Enthralled

by Lora Leigh

  All too soon, he broke the kiss. Standing against the bed, he pushed her back to the mattress. His big hands gripped her hips and dragged her bottom almost to the edge, hooking her knees up around his sides. Her chemise slipped down, exposing her thighs. Thom stilled, staring, and with a sudden groan, shoved her hem up over her thighs, her hips, higher, as if once he’d begun to bare her skin he couldn’t stop. Frantic with need, Georgiana helped him, lifting her bottom and wriggling the material free of her shoulders. He tore the chemise over her head before leaning over and taking her mouth again, hot and deep.

  Cool metal slipped between her thighs. Georgiana arched up against his hand. “Inside me, Thom. Please.”

  “Not yet.” He looked down at her, his face taut with strain. “Because I touched you last night, Georgie, but what I’ve dreamed of most isn’t what I’ll do with my hands.”

  His head dipped to her breast. At the same moment his fingers pushed inside her, he latched onto the throbbing tip. His cheeks hollowed, sucking her nipple to a burning point.

  Georgiana cried out, her body lifting in a rigid bow. Her hands fisted against the sheets. With a hungry moan, he lifted his head and moved to her other breast. Hot and wet, his mouth closed over her nipple. Between her legs, the rhythm of his fingers quickened, his thumb relentlessly sliding over her aching knot of flesh.

  “Thom!” Overwhelmed by pleasure, Georgiana rolled her hips, her thighs tightening against his sides. “Thom, please!”

  “Your taste. Sweet fucking blue, Georgie.” He pulled back, his hand leaving her empty. His bold features set in a mask of insatiable need, he dropped to his knees. “I need more.”

  His head dove between her thighs.

  “Thom!”

  Shocked beyond bearing, she screamed his name. Her fingers stabbed through his thick hair, tried to pull him up, but the heated swirl of his tongue twisted shock into pleasure. She keened low in her throat, rocking against his mouth. And there must have been something hidden within her, too—something wild and fierce and needy, like a storm at sea, lashing at her with every slow lick. Her head thrashed against the sheet, her body anchored only by his hands on her hips, his tongue and his lips.

  And she crashed, splintering. He moaned against her, licking as she shuddered and cried his name. Then he rose up, a sheen of sweat slick over his skin, his lips wet.

  Lifting her, he sat at the edge of the bed, settling her over him. Georgiana straddled his thighs, his erection a hot iron bar against her stomach.

  She’d never seen him this way before. Only flaccid in fever and sleep, only as a softening bulge beneath his drawers. But he was so much thicker and longer. Looking at his arousal now, she didn’t wonder why their coupling had hurt so much the first times. The only mystery was how it had ever felt so good the last time.

  But it had. She remembered exactly how much.

  “As slow as you need to, Georgie.” His voice was hoarse, every muscle in his body as hard as his arms. “Even if you take all night to fill yourself up with my cock, I’ll hold back until you tell me you’re all right. And then I’ll never hold back again.”

  Rough, explicit words, but no embarrassment or shock was left in Georgiana—only her desperate need to feel him inside her. Rising up, she braced her hands on his shoulders. Her eyes locked with his when the broad crown slid through her slick folds and lodged against her entrance.

  Without hesitation she took him in, easing down over his heavy shaft. No pain at all. No discomfort. Just full. So full. Her head fell back on a moan, and she slowly undulated her hips, taking him deeper and deeper.

  Until she couldn’t take any more, stopping with her legs spread wide, her bottom against the tops of his thighs. Panting, she looked down, where their bodies melded together as seamlessly as flesh and steel.

  Filled with his cock. A perfect, impossible fit.

  Rigid with strain, Thom shook against her. “You’re all right, Georgie?”

  “Yes. Oh, Thom.” No holding back. Not when he was so deep inside her. “You feel so good.”

  His fingers clenched on her bottom. She rose up again at the urging of his hands, then cried out as he pushed her back down, filling her again.

  Fingers catching in her hair, he brought her gaze to his. “This time, you know how to tell me that you like it.”

  “I do. So much.” She drew a shuddering breath. Every tiny movement seemed to stretch her sheath tighter around his thick shaft. “Do you?”

  “Do I?” A tortured laugh rumbled through his chest, ending on a groan. “I love being in you. You’re so tight, squeezing around me. So hot. I can’t ever get deep enough, Georgie. But I’m going to try.”

  Hands locked over her hips, he surged upward. With a strangled cry, Georgiana took him deeper, pleasure searing her senses. She rose up with him, then he filled her with his cock again, just as she wanted, needed. The wild ferocity rushed over her, driving her up against him over and over, her fingers clenching in his hair, sharing his breath as she rode, faster and faster, his face the only thing in her sight.

  Then she was there, her mouth feeding greedily from his as her body clenched around him, tighter and tighter, before leaving her liquid and boneless.

  Groaning, Thom eased her onto her back. “Wrap your legs around me, Georgie. Tighter. Sweet blue, you’re so wet I could drown in it. Pull me in deep.”

  Loving the heavy feel of him over her, she ran her fingers down the flexing muscles of his back. Hands braced beside her shoulders, he lowered his mouth to hers—just as he had the first time, and the second, and the third, but this was nothing like before, with no clothes between them and her hands roaming free, and Thom not slow and careful now. He drove into her, each deep plunge bringing Georgiana back with him, not liquid anymore but soon tense and frantic, writhing beneath him, his heavy thrusts wringing desperate cries of need and frustration from her lips. Not holding back but giving—all the pleasure he could, and when she came again, the clench of her sheath seemed to destroy any remaining control. Lunging forward with a broken yell, Thom held himself deep, pulsing inside her.

  Then he kissed her, hot and sweet and smiling. He rolled onto his back, holding her against him—and Georgiana made her second new promise to herself.

  She was never letting him go again.

  SEVEN

  Thom woke just after dawn with Georgie’s head pillowed on his chest and her dark hair spread over his shoulder. This time, he didn’t feel her wake up in his arms—her eyes were already open, her gaze fixed on the porthole.

  Probably imagining their escape.

  As if sensing he’d woken, she said, “I’m trying to think of something clever. Or not so clever, if stupidity will get us away just the same.”

  “I’ll do what I can to delay and just bring up part of that gold, or convince them to wait for the submersible.” Closing his eyes, he breathed in the scent of her hair. The third morning away from home, only a faint hint of flower remained. He wanted to destroy Southampton for that alone. “But if I come up and he’s set on killing us, I’m going to bring the ship down and get you into that boat.”

  “I wish we could get into it now.” She turned her head to look up at him, crooking her arm over his chest and cradling her chin against the roll of her fist. Her full lips pursed. “Or climb on top of the balloon. We could hide up there while they wonder where we went, and hang on until they fly back to some port.”

  Thoughtfully, Thom nodded. “We could, at that.”

  “I wasn’t serious. That was a not-so-clever suggestion.”

  He knew. Between the cold, the wind, and no knowing where they were going or when they’d get food, the top of a balloon could be a death trap. “It’s better than other options we have.”

  She sighed heavily against him, acknowledging that sad fact. “Is there anything on Oriana that you can bring up? Perhaps something that we could attach to the bottom of the platform—or to the tether, just below the surface—and keep it hidden until we need it?�
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  Offhand, he couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t be noticed. “I’ll look around.”

  “Be careful, though. It isn’t worth your being trapped in a wreck.” Her eyes were somber as she regarded him. After a moment, a faint smile curved her lips. “It’s odd to say this, Thom, but despite not yet having an escape, and despite Southampton’s threats—I am happier at this moment than I’ve ever been.”

  He was, too. “I’ll be happier when we are away.”

  Georgie laughed and dropped a kiss to his chest, directly over his heart. “I will be, too.”

  And she was full of more smiles and kisses after they rose from the bed, as she helped him into his diving suit—and when he teased her, full of laughter and blushes and cries of Thom!

  Until sunrise, when Southampton knocked at the door—and told Thom that if every single coin wasn’t aboard the airship by the end of the day, he and Georgie would both be dead.

  * * *

  Within an hour, Georgiana was watching the sea again, endlessly cranking the pump. On the other side of the coiled air hose, Mrs. Winch sat at the edge of the platform, her bare feet dangling into the cold water and a cigarillo between her lips.

  Unlike Mr. Blade, she obviously had no interest in harassing Georgiana. They’d barely exchanged any words since the platform had descended.

  That suited Georgiana. Her worry for Thom kept her company—as did thoughts of escape. But she hadn’t yet figured out how . . . and if they didn’t delay Southampton’s leaving for one more day, she and Thom would likely never find the opportunity.

  Tonight would be their only chance, and the submersible was their best hope of securing that extra time. But Georgiana didn’t believe the machine would tempt Southampton. Though valuable, the twenty or thirty livre it might bring at market would be nothing to a man who would soon possess thousands of gold coins.

  It would be a hefty sum to mercenaries, however—probably more than Southampton had paid them for this job.

  So Georgiana would try to tempt them, instead. Over the noise of the pump, she said, “I hope Thom will bring up the submersible as well. It’s worth quite a sum. Not as much as the gold, of course—though if Southampton gives all the coins back to the Crown, I suppose he will walk away with nothing extra.”

  For a long second, Mrs. Winch studied her through a small cloud of smoke. Then she nodded and said, “I don’t understand bringing the gold up at all if his lordship just gives it away.”

  “I suppose you would earn a larger percentage if Southampton also recovered any treasure for himself. If there was something coming up from Oriana that Southampton wasn’t giving away, its value could make up for the additional time you’ve spent on this job.”

  Winch’s eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to buy me off, Mrs. Thomas?”

  Georgiana hadn’t been, but she wouldn’t pass up the opportunity. “Yes. Could I?”

  The other woman smiled and shook her head. “In my profession, there’s only two things that matter aside from the money: the job you’re doing, and the next job you’ll get. And anyone who gets a reputation for sinking one job when a bit of gold is flashed in front of her won’t be getting another job.”

  “Then I suppose it would take a lot of gold to persuade you—enough that you’d never need another job.”

  “Yes.”

  Georgiana wasn’t that well off. And giving Mrs. Winch the gold coins wouldn’t secure her help. If the mercenary would betray her employer, then she would likely betray Georgiana and Thom, too.

  But Mrs. Winch might extend a job by one day, if she knew there was a possibility of earning more money. Not changing Southampton’s plan to kill them—just benefiting from delaying it. So Georgiana would let the knowledge that a valuable submersible waited below simmer in Mrs. Winch’s head for a while.

  Cranking the pump, she shrugged and sighed. “It was worth the attempt. I doubt I could have paid more than a man like Southampton. I’m sure you will be very well compensated.”

  “You’d think so.”

  Georgiana nodded, as if she hadn’t detected the edge in Winch’s reply. “He seems a fair man. Despite taking us against our will, he has treated us well. Thom and I have no complaints, especially as he’s promised to return us home. I’m sure that Southampton is fair in his dealings with you, too.”

  Winch looked out over the water, her mouth tight. No doubt the mercenary knew very well that Southampton didn’t intend to be fair in his dealings with Georgiana and Thom. Now she was likely wondering whether he’d show her mercenaries the same type of fairness.

  “Indeed,” she finally said, and took another draw from her cigarillo.

  Satisfied for now, Georgiana glanced up at the airship. The polished hull gleamed in the early morning light. Not the swiftest vessel in the skies, but quick enough to chase them down in a boat.

  Her gaze lifted to the balloon. As the morning passed, climbing up the cables anchoring the hydrogen-filled envelope to the wooden cruiser, and hiding atop its rounded bulk seemed less not so clever, and more no other choice. But as long as they were being foolish, she and Thom wouldn’t wait until they died of exposure. They would haul one of the lifeboats up with them, start a leak in the balloon—and when the airship settled into the sea, they could row away laughing.

  Georgiana’s breath stopped. She turned to stare into the water again, her ears filled with the squawking of seagulls and the gasping thrust of the pump, and her mind filled with thoughts of leaking balloons.

  It was a terrible idea. Incredibly stupid and dangerous. And it would also take away every advantage Southampton had over them. Right now, she and Thom were outgunned. But no one would dare fire a pistol on an airship with a leaking balloon. And they couldn’t have escaped in the lifeboat now, because the flyer would simply catch up to them—but not if her balloon had been compromised.

  Oh, but they would be taking such a risk. A single spark could destroy them all.

  Yet some chance of escape was still much better than having no chance.

  She spent the next hour weighing the risks over and over, trying to minimize every one. By the time she spotted the bubbles breaking against the surface, Georgiana knew that it would be their escape plan. Not at all clever, but it was the best they had.

  As long as they could delay Southampton for a little longer. It did not even have to be until that night—just until Thom recovered from his dive.

  This time, Thom didn’t haul himself up the tether with the air hose coiled at his side, but gripped the edge of the platform and dragged himself out of the water, a bulging canvas sack in his left hand. He dropped it onto the boards with a heavy thunk—and the unmistakable clink of coins.

  With his help, Georgiana worked his diving helmet off. His eyes were bloodshot again, his face pale and sweating.

  The dome had not even cleared his head when he asked, “Are you all right, Georgie?”

  She laughed. “That is my question to you. I’m fine, Thom. Are you?”

  Beside them, Mrs. Winch crouched in front of the canvas sack. “You brought up what you were supposed to?”

  “A bloody fortune,” Thom said. “Five thousand gold pieces and no weapons. Open it and look.”

  Winch did, her eyes widening. “There’s five thousand here? Southampton said it was only half that.”

  “He must have been mistaken,” Georgiana said.

  “He must have.” Winch stood and clanked on the platform chain, signaling to the airship. The boards jolted under Georgiana’s feet. Her heart began to pound. The gold had been retrieved. Their task for Southampton done.

  “Thom still needs to haul up his air hose, Mrs. Winch!” she called over the rattling chains. “Or he won’t be able to return for the submersible.”

  Winch glanced at her. “That’ll be up to his lordship, Mrs. Thomas.”

  And the bastard would either be greedy enough to stay another day, or Thom would bring it all down. Georgiana clutched his hand through the wet c
anvas glove and tried to resist when he subtly moved her behind him, until he said quietly, “I’m covered in brass armor, Georgie. Let me protect you a bit.”

  That was sensible—and terrifying. She was almost dizzy with fear by the time the platform clanked against the side of the hull.

  Wearing a cold little smile, Southampton stood waiting for them at the gangway, with the band of mercenaries behind him. “You didn’t release the tether from the wreck, Big Thom. I hope this doesn’t mean you returned empty-handed.”

  “It only means that my submersible is still down there. I’ll go back for it tomorrow.”

  Southampton’s gaze lit on the bulging canvas bag. “But you retrieved my gold?”

  “I did. All five thousand.”

  Southampton looked to Mrs. Winch, whose mouth flattened as she nodded her confirmation.

  Thom continued, “You don’t have to worry that I’ll make a claim on those coins or mention to anyone that I ever laid eyes on them. But that boat down there is all I have to support us . . . and I can sell the submersible on it for thirty livre, enough to buy another ship. That’ll get my wife and me back on our feet when you return us home.”

  Oh, Thom. Georgiana squeezed his hand. So very clever. At their dinner, Southampton had spoken of his noble family’s honor and duty, and now Thom appealed to him like a vassal appealing to his lord. If Thom had been appealing in fact, this would have been impossible for him—but her husband probably liked using Southampton’s supposed honor against him.

  And Southampton still wouldn’t let them live, but he’d no doubt enjoy playing the generous noble until he put a bullet in their heads.

  “A word, your lordship?” Mrs. Winch left the platform and drew Southampton forward along the deck. Georgiana didn’t hear anything of what Winch said to him, but she could well imagine. The value of the submersible might be enough to keep her mercenaries from feeling they’d been cheated, given that the gold Southampton had was worth twice what he’d said he owed the Crown.