by Cheryl Holt
“You were whipped repeatedly,” Georgina said.
He had to swallow twice before he could reply. “It was a hard world.”
“How long was your sentence?”
“Seven years.”
“You were a child!”
“Yes.”
“When was it finished?”
“The original portion ended when I was eighteen, but because of the other charges—for fighting and such—it wasn’t completed until I was twenty-two.”
Then he’d vanished into the wilderness and had begun robbing the gold caravans bringing gold out to the coast. It had been a fitting way to even the score with numerous pricks who’d constantly tormented him. Over the decades, they’d gone from being guards, to model citizens, to landowners who’d glommed on to all the wealth in the region.
He’d reveled in every single ounce of gold he’d stolen from them. He was still reveling.
“You didn’t sneak away from your incarceration?” she asked.
“It wouldn’t have been possible. I served every dreary minute that was required.”
“How did you get home?”
“I bought a ticket and sailed back. How would you suppose?”
“How did you pay for it?”
“I was a gold miner.”
“A gold miner!”
It was a huge lie. He hadn’t been a gold miner, but he’d definitely been a gold robber. “Yes, and I was lucky. I struck it rich.”
“Will you tell me about all of it someday?”
“I might,” he responded, even though he never would.
He liked to imagine he would eventually trust her enough to confide in her, but he was a private man for a very good reason.
Some stories were too horrid to share, and they would profoundly wound her. She had a soft heart and wouldn’t be able to bear the truth. She’d always pity him when he couldn’t abide being pitied.
He’d gotten even with those who’d harmed him, Miles Marshall simply being the last on a lengthy list of enemies. She didn’t need to discover the length of that list.
“Could we stop talking about Botany Bay?” he said.
“What should we talk about instead?”
“How about how beautiful you are?”
“You’re not a romantic fellow, Damian, so I’d assume you were fibbing.”
“If I gave you candy and flowers, would you figure I didn’t really want you to have them?”
“Yes.”
She rubbed a hand in gentle circles over his scars. “I’m sorry they hurt you.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“Yes, but you still have the marks, and it makes me so angry.”
He chuckled. “My little champion. How fortunate I am that I met you.”
“You are fortunate, and I am fortunate too for having met you.”
“Don’t leave tomorrow,” he abruptly, vehemently said. “I can’t let you.”
“I can’t remain though, and it’s all your fault. You’ve put me in a terrible bind.”
“You’re in no bind because of me. You wish to be a martyr and tag after Augusta, which is totally your own decision.”
“I can’t abandon her.”
“She’d abandon you quickly enough.”
“I’m sure you’re correct, but I’m not like her. I’m better than her.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Miles was here today,” she confessed.
“I know. My men saw him slinking in.”
“He left for London right away. He’s devising a scheme that he hopes will send you away.”
Damian scoffed. “Don’t worry about Miles. He doesn’t have the courage or intellect to injure me in any fashion.”
“I’d hate to have anything bad happen to you.”
“It won’t,” he insisted.
He was weary of her chatter and desperate to be closer to her than he’d been so far. He had to push their relationship to a new level, had to show her they could have a liaison that would prove fulfilling to them both.
He rolled her onto her back, his body pressing hers into the mattress. She was determined to depart in the morning so he had to keep her with him in the only way he could.
A single female couldn’t blithely consort with a male; there were too many consequences. So he would rush the issue of fornication, then she would have to rely on him—whether she liked it or not.
He dipped down and sucked a pert nipple into his mouth. The fabric on her faded nightgown was so thin it seemed as if she was wearing nothing at all. She moaned and arched up, offering him greater access. He shifted to the other nipple, and he went back and forth, back and forth, tormenting one, then the other.
Down below, he was raising the hem of her nightgown, working it past her knees, her thighs. Finally he was able to slide his fingers between her legs and into her sheath. With barely a flick of his thumb, she soared to the heavens.
As her pleasure crested, as she tumbled down, she was laughing, sputtering with surprise.
“How do you do that to me?” she asked when she could speak again.
“You’re simply a very sexual creature.”
“Am I? Can a woman be such a thing?”
“Absolutely. Sometimes it takes a man to reveal a woman’s true nature.”
“And mine is…sexual?” She paused, then groaned. “Ah! Listen to me, voicing the word sexual. Clearly I’m marching down the road to a very hot place.”
“If you’re going to Hell, I’ll be there too so you’ll have a friend to greet you when you arrive.”
“Are you my friend?”
“I might be.”
“Then I’ll be in competent hands once I’m there.”
“Yes, you’ll always be safe with me.”
He started in yet again, kissing her and kissing her, using it to distract her from the fact that he was continuing to remove her nightgown. He tugged it above her waist, and she put up a bit of a struggle, but he won it. A quick yank had the garment up and over her head.
Frantically she grabbed for a blanket, but he wouldn’t allow her to have it so she tried to cross her arms over her bosom, but he wouldn’t allow that either.
“Let me cover myself,” she said. “Please?”
“No. I like you like this.”
“It’s too much, too soon.”
“In my book, it’s not nearly enough.”
“You constantly spur me to behaviors I never imagined or intended.”
“I’m glad. You’re looser than you realize, but for what I have in mind that’s perfectly fine.”
“I don’t want to be loose.”
“Every woman should be once in a while. Life is too boring otherwise.”
He drew away, sat on his haunches, and pulled off his shirt. He didn’t usually take it off. He wasn’t embarrassed by his scars, but when people saw them, they gawked and asked questions he didn’t like to answer.
But the room was dark, and she’d already observed them. He clasped her hands and rested her palms on his chest.
“Touch me all over,” he told her.
“Can I?”
“Yes, I like it.”
He lay down again so they were breast to breast, her nipples poking into him like shards of glass.
“My goodness,” she murmured as they connected skin to skin.
“It gets better and better, Georgina.”
“I had no idea. What now though? You’ve removed my nightgown. You’ve removed your shirt. I’m so uncomfortable.”
“Don’t be.”
“I’m afraid of what will happen.”
“You’re with me and you’re afraid? Don’t be ridiculous.”
He didn’t want her focusing too much on where they were, didn’t want her second guessing or attempting to stop him. He’d never force her, but if she refused to proceed, he’d pester her until she relented. Wasn’t it best to accomplish it immediately?
He captured her lips in another torrid kiss, and with he
r naked he was growing unruly. She needed him to slow down and give her time to acclimate, but he couldn’t temper the pace. He was too anxious to arrive at the end. She was so wet, so relaxed, and he stroked his fingers in and out of her sheath, escorting her up the ladder of pleasure again.
He unbuttoned his trousers and opened the flap. All the while, he kept her busy so she didn’t notice how he spread her thighs and his torso dropped between them. His cock was a disobedient rod, and he guided it to the precise spot where it was begging to be.
Suddenly she froze.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m about to make love to you as a husband does his wife.”
“Would I…I…still be a…”
She couldn’t finish her sentence so he finished it for her. “You won’t be a virgin after we’re through.”
“How would it occur?”
He pushed with his hips, wedging in a tad farther. “I’ll join myself to you.”
“I don’t understand what that means.”
“I’ll show you, remember? It’s easy, and I swear you’ll like it.”
“I can’t, Damian.”
“Yes, you can.”
“I’ve led you on like the most impertinent coquette.” She waved down her nude body. “Look at me, loafing in this bed without my clothes. Of course you think the worst of me, but I can’t be the person you need me to be.”
“You haven’t led me anywhere. I’m here because I choose to be, and it will be over in a trice.”
“No, no.” She shook her head. “I asked if you’d promise yourself to me, and you wouldn’t.”
“We don’t have to be married, Georgina. It’s merely physical conduct.”
“I realize we don’t have to be married, but I want to be married. I want to proceed with my husband, not with some…some stranger who doesn’t care about me.”
He hated to have her claim he was a stranger. In the past few days, she’d learned more about him than anyone he’d met in years. Anne and Kit were the only two people who knew some of what Georgina knew. Couldn’t she sense it? Didn’t she recognize how close he’d permitted her to be?
“Let me, Georgina.”
“I told you my price, but you’re not willing to pay it.”
His heart was pounding, and he felt bereft, as if he’d lost a precious treasure. A wicked demon was shouting in his mind. Just agree, you oaf! Tell her what she’s dying to hear!
He was a cad and a bounder, a dangerous criminal and a liar to boot. Hadn’t he warned her he was a liar? Hadn’t he warned her that he never kept his promises? If she didn’t believe him, whose fault was that?
“You win,” he said. “I promise myself to you.”
“You promise. Will we wed or what?”
“Yes, we’ll wed.”
“When?”
“On Sunday morning, we’ll have the preacher call the banns at the church in the village.”
“The wedding will be in a month?”
“Yes, in a month.”
He expected to be long gone by then, with the manor put to the torch and the farm rented out to neighbors.
“You’ll stay with me at Kirkwood? You’ll be my husband in truth.”
“Yes.” Falsehoods rolled so easily from his tongue.
“I plan to make a home for you here. You’ll be so happy.”
Oh, Georgina! You foolish girl!
He should have scolded her for being so gullible. Hadn’t she been taught that a libertine would utter any vow to obtain what he desired from a female?
“Whatever you wish, Georgina. It will be how you yearn for it to be.”
“What about my aunt and my cousin, Sophia? What about Miles?”
“I can’t talk about them now.”
“But I have to know if—”
He placed a finger on her lips, silencing her. “Hush. We’ll discuss them in the morning.”
“Swear it,” she insisted.
“I swear.”
That was all he could manage. He couldn’t delay another second, and he began caressing her breasts, playing with her nipples. She jumped into the fray, convinced he’d meant every word. For the briefest instant, his dormant conscience flared and disgust rippled through him.
Since he deemed her to be so extraordinary, why would he hurt her? Why would he lie?
Marriage was important to her. Kirkwood was important. Her relatives were important, but none of those things were important to him. He didn’t care about any of it, and he truly believed he was binding himself to her in the best way he could.
She had her mother’s wanderlust so he’d take her with him when he departed. He’d convey her to any spot on the globe where she chose to live. He’d buy her a new life, and she’d leave with him because she would have no other option but to leave.
He touched her between her legs and swiftly goaded her to paradise. As she groaned and soared with ecstasy, he gripped her hips and impaled himself. It was a smooth thrust, a quick thrust, and she didn’t even tense or cry out.
She gasped with astonishment though. “Oh my, what happened?”
“I’ve joined my body to yours. Remember? I told you about it.”
“It feels…strange.”
“Try to relax.”
“Aren’t we finished?”
“There’s more to it. It can end in pleasure for me—as it ends for you.”
“I didn’t realize it.”
“Just relax,” he repeated. “The difficult part is over.”
He flexed, pushing in, then pulling out, pushing in again, but he couldn’t prevent the conclusion from sweeping over him so it only lasted a minute or two. His seed rushed to the tip, and he shoved in very far and, with an almost negligent sort of feral joy, spilled himself against her womb.
He could have withdrawn and averted potential calamity, but he hadn’t. The possibility that he’d left her with child would guarantee she had to remain by his side, at least until they learned if a babe had been created, and he decided he’d give it numerous reckless attempts in order to be certain he got what he craved.
Long after every drop was spent, he continued to flex. He simply couldn’t accept that it was over, and he was desperate to begin again immediately. He was that titillated by her, his cock already growing hard.
Why would it? How did she exert such a peculiar influence?
Eventually he slid away and snuggled himself to her. She rolled too so they were facing each other, nose to nose.
“I’m not a virgin anymore, am I?” she asked.
“No.”
“It was different than I imagined.”
“That’s why I didn’t describe it. You’d have thought I was mad.”
“Probably. What now?”
“Now we rest a bit, and then we do it again.”
“We can do it more than once?”
“We can do it as often as we like, and if you keep looking at me like that, I’m sure I’ll never stop.”
“How am I looking at you? And with it being so dark in here, how can you see me?”
“You’re smiling at me as if I walk on water.”
“Vain beast. I would never gaze at you in such a fawning manner. Your ego knows no bounds, and I wouldn’t inflate it further.”
“Heaven forbid that my ego be inflated.”
He smiled too, feeling more content than he could ever recall feeling. He shifted onto his back and dragged her over him so she was draped across his chest.
“You’re mine now,” she murmured.
“You poor thing.”
“You’ll be a fine husband, Damian.”
“I have no idea why you’d think so.”
“I’ll work on you. I’ll turn you into the man I need.”
He chuckled. “Good luck with that, Georgina.”
“You’re awfully stubborn, but so am I. I’ll have you wrapped around my little finger in no time at all.”
He sighed with delight, and for a moment he preten
ded he could be altered into the man she required, but it was a vision that wouldn’t gel. He was too wounded, too damaged. Frequently he wondered why he hadn’t been locked away in an asylum so he couldn’t roam among decent people. He definitely should have been.
Her respirations were slowing, her chatter waning, and he asked, “Are you falling asleep on me?”
“Yes. I’m exhausted.”
“Sexual play has that effect on a person.”
“Don’t doze off with me,” she warned.
“I won’t,” he said, though he couldn’t deduce how it mattered. She was ruined, and the sooner gossip leaked out, the better it would be for him.
“When will we tell everyone?”
“About what?” he inquired, at first not understanding.
“About our betrothal. What did you suppose I meant?”
“Oh. We’ll announce it tomorrow.” There were a dozen other deceits begging to spill out, but he tamped them down, refusing to behave more reprehensibly than he already had.
“We’ll discuss Augusta and Sophia then too?”
“Yes.”
“Everything will be all right, won’t it?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll make you so happy. I promise.”
“I know you will.”
He was always shocked by how devious and cruel he could be.
Easing her into slumber, he massaged her back, eager to sneak out like the cur he was. She drifted off rapidly, and he dawdled, cherishing the peaceful interlude, but he swiftly found himself drifting off too so he slipped away and stood.
He grabbed a blanket and drew it over her, then he picked up his shirt and turned to depart. He thought he was being very quiet, but she roused anyway.
“Damian?” She rose up on an elbow. “Are you going?”
“Yes, I’m very tired.” He bent down and stole a kiss. “I’ll see you in the morning. Come over to the manor and join me for breakfast.”
“I’ll miss you until then,” she said.
“I’ll miss you too.”
He spun away, anxious to flee before he completely humiliated himself. There was a strange intimacy in the air, almost as if they were…were…in love or something ridiculous like that. Yet he didn’t believe in love, and it wasn’t a sentiment he could ever imagine suffering.
He’d started for the door when suddenly someone knocked. Before he could react, it was opened. A shriveled, elderly woman, dressed in her nightclothes, was holding a candle, the wick burning sufficiently to illuminate her features, indicating it was Augusta Marshall.