The Kiss

by Sophia Nash

  “Forgive me, Helston, if I ask you yet again to refrain from uttering one of those witticisms you’re so fond of,” Quinn interrupted. “I should like to get on with this.”

  John Brown coughed once or twice before he pulled out a handkerchief to swab his brow. Luc St. Aubyn looked ready to do murder.

  Quinn wished he knew if this Scot would perform his duties as well as he hoped. And more to the point, if he would be able to manage the impossible feat of easing Georgiana away from the barnyard and into the drawing rooms.

  A knock echoed from the study’s door. “Yes?” he called out.

  The dowager duchess’s usually pleasant voice crackled in outrage beyond the closed door. “He wouldn’t. Luc simply wouldn’t. Mr. Brown was to stay with him at Amberley during his visit—not here. Why, there’s no reason for him to be here with—”

  Georgiana opened the door, her finger to her lips, her gaze on the dowager.

  Quinn cleared his throat. “Ladies,” he murmured as he drew himself up with the other two gentlemen to bow.

  “I’m sorry to intrude,” Georgiana said with a question lurking in her wide, alert eyes. “But the housekeeper mentioned Mr. Brown was visiting and I—or rather Ata and I—wanted to give him our best wishes before he returned to Amberley.”

  Georgiana bobbed a curtsy in Mr. Brown’s direction and the older man leaned in and quickly pecked her cheek.

  “Now lass, you’re not going to begrudge an old friend a kiss are you? It’s been far too long since last we met and you must take pity on me. Doddering old salts rarely receive kisses, you know. ’Tis a great pity. Old age is when we need them most.”

  Ata tottered up to Mr. Brown and stomped her cane on his boot.

  Mr. Brown winced and was to be commended for keeping his ire to himself.

  “Doddering, indeed. Why you’re as doddering as an old fox with an eye on the lambs. Don’t trust him for a minute, my dear.”

  Georgiana’s eyes glinted with amusement.

  “And don’t you dare look at me as if I should welcome your hide,” Ata said. “You are a yellow-bellied coward, you are. The way you left after Luc’s wedding last season, well, I should think—”

  Mr. Brown effectively silenced the dowager with a very quick kiss on the lips. The duke’s eyebrows rose to the edges of his pitch-black hairline.

  “Well,” Ata sputtered in complete shock. “Well, I never—”

  “Thought I would return? I didn’t either. But after your grandson’s invitation, I changed my mind. I suppose I missed—”

  Ata’s eyes flared with something that looked like hope and she made a sound.

  “—the balmy Cornish air,” he finished with satisfaction.

  “Why you are as ill-mannered as—”

  Mr. Brown cut in softly, “And perhaps, just perhaps, I missed a certain feisty little bag of wind, too.”

  “Well!” Ata said in outrage.

  The duke’s laughter floated above them all. “I almost—I repeat almost—wish I could stay to witness more of this. But I must return to Amberley. Ellesmere, they’re in your hands now. I trust you will sort it all out…eventually. The legendary charm”—he looked very pained—“you prize so highly should serve you well. But make sure you put a lock on my grandmother’s door, will you?” He turned back from his retreat toward the door. “Actually, I would install a lock on Mr. Brown’s, too.”

  “Luc!” Ata shrieked.

  “Come,” Mr. Brown said to the tiny dowager. “Shall we escort Luc to the front hall? I must have a word with him about the importance of hiding keys.”

  Ata made a very unladylike snort and looked ready to recommence battle, but seemed to think the better of it after glancing at Georgiana. Instead, she sized up Mr. Brown and accepted his arm as they headed for the door, leaving Quinn alone with her.

  Georgiana gave him a measured look. “You’ve invited Mr. Brown to stay?”

  “Yes. Evens out the numbers a bit, don’t you agree?”

  “You invited him only to even out the numbers?”

  “And as a favor to the Duchess of Helston, who deserves the peace every new mother craves.”

  “For no other reason?” A storm was rising in her turbulent expression. Her emotions were always so evident in her features.

  “You know, Georgiana”—he edged closer to her and continued softly—“just because you’ve decided we’re enemies doesn’t mean we can’t also be friends.”

  She looked away. “I never said we were enemies.” Her face was flushed.

  “I shan’t lie to you, Georgiana. I would like for you to consider Brown as a possible solution. An aide to you…and to me.”

  “But—”

  “We agreed we would search out a replacement.”

  “But—”

  “And that you would train the person with grace and good humor.”

  She made an inelegant sound. “I never said I’d do it with grace and good humor. In fact, you know I’m incapable of the former.”

  He took another step closer to her and could see sparks of golden filaments radiating from the dark depths of her irises.

  She shifted and appeared flustered by his proximity. He had never noticed until this instant that she became ill at ease whenever he stepped close to her. The same thing had happened at the folly the day he had arrived, and again yesterday when he had kissed her cheek.

  The thought of that moment left a tightness in his chest. He had promised to kiss her properly. The way a man kisses a woman. He reached out to her and her eyes widened as she stared at his outstretched palm. “Georgiana” he said very quietly. “I do apologize again for losing my temper yesterday. Will you forgive me?”

  “I’ve already forgiven you. You know that.” She looked away.

  He dropped his proffered hand, then grasped her arms and drew her closer. “Then may I kiss you? A kiss will wash away the awkwardness.”

  “I won’t kiss you just because your daughter forced you to agree to some ridiculous notion.”

  Abruptly he wanted to kiss her.

  “And if I told you my daughter has nothing to do with it?”

  “I should not believe you.”

  In the moment of silence that followed, their eyes locked, and the air thrummed with tension.

  And suddenly, quite inexplicably, there was something in Georgiana’s eyes that made him want to crush her to him. Protect her. The rational part of his mind was screaming at him to turn the moment. God knew Georgiana had little need for anyone’s protection.

  “Is the idea so repugnant to you?” he whispered.

  Something flickered in her expression. “This is ridiculous.” She turned to go. “I’ve got to see to the honeycombs. They need to be uncapped today, and—”

  At the last moment, he grasped her hand firmly and pulled her back toward him. A momentary flash of fierce longing glittered in her eyes before he lowered his lips to hers and was swept into a violent tempest…not unlike the last few knots of his storm-tossed passage through the English Channel. Only then he had been traveling to just another point on his eternal journey to a never-ending series of destinations. This time, this journey, this kiss felt like he had finally found shelter. Permanently.

  It warmed his bones and…and shocked the living hell out of him.

  And oh, what it did to her…

  Chapter 6

  List? What list?

  Georgiana kissed him with every ounce of her being. She tried to steady the trembling she couldn’t control while he teased the seam of her lips again and again until she opened to him. Sparks of yearning whirled deep within her, her skin aching with desire. Oh God. This was so much more than all her dreams over the years combined. Now she was allowing all the longing she had pinned down deep inside of her during the last two decades to escape the confines of her heart.

  Georgiana unconsciously clung to his hands the way the falcons mated in the golden rays of twilight on the salty updrafts along Pentire Point, their feet joined
in a spectacular sky dance, revolving in mesmerizing arcs as if to triumphantly show their devoted passion to the lesser world below. For when a falcon chose a mate, it was for life.

  As that unbearable wish intruded upon her thoughts, she released his hands, released her hold on him.

  His shuttered, mysterious eyes searched hers and darkened. “Oh no,” he whispered. “We’re not finished…not nearly.”

  And time slowed to a standstill as he again pulled her to him, this time wrapping her hands above his neck before he bound his own about her, enveloping her in his overpowering warmth as she melted into him. Her lips parted and he possessed her mouth, his tongue penetrating and sure. His breath thrummed against her cheek in time to her own harsh exhales as he tasted her, devoured her in shattering thoroughness while his hands gripped her back and then brushed against the sensitive sides of her breasts. And all the while his intangible, unforgettable scent captivated her senses and made her dizzy with an ache she couldn’t define.

  She was so very beyond her depth, her nerves soaring with unbearable longing for this to never end. Just when she realized the moan she had heard was coming from her throat not his, he eased his lips from hers and trailed a pattern of kisses past her cheek to nuzzle the sensitive jointure of her neck. His breathing became erratic against her throat and she froze…in horrified remembrance of Tony’s uneven breathing on her wedding night…and of Tony’s begging words to think of him always…not Quinn.

  She tore herself away from him, never bothering to look back as she fled to lose herself in the security of her list of labors. Never bothering to search his expression for the very thing she had wished for, for so long: darkening desire.

  It was there in his eyes, but only for a moment when she ran away—a very fleeting instant before he staggered backward and regained his senses.

  But then, timing had never been Georgiana’s forte. It had always been her downfall.

  For the rest of the day and into the evening, Georgiana struggled to keep those moments with Quinn from invading her every thought.

  And failed miserably.

  His eyes, his embrace, his mouth on hers suffused every corner of her mind—while she took the early twilight air with the widows and through dinner, which tasted like the sawdust littering the chopping block.

  Later that evening, as she watched the mist rising from the warm waters of Loe Pool into the cooler night air, she knew she would never be free of him. He had a grip on her that could not be unclasped from her heart.

  Her mind was still fevered with thoughts of Quinn throughout a long chat the next morning with Mr. Brown, who seemed determined to humor her and help her no matter what. The ledgers, for the first time in her life, held little interest and much too much detail.

  All the while she wondered where he had gone. Oh, at first she was glad he was nowhere in sight. Her emotions were too high, her shock at what had happened too new. She needed privacy to regain her sanity and to plan and ponder what would happen next.

  Never in any of her dreams had she fully imagined the raw, desperate sensuality of kissing Quinn. Losing complete control of all her senses had never been at stake. His kiss was supposed to have felt like a romantic, dreamy state, not a violent, all-consuming desire to know more—a lot more.

  By dinner, when Ata asked for the third time, “Where is dear Quinn?” Georgiana thought she would go mad with nervousness.

  Did he know? Was he staying away because he had guessed her deepest secret—her great feelings for him? Obviously, he was embarrassed and trying to figure out a way to explain his actions.

  That night, as she wrestled with the bedcovers in the steward’s quarters she wished she were at Loe Pool. But with Mr. Brown’s arrival she felt the need to guard the last vestiges of her father’s domain at Penrose. Yet she longed to gaze at the stars, and lose herself in the familiar dreams of Quinn from long ago. Dreams that had now been wiped away by the raw reality of his kiss.

  Quinn rubbed his jaw and moved the ledgers to the edge of his barreled walnut desk. He leveled a stare at John Brown.

  The older man mopped his brow. “My initial impression?”

  “If you please, sir.”

  “The lass is a better man than I.”

  “She’s no man,” he said quickly, without thinking.

  “You’ve noticed, have you?” Mr. Brown chuckled the hearty laugh Quinn had warmed to a little too quickly, he thought with exasperation.

  Living at Penrose was making him vulnerable. He, of all people, should know better than anyone the dangers of trusting someone.

  Quinn forced himself to relax his clenched hands. “She can’t continue on as before. She can’t—”

  He was interrupted by frenetic rapping on the study’s door.

  “Come.”

  The frazzled form of Fairleigh’s governess entered, her hands shaking and clenched in front of her. “My lord, I regret to inform you that your daughter has led me on a merry chase again and I have searched everywhere for her.” Two bright spots of color mounted Miss Biddleworth’s cheeks.

  The imp. “Hmmm. Did you try the stables?”

  “No, sir. I assumed after your admonishment she would refrain.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “With my daughter it’s better not to assume anything, Miss Biddleworth.”

  Mr. Brown chuckled again, his blue eyes twinkling.

  “Sir—” the older governess began.

  “What about the falcon mews?”

  “Sir—”

  “Or the hay barn? There’s a rope swing tied to the rafters—”

  Miss Biddleworth did the unthinkable and interrupted her employer. “Sir, I am trying to tell you that I’m giving notice. I’m sorry, but I cannot continue.” She rose up to her most formidable governess stance, which was somewhat comical given that her knotted hair was losing its battle with the pins. “I have the luxury of speaking quite plainly to you, my lord, as I’ve decided to retire to Somerset and live with my sister. Your daughter is incorrigible. Never in my thirty years have I seen a child so spoilt and so slow and unwilling to learn.”

  The governess, having allowed her rude thoughts to escape, something she had obviously never dared do in the last three decades, quickly lost steam.

  “Is there anything else you’d like to add, Miss Biddleworth?” He kept his voice deceptively measured.

  “I would request someone to take me to the village for the next mail coach.”

  Quinn promised full payment of her quarterly wages despite the circumstances and bid a polite good-bye to the last in a series of six governesses in as many years.

  “Allow me to escort you, ma’am,” Mr. Brown said. “Say in one hour? Would that be sufficient?”

  The governess nodded haughtily and departed, closing the door none too lightly.

  “You seem to enjoy feisty females, Mr. Brown.”

  “As do you, my lord.”

  “There you are wrong. I endure headstrong females. I do not enjoy them.”

  “Well, begging your pardon, but with a daughter such as yours, you might reconsider.” The old man looked like he had more to say.

  “Spit it out, Mr. Brown.”

  “Then there’s the matter of Georgiana Wilde—or is it Fortesque?”

  “Tread carefully, sir. I rather think you have your own worries, considering what Ata will think if you’re seen escorting the governess about the countryside.”

  “Don’t worry about me, sir. I’ve known the devil’s grandmother for five decades. Nothing can frighten this old body of mine.”

  “You’re a brave man, Mr. Brown. Braver than I.”

  “I don’t know, my lord. I’ve faith in you to see the pleasure a woman of substance can—”

  He didn’t let the old man finish. “That’ll be all, Mr. Brown.”

  A quarter of an hour later, Quinn’s stride lengthened as he made his way past the barn doors, a few stray strands of hay on his clothes. He broke into a run as he allowed fear to curl arou
nd the edges of his mind. Loe pool. She wouldn’t. Not after he had expressly prohibited Fairleigh to go there alone. She couldn’t swim. She couldn’t…

  As he entered the downhill slope of a large stand of trees above the lake his gaze snagged on two figures in the far distance—one willowy and dark, the other petite and blonde.

  He tried to regulate his breathing as he stopped and watched the pair, but residual fear for his daughter hampered the effort. At least that was what he told himself. He had resolutely kept Georgiana from his thoughts for the last day and a half.

  That kiss…

  Well, his reaction was to be expected. It had been years since he’d given in to his baser needs. Years since he’d sworn off females—including his wife, and even those women offering favors at very favorable rates at the best brothels in the worst parts of town.

  They had been the last he had sworn off. The temporary corporal relief hadn’t been worth the possible consequences, and he just couldn’t bring himself to continue down that silken path.

  Perhaps, he thought ruefully, it was why he had chosen on a whim to settle at Penrose for a while. He could more easily avoid the blatant invitations from the marriage-minded mothers and the wayward wives of his acquaintances in town.

  He had thought every sort of female behind him. He had always taken pride in his ability to hold himself in check—ruthlessly—no matter what the issue. Celibacy had not been nearly as difficult as he had thought.

  Until…that kiss.

  The starkness in Georgiana’s expression—a sort of abandoned yearning had been nearly unbearable to witness. If he only had the nerve to admit it, he likely feared the rawness he’d glimpsed because his soul was empty of everything save that same emotion. He mercilessly dismissed the odd feelings the thought brought.

  He sighed and looked at Georgiana and his daughter. It appeared they were painting, of all things—something he’d enjoyed doing many years ago. Well, at least they weren’t in the pigsty. Or wading in the lake water.

  He continued on his way toward them, noticing paint-stained aprons, their unbound hair, and exuberant laughter. With Miss Biddleworth’s defection it was glaringly obvious he needed to find someone to take on the daunting role of supervising the proper education of his hoyden of a daughter. Someone who could provide a sterling example of femininity for Fairleigh while instilling in her a thirst for knowledge through the habit of reading, as well as a desire to learn embroidery, music, and the necessary household arts. Someone the very opposite of Georgiana.