“I trust you had a pleasant evening, Georgiana,” he smiled.
18
“Nicholas,” she said, her voice strained. “What are you doing here?”
The question, although valid, was completely ridiculous, given the circumstances.
“Beholding a miracle, I imagine,” he said, and rose from the bed to stand up and approach her.
He circled behind her and she remained still under his scrutiny, completely at a loss as how to proceed further. It really wasn’t up to her, she supposed. He came to stand in front of her.
“May I ask, Georgiana, is there some aspect of your character which is real or are you all deceit and willfulness as your mother claimed?”
She flinched at his words.
“I wasn’t sure at first,” he said. “I watched you up there above the dance floor, thinking myself beyond help that I had begun perhaps to imagine every beautiful woman was you. But you tilted your head so prettily and bit your lower lip as I have seen you do a thousand times. Still I doubted myself, and so approached you thinking it was impossible. I spoke to you, knowing I was surely going mad for you were not capable of such grand deceit and so resolved, I walked away. But it was in your amusement, your very laughter, that I knew it was you.”
He gave her a look of such severe disappointment as to make her cringe. Turning away from her, he ran a hand through his hair and walked to the fireplace. Lowering himself on his haunches, he picked up the poker and stabbed at the dying embers.
“Congratulations on your engagement,” Georgiana said after a while, not knowing how else to proceed and leading with her worst instinct.
He turned suddenly and threw the poker into the far corner of the room with such violence, it dented the wall before falling to the ground.
“Why?” he said, his voice raised and his face angry. “Why the deceit? Why torment me further, and on this night of all nights?”
His eyes blazed such loathing she turned away from him removing her cloak.
“I wanted to go dancing,” she said. “I wanted to enjoy myself like everyone else.”
He grabbed her and threw her on the bed. She cried out, frightened as he pinned her to the bed, holding both her wrists in one of his hands, and pulling the blond wig from her hair. It hurt as the pins pulled at her and she cried out.
“Stop it, you are hurting me,” she panted.
“Hurting you?” he said incredulous. “You would have to be human to feel pain and that, madam, is not something I believe you are. You cannot posses any scruples and had I known you for the malicious character that you are I would not have devoted so much thought to you.”
“I don’t have to listen to your insults,” she said angrily. “Get out.”
Angrily she struggled to be free, but he refused to let her up. “I will have the truth.”
“It is the truth,” she snapped. “Get off me.”
“Why? Are you not enjoying yourself anymore? It must be because it is not at someone else’s expense.”
She spat in his face, and regretted it instantly as she saw his anger boil over to complete madness. He covered her mouth, forcing himself on her.
She had sworn she would kill anyone who forced himself on her but she could not kill him for he was Nicholas, so she opened her mouth and kissed him back. It greatly surprised him, for he let her go and pulled back to stare at her in confusion. Lifting her head and taking her victory, she kissed him again, pulling him back down to her.
He groaned and settled his body on hers. She kissed him, closing her eyes, surprised that her blood could rush so quickly through her veins. She had never known desire before, and she so desperately wanted to forget her past that she gave herself wholly to the moment, to him.
She tore his shirt from his body and ran her hand over his hard chest almost crying at how different he felt, and hating that she was even thinking about her father. She was frantic, as she pulled down his breeches, but his hunger matched hers, and he did not see her desperation for anything other than desire.
She could feel tears welling up but forced them away, and helped him take off her dress. She kissed him hard and felt him respond. Then they were naked, and he was straddling her and she moved to pull him down, but he paused, pulling his mouth from hers to look at her, his eyes blazing with such intensity it made her shiver.
“Do you have any idea how much I have wanted this moment,” he said softly, his hand stroking her face.
“Please, Nicholas,” she begged, her fingers pulling tight around his arm. She was not sure how much longer she could hold off the images that threatened to break through her defenses. She was afraid she would splinter into a thousand pieces if he stopped.
Her own desire was new to her and she did not want to hold back. She wanted this night, wanted him more than she had ever wanted anything, and she wondered if he could read all that on her face. He must have for he smiled at her, and then moved into her, pushing gently, and she arched up to meet him, feeling her whole body shudder with the pleasure she found with him.
He kissed her, swallowing his own name on her lips as he rocked into her, then pulled out and then pushed himself further into her wet warmth. Her wanting only seemed to grow, and she moved with him as he moved faster until their movements were frantic with need. She felt herself splinter as she had feared, but instead of pain, she felt a great pleasure. She cried out and raked his back with her nails, surprised that pleasure could be felt so violently.
He moved into her and arched his back, and she watched him as he came inside her, completely lost in his own pleasure. Then he sank down on top of her, and lay still while she struggled to catch her breath. He pulled slowly away, and lay down next to her on his stomach, his head turned to hers. He smiled at her and she felt both dizzy with amazement and exhaustion. He reached up and drew a finger across her parted lips, and she kissed it, and he rested his hand on the side of her face.
He pulled himself onto his right elbow and leaned over, kissing her gently and pulling her body next to his. His hand brushed lightly up and down her arm and she glanced down at their entwined limbs and marveled at how white and frail hers looked compared to his brown, strong limbs.
He kissed the top of her head, and she tilted her face up to his and he kissed her mouth, hungry again. It was a deep dark kiss filled with promise, and it was her turn to groan. He finally pulled away and smiled, deeply satisfied. She laughed softly, as his other hand stroked down and cupped her bottom. She arched into his caress and he said her name softly, and moved down to take her nipple in his mouth, biting it gently.
He explored her body with his tongue, taking his time, licking the sweat from her belly, then spreading her legs and using his tongue on the wet softness between them. She arched her back and threaded her fingers through his hair as sensations exploded throughout her body. He took his time now, tasting her, and then moving up her body. He kissed her neck, bit her gently there as she opened her legs to him again, and he slid inside her. He was so hard, she thought, drowning in him.
Everything about him was exciting: the musky smell that clung to him, the sound of his wet skin sliding over hers, the feel of his hardness inside her, his hand pinching her nipple and the taste of his mouth as he pushed his tongue into her. Her senses had never known such a feast, and she craved more, as if she were starved. He seemed to feed on her need, driving ever harder into her.
This time it took longer and she reveled in his control as he drove himself ever deeper into her, his face a mask of desire. She met his every thrust, her hands on his haunches as she drove him on, sensing that he hoped to wait for her. She wanted him to come, wanted to watch him again as he lost himself in his need for her, and she arched up, driving the rhythm faster until his body went taut and he buried his face in her neck, his hands holding onto to her.
She smiled to herself, satisfied that she had the power to bring him to this moment. After a while, he folded her into the curve of his body, and they lay side by si
de. He lay still behind her, and she wondered if he had fallen asleep, knowing it must be late. But then he ran a hand down the side of her body to her hip, resting his hand there.
“You bring me to madness, Georgiana. You have always had that power,” he said softly, kissing her shoulder. He sounded so sad. She took his hand in hers, and threaded her fingers through his.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Sorry for what?”
For dancing at his ball and taking advantage of him. For the lies she had told and the ones she would tell. For not being who he needed her to be.
“For all of it,” she said.
He was silent for a while then said, “I feel like you are talking about circumstances I know nothing of.”
She did not reply.
“I am not your first,” he said slowly. “I wanted to be.”
She stiffened, unable to stop her body from reacting so, and she knew he could feel it.
“You like your women pure?” she said harshly. “Paragons of virtue, perhaps. Well, I’m married.”
He said nothing, only watched her and she feared he would see her for what her father had made of her. She hated the shame she felt, for it burned inside her and made her bitter.
“Why mislead us all to believe you cannot walk?”
She hesitated in answering for she had to be careful.
“You are thinking about how to answer that, aren’t you?”
“I don’t want to lie to you.”
“Then the only other option left is the truth.”
She feared alienating him further for she could only provide a version of the truth, and he was far too astute to be satisfied with a partial truth.
“I was paralyzed until about a year ago when the feeling came back to my legs, only I declined to inform anyone.”
“Why?”
“I wanted circumstances to stay the way they were.”
“And how were circumstances?”
“Safer.”
He traced a finger along the scar on her wrist.
“And who are you hiding from?” he asked.
“A world which forces me to be someone I am not.”
“It’s not such a frightening place anymore, is it?”
“Then you have never sat through an afternoon with the young ladies of society or had a certain miss regale you with her ideas on how to lead a good Christian life.”
He smiled. “Miss Prudence Chase.”
“So you have,” she smiled. “And did you not want to stab yourself in the eye just to stop the pain of that voice droning on about the benevolence of her society to alleviate the pain of the poor by way of embroidering white tablecloths for their tables to give them some joy.”
“It’s a lot of trouble to go to just so you don’t have to sit through tea.”
“I have a deep prejudice toward society, Nicholas. I find it exceedingly dull and in return, it finds me lacking. After my fall I was banished from sight and what a joy it was to me for I was finally free of the constraints placed on me.”
“I am not convinced by this account. What is the real purpose for this ruse?”
“Protection,” she said softly.
“From?”
She pulled away from him but he wouldn’t allow it, his arm holding her tight.
“I know your father beat you when you were children.”
“You did?” she asked, surprised.
“The first time I saw you, you had a black eye. You were ten and I fell in love with you when you looked at me, as if daring me to pity you.”
“I always wondered how your father managed to make my father give us up for so long.”
“He blackmailed him. Threatened to have his friends pull the financing your father was using to back his ventures. It would have destroyed your father.”
“Your father was good to us,” she said turning her head to look at him. Lord Markham had died of a heart condition three years ago.
“I miss him,” he said sadly.
“I’m sorry,” she said and kissed his shoulder.
They lay for a while, each lost in their own thoughts.
“Does Charles know?”
“Yes,” she said. “He found me out.”
He said nothing and she turned to look at him again.
“Nicholas, can you not make it right with him?”
“I will never forgive him for letting you marry someone other than me.”
“It wasn’t his choice,” she said. “It was mine. I would have declined your proposal even had he forbidden my marriage to Edward.”
He pulled his hand from hers and left the bed. She noticed then the scars on his back, long thin lines caused by a lash. He took those lashes for her brother and again she felt guilt rise up inside her. She watched him dress in the dim light of early morning that was already entering the window.
“Will you keep my secret?” she asked.
He gave her an annoyed glance as he looked for his boots, but did not answer her.
“Nicholas?”
“Why was marriage to me not acceptable?”
“I am the one unworthy, Nicholas. Please accept that did you know the reasons you would see it as the truth.”
He swore under his breath and angrily pulled on his coat, studying her. Then he leaned over the bed and gave her a deep kiss that made her feel dizzy again. When he finally pulled away, she looked at him pleadingly.
“I understand your need to escape your father’s cruelty but he’s gone now and it’s a lot of trouble to go to only to avoid society, Georgiana,” he said softly. “I find you have a great talent for deceit and secrecy, and fear what your real motive could be for such a grand scheme as this. I had not wanted to believe you so changed, as you had professed to be, but I was wrong. I see that now. I have misjudged you greatly and believe perhaps I was fortunate in your rejection of me. I will keep your secret, and now ours as well in the hope that no more hurt arises from your game.”
He left her then, opening the window and stepping out into the night. She stared at the space he had occupied only a moment ago, wishing for a bottle of champagne to drown out the doubt and shame she felt clinging to her skin.
***
The days passed with excruciating slowness, and Georgiana cursed Nicholas, blaming him for time’s sudden change of habit. She had pushed Bella over many miles in the last few days, trying to rid her mind of the devils that played in her head.
During the day, she worked on the estate accounts, and watched the boys play in the garden while she played with baby Sarah. In the evening, she found herself reading poetry, only to become disgusted with the flowery language poets used to describe love, and tossed the book across the room.
At night, she dressed in her breeches. If they were not moving contraband with Mr. Gordon, then Peter had them training. When she asked why they were training, he said simply: trouble. They staged mock fights in a clearing in the woods and she was bruised from being thrown to the ground countless times. She lost every fight. As the weakest member, the others did not respect her, and she was treated to ridicule and jokes.
Determined to change the situation, she had Harry and Peter meet her at night to train her away from the others. They showed her how to throw a punch that would hurt and how to avoid a punch. She learned how to throw someone off who grabbed her from behind, and how to get up and keep fighting, even when the breath had been knocked out of her.
Peter drove her mercilessly, and when she complained she was tired and had enough for the night, he pushed her on. He bullied and angered her until she realized he did it on purpose because with her anger unleashed she was finally able to get the better of Harry. She had him on the ground with her foot on the back of his neck, his arm twisted up and behind his back until he could not move. Peter clapped her on the back and she let go of Harry, who shook her hand and grinned at her.
Only when she had mastered a new skill would Peter allow her to slip back into her room and fall on her bed, e
xhausted and bruised. She always hoped the exercise would fatigue her to the point of forgetting Nicholas and the night they had spent together. But every morning, she awoke and her first thought was of him, and she would groan in frustration.
A month after the ball, Mr. Gordon paid her a visit and she watched him carefully to see if he knew the true identity of Madam M. The society in the countryside was abuzz with speculation of who the mysterious woman could have been, and where she had disappeared to.
If he suspected her, Mr. Gordon did not let on, but held a polite conversation on the breeding of horses before they talked about their endeavor. She voiced her satisfaction with the money she was receiving, and he complimented her on Peter and his young gang who worked hard and knew how to keep their mouths shut. She guessed the trial period he had given her crew was over, and he had found them more of a help than the hindrance he had expected.
With Ravenstone restored to its former glory, Edward arrived from London with a few of his friends for a week of entertainment. The small staff was hard pressed to keep them in food and drink as they played cards into the small hours of the morning, with Edward losing great sums of money. He would ask her for more, not questioning where she got the endless supply to pay off his debts, probably assuming her brother gave it to her. The guests slept late, and then would take a turn in the now beautiful gardens, and after dinner return to their cards. They paid little attention to Georgiana, for which she was thankful.
One night on her way out to meet Peter and Harry, she climbed past one of the guest room windows, and almost fell to her death. When she had glanced inside the room, she saw a man kneeling in front of Edward, whose member was in the other man’s mouth. Missing her footing, her body swung out over the edge but she had clung to the roof by one hand. She quickly reached up with the other, swung her foot back over the ledge and pulled herself up. She had to sit a moment on the dark moss-covered roof to regain her breath and wait for her heart to beat normally again.
Edward liked men. The revelation did not seem as surprising or shocking as it should have been. She climbed back down to the window for another look, for some aspect of the man kneeling in front of Edward had seemed familiar. Cautiously, she looked in the window to see the two men kissing, and recognized Mr. Madden. They were lovers.
Ravenstone (Book 1, The Ravenstone Chronicles) Page 29
