An Inconvenient Kiss

by Carole Kimberly

  Something in her expression must have bothered him, because Simon abruptly let go of her wrists and moved away a bit. Georgiana relaxed marginally.

  “So Rowling outsmarted you,” he continued, his tone affable. The look on his face was less friendly, however, and it made Georgiana swallow hard.

  “I find that phrasing disagreeable,” Georgiana protested, tamping down the unfamiliar urges that threatened to bubble up again. “I highly doubt he could outsmart a turnip and I prefer my intellect not be lumped in with root vegetables.”

  Simon sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Fine. May I say you underestimated him? Is that acceptable?”

  Georgiana thought about that and nodded, so he continued. “How is it that you have been in Society for three years and still have only a rudimentary understanding of men?”

  “I beg your pardon,” Georgiana said, offended. “I am a gently-bred young lady! I am not supposed to have any understanding of men!”

  “Quite true,” Simon conceded. “What I meant to say is that a beautiful woman should never, ever, underestimate a man. Any man. Including men as dull as turnips.”

  Georgiana pretended to be flustered. “Did you just call me beautiful?”

  Simon snorted. “Stop fishing for compliments. Now keep up,” he said, tapping on her forehead. “I am going to hand you an essential truth, a truth vital to your well-being, and I need you to pay attention. Ready?” He ignored her eye roll and said, “Men want one thing from women. One thing, Georgiana, and I assure you I’m not speaking of marriage.”

  “Yes,” she drawled. “You demonstrated that rather well with Octavia.”

  It was Simon’s turn to blush. “Yes, well,” he cleared his throat, “we’re talking about you now, not me. I need you to understand that men are men, whether nobleman or peasant, and we will do almost anything to get that one thing—even those who seem dull or innocuous. Underneath the layers of clothing and refinement and compliments, we are little better than a pack of wolves. Do you understand?”

  Georgiana nodded.

  “Good. So after you left the ballroom with Rowling, what happened?” he asked.

  “We wandered for a little while, looking for my friends, until we were lost.” She looked at Simon. “I was a fool, admittedly. He kept me chattering about mundane things so I didn’t really pay attention to where we were. Before I knew it, we were in an empty wing and he shoved me into a small room and locked the door.”

  Simon’s lips had grown very thin. “Did he touch you?”

  A tear slipped down Georgiana’s cheek, and she dashed it away, annoyed she was crying. She choked out a harsh laugh. “He suddenly had a dozen hands. He reminded me of a painting of the Hindu deity Kali that my grandfather has in his study. Arms everywhere.”

  Simon was stroking her back lightly, tracing small circles in what she knew was meant to be a soothing gesture. Rather than comfort her, however, it had the odd effect of making her warm all over. She found herself quivering slightly. He didn’t say anything, just looked at her expectantly, so Georgiana continued.

  “That wasn’t even the worst of it, though,” she whispered, embarrassed but needing to tell someone. His hands stopped moving on her back, and she could feel the tension radiating from him.

  Georgiana forced herself to say the words, as mortifying as they were. “He kissed me. But it wasn’t a normal kiss, Simon. He...he actually stuck his tongue in my mouth. It was awful!”

  “That’s it?” With a huge sigh of relief, Simon visibly relaxed. “Thank God,” he muttered.

  “How can you say that?” Georgiana sputtered angrily. “He put his tongue in my mouth! I feel violated!”

  Simon just chuckled softly. “You really are an innocent.”

  “I don’t know why you find that amusing,” she said. “Of course I’m innocent. It’s my duty to remain chaste until my wedding night.”

  “Apologies,” he soothed, stroking her back again. “I didn’t mean to imply anything. It’s just...it’s hard to believe that someone who looks like you has never had a proper kiss.”

  Georgiana frowned at him, trying to decide how offended she was. “I don’t even want to know what you think I look like, Simon,” she declared icily. She glared at him to emphasize her point. “And if sticking your tongue in someone else’s mouth is a proper kiss, I am very glad to have had no part of it. In fact, I never want to be kissed again.”

  Simon was gazing at her with an unreadable expression that drove her mad. “I think,” he said softly, “you look like most men’s carnal dreams come to life—like a dark, exotic princess, luscious and mysterious and sensual, whose sole purpose is a man’s pleasure. You, Princess, look like temptation incarnate.”

  Georgiana stared at him, unsettled by her own reaction. She should be horribly offended, yet she found his words intoxicating. Her pulse raced and she actually felt lightheaded. She swallowed hard—her mouth had gone inexplicably dry.

  Simon cleared his throat. “Anyway, you shouldn’t swear off kissing, Georgiana. Obviously Rowling bungled it. It can be quite...pleasant.”

  Her cheeks were no doubt blazing but rather than let Simon see how much he affected her, Georgiana shrugged a shoulder. “I have no interest whatsoever in ever kissing again,” she declared. She felt ridiculously shy and brazen at once.

  She had no time to react. One moment she was perched haughtily on one end of the settee, the next she was tumbled into his lap. Simon’s gaze went immediately to her mouth, and Georgiana’s lips tingled in anticipation.

  “That sounds a bit like a challenge,” Simon murmured, his voice smooth and silky. “I think I’d like to try changing your mind.”

  Before she could even muster a reply, his lips brushed hers. An absurd thought—Simon Ashford is actually kissing me!—raced across her mind before she felt his lips again.

  She had been kissed before, of course. When she was fifteen she had agreed to kiss young Rupert Hawlings, more for the experience than because of an attraction to the boy. And when she was seventeen, an overly eager Elliott Spincer had kissed her on two separate occasions. Each kiss was pleasant enough, if a bit wet, but not something she felt compelled to do on a regular basis.

  Kissing Simon, however, was like nothing she had ever experienced. His lips were soft and warm and coaxing as they touched hers, and Georgiana let herself simply melt. A large hand cupped the back of her head, pulling her closer. He ran his mouth along her bottom lip and nipped her softly, causing her entire body to shiver.

  Georgiana found her mouth relaxing, and she felt Simon’s tongue play across the seam of her lips. She opened for him slightly, unconsciously inviting him to take more. He lazily traced her lower lip then slowly teased his way into her mouth.

  Rather than being mortified or disgusted, Georgiana wondered at the heady sensation. She allowed herself to revel in the warmth and softness of his lips, and she savored the taste of him. He gently licked at her tongue, then did it again, and a wave of heat washed through her.

  It occurred to Georgiana that being kissed was very pleasant—very pleasant indeed—but she wasn’t actually kissing. She wanted to try it, to be as engaged and as thorough as Simon. So she wrapped her hands around his shoulders and met his tongue with her own.

  Something changed in their kiss when she did. Simon stopped leisurely plying her mouth with soft kisses. He angled his head and plunged deeper; no longer gentle but insistent, pressing demands that Georgiana didn’t fully comprehend. It was utterly intoxicating.

  Feeling suddenly greedy, Georgiana allowed herself to be completely uninhibited for the first time in her life. Kissing Simon made her feel wild and free and powerful. She kissed him back eagerly, meeting his tongue with bold strokes, enjoying the medley of sensations. Like a bolt of lightning, Georgiana understood completely why women like Mrs. Octavia Fenimere foun
d themselves kneeling before Simon Ashford.

  Simon made a small groan in his throat and pulled away from her. Georgiana blinked up at him, more than a little put out that he’d stopped. He was breathing heavily, and he looked as dazed as she felt. He didn’t say anything, just stared at her with the oddest expression. She bit her bottom lip, wishing he would kiss her again.

  “Oh hell,” Simon finally said, very softly.

  “I think you’ve changed my mind,” Georgiana whispered hoarsely. She brought her lips up to his. “Though we should make certain.”

  For a moment Georgiana thought he might protest. He sat very still beneath her, not responding as she feathered kisses along his cheeks, his jaw, his lips. Throwing away all restraint, she gave herself over to the moment and savored the silky warmth of his skin, the slight rasp of stubble on his chin, the heat of his mouth. It was both erotic and frustrating that Simon allowed her kisses without returning them.

  While Simon seemed reluctant to kiss her back, he was not unresponsive. In fact, his body seemed quite receptive to her untried ministrations. Georgiana reveled in the catch of his breath when she nipped at him, just as he had done to her. She smiled at the tremor she caused by running her tongue along the line of his upper lip. And the low moan she drew from him when she shifted her weight on his lap to get more comfortable actually caused her to shudder.

  After what felt like an eternity, however, she felt a bit foolish. As much as she was enjoying touching Simon, she was not the type to throw herself at a man. Especially him—women threw themselves at him all the time. It was best to retreat before she appeared desperate. Georgiana kissed him fully on the lips, teasing him as he had teased her, and tried to think of something witty to say to help her feel as though she weren’t just bungling gracelessly away.

  With great effort, Georgiana forced herself to sit up and meet his eye. She was about to say something incredibly urbane and sophisticated, as though she kissed men all the time, when Simon muttered hoarsely, “You really shouldn’t kiss me like that, Georgie.”

  “You’re the one who told me to try a proper kiss,” Georgiana said defensively. “And don’t call me Georgie.”

  “That, Georgie,” he said quietly, “was far from a proper kiss.”

  Hurt by this unexpected reprimand, Georgiana scowled. “You, Mr. Ashford, are a cad. First you goad me into kissing you and then you criticize me for it.”

  She shifted to rise, but Simon caught her wrists once again. His eyes were nearly black as they skated over her face, as though drinking her in, and his angelic features were set in harsh planes that made him nearly unrecognizable. She swallowed hard.

  “I am a cad,” he agreed. “But not for the reason you suggest.”

  Georgiana struggled to free her hands, though the effort lacked conviction. “Unhand me,” she demanded, unwilling to meet his gaze. She needed to get away from him before she made an even bigger fool of herself. Because, loathe as she was to admit it, she desperately wanted to kiss him again.

  “No. What I meant, Princess, is that you gave me a very improper kiss,” he told her. “And I love improper kisses. They give me wonderfully improper thoughts...thoughts of kissing you all over.”

  Georgiana blushed furiously at such a bold suggestion. “Simon, that’s wicked!” she accused.

  Before she could protest, he had tangled his hand in her hair and gently tugged so that she was forced to look at him. He dragged his lips across the line of her jaw and Georgiana felt her insides melting.

  His mouth was barely a breath away from hers, and his lips brushed hers when he spoke. “Shockingly wicked, I know,” he nodded. “Before that kiss, I may have been able to keep my senses enough to let you go. But now, I’ll have to have you.”

  Georgiana tried to come up with an appropriate response, but her head was muzzy. She opened her mouth to say something when Simon cupped her face in his hands and proceeded to kiss her very deliberately. Hungrily. As though he would never get enough of her. Her hands, of their own volition, wrapped around his neck and she kissed him back with reckless abandon.

  She was so caught up in his kiss that Georgiana Phillips, princess of the ton, a young lady who never forgot a face, or a name, or a rule, forgot herself entirely. And so it happened that she forgot about the door and its broken lock. She also forgot just how much Mrs. Octavia Fenimere disliked her, and that Mrs. Fenimere’s reticule was lying on the floor a few feet away from her and Simon and his very delicious, very wicked and very scandalous kisses.

  * * *

  It was no surprise to Octavia Fenimere that Simon was kissing Little Miss Perfect. The wretched girl was breathtaking. Octavia frowned as she picked up her reticule, completely unknown to the ardent couple. She glared at them a long moment, then let herself out of the room, seething.

  What was surprising, she mused bitterly as she walked down the hall in the direction of the ballroom, was that Little Miss Perfect was actually kissing him back, and so enthusiastically. It was bad enough Lady Georgiana was both beautiful and witty. If she were passionate as well, that might prove troublesome.

  Until now, she had simply watched and chuckled as Lady Georgiana led green boys and marriage-minded lordlings around by the nose. Though separated in age by a mere three years, they rarely crossed paths as theirs were very different objectives when it came to men. Besides, Georgiana was too innocent and too prim to capture the interest of the rakes and married men that Octavia favored. But once the little baggage married and grew bored with her husband... Octavia frowned again. All the interesting men would flock to her like hounds scenting a fox. And while Octavia didn’t mind a little competition, she knew an uneven playing field when she saw one.

  The sight of Nathaniel Phillips chatting with several officers of the Royal Army made her scowl. He was more aloof than his uppity sister, at least to her mind. Tall and lean, he had thick chestnut locks that framed a perfectly sculpted face and dark blue eyes. He was the second son of the duke, though he acted more like royalty. She had once made the mistake of flirting with him during a waltz. When she’d let him know that she might be available after the waltz, he’d listened politely then gave her a look of utter disdain before walking away—leaving her alone on the dance floor. It had been most awkward.

  What would he think of Georgiana’s scandalous behavior?

  Her mood brightened at the thought. It was so clear. Georgiana Phillips need never cause her another moment’s agony. She laughed to herself at the simplicity. After all, surely Nathaniel would want to protect his sister’s reputation and his family’s name from scandal.

  With that, she made her way toward Little Miss Perfect’s big brother.

  * * *

  Somehow her hair had come down entirely and her gown was far beyond repair. Neither really mattered to Georgiana at the moment, as she was too busy glaring at Simon. First, he’d rather abruptly stopped kissing her and set her gracelessly on her feet, which was quite indefensible, in her opinion. And now he was apparently finding his conscience. Who knew kissing could be so taxing?

  “We need to get back to the ballroom, Princess,” he muttered. “Before I compromise you further.”

  Georgiana scowled at him. “We are rather far from that, Simon.”

  “Not so far as you think,” Simon said under his breath.

  Georgiana blew out an exasperated sigh but began making herself presentable. Simon watched as she stabbed pins into her coiffure, his expression again unreadable.

  She shot him a questioning look and he blurted out, “Georgie, I was thinking I might call on you tomorrow...”

  “You are under no obligation, Simon,” she groused, trying not to let her disappointment show. “It was one little kiss. I’m sure you kiss women like that all the time.”

  Simon glared at her. “No, Georgie, I don’t. And I certainly don’t go around kis
sing young, marriageable women without some thought to the future. Not like that.”

  Georgiana folded her arms across her chest. “I find this preposterous. Do you court every woman you kiss?”

  “The women I usually kiss aren’t generally seeking courtship,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Being they are already married,” At his glower, she patted his arm. “Simon, I appreciate that you are trying to do the honorable thing.”

  Simon snorted. “What I want to do, Princess, is far from honorable.”

  Georgiana raised her hand. “I understand. I really do. Having kissed your best friend’s younger sister, you are undoubtedly racked with shame. Being a gentleman, you want to put things right by offering for the poor, misused girl.”

  “And here I thought I was seducing you,” he said sardonically.

  “I am telling you,” Georgiana said very slowly, as though instructing a young child, “you do not have to sacrifice yourself on my account. I have more than enough suitors, Simon. I do not need you courting me out of guilt or regret.”

  Simon appeared stunned. “I don’t feel guilty. And I certainly don’t regret kissing you.”

  Georgiana’s heart skipped a beat. “Good, because I kissed you, therefore the onus is on me to make things right. Which I am trying to do by relieving you of any obligation you feel for me, etcetera.”

  Simon stopped her with a finger to her lips. “Georgie, ‘obligation’ is not a word I would ascribe to what I feel toward you. I have wasted two years telling myself I couldn’t have you. I have no title, no great fortune, but I... You are...” He trailed off, seeming to struggle for the right words.

  Without giving him a chance to say anything more, Georgiana turned her attention away from him. She began smoothing her ruined gown, trying to stop her hand from shaking. She longed for Simon to pursue her, she had wanted as much for the last two years, but not because he felt honor bound to do so.