Georgina Devon

by The Rakes Redemption

  Heat flared where she touched him. She yanked her hand away.

  ‘Are you feeling unwell?’ His voice was raspy.

  She glanced at him. His eyes were nearly as black as the lock of hair grazing his eyebrows. She nearly pushed the errant strand back but caught herself. She was behaving very strangely.

  ‘I am fine. I didn’t get much sleep last night.’

  The excuse was weak and she knew it. But she didn’t want to admit to him or herself what was really happening. Because it couldn’t be happening. She wouldn’t allow it.

  ‘Neither did I.’ He grimaced. ‘Although I don’t remember tossing and turning.’

  She noticed there was the start of a twinkle in his eyes as though he teased her. She responded with a smile before catching herself. ‘We are both not at our best.’ She settled for that. ‘I am sure you are hungry.’

  ‘Release me.’

  ‘Would you promise not to escape?’

  He shook his head. ‘No. I need to be at that duel.’

  ‘As you say.’ She picked up the pint of ale. ‘Can you lift your head enough to drink this?’

  ‘I can try. Otherwise, you will have to help me.’ A wicked grin showed white teeth.

  ‘I don’t have to do anything, Mr Hawthorne. But I might be persuaded to help you.’

  ‘Since my predicament is your fault, Miss Stockton.’

  Instead of going back to the same argument, she held out the pint. He raised his head, and she put the edge of the mug to his mouth. When he closed his mouth to signal he had had enough, she took the mug away. He had foam on his upper lip.

  She set the half-empty mug on the table, picked up the napkin and wiped his mouth. The cloth caught just a little on the roughness of his beard. This was the closest she had ever been to him, and her body was behaving worse than it had during their waltz. She resisted the urge to run her finger along his jaw and feel the black stubble that gave a ruthless cast to his features.

  ‘You must want a shave,’ she managed to say around the tightness in her throat.

  ‘You can do it for me.’

  His answer was so provocative she gasped. ‘I would likely slit your throat.’ Thankfully her voice hadn’t been husky. It was bad enough she wanted to do more than feed him. It would be beyond bearable if he found out.

  He chuckled deep in his throat. ‘Would that make you feel bad?’

  She realised he was teasing her. The knowledge brought warmth to her body. ‘I should feel bad if I hurt anyone.’

  ‘Of course.’

  His voice was a soft drawl that slid over her senses like satin on bare skin. She shivered. ‘Cheese?’

  Not waiting for him to answer, she broke off a piece of the strong yellow cheese and brought it to his mouth. He opened his lips slowly, his gaze never leaving her face.

  ‘Feed me.’

  Her heart missed a beat. Did he mean what she thought? Was he talking about something besides food—as he had been earlier when talking about her stockings? Even now, an hour later, the heat she’d felt when she first saw him with her stocking in his mouth returned. The intensity made her want to fan herself. Instead, she stuffed the cheese between his teeth.

  ‘I don’t have long.’

  She kept her tone businesslike even as her fingers shook from the touch of his lips. This was more intimate than any kiss on the palm. No gloves separated their flesh. She picked up a second piece of cheese.

  ‘No, you don’t.’ His eyes held her prisoner. ‘Kiss me.’

  Her gaze locked with him for long minutes. It would be so easy to lean down and place her lips on his. So easy…

  She moved until her mouth was inches from his. His breath was warm on her face.

  She put her lips on his.

  He didn’t move. She pressed down, marveling at how he let her control the kiss. But she didn’t know what to do.

  ‘I…’ she breathed against him.

  ‘Open your mouth,’ he said, his lips moving like butterfly wings against her flesh.

  She did and his tongue flicked her skin. Fire burst where he touched her. Her stomach clenched in pleasant waves.

  He wanted to deepen their contact, but she knew that if she allowed him to do so, she would be lost. She pulled back.

  ‘I am not a loose woman,’ she managed to say around the desire that tightened her throat.

  ‘You are a desirable woman,’ he said, his face flushed and his eyes hot. ‘Let me show you the passion between a man and a woman. Kiss me again.’

  Chapter Eleven

  She dropped the piece of cheese that she had unconsciously squeezed.

  Inanely, she noted that while Gordon or David hadn’t taken off his coat or boots, they had undone his cravat. They must have thought that would make him comfortable. Who would have thought the sight would make her feel so uncomfortable when coupled with his order to kiss him.

  She dragged in a shuddering breath and opened her eyes. ‘No.’

  ‘Afraid?’

  ‘Yes.’ The whisper left her before she realised it.

  ‘You should be.’

  His words moved over her like molten lava, leaving a sense of scorched nerves and tingling heat. She was unable to look away. ‘I should?’

  ‘Oh, yes, Emma Stockton.’ His mouth curved into a sensual line that tempted her.

  ‘Why?’ Another whisper that took her by surprise, but it was impossible for her to do anything else. His sensuality held her as surely as chains.

  ‘Because I was serious last night when I asked you to be my mistress.’ He took a deep breath that brought her attention back to the tantalising dark hairs on his chest. ‘I want you.’

  Her attention jerked up to his face. She couldn’t believe what he’d just said. She didn’t. His words broke the spell. He didn’t want her. He could have any woman he wanted. And to taunt her with an offer of mistress not wife—it was beyond acceptable.

  ‘You jest.’ Frost dripped from each word, her pride shielding her from his sensuality.

  ‘No. I don’t ask a woman to be my mistress unless I mean it.’

  ‘Just as you don’t ask any woman to marry you.’ Anger, caused by pain she hadn’t expected, fuelled her rejection.

  ‘You wouldn’t marry me even if I did ask.’ His eyes held hers. ‘I don’t have the money to bail your family out of debt. And I’m a rake. Remember?’ Irony tinged his words.

  She sat back away from him. ‘True.’ Every word he said was true, so why did his illicit offer, instead of an honourable one, hurt?

  ‘So,’ he said, his lips curving, ‘will you accept my offer or at least kiss me again? Deeper. Let me show you what passion between a man and woman can be?’

  His mouth beckoned to hers. Another kiss wouldn’t mean she accepted his insulting offer. And she had decided to enjoy herself more. And the pleasure he had already ignited in her was just the beginning. Yet…

  She resisted, sure that if she gave in, she would open herself to even more humiliation than she already felt. Somehow, she kept from leaning into him and resting her fingers on his exposed chest.

  ‘I don’t believe you.’ With a conscious effort, she stood and stepped away. She folded her hands into the skirts of her dress so he wouldn’t see them shake. ‘I must go now.’

  ‘Emma—’

  She turned and left, unsure if what tortured her was his teasing her with the possibility of desire she knew he could ignite in her. Or was it the realisation that she had just managed to walk away from something she wanted more than she’d ever wanted anything else in her life?

  So what if he only offered her a place as his mistress? It was more than any other man had ever offered her. And she wanted him.

  She was a ninnyhammer.

  Charles twisted his neck to watch her leave. What had he just done?

  Asking her a second time to be his mistress had been the last thing on his mind, or so he told himself. But he wanted her—badly. Marriage was out of the question, even if he had the
kind of money her family needed. He wasn’t ready to marry and have to put another’s needs before his own.

  But the idea of having her for his lover felt better the more he thought about it.

  Later that day, Emma looked at the tray with Charles Hawthorne’s lunch and wondered if she dared send Betty with it. After this morning, she knew being alone with the man was the last thing she should do.

  Even now, hours later, her lips tingled after their kiss.

  She turned toward Betty, intending to tell her to feed their guest. But Gordon came in, his normally calm countenance flushed.

  ‘Miss Emma, there is a man here.’ He drew himself up straight and pulled down his vest. ‘He says you know him. His name is Stoner.’

  Emma blanched. ‘Stoner?’

  ‘Yes, miss. A big burly fellow. Looks like he was in the ring.’

  Emma’s knees felt like noodles, and she slid down to sit on one of the kitchen ladder-back chairs. ‘Stoner.’

  The old butler stood watching her, waiting for instructions. ‘Yes, miss.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘In the parlour.’

  Emma pushed an errant strand of hair from her face. She should have anticipated this. Charles’s servant would have recognised David and known immediately who sent the note. Now what?

  ‘Tell him I will see him shortly.’

  Gordon made a curt bow before wheeling around. Emma had to think of something. She couldn’t let Charles go yet. She had two more days.

  She didn’t think they could drug Stoner, even if they had any of the sleeping draught left, which they didn’t. Would he believe her if she told him Charles left last night after talking to her? He would have to.

  Thank goodness Amy was at the lending library with one of her female friends and Bertram still slept. He had brought Amy home last night and immediately gone back out, not returning until the morning sun was well up. She never thought she would be grateful to Bertram for his ramshackle ways, but today she was.

  The smell of mutton and potatoes came from the food Charles Hawthorne wasn’t going to get just yet. She glanced at the tray and wished the only problem she had was whether she or Betty was going to feed the man.

  She stood and smoothed down the front of her skirt before marching out of the kitchen. Gordon stood in the hallway. She nodded to him as he opened the parlour door for her.

  Not waiting to be announced, she entered and said, ‘Mr Stoner, what brings you here?’

  Stoner stood by the window looking out at the crowded street. He held his hat in both hands in front of his waist. His coat was heavy and had seen better days. He looked like a man who was uncomfortable but doing what he knew was right. She almost pitied him, but his being here was the worst thing that could happen to her plan.

  ‘I have come to get Mr Hawthorne, miss.’

  She smiled and hoped he couldn’t see the falseness of it. ‘Mr Charles Hawthorne?’

  ‘Yes, miss.’

  He moved into the centre of the room. She didn’t ask him to take a seat. She wanted him out of here as soon as possible. ‘Why would he be here?’

  She wanted to tell Stoner that Charles wasn’t here, but her tongue seemed unable to say the lie. It was bad enough she had the man trussed up in one of the servant’s beds. She didn’t want to add untruthfulness to her list of sins.

  Stoner turned the brim of his hat around and around while he studied her. ‘Because you sent him a note to come and see you last night, miss, and he hasn’t returned.’ His voice was slow and steady, sure in what he said.

  She had known he would recognise David, but still she blushed. Already she had crossed several lines a proper lady didn’t. Visited a man in his home and then sent him a private note. The kidnapping was just her crowning achievement.

  ‘Perhaps he has gone to visit a…friend.’ She hoped to imply a woman. ‘Surely that is not unusual.’

  Stoner just looked at her, saying nothing.

  She couldn’t continue to meet his gaze. She was glad he didn’t agree with what she’d said. Even though she thought it likely Charles had a mistress, regardless of what he had said to her just hours before, she didn’t want it confirmed. But she also didn’t want Stoner to press her further. She was not a good liar.

  ‘Do you remember what time he left, miss?’

  His noncommittal tone told her he didn’t believe her. Her tension mounted. She waved a hand in airy dismissal that she didn’t feel. ‘No, I don’t. We discussed…’ Likely the man knew about the duel and it would be easier on her to be truthful when possible. ‘We discussed my brother.’

  ‘And then he left?’ The big man’s voice was gentle, but his eyes were sharp.

  Emma took a deep breath. He was forcing her to lie or tell the truth that Charles was upstairs. She cudgeled her mind for a way to get around his point-blank question. ‘He left this room.’

  Very gently Stoner asked, ‘Did he leave this house, miss?’

  It was too much. Somehow he knew, but he had no proof. Was it really so unusual for Charles to spend the night away from his place of business? The idea gave her a funny sort of pleasure that she quickly pushed away. Right now, she had to get rid of this man.

  She stiffened her shoulders. ‘I am very busy, Mr Stoner. If there is nothing else, I must end this discussion.’

  He stopped twirling his hat. ‘When you tell me where you have Mr Hawthorne, miss. Otherwise, I will be forced to search the premises.’

  His impertinence made her mouth drop. ‘You shall do no such thing.’

  He stepped toward her, and she found herself backing up before she realised what she did. She stopped. ‘Do not think you can intimidate me, Mr Stoner. You are in my house. I can have you thrown out.’

  ‘I don’t think so, miss. I am very determined and Mr Hawthorne is my responsibility.’

  ‘He’s a grown man. He can take care of himself.’

  Stoner’s face became mulish. ‘He can, but something is wrong.’

  ‘Just because he didn’t come home last night? He is likely at his mistress’s house, and you are worried over nothing.’

  There. She’d put the thought into words, and now Stoner would agree that Charles was likely at his lover’s house. She would know beyond doubt that he had a woman. It was not her concern, no matter how tight her chest had suddenly become.

  Stoner shook his head. ‘Might ’ave been once, miss. Not for a long time now.’

  ‘Really?’ Even as the word left her mouth, she clamped her teeth together so hard they clicked. The tiny dart of relief that seemed lodged in her chest meant nothing. Just as Stoner’s words meant nothing.

  She took a deep breath, and a different tension replaced the one Stoner’s words had just relieved. Hope. She knew how fragile hope was. It was with you one second and buried under disillusionment or loss the next. It was an emotion she had no reason to feel in relation to the man held prisoner in her house.

  Besides, she had no reason to think Charles’s lack of mistress was because of her. Perhaps he really was interested in her sister and had broken with his lover in order to be free to court Amy. And if that was the case, his offer earlier to make her his mistress was even more reprehensible. The man was incorrigible.

  But this was not her business. Nor did it get Stoner out of her house. ‘Then you will have to find some other place to start your search if he is not with a woman.’

  ‘I will start it here, miss.’

  She marvelled at his persistence. It would be much easier for him to leave and wait for Charles to come home. This servant acted as though his employer was the most important thing in the world to him.

  ‘Why are you so persistent? Surely his being gone over night is not unusual. Besides, he is your employer, not part of your family.’

  ‘I owe ’im me life, miss.’

  Shock held her speechless. She didn’t know anyone who owed his life to another person, other than a child to a parent. But this was different.

  S
he choose her words carefully, not wanting to worry him more than he was but, at the same time, unable to allow him to find Charles. ‘I am sorry you are worried about Mr Hawthorne, but it is time you left. I can’t imagine he will come to harm.’

  Stoner’s mouth thinned. ‘I will search your house, Miss Stockton. I know he is here.’

  ‘What if he got mugged?’ Desperation made her voice rise. She didn’t want to make the man suffer by thinking Charles had been harmed, but she couldn’t let him search the house. She had two days to go.

  ‘I think ’e is ’ere. He didn’t come ’ome. If ’e isn’t ’ere, then I will consider that some ’arm ’appened to ’im.’

  Emma moved to block the door. Her fingers twisted in the folds of her skirt as she warily watched the big man. She didn’t think he would hurt her, but he was very loyal to Charles.

  ‘Please move, miss. I don’t want to ’ave to lift you.’

  For the first time, she saw uncertainty in his eyes. He didn’t want to use force with her. It made her like him. ‘I am not moving, Stoner.’

  His hands balled into fists, and she feared she had pushed him too far. Then his fingers uncurled and he stepped toward her. She took a deep, shaky breath and stood her ground.

  The door opened behind her and struck her back. She stumbled and barely managed to maintain her balance. Before she could turn around to see who was here, she heard Bertram’s voice.

  ‘What is going on here, Emma? Gordon tried to deny me entrance to my own parlour. I—’

  ‘Bertram!’ She groaned.

  He stopped just inside the room, and his eyes widened into hazel saucers. ‘Who is this man?’

  Before she could reply, Stoner spoke. ‘I’m Mister Charles ’awthorne’s man.’

  Bertram’s shoulders stiffened. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Emma’s shoulders slumped in defeat. Bertram would demand more answers than that one. He would do what Stoner had been unable to do and force the truth from her. Why had Bertram picked today of all days to wake early?

  She wanted to scream, so said nothing.