“Miss Woodford,” Georgiana began, taking another deep breath and forcing her mind to a calm she did not feel. “May I call you Celia?” At the girl’s nod, she said, “Celia, let’s start from the beginning, shall we?”
It was quickly evident, even through the girl’s gut-wrenching tears, why Simon thought Georgiana would be of comfort to her. Celia Woodford’s ruination had been remarkably similar to her own. The girl had managed to escape the advances of an overly eager suitor, only to be compromised minutes later when she found herself alone with a young man who meant to champion her.
Sometime during Celia’s tale, Jane and Julian had entered the courtyard and were pretending to take a slow walk. They appeared to be lost in discussion about the architecture of the palazzo, but it was obvious the professor was keeping an eye on his niece. Georgiana shot them a pert look and steered Celia toward the other end of the courtyard.
“Tell me about the young man who helped you,” Georgiana said as they walked the garden. “Was he a suitor?”
“Not really,” Celia sniffed. “Jonathan, Lord Bonnefield, is a friend of my cousin Charles, so we had been introduced. He was a bit of a rake, so I couldn’t really speak to him during the Season proper. But when we did speak, it was marvelous,” she murmured, somewhat dreamily.
“So after you were assaulted,” Georgiana pressed, “you escaped to the garden, where Lord Bonnefield found you. Is that correct?”
“Yes,” Celia confirmed. “Jonathan seemed so angry that someone had dared touch me. Of course, he couldn’t do anything about it for fear of compromising me further. He was going to find my cousin to escort me home, but then he...he...”
“He kissed you,” Georgiana finished for her. “And it wiped away all the horror and pain of the attack.”
“Yes,” Celia said, her eyes glimmering with tears. “I forgot about everything. He told me he was going to start courting me in earnest.”
Simon frowned. “But someone saw you two kissing?”
Celia looked sheepish. “It was dark, so I didn’t think they could see who we were. I made Jonathan climb a tree that was overhanging the garden wall,” she hiccupped. “I didn’t want him thinking I had tricked him into marriage,” she said, desperately.
Georgiana nodded in sympathy, though she felt gutted. Celia’s experience so closely mirrored her own that, for a moment, Georgiana was her eighteen-year-old self. Every emotion from that fateful night exploded within her, and she relived the pain of it all over again. Friendless. Helpless. Hopeless.
Georgiana cleared her throat. That was a lifetime ago, she reminded herself. Setting her own hurt aside, she squeezed Celia’s hand. “I understand completely,” Georgiana assured her.
“But I wasn’t lucky enough to sneak away. My father was furious,” Celia whispered. “My dowry is meager, you see. All I had to recommend me was my face and my virtue.” She shrugged pitifully. “Once the scandal broke, my options were limited. So I was sent away. Charles helped me arrange passage to Uncle Julian.”
“Did Lord Bonnefield offer for you?” Georgiana asked softly.
“No,” Celia hiccupped miserably. “He never came for me. I don’t know what to do, Miss Phillips! Please tell me what to do,” the girl begged. “How do I live this life?”
“Hush,” Georgiana said, hugging the girl and stroking her hair. “The first thing you must do is empty yourself of these tears, darling. It’s all right to mourn the loss of your former life, but you cannot think clearly if you’re determined to walk around like a leaky faucet.”
“Georgie,” Simon chastised.
She shushed him. Looking over her shoulder, she beckoned for Jane to come close. “My cousin Jane has the best shoulders in the British Empire...they never seem to get even the slightest bit damp. You can cry on them for days. In between sobs she’ll probably bully you into eating or she might even make you take a nap. But you cry every single tear you need to cry. Then, when you’re completely empty, we can talk.”
Jane took Celia’s arm and led her to the palazzo, clucking softly like a mother hen. Julian made to follow, but Georgiana stopped him. “Professor Thorne, unless you’re prepared to endure an afternoon of tears and missish melodrama, I’d leave her to Jane.”
Julian Thorne swallowed hard, his distress for his niece clearly evident, and in that instant Georgiana could see what drew Jane to him. He was handsome and caring and true, and under normal circumstances Georgiana would have admired him greatly.
She found herself resenting him a little bit more for that.
Because she was still in an ill humor, she added, “Unless you have a salve that can heal the soul, Professor, your niece is better off with Jane. It’s been my experience that gentlemen, while their intentions are undoubtedly noble, manage to do little more than bluster about and offer advice that only mucks things up further. Go play with your artifacts, or whatever it is you scholarly men do to alleviate your boredom.”
“Georgiana!” Simon reprimanded outright.
“I appreciate your frankness, Miss Phillips,” Thorne said through gritted teeth. “I’ll take your advice and go play with my relics.”
Simon glared down at her once they were alone. “That was intolerably rude,” he stated. “Julian has been a gracious host, and you just insulted him in his own home.”
“Actually, I insulted him in his garden,” Georgiana said coolly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to attend.”
“Oh no, Princess,” Simon said. “You’re not getting off that easily.”
He grabbed her arm and practically dragged her the length of the colonnade, to the farthest corner of the house. He propped her against a column, placing an arm on each side of her, closing her in. “Now, just what the devil is bothering you?” he asked.
Georgiana practically spat the words. “I don’t like Julian Thorne.”
“That much I gathered,” Simon said, amusement coloring his tone. “I’m asking you why.”
Georgiana crossed her arms in a huff. Her reasons were going to sound childish, even to herself. She shrugged. “I just don’t.”
* * *
Simon raked his eyes over her face, searching, trying to make sense of her reaction. It was so unlike his practical princess to let her emotions run ahead of reason.
“I don’t understand this, Georgiana. Thorne has been nothing but kind. He’s given us free rein of his house. He wants to help your grandfather on this ludicrous venture for the Black Pagoda. My understanding is that he was of great comfort to Jane while we were lost in the jungle...”
At the mention of Jane, Simon saw the pain in her eyes and at last understood.
“He might take Jane away from you,” he said softly.
“She seems quite fond of him,” she said sourly. “I can see they’d be well suited.”
“But?” Simon gently prodded.
“She’s been my only family for the last six years,” Georgiana blurted. “It’s not right for him to swoop in and ruin everything!”
Simon smiled at her, understanding how much it was costing his beloved princess to admit her feelings. “You and Jane have been through a lifetime together, haven’t you?”
She looked up at him, her violet eyes brimming with hurt. “I don’t know what I’ll do without her.”
Simon gathered her in his arms and stroked her hair. “Well,” he said after a while, “you know she must make her own choices, love. You can’t deny Jane a chance at happiness.”
Georgiana sniffed and nodded into his lapel, gripping his shirt a little tighter. “I know. And I do want her to be happy. But it hurts to lose her.”
“Of course it does,” he soothed. “But Jane is a sensible woman. And Julian seems to be a good man, even if he is a bit single-minded about his work.”
“That’s the problem,” Georgiana sa
id miserably. “I think I could grow to like him. But liking him just makes it harder. It would be much easier if I hated him.”
“Which explains why you’ve been a termagant to the poor man,” Simon said, stroking her back. “It’s lucky for Thorne that I’m here. Because even though it may kill me, I’ll do my best to distract you. And even you can’t deny that I can be an excellent distraction—when you’re not skewering me.”
Georgiana sniffed again and pulled away. She looked rather sheepish as she met his eyes. “I’ve been rather beastly, haven’t I? I suppose I need to apologize to him.”
“Ahem,” Simon cleared his throat. “What about me? You did a fair job tearing me to shreds when you mistakenly assumed I had debauched the fair Miss Celia.” He looked at her pointedly. “I especially enjoyed the part about not bothering to put on my trousers.”
“An honest mistake,” Georgiana shrugged. “I happen to know that you are a debaucher of the worst kind.”
Simon shook his head. “You know nothing of the sort, I’m afraid.” He lowered his voice and let his lambent gaze rove over her. “Though I’m willing to enlighten you.”
Georgiana flushed lightly, and her eyes glimmered at the suggestion. “I’m sorry to say that you’ll just have to settle for my humble apology.”
He felt himself going hard at that look, and decided it might be time to remind Miss Georgiana Phillips of his intentions.
“No,” Simon said, running his hand lightly across her collarbone. “I don’t want your apology.”
“What do you mean, no?” Georgiana asked sourly, swatting his arm. “That’s not very gentlemanly of you.”
“Even though you never need question my undying devotion to you, I must admit I enjoyed seeing you so jealous. It certainly got my...undivided attention,” he teased, glancing down at the bulge in his trousers. Her gaze followed his, and for a moment she seemed to miss his intimation. Then her eyes flew back to his.
“Jealous?” Georgiana scoffed, though she sounded more than a little breathless. “You thought I was jealous? Of that milksop? Ha! I was merely defending the poor thing’s honor.”
“By impugning mine,” Simon said, leaning in. He brushed his mouth against her ear. “I demand satisfaction, Miss Phillips.”
He traced his lips along the angle of her jaw, feather light, to the creamy column of her neck. Georgiana’s sharp intake of breath made him harder than he’d ever been in his life.
“Pistols at dawn?” she whispered.
“A kiss,” he said, running his lips up her throat to find her mouth. “One simple kiss.”
“Fair enough,” she conceded. Georgiana’s eyes fluttered shut and she lifted her chin in anticipation. Rather than kiss her, however, Simon dropped to his knees. Before she realized what he was about, he’d yanked up her skirts and was running a hand up her thigh.
“Simon,” she protested breathlessly, yanking at her skirts. “You said a kiss.”
He looked up at her with heavily lidded eyes. His fingers found her soft curls and he saw her resolve melting. “I said a kiss,” he agreed lazily, lifting her skirts higher. “I never specified where.”
As she muddled through his logic, Simon took advantage and placed a kiss on the pinkest, sweetest part of Georgiana. She murmured something completely incoherent—probably an argument—so he swiped his tongue over her delicate folds, just to punish her. Then he did it again because he loved the fact that she’d been jealous. Then again because she tasted so sweet and she made the most delicious little mewl when he did. Then again because she seemed to like it.
He did it again and then again, simply because he wanted to. She laced her fingers through his hair, and murmured something that sounded like a plea. The thought of his proud princess begging drove him a bit mad. Unable and unwilling to wait any longer, Simon shot to his feet and took Georgiana’s mouth ruthlessly, almost savagely. She bracketed his cheeks and drew him closer, kissing him back hungrily, which he took as encouragement. Backing her against the column with one hand, he freed himself from the confinement of his trousers with the other.
He broke the kiss to watch her eyes as he wrenched her skirt high above her hips, daring her to object. Instead, her eyes glittered with anticipation. He lifted her up and positioned her legs around him and then he seated himself deep within her slippery heat. Georgiana made a satisfied sound in her throat as she greedily began kissing his jaw.
All his well-wrought plans to savor this moment burned to cinders. Incapable of rational thought, he wrenched her bodice down and took the lush weight of her breast in his hand. She moaned her encouragement and Simon kissed her with a hunger, a desperation he’d never known before.
Georgiana whimpered and kissed him back eagerly. Feeling desperate, he lifted her up and let her slide back down along his length, throbbing deep within her and drawing a lovely little hiss from her lips. He lifted her again and Georgiana broke the kiss on a fractured moan. Her head lolled back against the column, and Simon took the opportunity to lick and nip her neck as he entered her again and again and again.
“Please, Simon,” she begged. “I...oh...that feels...yes...yes...just like that...”
Simon lifted her again and then plunged deep inside her, willing himself to hang on just a little longer. He rolled his hips, thrusting even deeper and losing himself completely. Georgiana arched into him, gasping something incoherent as she climaxed with a strangled sob, and Simon came so hard he feared his knees might buckle.
When the last shiver of release coursed through him, his body relaxed and he rested his forehead against hers. Panting and still trembling, Simon opened his eyes and found Georgiana looking at him with dazed astonishment.
“We’re outside,” she whispered. “In broad daylight.”
“Mmm,” Simon agreed blearily.
“That was debauched,” she said, a thread of amusement coloring her voice.
“Princess,” he said, his voice still raspy, “I need to leave for a few days. Before I go, I’d like to come to your bed and show you some very debauched things. And I promise you’ll love every one of them.”
“Where are you going?” she asked, though by the look in her eye, she already knew.
“Thorne and I are taking a small crew to look for the Black Pagoda,” he confessed.
“Without me,” she accused flatly.
Simon held her cheek in his hand. “I don’t want you out there, love. Please. Not this time.”
Georgiana bit her lip. “When do you leave?”
“Tomorrow.” He held his breath, praying she wouldn’t argue.
At last Georgiana swallowed, then nodded. “I’ll stay here while you go to Konark.”
Something fiercely protective and entirely possessive welled within him at her concession. “May I come to you tonight?” he asked.
She was quiet for a moment as it seemed her desire warred with her common sense. Simon was fully prepared to beg, when Georgiana finally whispered, “Yes.”
He kissed her soundly, satisfied that he would have the night with her. She was his—at least for tonight. The idea of sharing her bed, thoughts of what he planned to do to her in that bed, forced his blood south again. He’d do whatever was necessary to convince her to marry him.
For one insane moment, he considered laying her down here and now, for anyone and everyone to see, just so he could lose himself in her lush softness. To claim her as his own. Instead, he forced himself to end the kiss, then eased her down and helped her arrange her gown before he fixed his trousers. Tucking her hand in the crook of his arm, he began leading her back toward the safety of the house.
Despite her concession to spend the night with him, or perhaps because of it, Simon felt restless. Ignoring his well-wrought plan to manipulate her into submission, he pulled her into the shadows of the veranda and took her hand in his
. He plucked at the cotton that still encircled her wrist. The need to have more from her was suddenly overwhelming.
“Tell me why you haven’t taken it off,” he demanded.
Georgiana frowned slightly. “I...keep forgetting about it.”
“Liar,” he scoffed. “Why can’t you admit that there’s something between us?”
Georgiana waved dismissively. “Of course there’s something between us. I’ve just agreed to let you share my bed this evening.”
“You are the most obstinate creature,” he fumed, her indifference grating on his nerves. He fingered the cotton band. “You haven’t taken it off because we both know that, like it or not, you are mine and I am yours.”
“Simon,” she scolded, “you told me there would be no more talk of marriage.”
“I’m not talking marriage,” he insisted. “I don’t care if we live our entire lives in sin. But someday, Georgiana, you will admit to me that I’m more to you than a playmate.”
Georgiana stroked his cheek, a tiny smile curling the edges of her lips. “Let’s save the declarations for another day,” she pleaded. “Come and play tonight. Please?”
She lifted herself up on her tiptoes and scattered kisses on his cheeks, his chin, his eyelids. “Seduce me. Debauch me.” She nibbled the corners of his lips. “I won’t say no to you tonight.”
“I’m hardly going to refuse, am I?” he murmured. “But I’m not going to be your playmate forever, Georgie. I do have some pride.”
She licked his ear, and Simon felt lightheaded. “Admittedly very little pride,” he muttered between kisses, “but it’s there.”
After another delicious moment, or several, he pulled away from her. “I believe you have some apologies to issue,” he said, kissing her once more before letting her go. “Until tonight.”
He watched her saunter away, enjoying the sway of her hips. She stopped and looked over her shoulder at him, a mischievous glimmer in her eye, and Simon’s mouth went instantly dry. He realized with a certainty that bordered on desperation that the night wouldn’t come nearly soon enough.
An Inconvenient Kiss Page 26