by Gaelen Foley
They dismounted wearily and dusted themselves off a bit as grooms and footmen came out to attend the horses and men alike.
Ian took a swig of wine from the flask in his jacket and paused to stretch his back a bit. He looked up to scan the skies for signs of rain, but it was clear. The waxing crescent moon gave off little light. The sky was very black, the stars garish in their brilliance.
He put his flask away and followed Lucien into the house. Damien greeted them in the drawing room. Ian shook his hand and thanked the elder twin for his help, also thanking Alec when he sauntered in with his air of effortless ease. Ian told them briefly what had transpired; then Damien’s wife, Miranda, came bustling in, gave him a sisterly kiss on his cheek, and informed him that he had the room next to Alec’s for the duration of his visit and that he could stay for as long as he liked. He smiled at her take-charge warmth, remembering the days when Damien had actually tried to foist her off on him before the fierce colonel had come to his senses and realized the woman had been made for him.
“Oh, and by the way,” Miranda added, twirling around to face him on her way out of the drawing room, “Georgiana put your son to bed half an hour ago. Third floor. Turn left at the top of the stairs. He’s probably still awake if you want to see him.”
“How is he?” he asked uneasily, but he trusted Miranda’s female judgment on this, since Damien’s countess was raising twin sons of her own.
She sighed. “Georgie was able to calm him down a lot—she’s so good with him! Still, you’re his papa and I think a visit from you would make him feel much better. He was worried about you. So was Georgie, for that matter.”
“We all were,” Alec interjected.
Ian cast him a look of gratitude. “Where is your cousin?” he asked quietly.
“She went out walking in the gardens. It’s such a beautiful night.”
He nodded. “Thanks,” he said to all of them, then sketched a bow and went up to check on his son, the canvas knapsack containing Matthew’s present slung over his shoulder.
He found his way up to the third floor as Miranda had instructed. He peeked in a few of the nursery room doors, all of which had been left a few inches ajar so the wee ones could have a little light shining into their rooms.
At last he spotted his son, and for a moment he stayed where he was, just staring at the boy, so little in his bed.
But when a strange sound came from inside Ian’s knapsack, it summoned Matthew back from the outer reaches of dreamland. His long-lashed eyes flicked open. Noticing Ian in the doorway, he sat up all of a sudden. “Papa!”
Ian slipped into the room with a smile, set the knapsack down carefully by the wall, and crossed to take his son into his arms. Matthew hugged him, and for once, Ian really allowed himself to hug him back.
“I’m so proud of you, Matthew. You were so brave today!” he whispered.
“As brave as you, Papa?”
“Braver than me. As brave as Uncle Damien fighting against Napoleon.”
“Really?”
Ian nodded, pressing his lips together against the tug of emotion that clouded his eyes. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you, son. Do you hear?” he whispered. “I’ll always keep you safe, no matter what I have to do.”
“I know, Papa. That bad man’s not coming back anymore ’cos Uncle Alec said you kicked his arse!”
Ian laughed, squeezing his eyes shut and tightening his embrace around his child’s little frame. God bless Alec. He always knew what to say to the kids. Probably because the rogue still was one himself, at heart, and always would be.
“I know I’m not allowed to say those words, Papa, but Uncle Alec told me this time it’s all right and Aunt Miranda said so, too.”
“Yes, this time I would have to agree. So, what do you think, Matt? Are we going to be all right, then?”
He nodded, resting his small hands on Ian’s shoulders. “I’m all right, Papa, but you should have a word with Miss Georgie. She was crying, but she didn’t want me to know.”
“I’ll do that, son. Now, then.” Changing position, he set Matthew on his knee. “That reminds me about something very important that I want to tell you.”
Matthew tilted his head back and looked up at him attentively.
“When I thought about what a good job old Hyperion did today in letting us know you were in trouble, something occurred to me,” Ian said in a musing tone. “I thought to myself, you know, there’s one thing every boy needs.”
“What’s that?” Matthew piped up.
“Go take a look in my bag over there, and you’ll see,” he replied with a mysterious smile.
Matthew gave him a curious frown, then slipped down off his lap and crossed the room to investigate the canvas knapsack Ian had left by the wall.
“Careful!” he warned softly.
Kneeling down to open the bag, Matthew suddenly let out an exclamation of wordless astonishment. He reached into the knapsack and carefully lifted out his present.
“It’s a puppy! Papa, can I keep him?”
“Of course you can. That’s why I gave him to you.”
Matthew carried the small speckled pup over to the bed, where it bounced around a bit, not quite awake. It climbed on Matthew, tail wagging. The boy laughed in delight, and Ian couldn’t stop smiling.
During his endless interviews with the authorities today, he had sent a message to Tooke asking him to track down a suitable dog for Matthew. A blend of spaniel and some sort of terrier, the fuzzy little creature was white with a few black blotches.
“He won’t grow up to be enormous like Hyperion—I mean, you won’t be able to ride on him. But Mr. Tooke said these dogs are very smart. His spaniel side makes him extra loyal and his terrier side makes him brave.”
“He’s the best puppy in the world, Papa!”
“Well, he’s yours. What are you going to name him?”
“Robin!” Matthew answered without hesitation.
“Robin?” Ian repeated in quizzical amusement, but he would not have dreamed of protesting. “Very well. Robin it is.” He would have expected the child to go for the obvious, Spot, but his son was proving to be quite a complicated little fellow.
Chip off the old block.
“Well, my lad, you and Robin need to get some sleep.” He held up the covers for Matthew, who scooted back into bed. The puppy continued prancing around him until it, too, found a comfortable position, snuggling up close to the boy. Matthew looked at his new pet and giggled again in pure delight.
“Matthew,” he started in a musing tone as he smoothed the covers over his son’s chest. “Would it be all right with you if I asked Miss Georgie to marry me?”
“What?” He tore his gaze away from the puppy and stared at Ian, wide-eyed.
“Well, you see, that way she could come and live with us, and look after us.”
“And play with us?”
“Yes.”
“Like a real mother?”
“Yes, son. Just like a real mother.”
“Yes, do, Papa! Please! Miss Georgie’s all the kick!”
Ian laughed softly as his heart clenched. He bent to give his son a kiss on his head. “Another of Uncle Alec’s expressions, I take it?” he murmured knowingly.
“Huh?”
“Nothing. Good night, son. Good night, dog, er, Robin.” He straightened up and headed for the door to go and find Georgiana.
“Papa?”
Ian paused at the door and looked over his shoulder one more time in question.
“I hope she says yes.”
“Don’t you worry, Matt. She will.”
I’ll make sure of it.
Tranquil gardens rolled on before her, silvered by starlight. Night-blooming flowers shyly opened to release their delicate perfumes into the silken summer air. Constellations shone among the water lilies in the glassy reflection of the ornamental pond. An unseen nightingale warbled its lonely song.
As the breeze whispered through the trees and bu
shes, Georgie wandered restlessly along the grassy banks of the pond until she came across the blanket covering the ground, left behind from their earlier picnic with the children.
Matthew had been clingy and unsure after the kidnapping attempt, but Georgie had already begun to see improvement in the resilient child. When she thought about how close they had come to losing him, it made her physically ill.
She had only learned afterward how it had all unfolded. One of the other maids had come forward and revealed that Sally and Scott had suggested a game of hide-and-seek with Matthew in the park, but when the girl admitted that the two murdered servants had been secretly courting, the true picture emerged.
The couple had suggested the game because “hiding” together had afforded them a perfect excuse to sneak away and steal a few kisses—and that was all the opportunity Firoz had needed.
The violence that followed had summoned up frightening memories of Janpur for Georgie, and made her wonder when her brothers were ever going to arrive. After all, Colonel Montrose had given them a mission to complete.
She was unsure, too, about Ian’s angry words to Robert today, that Gabriel had nearly been killed in fighting against Queen Sujana’s henchmen. Had he minimized her brother’s injury to avoid scaring her? And where was Papa, for that matter? She hated being parted from her family almost as much as she despised being parted from Ian.
Ian…
Oh, what was she to do about him?
When he had gone after Firoz, she had seen a side of him that she had never dreamed existed. Not that she felt Firoz deserved any particular mercy, but the savagery that had emerged from her oh-so-civilized diplomat struck a jarring and discordant note against the calmly rational, justice-minded man she knew.
At the level of instinct, the strength and virile power of this new, savage side of Ian thrilled her. She had lost most of her nonviolent Jainist principles inside Janpur Palace, after all, when she had nearly caused her brothers’ deaths. It was naive delusion to deny that sometimes violence was necessary to protect the innocent.
But at the same time, she had never guessed that Ian had that sort of fury bottled up inside him. It made her uneasy to wonder what else lurked beneath his polished surface. And it made her wonder once again how well she really knew this man she had promised to marry.
Every time she thought she finally understood him, some new side of Ian emerged. It was disturbing. Would she ever really know him at all?
But yet, whoever he was, he for his part had accepted her completely, flaws and eccentricities and all. He had made that sentiment clear when he had presented her with her new ankle bells.
Now she was learning that her champion of humanity had a dark and dangerous wild streak. So, did that mean that she, in turn, would run away?
At this point, she doubted it would do her any good even to try, for in truth, she already knew she belonged to this man, body and soul.
Standing at the water’s edge, lost in her thoughts, she became aware of someone watching her. She turned, searching the shadows, and saw that it was he.
At first she saw only his ebony silhouette, tall and commanding against the deep blue darkness of the garden. But then, when he knew she had spotted him, he prowled slowly out of the gloom, silver-dappled by starlight and shadow.
Georgie could not move, mesmerized by the silent potency in his stare. His green eyes were luminous in the dark as he moved toward her with the rangy grace of a big, predatory cat. Her heartbeat quickened, and all her skin began to tingle at his nearness. There was something altogether new in this night, anticipation, a surge of electrifying awareness.
He must have gotten off his horse only a short while ago, she thought as he neared, for his black coat still held the dust from the road. He looked so different—gruff and rugged, in need of a shave. There was a grim set about his mouth tonight, narrow and unsmiling, a fierce intensity in his burning eyes. Seeing him like this and remembering anew what he was capable of was both intimidating and unsettling…and yet, strangely arousing.
He greeted her with a hand pressed gently into the small of her back as he bent down and kissed the corner of her mouth.
She turned to him and pulled him into her embrace, trembling with relief that he was here, and safe. “Oh, thank God you’re free,” she whispered. “I feared it would be days before they’d let you go.”
“No, I’m cleared,” he murmured. “There’ll be no charges pressed.”
“What other news?”
“Nothing you need to worry about right now, my sweet.” He brushed her hair back gently behind her shoulder. “I’m here now. Everything’s going to be all right.”
She pulled back and gazed at him somberly. “I didn’t know you could do that sort of thing, Ian.”
He nodded, avoiding her gaze.
“You frightened me,” she said.
He turned to her with a piercing stare. “Are you frightened now?” he whispered.
She didn’t answer.
“Don’t quit on me, Georgiana. I want you too much to let you go. I need you,” he breathed.
“But you’ve hidden from me so carefully. I see that now. I want to know you, Ian.” She clasped his lapels with anguished insistence. “How can I love you properly if you won’t even let me know you?”
“Know me now. Know me tonight.” His hot whisper at her ear sent a delicious rush of pleasure cascading all the way down to her toes.
Standing behind her, he gripped her hips and held her, nuzzling her neck and luring out her wantonness with his smooth kisses. She recalled his words before the tiger cage at Janpur.
Make no mistake, Miss Knight. He may look tame, confined in that cage, but this animal is wild. He’s probably wondering right now how soft and juicy you would taste if only he could be allowed to sink his teeth into you…
The cage was open now, and Ian bit her neck gently in teasing love play, the hunger in his masterful caresses too deep tonight to be denied—as if he no longer had the will to keep it under control. What was the point, now that she knew what he really was?
As his fingers kneaded her hips, holding onto her with a captor’s touch, she knew with breathless certainty what he wanted, needed, tonight. She had a feeling, too, that he wasn’t going to give her much choice. Overwhelming pleasure, that he would supply, but tonight His Lordship seemed disinclined to heed her hesitation.
Standing behind her, he brushed her hair to the side and deepened his arrogant kisses on her nape. Georgie moaned softly, swiftly becoming swept away by his beguilement. His every touch spelled her seduction. Oh, yes, she knew what he wanted. She could feel it in his touch tonight that he was not taking no for an answer—as if she had the power to deny him!
When she turned around in his arms, he sank down onto his knees on the soft, grassy turf before her, encircling her waist with his strong arms. He descended slowly, kissing her body everywhere as he went down, warming her skin through the ethereal white gauze of her gown. On his knees before her, he worshiped her body, kissing her breasts and stroking her center until she was on fire.
Time had lost all meaning, but all she knew was that she couldn’t stand to have her dress on anymore. She wanted the silken air against her skin, his sweet weight atop her, and nothing more. She didn’t care in this moment what the consequences brought. She had to have him, now.
He pulled his coat off, his vest, too, as if he were too hot for clothing on this summer night.
Georgie was quivering, enthralled by the smell of him and the hardness of the thick corded musculature over which her hands glided so lovingly. As he heightened her pleasure with endless caresses, her knees became too weak to hold her.
A moment later, she was naked, lying back slowly on the blanket under the stars. Ian finished undressing and came down into her arms, his bare chest warm against hers, his kisses utterly luscious. From the corner of her eye, she was aware of the starlight that spangled the pond’s smooth surface beside the place where they lay.
The sparkling light danced across her eyes like magic as Ian entered her; she was panting as she caressed his chest, his arms, reveling in every inch he gave her.
He was trembling with passion, raw and fierce yet tender, taking everything as he possessed her, giving all to her in return, giving her his full self, with all its shadows and mysteries. Rising up onto his hands above her, he gazed down at her in dark devotion as he claimed her in a deep, slow, and total taking. There was pain, and, she believed, a small amount of blood, but not to have joined herself with him here and now, forever, would have been more painful by far.
Bliss was born as the act of love intensified, their ardent kisses soul-deep, their breath mingled, his maleness gloved inside her core. She held onto him in exquisite passion, surrendering to him, body and soul, as they achieved orgasm together. He came hard inside of her, one massive pulsation after another; his low groans faded down to exquisite whispers.
“My love.” Running her fingers through his hair, she kissed his brow. “My dearest Ian. Never believe that I could give up on you. I never could.” Her words were still breathless, but her whispers over-flowed with love. Georgie slid her arms around his neck. “You’ll never lose me, my darling. No matter what.”
“Beloved,” he breathed. Closing his eyes, he bowed his head and kissed her gently, their bodies still joined as one.
They remained like that as the nightingale warbled, and the breeze rippled the stars’ reflection in the lake.
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
T hey were married a few days later in the drawing room at Winterhaven—a small, private ceremony by special license, with family only, children included.
It was all rather spontaneous in how it came about—no fancy dress, no grand feast, just a lovely wedding cake for good luck. There was none of the pomp that might have been expected of this grand alliance that had been in the making for centuries.
The ring was a simple gold band, the flowers came from the garden, as many pink and white roses as could be plundered from the bushes, and some pretty purple flowers, too, whose name Georgie did not know.