The Last Gamble

by Anabelle Bryant

  ‘Promise me a walk in the garden after dinner. It will be our secret alone, while course after course at the table winds anticipation tighter.’

  Soft as smoke, his voice caressed her cheek. The Devil. She should refuse. She knew what a walk in the garden implied no matter the suggestive lilt in his voice. Temptation held her in delicious thrall, the promise alone an aphrodisiac. ‘You have my word.’

  She dared a glance to his glittering silver gaze and then shot her eyes down to the carpet, in hope she hadn’t begun to melt, a puddle of Georgina on the library floor.

  Hungry or not, dinner would prove an exercise in endurance.

  Chapter Fourteen

  What was it about this woman? There was so much he didn’t know about the governess, yet his body insisted they communicated on an intimate level, his mind captivated and eager to remind of all the glories he had yet to discover. Earlier he’d puzzled over the facts, trying without victory to sort through the collection of knowledge which composed Georgina, adding several chapters to the catalogue now, perplexed by the innocent truth in her elegant lie. Whatever held her in fear and prompted she present this dishonest visage would need be discovered after he reclaimed Nate. For now, at least by her own mouth, she’d committed to staying in London. What would occur after two days’ time, when Dursley remained out of house and he was forced to perpetuate his lie, he could not know.

  His friends asked no questions, for which he was grateful, though surely Max and Cole noticed the inconsistences in Georgina’s story without fail. The knowledge accumulated by life on the street was a bastard’s gift. They each possessed an aptitude to detect nuance, collect detail. Mayhap the basest explanation, a need for survival, elevated the ability to expertise.

  They’d deferred to the salon at the rear of the house after dinner where sherry and brandy were offered. Cole and Gemma left soon after and now, ensconced in the comfortability that accompanies time-tested friendship and fierce loyalty, Luke eyed the full moon and terrace doors.

  ‘Excuse us, won’t you?’ He strode to where Georgina sat poised on the settee. ‘I promised the lady a view of the stars.’

  Georgina glanced up, her expression shy, while Max coughed to override his wife’s laughter.

  Outside on the slates, the night air served as an ideal elixir to cool any allusion drawn by his excuse. Eschewing custom, he laced his fingers through hers; woven together by bare, soft skin, he locked her at his side as they wandered in silence and luxurious compatibility.

  He stopped near a trellis, heavy with closed blooms, their petals turned inward in abject denial until morning. Earthy scents, damp and primal, surrounded them in quiet. Their previous kisses had been fierce, an urgent conquest sought lest the opportunity disappeared. Not now. Tonight, time ceased to participate in his plan.

  He stole closer and turned to face her, slipping his hold from her fingers, wanting to form a memory he’d remember when she moved on and he recalled this moment. She waited in the golden moonlight, wordless, breathtaking in the shimmer of stars reflected in her irises and lower in a pearly sheen across the tempting swell of skin along her neckline. He’d noticed her use of a corset as soon as he’d entered the library. The delicious result achieved by the garment created a dusky valley between her breasts, smooth, silky skin pushed upward in offering, and his wicked imagination offered several ingenious ideas for exploration of her delicate, inviting body. He rubbed his fingers together, nimble and ready.

  ‘I’m sorry things did not proceed with Lord Dursley as we had hoped this morning.’

  ‘You’ve no need to apologize.’ At week’s end, he would. ‘I hope remaining in London longer than expected isn’t an unbearable inconvenience.’

  ‘As long as I’m returned to Coventry straight after two days, there shouldn’t be a conflict.’ She canted her head to the side as if it was all decided, neat and tidy.

  ‘You’re devoted to dear Master Tucker. Do you have an arrangement with his father?’

  He knew at once his question shocked, her acting ability paralleled with her skill as liar. Still, he cursed himself for asking, despite it was a riddle within boundary. For some troubling reason, he needed to know the answer and pressed the issue, all the while aware she appeared troubled.

  ‘I would think a governess, beautiful at that, would encounter the very same problem repeatedly.’ His voice dropped low as if he contemplated the issue instead of prodded her towards revealing information.

  ‘You needn’t concern yourself on my behalf.’ She gave a blithe wave in dismissal of the subject, though he noted her hand trembled. ‘I live a quiet life.’

  ‘By choice or circumstance?’

  ‘A bit of both.’ Her lovely eyes searched his face as she studied him thoroughly. ‘How do you bear it?’

  She didn’t need to explain the core of her enquiry, the anguish unrelenting. ‘I lock it away. My chest is a vault of undisclosed emotion and at times great pain, which exists as a constant hum of unwanted energy deep in my bones. Guilt, blame, hope, anger, they’re all confused and combined into a nervous tension stronger than any force I’ve ever known, and capable of crippling me if I allow it. When Nate was first taken, I got in my own way, too desperate to make sense of what I needed to do, but now I keep it all latched tight or I could not function otherwise.’

  ‘What a difficult way to live one’s life.’

  ‘That is true.’ His murmur melted into the silent night air. He worked hard at becoming numb, the sensation preferable to the daily torment of his failure. They stood a few ticks longer and he exhaled his frustration in a long breath. ‘May I kiss you, Georgina?’

  It was her turn to be surprised. ‘Will you not steal a kiss as before?’

  ‘Do you have a preference?’ The sallow moonglow couldn’t disguise her eager flush. His mouth itched to tease but he would not risk spoiling the moment.

  She jerked her head upward with the question, the sudden movement creating a long jump of shadow on the slates beyond her shoulder. He touched her arm and gently pulled her closer.

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered.

  His eyes narrowed, her answer unclear.

  ‘Yes, you may kiss me now.’

  Eyes wide, she followed his hand as from her hair he removed the pins, cast aside into a rose bush. Her infernal twisted bun fell loose, besieged by his handiwork. He suspected she meant to object, her chin notched and mouth working, but he silenced her with a nod and threaded his fingers through the heavy lengths to spread across her shoulders.

  ‘That’s better,’ he mused with a slight smile. ‘You are definitely more goddess than governess.’ She eased out a breath and he continued. ‘There are so many kinds of kisses.’ Her slender brows arched high and he drew her further into the circle of his embrace, his voice a smooth murmur. ‘Soft and gentle, full of longing, urgent assaults insistent with desire, or decadent, leisurely explorations that dare the world.’ He angled her jaw, aligned their mouths so he could detect every faint puff of breath.

  ‘I suspect all your kisses yield a maelstrom.’

  ‘I will take that as a compliment.’ He wasn’t completely convinced, though he brought their mouths together.

  His lips found hers waiting for a gentle buss, pliant and warm, sophisticated and not at all like the imperative ravishment of their previous reckless encounter at The Underworld.

  Strange how the stakes were higher and he possessed complete control. If only the feeling would last. He prolonged the moment and her tongue sought his attention. A fleeting spike of male arrogance rearing up to tout she wants this, she’s anxious, before he slid his tongue alongside hers, his bold thrust greeted with an erotic whimper from deep in her throat. He grasped her waist and pulled her forward without finesse, his body overriding his mind, all intention evaporated in the deliberate stroke of his tongue. Any thought of gentleness unravelled in the next breath, transformed to ramped pleasure and undeniable need as they surrendered to the kiss.

  He didn�
�t know her beyond two weeks yet it seemed as if he’d waited all his life for this moment and that thought challenged his better sense. He wasn’t some green lad receiving his first glimpse of pleasure, nor a jaded rakehell who, so accustomed to prurient attention, found novelty in a proper lady’s embrace. In the end, he had no way to explain his fierce longing and discarded the mental contradiction, marking it foolish. Desire, razor-sharp, cut through cognitive thought.

  He wrapped his arms around her slim figure and crushed her to his chest, tangling his hands in her hair as his body hummed with everything Georgina, the flavour of her mouth, scent of her skin and curious, seeking kiss. At last he forced himself away, regretting the action as soon as he lost contact, her sweet cupid’s bow of a mouth opened in the gentlest moue. Wicked thoughts flooded his brain. He wanted those soft lips coasting over his skin, touching his chest, lower, wrapped around his hard cock instead. The notion sent heat pumping through him, scorching reason. He needed to regain control, though he rushed right back into the fire, slanting his mouth against hers in another deep embrace.

  He trailed precious kisses down the column of her neck, her scent flooding his senses as he slipped a teasing finger between her breasts, the damp warmth of the snug flesh arrowing sensation straight to his groin. He lowered her sleeve, impatient with the layers beneath her gown, angry he couldn’t touch her the way he wished and learn her curves, memorize each sensual inch of her body. Myriad emotions flittered over her face, but she did not stop him, her eyes half closed, the long lashes bowed against her flushed skin.

  He slid her bodice lower, tugged at the soft cloth and took with it the restrictive silk underthings that disallowed his pleasure until he untied the delicate ribbons of her chemise, her breasts, exposed by the half cups of the corset, a delectable temptation.

  ‘You’re beautiful.’ He’d told her before, believed it to be true, but now understood the meaning of the word.

  A disconnected idea, words unexplainable and piercing in their exacting truth, reared up with vicious clarity.

  How could Fate allow anyone to touch her beside me?

  The question struck him, held him motionless another beat until she exhaled, quivering against him with the action. His body ached with yearning. Desire’s demand gathered with such intensity he abandoned all thought.

  Delving his hand beneath the cloth he cupped her breast, petal soft and heavy in his palm. Her breath caught as he passed his thumb over the tip, budded and ruched in wait of his mouth. He clenched his jaw tight with the anticipated pleasure and bowed his head, a slow, reverent movement, fearful she would startle, or worse, stop him when he was so close to tasting her at last. He rubbed the hard peak and teased the sensitive flesh once more before he stroked with his tongue, the inordinate pleasure almost too much to bear.

  Lost in immeasurable sensation, Georgina clasped Luke’s shoulders, concerned her legs would betray her as easily as her principles. It was wrong, so very wrong, to be out here in the garden darkness with a man she’d met a fortnight ago. How had she allowed him to lower her sleeve, explore her bodice and touch her as only a husband should? She’d chastised herself repeatedly after their intimacy at The Underworld, but this proved she was wanton, a rebellious, sensual creature who would only bring shame upon herself and family if she did not reconcile her passionate impulses. A torrent of unwelcome emotion surged through her and reminded with revulsion of a past incident of aggressive advance and the contrariness of that unwanted situation in comparison to the glory of Luke’s touch. Unwilling to allow the memories to intrude, she denied them all, relieved when, soon after, pleasure obliterated coherent thought.

  He fondled her breast, took the tip in his mouth, the scorching texture of his tongue, stroke after stroke, became the proclivity of implicit seduction. Every nerve ending tingled down her spine to her knees, and most of all between her legs where she grew wet and sensitive. All feeling now began and ended there as if her sex had become her heart or the other way around.

  She reminded herself to breath, lost in blissful sensation as he worried the peak of each breast with his teeth, tight lingering bites that caused her to whimper, the frisson of pleasure a vigorous energy that coursed through her every limb. Unable to remain still, she arched into his caress, offering and at the same time aching for more. He suckled again, hard and demanding, and she squeezed her eyes closed, locking the memory away as she twined her arms around his neck. This was madness. Beguiling, delicious, dangerous madness.

  ‘You smell like apricots, but you taste like paradise.’

  Syllable by syllable, his husky murmur teased her skin. How did one reply to a comment like that? Thank you seemed hardly appropriate.

  The strange, thoughtful pause brought clarity to their situation. She stood in the garden of a home where she was a visitor at the request of a man who had his mouth on her breast. What felt incredibly right only moments before now seemed infinitely wrong. Confusion took over with a strong hold.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She pulled away, untangling her arms as she struggled to sort emotion. Shame combined with a disquieting degree of panic elevated her voice. She fumbled with the ties of her chemise, at last pushing them over her shoulder and righting her sleeve to keep them intact. There was no help for her hair, the pins lost to the roses.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  Perhaps he’d realized, like she, that they’d trespassed into dangerous waters, beyond restrictions of etiquette, friendship or moral behaviour. Yet he was a man who played by no one’s rules but his own. She shook her head to remind she was raised with impeccable manners despite her recent behaviour. When had this scandalous immorality seeped into her genteel deportment to create a permanent stain? Again the remembrance of the horrible night she decided to leave London, and the unfortunate events forcing her to flee, covered her skin with gooseflesh. She shook off the humiliating memory and stiffened her spine. Luke still waited for her answer. ‘Yes. Yes, I’m fine.’

  He hissed a black curse or some unfamiliar expletive. ‘Fine?’ The dark tenor of his enquiry indicated he did not share the condition.

  ‘I must go inside. Is there another entrance?’

  He jerked his chin and clasped her hand within his where he led a few steps further into the garden and around an ornamental fishpond to a servant’s door. She matched his intense gaze, half shadowed now by a cloud that scudded over the moon and obstructed light to create a pantomime of shifting shadows on the ground.

  It was an inscrutable moment.

  ‘Good night, Georgina.’

  A strange note ruined his voice, one she could not label, and she hurried through the door, closing it behind her as if the simple act would shut out all the conflicted feelings his kisses had conjured.

  Luke remained at the back of the house longer than necessary, though he was sure Georgina would find her way through the kitchen and up the backstairs undetected. It was he who needed time to recover equilibrium from her luscious body. His own thrummed with unfulfilled promise. His cock throbbed from yet another thwarted release. Fine? Fine? He was nearly unhinged and she was fine? Conceivably the best thing that could happen once Nate was returned would be the governess leaving in kind. He was slave to no one’s emotions and the power with which he wanted her warned he should proceed with caution.

  It could only be distraction. Georgina had become an entrancing distraction, nothing more. He cursed again, allowing the anger he so often squelched to flood his every pore. His son was stolen. Stolen by his half-brother. Robbed from him, not just in body, but in time. All these months away from Nathaniel could never be reclaimed. He missed his son with an unearthly ache that would not be assuaged until he was returned.

  What would he do if he could not recover the boy?

  Distraction would no longer soothe his torment.

  He entered the parlour through the terrace doors some time later, confident he would show himself out undisturbed and return to his apartments, but he was wrong. Max waited. T
wo full brandy glasses in wait as well.

  He caught his friend’s avid attention and dropped into a leather chair. Apparently, the night was about to get longer.

  ‘She’s lying.’ Max wasn’t one for small talk.

  ‘I can’t press her.’ Luke lifted a brandy and took a swallow, the smooth burn not half as pleasing as Georgina’s kiss and worthless against his pain. ‘Nor take the chance of her refusing to assist and return to the country. She’s all the cards and I’ve none for the time being.’

  ‘She doesn’t strike me as cruel or manipulative.’

  ‘No. Of course not. But she’s concealing something that troubles her, so much she doesn’t want to be who she really is. It must be important. Still, she’s not experienced at hiding it. It’s almost as if she forgets who she’s supposed to be whenever she lets her guard down, which isn’t very often. All the while the manner which she blurts things out and instantly realizes her mistake is adorably endearing and utterly confounding.’ He traced a fingertip over the rim of his glass as if the action would facilitate understanding. ‘Not that it matters.’

  Max’s abbreviated chuckle surprised him. ‘Has she become more than a means to recover Nate?’

  ‘No.’ His immediate objection aroused Max’s doubt, scepticism clear on his face.

  ‘You don’t care for her? Is that what you’re telling me?’

  ‘Yes.’ Luke finished his brandy. Since when did Max pry into personal alliances and why did it matter?

  ‘Then I misunderstood. When the two of you are in the same room there’s no need to stoke the fire, the heat is palpable.’ He paused, inclined to allow Luke a reply but silence answered. ‘And aside from my observation, Vivi has the idea of introducing Georgina to Crispin. Sophie visited earlier with news her brother has been located in Italy. If he returns to England and the governess is unattached, my lovely wife thinks Georgina would make Crispin a fine match. As you might have guessed, Vivienne feels responsible for Crispin’s hasty decision to leave London and wishes to make amends. Sophie has always been more a sister than friend. Of course, if the governess is not who she claims to be…’