A jolt of astonishment immobilized her briefly, but she shook it off. “He did not.”
“He did.”
Without a second’s hesitation, she shook her head adamantly. “He would never take your money. Even if he didn’t want me, he would not take it.”
He scoffed, yet there was a hint of amusement there as well. “You are correct, much to my surprise. He refused a fortune to take himself off.”
She wasn’t surprised, but it was heartening to hear, nevertheless. “I told you he was a good man.”
“An ounce of integrity doesn’t make him a good man.” Wharton gave the room another once over. “Especially when he might have another plan to gain your money.”
“Father!” she cried. “You are wrong.”
“What?”
“Yes, I’ve said it. I’ve never dared to before but there it is.” Her voice trembled a bit, but it felt superb to express it. “You are wrong about Mal, wrong about everything. He doesn’t want money. He only wants me. Is that so unbelievable?”
“I am never wrong,” he growled an inch from her face. “Mark my words, daughter. He wants something from you. A man always does.”
“Well, he’s had that as well,” she shouted then clamped a hand over her mouth. Her father’s face turned red then purple and he failed to breathe for so long she feared he’d suffered an apoplexy.
“You did no such thing.” He hauled back his arm as if he meant to backhand her. “Answer me, girl.”
Frozen in terror, Georgiana nodded jerkily. “I-I told you, I love him. Y-y-you’ll have to let me marry him now.”
Wharton lowered his fist, but he gripped her hard around her upper arms and bent until they were nose to nose.
“For that alone, he’ll never have you,” he snarled. “Assuming he lives through the night at all.”
“Father!”
He shoved her away and she stumbled, tripping on her skirts and hitting her head on the tall post of her bed before she fell to the floor. Dazed, she stayed there, curled in a ball, while her father barked orders to the butler and footman, who came running when he bellowed.
A carriage was to be made ready for their immediate departure to London. Two footmen were to stand guard at her locked door until they departed. If she argued in any way, they were to physically restrain her.
Jane might attend her mistress but she wasn’t to be left alone with her at any point. Nor leave without being searched.
There would be no chance to send Mal a message and let him know what’d happened. He would never know and would go off to war believing her too much a coward to run away with him or even face him.
“Oh, Mal,” she moaned, hugging her arms around her knees tightly. “I’m sorry, my love. So, so sorry.”
Chapter Twenty
Bath, England
September 1821
“You think I never fought for you, Mal?” Georgiana sniffed, shrugging off his hand as he moved to console her. “You’ll never know how hard I fought to be with you. How I struggled for ten days trying to find a way to escape my father and get to Portsmouth ahead of your departure. How I sat locked in my chambers weeping over the hurt I’d caused you because I’d failed you so miserably. It pained me more than losing you forever.”
“If ye’d led wi’ that when ye came to Scotland, ye might ha’ spared us all this.”
“You hardly gave me a chance, did you?” Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest and her shoulders slumped in defeat. For the first time, Mal could see the hurt she bore and berated himself for not seeing it before. Days before. Even a month before. He should have let her say her piece that day at Glen Cairn, instead of wasting all this time.
She was tearing up and struggling to hide it. He longed to gather her in his arms and soothe her pain away, but she wouldn’t let him touch her. “Never once did you try to write or come back to find out for yourself. I hope your assumptions and anger gave you some consolation.”
“No’ at all.” He’d had nothing more than the succor of his wounded pride to comfort him. Her accusations cut him to the quick, and his impulse was to speak in defense of his actions again. Where would that get him? Instead, he inclined his head. “Ye’re right, lass. I dinnae think any of those things. I was out of my head with grief.”
She scoffed humorlessly. “In the heat of the moment. Maybe I can understand that, but what about after? Weeks after? Months? Years? I happened across Captain Lindsay in London a few years later. He took umbrage at my slightest inquiry for your welfare. When I tried to explain it all to him, he was unforgiving on your behalf. Knowing now what impression you’d carried with you at the time, I can understand why the conversation was so horribly awkward—though in the end, he did hear me out. Did he tell you?”
“He told me.”
Mal didn’t add he never heard the full account, only that Lindsay had seen and spoken to her. Deep into the noxious pool of his resentment by that time, he refused to hear mention of her name in his presence. He wanted nothing to do with Georgie again. In all the years since, Lindsay had known the truth while he dwelled in anger.
“And you didn’t believe him?”
“Och, lass,” he admitted. “I ne’er let him tell it all. Rabbie pushed as hard as he might, but I was adamant.”
The truth of the matter hurt Georgie, he could see. Although, he had no wish to pain her further, there had to be honesty between them if they were to carry on. First, she needed to hear something else from him. Something he needed to say just as much.
“I’m sorry, lass.”
The sentiment was hardly enough and not remotely specific. Georgie must have agreed because she scrutinized him with visible suspicion.
“For what?”
Amusement jerked at the corner of his mouth. “For the arse I’ve been.”
“And what of the one you are now?”
The grin broadened into a full smile. “I suppose I should apologize for that as well as I’ve been a sizeable one.”
She nodded solemnly but he could see a touch of humor illuminated her bonny green eyes. “A rather immense one, I’d say.”
Mal’s chest swelled, filled with sadness, then a hint of hope took root. He opened his arms to her, knowing he left himself open to rejection with the gesture. There was still a reasonable chance he deserved one last helping, in any case. He’d been nothing more than the eijit Lindsay long claimed he was. Stalwart and sanctimonious in the conviction that he’d been the wronged party.
Truth was, the guilt and sorrow she’d harbored all this time trumped his mulishness by a fair measure. She’d be well within her rights to rebuff him, at least this time he’d know for himself it was well deserved.
For a long moment, Georgie held herself in check. Her arms remained bound tight across her chest as she watched him warily. She didn’t trust him and frankly, he didn’t blame her, no matter how the admission pained him. Then, to his surprise, her grip slackened and her arms fell to her sides. Halting steps carried her closer, and then closer until she was an arm’s length out of reach.
Wide green eyes, glossy with unshed tears, met his. Wary, aye. Older and wiser, definitely. Yet he’d drowned in them just as he had the first time they’d met. Just as he had for a split second when she’d come all the way to Scotland to find him.
Just as he would, he suspected, every time he looked at her for the rest of their days. Along with the racing heart and jangled nerves that still had him shaking in his boots.
Mal laughed silently, mocking himself. He’d thought those things symptoms of an untried lad’s first taste of love for his sweetheart. If he’d known they’d last forever, he might have run right from the beginning.
Or maybe not, for there was as much delight as anxiety in the sensation.
And he’d missed out on a lifetime of it already because of conclusion reached at the bottom of a barrel of ale and his own damnable pride.
Georgie tucked an errant strand of her fiery hair back into her bonne
t with trembling fingers. The sight of her uncertainty spurred him into motion. Tossing his hat to the side, he closed the distance between them and enfolded her in his arms. She melted into his embrace, and he tucked her head beneath his chin. The familiar lavender scent sent his mind spiraling back decades. In all the time since, he’d never experienced peace to rival this moment. He sent a prayer of thanks heavenward.
For several minutes he stood there, savoring the feel of her slight body against his in a way he hadn’t appreciated even when sharing her bed in Scotland. Pushing her bonnet back, he kissed the top of her head, then cupped her chin and guided her mouth to his. It was a kiss of penitence and thanks, sweet and tender.
The days of old weren’t so far gone, however, that a kiss between them changed much. As it had a thousand times over, sweetness quickly shifted to something more. Georgie’s soft lips moved beneath his, parted with a sigh. He traced the gap with the tip of his tongue, then deeper along her teeth. Her breath hitched, but she met him kiss for kiss. Her hands smoothed over his shoulders, then up. She wrapped her arms around his neck and flattened her curves against him…or was he holding her so tightly?
It mattered not. The hint of desire blazed to a full-blown fervor. Intense and hot. Her head fell back weakly against his arm. He slid his mouth down to feast upon her exposed neck. Against his lips, her pulse fluttered and raced, and his own sprinted to keep pace.
“Oh, Mal…”
Aye, there it was. His bonny Georgie was his once more. Would always be his with the anger of the past, the resentment, and guilt put behind them. God bless his sweet mother and that skinny malinky Rabbie Lindsay for kicking his arse all the way here and forcing him into this reconciliation. Rather than the bleak future he’d envisioned, he’d have Georgie in his arms and heart for the rest of his days.
Not to mention his bed.
“Mal.”
Her soft sigh of surrender undid him. Mal ran his hand down her back and cupped her bottom, drawing her against his growing arousal. Her low moan rumbled against his chest and her foot slipped up his calf as he rocked against her.
The combustible desire they shared had been unmatched in the years since he’d lost her. There’d never been another to inspire such lust or convey the profound satisfaction he’d found in her arms. He wanted nothing more than to take her now and show her how grateful he was to have her back. However this was not the time and certainly not the place for such a reunion.
“Might I come to ye tonight, lass?” he whispered gruffly.
“What?”
“I want ye, lass. Let me come to ye tonight.”
“Oh, yes…” She combed her fingers through his hair and sighed in pleasure as he raked his teeth along the side of her neck. “Oh…what? Oh, no.”
Georgie pulled his hair hard, tugging him away, and stepped back. Passion still suffused her face, her lips damp and red, yet her gaze was hardening by the second. She smoothed her hair then her skirts with shaky hands, looking anywhere but at him.
“I am glad to have finally established a truce between us, Ma…er, my lord, and to have removed the burden carried these past many years by us both, nevertheless…”
She’d lain surrendered in his arms but a moment before. He couldn’t understand what she was hemming and hawing about. Mal was certain he’d never been so baffled in all his days.
“What are ye blathering about, lass? And what do ye mean ‘no’?”
“My lor—”
The space between them was cut with a slash of his hand. “Dinnae ‘my lord’ me, lass. What is this?”
“My…Mal.” She pursed her lips around his name and seemed to soften for a second before her shoulders squared once more. “While I admit there remains an element of…um, physical attraction between us…”
“I’d say so.”
Those luscious lips compressed into a hard line. She met his eyes, hers now cool and composed. “I regret you came all this way to hear this, but let me be frank. I did not seek you out with any intentions of recommencing an affaire of any sort with you. There, I’ve said it.”
Flummoxed by her statement, his good sense fled, leaving him unable to offer any sensible rebuttal other than, “What else did ye expect when ye came to Glen Cairn?”
“Why, I…” She gnawed her lip. “Honestly, except for that kiss and your appearance in my bedchamber, it all went precisely as I’d imagined. Your anger and resentment…I never expected anything less. And truthfully, nothing more.”
“Then why come at all?”
“To assure myself of your welfare and to make sure you bore me no ill will,” she said slowly, as if she suspected the information passed between them over the past hour hadn’t sunk in. “So that the past might be firmly set behind us.”
“Behind us?” he bellowed, stunned by the phrase. “Nay, lass, in case the goings on of the past several minutes ha’ escaped yer notice, I think we’ve established that what’s between ye and I is verra much ahead of us.”
Losing a fraction of her composure, Georgie shook her head vehemently. “No, Mal. What we established was all this would have been more expeditiously handled if you had allowed me a chance to speak when I came to you, and I do regret the effort involved in your journey, but it would please me immensely if you would return to Scotland in all haste.”
“Nay.” The rejection of such an absurd idea came hot and fast.
“No?” She gaped at him, her mouth opening and closing as she searched for a response. “No? But I don’t want you here.”
“Nay. I’m no’ going back to Scotland, wi’ haste or no’.” Bugger it, he’d lost her once as a result of his overbearing pride and intractability. It appeared there was nothing else that would keep her close to him now. He wasn’t leaving her ever again. On this, he would not be swayed. “Ye love me, lass.”
A little shudder shook her. “I did once.”
The dismissal held no conviction. It would be obvious to the most casual bystander. All the affection she’d once held for him wasn’t gone. In fact, Mal would be willing to wager his fortune that not a fraction of the love she’d felt had faded.
“Ye’ve always been a terrible liar, lass. Ye love me still.” The claim, bold as brass, was accompanied by enough uncertainty to slow his heartbeat in dread. Bugger it, forget the past. She held his future in her hands. He couldn’t determine why she was spouting such nonsense.
Biting her lower lip, Georgie looked up as if praying for strength then settled her chilly gaze upon him again. “I love a memory. You are not the young man I knew any longer, Mal. You are not the man I fell in love with.”
Mal’s pulse slowed, dismay pouring through him. And she wasn’t finished.
“I’ve put what was between us and my regrets behind me, Mal. And so should you.”
Her words dumbfounded him so thoroughly he couldn’t move or speak as she retrieved her bonnet and put it on. She spotted her parasol where she’d somehow dropped it along the way and picked it up. “I’m sorry. Truly. I wish you nothing but happiness.”
He stayed frozen to the spot when she walked out of the room.
What the hell had just happened?
* * *
Georgiana made it out the door and around the corner before her knees gave way. She collapsed against the wall, her parasol clattering to the floor.
Thank God she’d flabbergasted Mal so completely he hadn’t been able to say another word because it would have taken only one to shatter her resolve and leave her weeping in his arms once more.
Oh, what had she just done?
Every dream, every fantasy she’d had over the past twenty years revolved around some variation of what happened in the lecture hall. An explanation. Admissions of fault and remorse on both sides. Apologies. Confessions of love.
She shook her head. Perhaps that part hadn’t been quite as thorough as her fantasies but he’d expressed emotion and declaration of purpose enough to satisfy her on that count. Being back in his arms, holding him,
marveling at the splendor of the camaraderie that regularly engulfed them, kissing him…Georgiana touched her lips with trembling fingertips. Her thoughts scattered to the winds so completely, she couldn’t recall their purpose. All she could think about was Mal and the bewilderment on his face.
All she’d ever wanted was to love him. Instead, all she’d managed was pain. For him. For herself as well. Her chest contracted painfully.
Blast Maisie and her meddling in Georgiana’s life. She and Mal might have drifted through the remainder of their days in blissful ignorance if this hornet’s nest hadn’t been so thoroughly stirred.
No, she corrected herself. She might have, but not Mal. He’d carried the hurt and betrayal from their younger days with him all these years.
And all she’d done was guarantee him more of the same.
Tears slid down her cheeks as she wept. For her pain and his.
Oh, Mal, I’m so sorry, her heart cried. This isn’t what I want. It’s what has to be.
“Mama? Are you all right? Whatever are you doing on the floor?”
Georgiana brushed her tears from her cheeks as Maisie broke away from her husband and raced down the hall to her side.
“I’m afraid I twisted my ankle.” She hurried to offer an explanation that would excuse both her position and tears.
“May I be of assistance?” Ardmore offered, rushing to help. “I can fetch a doctor or carry you to the carriage.”
Flushing with embarrassment, Georgiana immediately refused both and got to her feet. “I’m certain it’s not so bad as to go to such lengths.”
Her daughter took her arm to assist. “Be careful, Mama,” she protested. “If it was enough to reduce you to tears, you shouldn’t stand on it.”
“I will be fine,” she replied firmly then cast a glance down the adjacent hall. “Still, it may be best if I return home immediately and rest. An arm to the carriage would be appreciated, Ardmore.”
Georgiana made her way to the quickly summoned carriage with an exaggerated limp for the benefit of her daughter and son-in-law. In truth, she was feeling a bit ill. All she wanted was to sit in peace and quiet and consider all the ramifications of what she’d done.
Once Again, My Laird Page 15