by Jilian Rouge
That in of itself may seem innocuous enough, but she catered only to a select clientele that specifically asked for nude portraits. Requests were discreetly delivered via Ernest, who had jokingly suggested she paint nudes in the first place. He had, of course, thought that she would blanch at the idea, but inspiration had struck, and her very first commissioned portrait was one of herself.
After the ton had laughed at the idea of Rafe and her together, she had thought to show them all how skewed their views on beauty and perception truly were. With a fueled passion, she worked tirelessly on her self-portrait, determined to show the world what a wallflower could do.
The finished product was breathtaking. As strange as it was for Ernest to see his own sister so, the portrait itself did not give away the identity of the subject painted therein. With the tricks of shading and lighting, Georgie’s face in the portrait had been subtly hidden in shadow, while the rest of her form was decorously highlighted and artfully posed. The figure in the painting was undeniably her, only it was a version of her that commanded the eye to look upon fresh, sensual beauty that had nothing to do with Society’s ideals.
Somehow, without divulging who the subject in the portrait was, Ernest had sold the painting for a large sum of money. Soon after, discreet requests from devoted husbands willing to pay exorbitant amounts for just such portraits of their wives came flooding in. Fortunately for Georgie, her name and status as one of the peerage had never been brought up or leaked by any of her clients, as was stipulated for her to agree to do the commissioned work.
On top of her racier work, Georgie was also an accomplished artist for the Zoological Society of London, having submitted her sketchings of various bird species indigenous to the area. While not a member, Georgie’s drawings were helpful contributions to the society, as some of them were of species yet to be discovered and catalogued. While doing well for herself in the naturalist world, she allowed that her clandestine portraits gave herself more room to stretch her wings of creativity.
But not even Nicholas, the current object of her affections, knew she painted such risqué portraits. As long as she had known him, Nicholas seemed the type who was too refined, too cultured for the kind of paintings she happily indulged in. And she felt that she couldn’t share with him this side of her that craved the heady combination of beauty and sensuality.
The Rafe she had known might have appreciated this naughtier side of her, given he was always one to indulge in naughtiness a time or two. But who is to say that he would be that same Rafe? The danger she sensed rolling off of him in waves gave her enough pause to conclude that he was a different man, a stranger, really, who might not understand her or her motives at all.
His presence here only served to confuse her. A small part of her wished he hadn’t come back if his return meant that it would disrupt her life to suit his. Another part of her starved for the sight of him and forced her to revisit the old feelings of affection, telling her that she had genuinely missed Rafe, her friend. Yet, as much as she tried to lie to herself, she could not deny that her body had instantly responded to the sight of him, aroused simply by one meaningful look from him.
4
What were the chances of meeting his wife of two days while visiting the home of his friend, Alex? Having just left the men with whom Alex played the host in his own study, Rafe’s mind raced as to how to get Georgie alone, just to talk, to explain. He had a lot to make up for, but most of all, he had to make her understand that he had no choice when he had left England, left her.
But he wasn’t going to lie to himself; he desperately wanted to cart her to the nearest bedchamber and show her with his body how much he missed her. He craved the chance to just be next to her, soaking up the soothing balm of her presence after so many years away from her.
Over the years, he had never stopped thinking of Georgie as his wife. Even when his body’s needs became too great that he had sought out the short-lived company of a woman or two in different ports. Feeling ashamed after each encounter, he felt the guilt of betrayal keenly, not liking himself one bit for heaping more shame upon her poor, unsuspecting head.
She was his, pure and simple. He had lived without her for five long years, but Georgie was all that he wanted, all that he ever needed, even when he was busy living a pirate’s life aboard his own ship. Only, it had taken four years to finally make it back to the country of his birth, the country where he had left his heart solely with one woman. No other woman owned him quite the way Georgina Montagu has.
Thus, the quicker he could explain things to Georgie, the better his chances were of convincing her to stay married to him. He half-feared that his long absence may have swayed any tender emotions she might have for him and turned her attentions to someone else. The very thought of Georgie with someone else was enough for his possessive instincts to rise up and snatch her away from this imaginary rival.
With such thoughts, his fists curled automatically, as if priming himself for a fight. Only he had no clue whether there was someone he needed to warn away from his own wife. Stomping down a corridor to find the nearest open terrace, Rafe intended to avoid the cloying presence of so many people and to devise a plan to return to Georgie’s good graces.
No sooner did he step foot onto said terrace did a small voice call out one word, “Rafe.”
Twisting about in the direction of the distinctly female voice, Rafe froze, his eyes flaring at the still familiar, yet changed appearance of his Georgie. Awed mostly by being near her again after so long at sea, Rafe drank in the sight of her, content to just look and soak her in.
In her evening finery, Georgie looked the picture of sophistication. When he last saw her, her remembered her in ruffles and lace that did nothing to compliment her curvy figure. Now, it seemed she had broken away from her mother’s choice of clothing for her and had settled for a style that was becoming on her, emphasizing an alluring, womanly silhouette that made his mouth water.
Despite the trappings in which she was adorned, Georgie remained as familiar to him as the back of his own hand. She no longer had the full flush of youth about her features, but he noted instead that her beloved face lent a certain maturity and worldliness that wasn’t there when he had last seen her. To him, she was his goddess of love and beauty, his own personal Venus.
“Firecracker,” he whispered into the gloom of the terrace, his eyes fixed on her form. She appeared almost otherworldly, illuminated as she was by the lamplight streaming through the glass terrace doors.
In response to his old nickname for her, Georgie rankled a bit. Ignoring her own reaction to the endearment, she pressed, “Rafe, I—that is—how is it that you’ve come here, and not directly home?” She had forgotten how tall and how intimidating his stature had always been, but she took pride in keeping her composure at his own personal nickname for her. No one called her that, only Rafe.
His smile dropped a fraction, but he answered her lightly, “What, no hearty welcome for your prodigal husband?” Looking into her eyes, he searched for a sign of the same girl he had known, hoping that they could slip back into their old camaraderie. There had been many a night alone on his ship when he lay awake pondering what could have been between them, missing her terribly. But for him, setting eyes upon her once again was like the five years prior ceased to exist and settling back into their friendship of old seemed to be just within reach.
“You-you’ve changed so much, I hadn’t recognized you,” she said breathily. “At least, not at first.” He had grown a few more inches since last she’d seen him. She shook her head as if to clear it of errant thoughts and continued, “I’m just very surprised to see you here, in the earl’s home, no less.”
It was hard, but Georgie forced old memories and old hurts into a mental drawer, determined not to let their past haunt her. At the very least, she wanted to blast him with a fiery show of her temper for daring to think he could come back and pick up where they had left off. Her life as it was now, the plans she
had underway had no room for such ignorance on his part.
“Aren’t you glad to see me, Georgie?” he asked quietly. Uncertain of how his return made her feel, he thought it best to ask her directly. “Now that we are alone, perhaps you’d like to explain what you are also doing here?”
“I asked first,” she claimed tartly. “You’ve been away for five years with no explanation, no goodbye. I rather think that I have a right to know where you’ve been hiding for so long.”
The ire in her words, however, didn’t seem to faze him, and he reacted only by striding forward until the tops of his Hessians brushed the hem of her gown. Her eyes rounded in alarm at his nearness, and she couldn’t help but shiver from underneath his piercing gaze. To Georgie, he looked very much like a vengeful angel, beautiful in his holy wrath.
Rafe frowned; his hands banded about both of her upper arms. Through clenched teeth, he bit out, “Whatever you may have thought about me, know this: I did not leave you or my home of my own volition. After you had told me to leave, even then, I never put our marriage out of my mind. I had gotten foxed at the Silver Eagle the day we fought, and the next thing I knew I was in chains and on board a slavering ship bound for the West Indies.”
Horror rounded Georgie’s eyes at his words; in all of her wild imaginings, kidnapping and slavery was not among the options for Rafe’s disappearance.
But Rafe was relentless and continued, “I had drunk myself into a stupor while trying to devise what to say to you after you heard my conversation with my father. A lot of my formulated plans involved the both of us locked in a bedchamber together and making love to you all night long. Foggy as my memory was, I do recall a man with an unusual scar on his face who was there at the tavern and was also there on the ship where I had awoken. I believe he had sold me to slavers while I was unconscious and doomed me to a lifetime of slavery.”
“Oh, my God,” Georgie whispered, tears falling unbidden from her lower lashes. There was no mistaking the bitterness in his voice, and Georgie knew he spoke the truth, despite how unbelievable such a story was to her. Dimly aware of Rafe’s hands squeezing her arms tighter as he revealed his wild, sorry tale, her other senses registered the entirety of Rafe and his utter nearness. He hadn’t left her, after all, and hadn’t meant to stay away on purpose.
Without conscious thought, Georgie slipped her arms around him, drawing him tightly into her embrace. His revelations dispelled the hurt and anger that his disappearance had caused her, and relief blanketed her soul that she was not the reason behind his leaving. However, anger returned on Rafe’s behalf, solely for the fact that he could have died while in captivity, and not even his family knew of his plight.
In her arms, Rafe softened a little and returned her embrace with a tight one of his own. Pulling her flush against his chest and settling the top of her head underneath his chin, he caressed her glossy black hair. He crooned, “But I’m here now. I came back for you. It took me four years, but I’m back.”
Georgie stiffened within his arms at his words. With Rafe’s admission came thoughts of confusion for the future. In some ways, Georgie had stopped thinking of Rafe as hers over the years, but deep down, she knew he was just as much hers despite the words she had uttered to dissolve their marriage. After all, the dissolution of their marriage had not even been brought to the courts.
“But how are you only home now? Your father had sent out Bow Street runners to find you, and none of them were able to find anything,” she stated, pulling back to look at him questioningly.
“I had been a slave for one whole year aboard that slavering ship before it had been overtaken by a lesser known privateer who abhorred slavery. Fortunately for me, the old privateer offered me an indenture on his own ship to help pay my own way back to England. It took two years before I had enough blunt to buy his own ship from him and made myself captain. No Bow Street runner would have found much about me unless they, too, sailed the seas. But I had sent word two months ago to my father and Lionel that I intended to come home after one final mission.”
“You were a pirate? If the Crown knows about you, you could hang!” Georgie cried.
“I assure you that nothing I did as a privateer, not a pirate, was illegal, since the Crown knew of my activities.” At her questing look, he clarified, “I was working for the Crown in a final bid to rid the seas of slavering ships. Not once did I act as a true pirate and have cause to walk anyone down the plank! But I will confess that I kept the spoils and riches of the slavers I had dispatched. You see before you a very rich sea captain, worthy of keeping you comfortable in the pocket for two lifetimes over.”
“And you couldn’t have sent word to me? And all this time, I believed you either dead or increasingly stubborn,” Georgie accused.
“After our argument, I couldn’t look at my father, much less speak to him for being the reason I had lost you. I had always believed him to be unreasonable in his own selfish goals, and he was no different when he suggested I marry you. You know how much he wanted our families to be connected, but later, I relented and wrote to him.”
“Yes, I did know. And I also knew your father loved you very much,” Georgie whispered.
Eyes downcast, Rafe said, “Deep down, I know that, but I couldn’t forgive him or myself for driving you away. I had believed then that I was a worm who was unworthy of winning you back.”
“And now? Do you believe yourself worthy?” she asked quietly.
“I know I’m not worthy, but I do believe that we belong to each other, you and I. Since we were children, I had loved you, but it wasn’t until I had asked you to marry me that I realized that I was in love with you.”
“Rafe, why—” Georgie choked, but didn’t continue.
“It’s all right. Just know that I couldn’t stop thinking of you, dreaming of you, while I was at sea. More than once, I thought of coming back straight to you. You are singularly too beautiful, too smart for someone like me, but I still love you anyway.”
His words had a dizzying effect on her, and if he hadn’t already been holding her to him, she would have swayed and fallen to the terrace floor. She shook off the lightheadedness and instead said, “I know what motivated you to marry me, so why tell me only now that you love me?”
“I never should have left you, firecracker,” he said seriously. Five years away had him hungry, starving for her, and he aimed to have her. Soon. He was sure that Georgie could see the lust evident in his eyes, judging by the nervous look in hers. He continued, “I couldn’t tell you I loved you five years ago, not when I felt so damned guilty about how I trapped you into marrying me.”
“But—” Georgie was cut off with his mouth closing over hers. Rafe kissed her just as he had five years ago at the Prince Regent’s ball, but this time with more self-assurance. His lips began a sensual ravishment of hers, gently savoring her taste as he framed her face with his hands. In two heartbeats, Georgie opened for him, and Rafe took the invitation to seize and plunder like the pirate he didn’t say he was. With the kiss so deepened, Georgie uttered a small moan at which Rafe answered with a groan of his own.
Rafe had no intention of letting her go ever again, and as starved as he was for her, there was much to be said about delayed gratification when it came to his wife. He planned on treasuring this moment with her, where he was finally just beginning the satiation of five years’ worth of pent-up need for her in this one kiss.
Georgie easily drowned herself in this outpouring of passion washing over the both of them. Having known how maddening his touch, his kisses had been in the past, it was a simple thing to just give in to such heady abandon. Since Rafe, she had not found this familiar state of intoxication with any other man, and it was such sweet relief to know it once again in his arms.
Passion between them had never been a problem between them, Georgie had found, nor was it a problem now. She now had her hands flat against his chest, wondering at the granite hardness she found there and at his heart pounding fiercely
against her palms. She whimpered as Rafe’s tongue invaded past her lips, thoroughly taking possession of her mouth as he continued to stoke the flames of passion within her. It seemed she was just as starved for this ardor between them just as he was.
And just like that, Georgie’s own ardor cooled at the reminder of where Rafe had gained his artful skills of seduction. She knew he had been a consummate rake before they were married, and she was sure he had no compunction to hold himself to their wedding vows after she had turned him out. She couldn’t fault him for his baser nature as it was as much a part of himself as he was of her own past. But that didn’t mean she had to live with such behavior; the very thought of Rafe with other women after they had parted on angry terms made her ill. Even with his passionate declaration to her, how could she live with a husband who would not remain faithful?
While she had been angry at him for the good part of one year after he had gone, she had also been fiercely missing him and their old friendship. The girl in her would always love Rafe, her friend, but his long absence made a stranger out of him. She simply didn’t know him as this new incarnation, Captain Rafe Griffiths. Or rather, the new Duke of Lyonscar.
