She turned around to fully face him, and found herself standing in the circle of his arms. Carefully, as if she were made of spun glass, Con’s hands slipped down to hold her waist while he lowered his mouth to hers. It was a kiss of reverence, as if she were as precious to him as a fragile treasure. And Georgie felt her eyes prick with unshed tears. How did he know that what she wished, what she’d always wanted deep down in her innermost soul, was to feel valued like that? All her life she’d been expected to fend for herself, to be the strong one, to bounce back from whatever blow life sent her way. What was it about this man that made him able to see just what she craved on a bone-deep level?
When he pulled back, she looked up at him from beneath her lashes to find him smiling down at her. “You don’t know how glad I am that you didn’t just slap my face for presuming too much,” he said with a crooked smile.
“Why would I do that?” she asked, confused by his words. “You just kissed me beautifully.”
“I thought perhaps I’d misinterpreted your reason for inviting me up here,” he said with a raised brow. “I didn’t, did I?”
Now was her chance to change her mind, she told herself. If she wished to step back from the precipice upon which they were currently poised, she could do it now. But she knew in her gut that she could no more change her mind now than she could unring a bell.
“No,” she said softly, “you didn’t.”
His eyes darkened and he kissed her again. “Excellent,” he said against her mouth. This time, she didn’t allow him to keep her at arm’s length like a precious jewel, but instead kissed him back with every bit as much passion as he kissed her. His lips were soft against hers as he stroked against the seam of her lips with his tongue. She opened her lips to allow him in, and tentatively, then with more assurance, stroked her own tongue against his. She felt his hands move restlessly over her waist, and up her back, pulling her closer against him, so that her breasts pressed against his hard chest. Her own hands clasped him to her, opening and closing against his strong back, stroking up to feel the softness of the hair at the nape of his neck.
“God, Georgina,” he whispered against her chin, as he kissed a path down over her neck toward her collarbone where he licked into the hollow there. As his fingers slipped into the bodice of her gown, she pressed her breasts forward, wanting, needing to feel his hands touch them. He managed to slip her left sleeve down over her shoulder, freeing her left breast to the chill air. She gasped at the sensation and gasped again when his mouth closed over her nipple and suckled.
Con laughed softly against her chest at the sounds she made. “Shh. Sweetheart, you’ll wake the house.”
His warning brought her up short. “Oh,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
But he kissed her and soothed her and was soon offering the same kind of salute to her right breast, and Georgie, more mindful of herself, bit her lip rather than cry out at the delicious sensation of his mouth on her. “Come over to the bed,” Con said. “I want to undress you properly.”
Her body awake in a way it hadn’t ever been before, Georgie allowed him to pull her over to the iron bedstead, where he pulled the coverlet and sheets down to the end of the bed. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he turned her back to face him and began to unbutton her gown.
“I like this,” he remarked, kissing her bare back. “Not a lot of infernal buttons to wrestle with.”
“It’s because I don’t have a maid,” she remarked dryly. “I can hardly have a gown I can’t remove on my own, can I?”
“That’s my Georgina,” he said with a laugh. “Ever practical.”
He allowed her to step out of the gown and remove her shoes, at which point, he switched places with her and she sat on the edge of the bed while he knelt before her. His eyes were dark again with passion. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, sliding his hands down over her bare shoulders, over her brief corset and the shift beneath.
“Am I?” she asked, feeling almost shy. “I vow I cannot see it myself, but you do make me feel beautiful.”
“You will simply have to acquit me of knowing more in these matters than you do. I am a connoisseur, you must agree.”
“You’re a Con-i-something.” She winked, unable to resist the pun.
“Cheeky wench!” he said, biting her lightly on the knee. His mouth there gave her a tightness in her belly, and it increased as his hands stroked up over the outside of her thighs and beneath her shift.
“This will have to go, I think,” he said almost to himself, as he untied the bow at the top of her corset and thread by thread unlaced it. She let out a sigh of relief as he removed it and couldn’t help but rub the underside of her breasts where they’d been pushed up all day by the whalebone. “Poor darling,” he said, replacing her hands with his, massaging her where it had pinched most, then stroked his thumbs over her nipples. “All this discomfort simply so that you will offer up your bosoms to us lascivious males on a silver platter.”
Before she could respond, however, he leaned up to kiss her mouth, then went back to his knees before her. “Naughty Georgina,” he chided. “Your attempt to distract me from my ultimate goal was bold, but ultimately futile.”
She watched as he slid his hands over the outside of her thighs and shook her head. “Since I have no idea what your goal is, then I can hardly be guilty of deliberate distraction, can I?”
“No idea at all?” he asked playfully, as he slid his hands over the tops of her thighs and worked at the garters that were holding up her stockings. One by one he unfastened them, and rolled down first the right stocking, kissing his way down over each bit of skin he exposed. Then he moved to the other side, sending Georgie’s pulse rate up, up, up as he kissed his way down. When both legs were bare, he kissed first her right knee then her left, and sliding his large hands over her thighs, he pulled them apart and kissed the very center of her.
It sent an instantaneous jolt of intense pleasure through her. So much so that Georgie had to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from crying out. As Con’s tongue and fingers and mouth worked against her sensitive skin, Georgie felt wave after wave of passion surge through her, and unable to remain passive beneath his ministrations, she lifted her hips again and again, following him every time he pulled away. Until, that is, he placed one forearm across her hips and kept her from moving, which somehow made the sensations of his mouth on her sex even more intense.
He stroked his tongue over the most sensitive bundle of nerves and at the same time thrust first one finger, then another inside her, the tandem motion of his tongue and thrusting fingers nearly driving her to madness. When he replaced his fingers with his tongue, Georgie thought she would explode, and despite his strong arm across her belly, she tried desperately to move against his maddening mouth.
Finally, it was too much for her to endure and Georgie felt herself splinter into a million pieces and float up outside of herself into nothingness.
When she came back to herself, it was to find Con trying to remove his boots beside her, and cursing beneath his breath. “Damn boots, why didn’t I take the bloody things off before I got started? Foolish, Coniston. Damn foolish.”
Drowsy with passion’s aftermath, Georgie giggled at his annoyance. She reached out to touch him on the back and was surprised at how tense his muscles were. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Georgina,” he said, finally getting his second boot off, and standing beside the bed to remove his coat and waistcoat and to pull his shirt off over his head. “I am likely to explode,” he said through clenched teeth as he indicated the bulge in his breeches. “I want to be gentle, but I’m damned if I know how I’ll manage it.”
She giggled again, which only earned her a scowl. She scrambled back onto the bed and gave him some room to climb up onto the bed. “You think this is funny, do you?” he asked once he’d removed his breeches. Stretching out beside her, he took her in like a lion surveying his prey.
&nb
sp; “This is as serious as serious can be,” he said, though even as the words left his mouth he grinned. “I’m clearly not serious enough to maintain the degree of gravitas necessary for a true ravishment.”
Georgie kissed him and worked between them to touch his erection. “No ravishment here,” she said against his mouth as she stroked his bare flesh between them. “The lady is more than willing.”
She felt him gasp at the touch of her hand and was pleasantly surprised to feel his arms harden around her as he flipped her onto her back, then grabbed her shift and proceeded to split it from neck to hem. “Well,” she whispered, “that’s one way to remove a shift.”
“It is indeed,” he said against her neck as he brought her left leg over his right hip and stroked against her.
Con looked up then, and his gaze met hers. Georgie felt the intensity of their connection right down to her toes. And she knew that whatever it was between them, it was far more dangerous than anything she’d shared with Robert. To her surprise she felt tears well. Before she could hide them, Con leaned forward and kissed her, the motion bringing their bodies together, and with one sure thrust, they were joined.
There were no more words then, only the desperate feel of skin against skin, and the build of sweet passion as they each worked toward crisis. Georgie had never been as overwhelmed by sheer need as she was now, with Con’s strong body against her, in her. It was impossible to remember where she left off and he began. And with each beat of her heart she felt the threads of their souls knitting together in a fabric no amount of strife could unravel.
Never had she thought to once again make herself vulnerable to a man. The very idea had been impossible to contemplate a week ago, but she felt as if she knew more about Con, about his innate sense of decency, his goodness, than she’d ever gleaned from her husband’s character. She was not a woman who took pleasure lightly. There had been more than one opportunity for her to take lovers. A certain type of gentleman gravitated to widows in their search for bed partners. And though she’d been tempted, she’d never allowed herself to succumb. Until now. And that said more about Con’s character than anything. She was not a woman who trusted easily, but she knew in her gut that whatever his faults, Con would never deliberately set out to harm her. It wasn’t in his nature.
All of this and more flashed through Georgie’s mind, until she found further thought impossible and the passion Con stoked in her overtook conscious thought. And when she felt her body climbing toward that place where they’d dissolve together, she held on to him for dear life. As spasm after spasm rocked through her and she clenched around him, she felt him go over the edge too, following her into bliss, as he thrust one last time into her and she was lost.
Fourteen
They made love again before Con regretfully left the cozy warmth of Georgina’s bed to return to his own bedchamber. He did not wish his aunt to be disturbed by tales of bed-hopping, and aside from that, he wanted the fact of whatever was between himself and Georgina to remain their own secret for now.
If he were to act purely based on his own wishes, he’d be riding hell for leather to Coniston Grange to retrieve his mother’s wedding ring, with a brief detour to the Archbishop of Canterbury for a special license. But a good hunter knows not to rush his fences. And for all that Georgina had been willing to share her body with him, he sensed even now a reluctance to make things more permanent between them.
Oh, she was quite willing to be with him, and perhaps even to give him her heart, but he wasn’t sure she was yet ready for marriage to any man, let alone himself. But he remembered what she’d said last night when they were talking of marriage and a woman’s reasons for marrying. Perhaps he was being overly cautious, but he would rather err on the side of caution than risk alienating her forever. That did not mean that he would not let her know that he wanted to marry her, however. Just that he would wait to ask her.
Some hours later, he found her alone in the breakfast chamber and had the devil of a time walking past without touching her. He managed it, however, and he even greeted her without sounding like a lovesick swain before loading a plate for himself from the sideboard and taking the chair opposite hers.
“I trust you are well,” he said, imbuing the words with far more meaning than they connoted on their own. “You are looking quite well this morning. I daresay it was all that sleep you got last night.”
To his amusement her cheeks colored prettily. “Indeed, my lord,” she said calmly despite her blush. “I tried a new sleeping aid. It seems to have worked rather well. Though it had to be repeated in the night. One does wish to ensure such methods are thoroughly tried before abandoning them.”
Con nearly choked on his toast. “I should hate to think of your abandoning such an effective method. Perhaps you should give it a while to ensure that it takes.”
“Oh, I shall continue the treatment so long as I am able,” she said with a cheeky smile. “It depends of course on the availability of the … ah … proper tool, so to speak.”
He did choke then, which turned into a coughing then laughing fit. “I had no idea you were so skilled at the art of innuendo, Mrs. Mowbray,” he said as he wiped his streaming eyes. Grateful for the solitude of the breakfast parlor, he looked at her seriously now. “I do hope you are truly well and not suffering any aftereffects of, um, you know…” He waved his hand in the air.
Now it was Georgina’s turn to laugh. In a low voice she said, “I am quite well, my lord. Indeed, I am feeling quite invigorated and ready to embark upon the search for the person or persons responsible for threatening me. If you will recall, we got a bit distracted from our purpose last evening when I was supposed to show you the letters.”
Con was slightly disappointed at the change of subject, but supposed that they could hardly go on exchanging lascivious puns in Aunt Russell’s breakfast parlor all morning. Aloud he said, “You are correct. Perhaps we can see if the young dowager and Lord Archer would care to join us in a picnic on the grounds of the ruins?”
“An excellent notion,” she said with a smile. “I’ll go have a word with cook. Perhaps you can send a note along to the dowager and to Lord Archer?”
The matter settled, they went about their proposed tasks, and it was nearly two hours later that they found themselves in Lady Russell’s open carriage. The weather was, for Bath, quite good, and though there was a bit of autumn chill in the air, the sun coupled with warm shawls for the ladies prevented them from becoming too cold.
“Georgie,” Perdita said in a low voice as the gentlemen discussed a prizefight that was scheduled to take place later in the week. “What’s amiss between you and Lord Coniston? I don’t believe you’ve spoken two words to one another since we entered the carriage.”
Fighting the urge to tell her friend everything that had happened between herself and Lord Coniston the night before, Georgie swallowed before she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. We are as we ever have been. I daresay he didn’t sleep very well last night and is in a bit of a mood. Nothing to concern yourself over.”
Perdita’s eyes narrowed as she contemplated her friend. “Why do I get the feeling you’re fobbing me off?” she asked with a suspicious look between Georgie and Con. “Either the two of you have been fighting about something—probably your refusal to tell him about the letters last season—or, if I didn’t know you would never do so without informing me first, I would almost suspect that the two of you were engaging in some sort of clandestine affair.”
Georgie felt her jaw drop, and was about to confess all when Perdita began to laugh. “What a nonsensical idea,” she said, shaking her head at her own foolishness. “I know I suggested you kiss him last night, but I was only teasing. I know better than to suspect such a thing of happening. You’re friendly enough with one another, but he could hardly take up with his aunt’s companion. What a scandal that would be.”
Feeling a gnawing pain in her belly, Georgi
e made herself join in her friend’s laughter. Perdita’s assessment of just how society would view any sort of connection between herself and Con was likely accurate. It had not occurred to her in the haze of last night’s bliss, but now in the light of day, she saw their pairing as others would see it and fought the desire to howl with frustration. Not that she had intended to make the arrangement permanent, of course. That would be up to Con, at any rate, and since he hadn’t come to her in a fit of conscience this morning and offered marriage, she knew that he would never do so. If he truly considered her virtue besmirched by their carnal knowledge of one another, then he would have done something about it.
Forcing herself to grin at Perdita, she told her just how silly her idea had been. “It’s almost as hilarious as the notion of some kind of match between you and Lord Archer,” she said with a giggle. “Can you possibly imagine?”
To her surprise, for the briefest of moments, rather than joining in the laughter, Perdita looked as if she were in genuine pain. Then, almost as if Georgie had imagined it, she was her old self again and giggling. “Yes, it’s quite the joke, isn’t it? After all, Lord Archer was my husband’s private secretary. What would people say? Why, they’d probably conjecture that I killed Ormond so that I could finally be with my lover Lord Archer.”
“People are imbeciles,” Georgie said, suddenly feeling sorry for both of them and their hypothetical scandals. “They should mind their own business.”
“It’s the way of the world, my dear,” Perdita said with a sad smile. Georgie knew in that instant that the idea of a romance between her friend and Lord Archer wasn’t as far-fetched as Perdita made out. At least on Perdita’s side of things.
“You aren’t…” Georgie gestured in the air with her hand. “You know…”
Perdita shook her head. “No. We are just good friends. Indeed, I don’t know what I’d do without Archer. Why ruin such a good friendship with something as treacherous as romance?” But her words and her expression were saying two different things and Georgie felt a pang of sadness for her friends. Not only was Perdita denying the possibility that she might share something more than friendship with Lord Archer, he was being denied the chance at such a match as well. At the direction of her thoughts, she shook her head in exasperation. Clearly last night with Con had instilled in her the desire to make matches where none had previously existed.
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