by Kim Bowman
Adam didn’t. He continued his torturous exploration of first one breast then the other. Georgina cried out when he worked a hand up her skirts to find her center. She was dripping — hot, wet, and hungry for his touch.
He slipped his fingers into her undergarments and found the delicate nub hidden beneath her thatch. She clamped her legs tight around his fingers in a desperate attempt to keep him there and ground herself against him. “That’s it, love,” he whispered, encouraging her frenetic little movements.
There was an unrestrained fervor to her movements that served as a heady aphrodisiac. He continued to work her nub. Faster. Faster. All the while, he lavished his attention on her breast.
And then she was coming. In a violent explosion of mewling cries and panting moans. He toyed with her until he’d wrung every last drip of cum from her hot center.
She collapsed atop him. Her chest jerked up and down as she desperately tried to draw breath.
Adam stroked the sweaty brown curls that had fallen across her eye.
“How was that, love?” he asked.
A tiny little snort rustled the skin at his neck. He leaned back to study his wife.
He smiled. It would appear he’d pleasured his wife thoroughly enough to put her to sleep. Masculine pride made him grin. He dropped a kiss at the corner of her temple.
Georgina was working her way into his heart.
And he found he rather liked her there.
Emmet is attempting to secure the help of Michael Dwyer’s Wicklow rebels. Hunter has been dispatched to meet with Dwyer.
Signed,
A Loyal British Subject
Chapter 14
Georgina jerked awake, her heart racing. Her eyes struggled to adjust to her surroundings.
She blinked back the fog of confusion.
“Hullo, love.” With the teasing tone underlying Adam’s words, a reminder of all that had transpired, a reminder that this hadn’t been a dream.
Georgina yawned sleepily, relishing the warmth and security provided by Adam’s strong, sure arms. “How long have I been sleeping?”
“Oh, fifteen minutes.”
Fifteen minutes? It felt like she’d been sleeping the whole winter season.
A knock sounded on the carriage door. She let out a gasp and tugged the fabric of her gown back into place.
Adam watched on in amusement before taking pity. With quick movements, he had her skirts down around her legs, her cloak properly latched, and her hair…well, he did the best he could with the helpless mane of curls. She colored furiously at the thought of what his staff would think of their scandalous new mistress.
Another knock.
Adam didn’t give her an opportunity to protest. He allowed the tiger to open the door. Without waiting for the steps to be put into place, Adam leaped down and held his arms up for Georgina.
He lifted her from the carriage as though she were as light as a slip of fabric and not the plump, rounded cow she’d always been called by Father. Adam managed to do something no other person had ever done before—he made her feel beautiful. It was quite the heady sensation.
Adam leaned down until his lips nearly brushed her cheek. “Come along, love.” The warmth of his breath dissolved into a puff of air in the cool winter air.
Georgina allowed him to lead her up the stairs of his townhouse.
All her hopes for a quiet, unobtrusive entrance were spoiled by a long row of servants lining the marble foyer. A man attired all in black rushed forward, an older graying woman at his side.
This had to be Adam’s butler.
Adam took her hand, giving it a small squeeze as if attempting to pump support from his veins to hers. “May I introduce you to your staff? This is your butler, Watson, and your housekeeper, Miss Gayle.” He turned to the staff. “May I introduce you all to your new lady of the house, Mrs. Markham?”
Silence met his pronouncement.
Watson hesitated a fraction of a moment and then grinned. “Mr. Markham, on behalf of the entire staff it is my pleasure to wish you congratulations on your nuptials!”
Adam inclined his head and, either unaware or uncaring of the gaping stares being shot their way from the row of servants, proceeded to speak to Watson.
The plump housekeeper at his side looked at Georgina with suspicion in her narrow-eyed stare.
Georgina’s gut clenched. The Staff here was really no different than any other person she’d known in her life—cool, unfeeling, judgmental.
Still on this, Georgina’s wedding day, she’d longed to revel in the joy of her and Adam’s union. Instead, she’d encountered everything from hostility to unspoken disapproval.
She had to dig her feet into the soles of her slipper to keep from turning on her heel and fleeing out the front door.
“Mrs. Gayle, would you please show Mrs. Markham to her chambers?”
Georgina jumped then Adam’s words registered, and a wave of heat climbed up her neckline. His staff surely knew just why she was being shown to her chambers. She suspected she should’ve felt more embarrassment and not feel this breathless sense of anticipation.
Mrs. Gayle’s lips turned down at the corners. She clapped her hands once and the servants all dispersed like caged birds set free. With a curt nod, she spoke to Georgina. “If you would follow me, Mrs. Markham.”
Without waiting to see if Georgina did as bid, she turned on her heel and started up the winding staircase.
Adam leaned down and grazed her cheek with his lips. Georgina’s heart tripped at the tiny telltale gesture of support, and suddenly Miss Gayle’s disapproval mattered naught.
“I’ll be up shortly.” His husky whisper bespoke wickedness and desire.
Georgina felt her womb stir with anticipation. Adam had to nudge her toward Mrs. Gayle, who’d frozen on the stairwell. She matched the taller woman’s stride up the remaining stairs and down a long hall. The housekeeper stopped beside the last door on that floor.
She opened it and motioned for Georgina to enter. “Mrs. Markham,” she murmured, her voice devoid of emotion.
Georgina hesitated but then decided she preferred the idea of being in her new chambers to standing in the hall with this foul creature.
She took a step inside and froze. Her mouth fell agape, and she had to remind herself to close it.
“It is rather impressive, isn’t it?” Mrs. Gayle said. Georgina thought she detected a trace of condescension in the older woman’s words.
Real or imagined, it infused her spine with strength. Georgina turned to the woman with a small frown. “Mrs. Gayle, have I done something to offend you?”
The housekeeper’s eyes went wide for a moment. She shook her head. “Forgive me. I do not know what you are speaking of.”
Georgina gritted her teeth. She’d had enough of stern disapproval. The nurses at Middlesex Hospital. The earl of Whitehaven. The countess of Whitehaven. She’d not tolerate any more… particularly from a stranger who knew her not at all. “I should hope a woman of your courage and conviction could at least be forthright with me, Mrs. Gayle.”
Mrs. Gayle blinked back at her in what Georgina thought was surprise. “May I speak frankly?”
Georgina inclined her head. “I wish that you would.” She preferred honesty to the false veneer of aloof politeness worn by Adam’s mother and oldest brother.
“The staff is concerned,” Mrs. Gayle finally said.
Well, that makes all of us then.
Georgina waited for the woman to continue.
“There have been…” The maid fell silent.
“There have been…?” Georgina prodded gently.
“Rumors circulating quite freely. One of the maids has a cousin who is employed by the earl of Whitehaven who mentioned that Mr. Markham had been forced to marry you.”
Georgina’s heart tightened. She clenched her fingers so tightly it would surely leave marks in the flesh of her palms. Adam’s staff was good and loyal. They cared for him and worried that she was a
n interloper who’d forced his hand.
She glanced away, gaze colliding with the tall windows at the opposite end of the room. Hadn’t she though? Had Adam married her because he truly wanted to? Or had he been driven by a sense of obligation after she’d been relieved of her responsibilities at Middlesex?
The housekeeper continued, twisting the knife of guilt deeper. “It is also being said that you are the source of much contention between Mr. Markham and his family. Every member of the staff knows just how close he is with the countess and his brothers, and it is—”
“That will be all, Mrs. Gayle,” Adam said in frigid tones.
The housekeeper paled.
Georgina’s gaze swiveled to the front of the room. Adam stood framed in the doorway, the muscles in his arms tensed, the fabric of his jacket stretched tight over his skin.
“I—”
“That will be all,” he said.
Unrepentant Mrs. Gayle’s glared and, with an insolent curtsy, hurried from the room.
Georgina toyed with the fabric of her skirts, looking everywhere and anywhere but at him as he strode across the room toward her.
He rested his hands on her shoulders. “Look at me,” he said, his words a husky murmur.
She glanced up.
“I will never allow anyone to speak to you like that. Do you understand? You are my wife and deserving of respect. I will give Mrs. Gayle her references and send her—”
Georgina gasped. “No!” She couldn’t be responsible for another woman losing her work. Not when she still battled the horrors of being alone with nothing more than false references to her name. She’d wish that on no other woman. She tried again. “Please do not dismiss her. She cares for you.”
Adam raised her right hand to his mouth. He brushed his lips across her knuckles. A shiver of awareness coursed through her body.
“You are a good woman,” he said solemnly.
Her mind screeched a silent protest at his familiar words. How many times would he hurl that mocking statement at her? It only served as a reminder of her deceit.
She swirled away from him, ripping her hands free. Not for the first time that day, the urge to flee surged like a wave amidst a storm. Adam stood between her and the doorway, and he was looking at her with such gentle concern she wanted to cry and she hated that she wanted to cry because tears were a sign of weakness and… She needed to put some distance between them. Hurrying over to the long window, she pulled back the curtain and peered down into the bustling street below.
Georgina had traveled down a path that could not be undone, and because of it, he would be forever trapped in a marriage that for him was nothing more than an obligation. Her throat seized up.
“You should not have married me,” she whispered, laying her forehead against the pane.
“I married you because I wanted to, Georgina. I don’t give a damn about anyone’s opinions or expectations and neither should you.” A trace of annoyance underlined his words.
She laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, Adam, you belong to a different world than I do.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I have to care about others opinions and expectations. You do not. You—”
“Georgina, we now belong to the same world.” His jaw flexed as if he were trying to remain in control of his temper.
Oddly, she was not afraid. Adam would not hurt her.
Georgina, however, could hurt him a great deal. All it would take was a whisper of the truth about her lies and he’d toss her into the street. A spasm wracked her body. She had to hug herself to try in vain to stifle the growing shiver. She pictured herself alone in a cold Newgate cell while the guards violated her, while the rats gnawed at her. Bile climbed up her throat.
“Georgina?”
Adam’s voice came as if down a long, long hall—distant and faint in her ears.
He pressed his lips to the nape of her neck, and the horror receded. She sucked in a deep breath.
Adam pulled her back against his chest and rocked her in a gentle rhythm. “Do you have nightmares?”
She nodded. All the time.
“They haunt me as well. I don’t think a night has passed that Fox and Hunter don’t pay a visit to my dreams.”
Oh God. Agony struck her heart like a thousand knives. She knew nightmares. Had lived with them her entire life. And because of her horrible, vile father, Adam’s life would never be the same.
Tears blurred her vision. She had to tell him. Now, before they consummated their union and Adam was forever bound to her, a woman he would soon loathe and revile.
She turned in his arms and raised her tear-filled gaze to his. “Adam, I-I n-need...” She took a deep breath and tried again. “I need to tell you about Fox.”
Adam pressed a finger to her lips. “Not now. Not on this day. They took so much from both of us. I’ll not allow them to ruin this day, too.”
Georgina took a step away from him. She threw her palms up. “No! I have to say this.”
Adam closed the distance between them. He framed her face between his hands—hands which had caressed and soothed her. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does!” she cried. She needed him to listen. Needed him to know every last ugly truth. She should have told him. Long before now, before she’d trapped him into a marriage with his captor’s daughter.
He kissed her, effectively silencing her next words. He pulled back, dropping a final kiss on her brow. “It doesn’t matter. Not now. Not ever.”
Not ever.
Her heart stirred with hope. She was ready to move forward. With Adam as her husband. She’d never meant anything to her father; the day he’d left her alone would forever mark the moment she’d been born again.
Take what Adam offers. Leap on the wings of new beginnings, Georgina. Soar.
Georgina turned around, presenting him with her back. She spoke on a breathless whisper, “Will you undo my buttons?”
Adam sucked in a breath but, with a jerky nod, began to work freeing the long row of buttons. In moments, cool air kissed her exposed back, the modest chemise little barrier to the chill.
Georgina wiggled the fabric past her hips where it pooled in a silken heap, twining about her and Adam’s feet. In spite of her undergarments, she felt remarkably bare. She made to cross her arms over her breasts, but Adam stayed her with his hand.
“Don’t,” he begged hoarsely. “I want to see all of you.” The rapid rise and fall of his chest indicated that he was as aroused as she was. Georgina shrugged off her modest dress and stood before him, shivering with alternating waves of modesty and desire.
A hiss slipped between his clenched teeth. “You are so beautiful.”
Really she wasn’t. With her large breasts, rounded hips and buttocks, she was really just plump. But when he said it that way, like a starving man offered one final feast, she almost believed it.
Wordlessly, he swept her into his arms and carried her across the room, the tread of his feet quiet on the plush carpet. Then he lowered her to the bed, letting her body slide down his until he had her on her back, open for his mastery. His hard shaft prodded the soft fabric at the center of her thighs.
With a guttural growl, he removed her undergarments, and Georgina was fully naked before him.
A puddle of heat settled between her legs. Georgina bit her lip hard. She wanted him with a wanton longing that frightened her. Yearned to shove him down and press his head between her legs, feel his wicked tongue swirl around her womanhood.
“What are you thinking, Georgina?” he asked, his voice a husky whisper.
Her cheeks flooded with color. Thoughts no good, young lady should have.
“Do you want to feel my mouth here?” His tongue circled the peak of her breast.
She cried out.
“Or here?” He nipped at her neck. She whimpered when he pulled away. He continued to trail feathery kisses along her flesh, until he paused at the threshold of her womanhood. “Or…here?” His breath tickled the curls
that concealed the dripping wet desire.
He wedged a knee between her legs, parting her gently. She waited, afraid that any movement on her part would mean an immediate cessation in his loving.
And he did. He looked up at her, a roguish grin on his lips. “Is this what you want, Georgina? Do you want me to kiss you here?” He slipped his tongue between the folds of her womanhood, the caress so faint, so delicate, she feared she’d imagined it. But the puddle grew, and she knew his taunting touch had been real. Her thighs fell open wide, quivering. Aching.
He buried his face between her thighs and plunged his tongue inside. Her hips bucked, and a strangled cry escaped her.
She twisted her fingers in his silken, blond strands, anchoring him to her.
Adam moved his tongue in and out then flicked it over the trembling bud of desire. He claimed it between his lips and sucked hard. She thrashed her head back and forth atop the pillow, incapable of words.
Fortunately, Adam knew exactly what her body craved. He pulled away. The whimpering protest faded on a moan as he shucked off his shirt. The broad, muscled wall of his chest, with the faintest sprinkling of golden curls, was even more impressive than the times she’d seen it during his captivity. His skin now had a healthy olive cast, as if he’d been painted by the sun.
Then he moved on to his breeches. Her mouth went dry. She supposed she should feel a maidenly sense of modesty but hungered for a glimpse of him like a hedonistic wanton. The breeches joined his shirt on the floor.
Georgina couldn’t move. The full, swollen length of him was more magnificent than any piece of art. A drip of moisture beaded at the plumed purplish-blue head. She reached out and caught the bead. She raised her lips and sucked down the taste of him. It was salty and tasted of raw, masculine vitality.
Adam groaned—the low feral moan of a man ready to possess his mate. He moved over her and settled himself between her legs. “This will hurt for a moment, love,” he whispered.
But he closed his lips over the engorged tip of her breast, and she forgot anything but the press of his skin against hers. She wanted him. Wanted all of him.