by Gaelen Foley
He was still chiding himself uselessly for his craven lust for her when Georgiana turned her face slowly toward his, bringing her lips nearer, so hesitant and shy, as though fearful he would reject her demure but unmistakable invitation.
Near blind with his need for her, he cupped her cheek against his leather-gloved palm; for a second, his mouth hovered above hers as he savored the exquisite torment of this sweet anticipation. God, how he had dreamed of tasting her again.
The soft puffs of her warm, rapid breath tickled his lips as she waited in virginal yearning for his kiss. Tangled up in her need for him, in turn, he claimed her mouth in a wild and burning kiss. She moaned again as he drove her lips apart and invaded the silken pleasure of her mouth with each deep stroke of his tongue.
She clutched at his shoulders as though to steady herself, and the fire between them came roaring back with every feverish degree of blazing heat that he remembered from the prayer cave. If anything, it had intensified from having been so long starved.
As he clasped her to him, his mouth slanting over hers with a desire that bordered on desperation, he was acutely aware of her hands on him. Warm beneath the luxurious folds of his cape, her arms around him, Georgiana pressed her palms against the curve of his back, stroking his sides and his chest, and sliding her arms up around his neck to hang on for dear life as he ravished her with his kiss.
He reveled in her yielding softness, and as she melted against him with another gentle moan, he was besieged by the need to lay her down and make her his completely. To renew and reaffirm the bond that had formed between them—and to deepen it.
He had to have her, and he had to have her now.
For God’s sake, man, get yourself under control. She had only just stepped off the boat moments ago and was probably becoming overwhelmed. As much as he yearned for her, he really ought to try to be a gentleman. If he didn’t quit now, he was going to make her uneasy.
When he ended the kiss with great reluctance, Georgiana was panting and trembling. She swayed dizzily on her feet, so he quickly reached out and steadied her again.
“Oh, Ian,” she blurted out, dragging her heavy-lidded eyes open. They glowed with longing. “What’s going to happen between us now?”
The artless naiveté of her question moved him.
With a fond half smile, he brushed her hair gently behind her shoulder. “Haven’t you figured that out yet?” he whispered. “Do you think I’d be standing out here waiting around in the middle of the night for just anyone?”
She returned his smile uncertainly, her cheeks pink.
He lifted her chin with his knuckle and pinned her in a forceful stare. “What’s going to happen, Georgiana, is that you are going to marry me.”
Her eyes widened; she went motionless with shock.
“Any questions?” he asked crisply.
It took her a long moment to absorb the news. Then she shook her head at him in lingering amazement. “Only one.”
He arched a brow inquiringly.
“When?” she whispered.
A slow smile of dark, delicious satisfaction spread across his face. “My, my. No arguments?”
Her eyes were huge and blue, full of trust and youthful desire as she shook her head.
“Good girl,” he whispered in lavish approval; then he leaned down and kissed her gently for a long moment. “Come, sweet,” he ordered in a husky murmur, wrapping a protective arm around shoulders. “Let’s get you inside where it’s warm.”
Now I know I’m dreaming, Georgie thought, floating along by Ian’s side as he shepherded her over to the sleek black town coach waiting in the cobbled yard.
Four black horses stood in the traces. Clouds of steam puffed from their nostrils and were illumined by the carriage lanterns.
Ian acknowledged the waiting coachman with a nod and opened the carriage door for Georgie, then handed her in. She stepped up and took a seat.
The town coach resembled a little drawing room on wheels, dimly lit by a pair of tiny candles burning inside miniature sconces of etched glass. The interior walls and ceiling were upholstered in luxurious pale damask to help muffle the sounds from the road. Georgie sat down on the ivory kid-leather squabs and then glanced at him, wide-eyed, as he joined her.
To be sure, she was in Ian’s world now—and how perfectly he fit into his surroundings, a millionaire marquess eminently at home in the sophisticated setting of the Empire’s capital. Would this magnificent paragon really be her husband?
She felt so ragged by comparison after her long journey. Her dress was clean enough but had been washed so many times that it was threadbare from constant wearing.
He, meanwhile, was so elegantly dressed: pristine waistcoat, beautiful cravat. He looked as though he had come from a night at the theater. She could just imagine how he turned heads among Society’s fashionable ladies. But he’ll be all mine, she thought, unable to stop staring at him in sheer astonishment.
He sent her a worldly little smile. As the coach rolled into motion, he opened a small satinwood panel that revealed a hidden compartment with a selection of crystal decanters. “Drink?”
She managed a tight nod. “Please.”
While he proceeded to pour, Georgie couldn’t get enough of simply gazing at him, soaking up his presence. How handsome he was, she thought, suppressing a sigh. The bronzed tan he had picked up under the Indian sun had faded, and he had grown in a neat pair of short, fashionable sideburns.
He noticed her study and lifted an eyebrow.
“Sorry—I don’t mean to stare,” she said with a blush. “It’s just—so good to see you. You’ve made me very happy. I-I fear that I’m in shock.”
He laughed softly and handed her a small glass with a generous splash of brandy in it. “This should help.”
She nodded her thanks, accepting it.
He poured a second brandy for himself and then lifted his glass in a toast. “To India.”
“To London,” she countered in a wistful tone.
“No,” he murmured, watching her intently. “To us.”
This brought a smile to her lips. Her hand trembled at the fruition of her wildest dreams as she lifted her glass in answer. “To us—my dear Lord Griffith.”
They stared at each other for a moment longer, then drank.
Georgie’s first cautious sip of the fiery spirits made her eyes water; Ian sat back in the squabs across from her and draped his arm across the back of the seat, watching her with a soft glow in his eyes.
“Lord!” she exclaimed with a slight cough, laughing a little. “That’s strong.”
“It will warm the belly on a cold night.”
“I’ll say!” She took a second sip, hoping it would help her wrap her mind around the notion that this wonderful, strong, brilliant, incredibly handsome man was going to marry her. She would be Ian’s wife—a marchioness! Blazes, she thought, looking back on all those months at sea tormenting herself about whether or not he despised her or if he would ever speak to her again! She’d had no idea that this plan had come into his mind.
“I noticed you haven’t asked me about your brothers,” he remarked, watching the play of emotions on her face as she tried to come to grips with her new reality.
His choice of subjects jerked her head up. “You saw them?” She leaned forward anxiously in her seat. “Oh, what news, my lord? We were separated at Bombay. The last I saw my brothers, they were fighting off a bloodthirsty horde of Marathas! Did they—survive?”
“Yes,” he said with a firm nod. “Both of your brothers survived. Gabriel sustained a wound that could be rather serious,” he warned, “but as strong and fit as he is, we must have faith, and expect his full recovery.”
“What happened?”
“I’m not sure,” he said vaguely. “Derek was unscathed, though, and was taking care of Gabriel. I spoke with him before I left. It was he who told me the name of the ship on which you were sailing. Above all, your brothers’ main concern was for you, Geo
rgiana. They send their love and they want you to know they’ll be joining us as soon as they can. Till then, they’ve asked me to look after you.” He gave her a smile like an intimate caress. “I promised them I would.”
She returned his stare with her hand pressed to her heart in sheer relief to hear the news that her brothers were alive. She closed her eyes with a fleeting prayer of thanks.
“More brandy, darling? I daresay you look like you could use it.”
Opening her eyes again, she smiled ruefully at him. “No, thanks.” The talk of her brothers had made her homesick. Ian studied her for a long moment.
“I have a particular message for you from Derek.”
She perked up. “Yes?”
“He wanted me to tell you that he’s sorry for what he said to you on the road leaving Janpur. He did not relate the details of your quarrel, but he wanted me to tell you that he didn’t mean a word.”
“He said that?” she echoed.
He nodded.
She smiled wryly at him and raked her hand through her hair. “Actually, Ian, what we fought about was you.”
“Me?”
“I was telling Gabriel that I was interested in you—”
“Oh, really?” he purred interrupting.
She chuckled at his pleased grin. “Yes. But then Derek came along and opined that you’d have to be mad to involve yourself with me, after seeing the sort of trouble I get into. Isn’t that mean?”
“Well, there might be a hint of truth to it.”
“Hey!” she protested as his green eyes danced.
“Come here,” he teased, grasping her wrist and tugging her onto the opposite seat beside him. He draped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her near, kissing her temple as he let her snuggle up close beside him. “At least life with you, Georgiana, will never be dull.”
She snorted, but it was so wonderful to be close to him, and all her future prospects suddenly seemed so much brighter, that she couldn’t hold her scowl, and joined him in laughter.
“Where are your little ankle bells?” he asked all of a sudden, noticing their absence as he tugged her partly onto his lap.
“I threw them away.”
“What?”
“I tossed them in the ocean.”
He looked askance at her. “What did you do that for?”
She sighed rather unhappily. “Because I mean to change, Ian.”
“Change, how?” he asked with a frown.
“Be more careful, more circumspect. More like Meena and Lakshmi.”
He arched a brow. “Shall I keep you in a harem?”
“No! Don’t jest, you rogue, this is very serious. I mean to be more dutiful, more cooperative. More as I should.”
“I see,” he murmured with a grave nod, not making much effort to hide his amusement.
“What?” she exclaimed.
He shrugged. “I liked your bells. Your wearing them expressed a part of who you are. A part I liked,” he added, slanting her a knowing look. “Ah, well, I suppose it’s too late now.”
Startled, she furrowed her brow and mulled his words.
“At any rate,” Ian continued, “let us move along to the practicalities, shall we?” His arm rested comfortably around her shoulders. “You’ll be happy to hear that I brought along several traveling trunks full of your gowns and things from your family’s home in Bombay.”
“You did?” She twisted around to face him with a quizzical look.
He nodded. “Your housekeeper packed them while I was off making the arrangements for the voyage.”
“Oh, Ian, you think of everything!”
“Yes, well, life is in the details,” he said dryly.
She threw her arms around his neck and merrily covered his cheek with pecking kisses. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! My own gowns, my shoes! I shall be human again!”
“Everything is ready and waiting for you over at Knight House, which is where we’re headed now,” he continued with a chuckle at her exuberance. “We’ll be there in a trice. It’s just around the block.”
“Oh, but must we go there now?” she protested, easing back a bit, but keeping her arms linked loosely around his neck. “Please, can’t we be alone together—just for a little while longer, please? I’ve missed you so.”
“Sweetheart,” he murmured as he grazed her cheek with one knuckle. “It’s already two in the morning.”
“I’m not tired. Are you?”
Not anymore, Ian thought as he stared into her eyes. He was acutely aware of her delicate fingers at his nape, toying with the back of his hair. Her light touch made him shiver. He did not think he had ever experienced such overt affection before.
“Please, Ian?” she cajoled him with a pretty little pout. “It’s not that I don’t want to meet my relatives, but this is a special night for us, isn’t it?” As she gazed at him so sweetly, the elated glow in her eyes made all his weeks of agonizing over the decision so gloriously worthwhile. “Can’t you take me to their house tomorrow?”
He touched her face with a gentle caress, but his heart was pounding. “You want to stay with me tonight?” he whispered, and he quivered as she nodded slowly.
“Yes.”
He hesitated, debating with himself. Of course, it was not proper, and he had a duty to shield her reputation, but he fully intended to marry her, and besides, he had never wanted any woman like this. She had no idea of how he had been dreaming of this—literally dreaming.
Night after night, making love to her in sweat-drenched realms of fantasy.
It was so much better than the nightmares surrounding Catherine’s death.
“Are you sure about this?” he murmured with a smoldering gaze that let her know exactly what would happen if she came home with him tonight.
“I’m very sure,” she whispered with a fever in her eyes that matched his own.
God, how she intoxicated him. How could he deny her, especially when it was what he wanted, too? It was impossible to say no to Georgiana, so fair, so soft and willing, with her arms wrapped around him. The sensual young beauty robbed him of any will to resist.
Just like she had in the prayer cave.
“Very well.” He bent his head and pressed a soft but urgent kiss to her lips. At once, she cupped his jaw in heated response, returning his kiss with all the ripe willingness of a hot-blooded virgin eager to please and so ready for her initiation.
He shivered with longing, marveling at her power to drive him mad. All of a sudden, he could hardly wait to get her to his bed. He couldn’t wait to show her everything that a man and a woman could share—couldn’t wait to find out what she’d be like under him, sampling it all for the very first time. He had his suspicions, of course. If he was any judge, the little hellion would prove to be a tigress in the sack.
He couldn’t wait to find out.
Ending the kiss with a glittering stare, Ian rapped on the side of his carriage and informed his driver of their change of plans.
CHAPTER
TEN
I nstead of going to Knight House, they drove around to the other side of Green Park to Ian’s residence.
When the coach glided to a halt before his tall, stately townhouse, he alighted first and glanced around at the gracious avenues, making sure no one was watching. They were in the heart of fashionable London now, where gossip could spread like a fire out of control. A young lady could not afford to be careless, especially if she was the Hawkscliffe Harlot’s niece. Pending nuptials or otherwise, it would not do for Georgiana to be seen coming home with him in the dead of night.
Given the hour, however, the streets were as empty as they were dark. There was no moon, and the corner streetlamps glowed but feebly. Determining that the coast was clear, Ian helped her down from the carriage, exchanging a smoky glance with her like a delicious secret just between the two of them. He pointed out Knight House on the far end of the park, and then hurried her up to the front entrance of his townhouse, faced in Portlan
d stone, and let her in the burgundy-painted door.
The dimly lit entrance hall welcomed them with all its empty grandeur, from the large round Roman-style mosaic in the middle of the floor to the Corinthian marble columns standing sentry all around. In the center of the cavernous space, the spectacular double staircase with its fanciful iron banister swept up to the first floor, the piano nobile. On the wall behind the stairs stretched a glittering glass triptych of three magnificent arched windows. In the morning, the grand windows filled the space with light; up and up the ceiling soared, two stories tall, a full fifty feet above the staircase and the hall.
“Oh, Ian, your home is beautiful,” Georgiana murmured, glancing around shyly.
He locked the door behind them and then joined her, clasping his hands behind his back as he admired it with her. “Our home,” he reminded her softly.
A beaming smile lit up her face, as though he had surprised her all over again.
He gave her a wink. “Come.”
Just then, his butler, Mr. Tooke, came bustling in to take their cloaks. A kindly old fellow of short and portly proportions, he had a mostly bald pate, a neat white mustache, and twinkly blue eyes. Tooke’s face was always wreathed in smiles, but never more so than when Ian informed him who Georgiana was.
Having already hinted to his longtime, trusted servant that there might be a Particular Significance in Miss Knight’s arrival in London insofar as his house-hold was concerned, Tooke had grasped his meaning at once in astonishment—their long-solitary master meant to take a wife!—and now the man effused over Georgiana like some sort of mother hen.
“Oh, my dear, dear, dear young lady, is there nothing that I can get for you, nothing at all? Are you hungry, my lady? Have you supped? A cozy cup of chocolate, perhaps?”
She laughed with delight at his outpouring of warmth and thanked him, but declined.
