lips.
“Don’t fret. I don’t know where she’s gone, but I think I know who she’s with,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut against the drumbeat in his head.
Mercy settled on the side of the bed again, put her hands on his shoulders, and gave him a little shake. “You can’t go back to sleep now. What do you know about Lady Georgette?”
“Just that she’s likely with Lord Nathaniel.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I came into the front parlor and found Mr. Duggins had been knocked silly and then…” His eyelids were filled with lead. He couldn’t keep them open.
Someone shook him till he roused again and he looked up into Mercy’s little heart-shaped face. He smiled at her. She loved him.
“Then what, you big lummock?”
“You don’t mean that like it sounds, I know.” His own voice seemed as if it was coming from a long way away. “When you call me ‘lummock,’ it really sort of means the same as ‘dearest,’ or ‘dumpling,’ or ‘my sugary bugary bear.’”
“I’ll sugary bugary you if you don’t hurry up and get to the point,” she said, her tone sharp-edged. “Now tell me, Reuben. What happened to my lady?”
“Oh.” Her command drew him back from the soft swirl of colors behind his eyelids. “I saw Lord Nathaniel.”
“When?”
“Before he hit me. I meant to follow him up the stairs, but he must not have wanted me to.” Reuben fingered the swollen spot on the back of his head. “I don’t think he hit me here.”
Connie Mason & Mia Marlowe - [Royal Rakes 02] Page 20
