How to Marry a Rogue
Page 18
Instead of making some excuse as to why they should spend some time apart, he held his arms open. She lay in front of him, curving her body into his. He drew his legs up around her, trapping her. The flowery scent of her hair and skin held a faint odor of musky sweat brought on from her earlier intoxication.
“What are you doing?” Her voice was soft and low, still heavy with sleep, though he felt the increase of her heartbeat with every passing second.
He stroked the damp tendrils of hair from her forehead, drawing it back over her shoulders so it hung in thick golden ropes over his hand. He pressed his cheek to the top of her head.
“Waiting for the sunrise.”
“I’ll wait with you, then.” A moment later she murmured, “I am so glad you’re not angry with me.”
“Why should I be angry with you? What harm can a little goose like you do to me?”
She gulped. “I ought not to have followed you to the ball. It’s none of my concern what your…activities are. I fear I embarrassed you.”
Every man’s eyes had been on her at the ball. He’d been struck at how powerfully the sense of protection and pride had grown in him. To think that Georgiana Lockewood, the celebrated beauty of the ton would even turn her sights on him was something he’d never imagined.
But it was not for his heart she’d chosen him. She needed to be tied to him for the very same reasons he needed her. Thirty thousand reasons, if truth be told.
“It takes much more than a flirtatious little poppet to embarrass me. In fact, your spitting and clawing only made me more desirable to certain females I wished to impress.” It was a lie but would spare either of them from becoming too attached to the other, a thing he was dangerously close to becoming. Of course, holding her in his arms while both of them were barely dressed didn’t help. And she had a disturbing habit of grinding her hip against his groin, already taut with anticipation and desire.
“Then you should be thanking me, instead of my apologizing to you.”
“There is still the matter of my boots. And Marie and Philippe are going to raise hell when they find your mess in the morning.”
She shuddered. “I have thoroughly humiliated myself, which shall be my punishment. Only, I do hope you won’t tell Jonathan.”
He tugged on her hair. “Yes, let me tell your esteemed brother how his little sister followed me to an orgiastic hell of a ball, where she proceeded to dance with a handsome seducer and imbibe massive quantities of the grape, while I, her supposed protector, was ensconced in a shady salon with a woman reported to be my lover.” He stroked the back of her neck. “That should merit pistols at dawn, don’t you think?”
She shook her head, very slightly, so he barely felt the motion. “Jonathan can have nothing more to say about my life. I’m a grown woman, a truth both of you need to accept.”
“Your newly married status does not automatically grant you sensibilities, my dear.”
She’d been stroking his arm during their exchange, and now pinched him. “And your superior age does not make you an authority on the subject, sir.”
“Are you implying I’m not grown up, even at my superior age?”
“You can criticize my behavior tonight, yet you thought nothing of waltzing away into a private room with that…that…”
“As I recall, you granted your permission and approval for whatever activities I wish to pursue, without fear of retribution, retaliation, or, heaven forbid, tears.” He’d wrapped a long strand of her hair around his fingers. He now began unwinding it. Her quickening breath fanned through his shirt.
“And you have not hesitated in taking advantage of your status.”
He nearly laughed at her preposterous accusations. If she only knew how her antics with Marcel had tormented him.
“I am merely doing as my lady suggested many breakfasts ago, when you made me the most delightful offer of your thousands and the freedom to do as I liked. And I have not heard any protests from you. This arrangement of ours suits you as much as it does me.”
“Yes, but…” She settled back into his chest again. “Never mind.”
“You may tell me anything, Georgie.”
“You will laugh at me. And say you told me so.”
“I promise to remain as sober as a judge. I will laugh later, when you’re asleep.”
She pinched his arm again, harder. “Stop teasing, Jack! I am an adult, now. You forget I have had my share of experiences.”
This time, he did not contain his laughter, though he did not intend his words to sound so sarcastic. “All borne out of my bed, so you cannot hold those over me.”
“I was not talking about you.”
Had she struck him across the face he would not have felt any less sting. Mitford’s sly grin stamped itself in his mind. The thought of that dog pawing at her, kissing her, trying to seduce her… How far had he succeeded? He counted to three silently before he could respond. “Yes, you are a fully grown woman with her own mind.” His heart began to pound in rhythm with hers, though his ardor dissipated. “But being all grown up does not mean you should throw yourself at every man who smiles at you.”
She sat up with a jerk and faced him. A pink flush rose up her throat, and her eyes glinted. Her lips trembled as she caught her breath. “How dare you bring up Edward Mitford?”
He clenched his jaw hard. “For someone who swears she no longer loves the man, you do talk about him quite a bit. Besides, I was referring to your running off with Marcel tonight.”
“I do not talk about him. Besides, it is not my fault he’s here in France. As for Marcel, I only ran off with him because you wished to be alone with your…that woman. You couldn’t wait for me to be out of your sight. You threw me at him.”
“Then you should have stayed home, instead of chasing after me.”
Shut up, shut up! His mind raced against his heart. He was treading in dark waters now and knew any more words would only hurt her and cause him further regret. He cursed himself for not leaving the chateau earlier when he’d had the chance. He could have been halfway to the vignoble by now and composing an apology to Danielle. Perhaps he should see more of her while in France. Was that not his original intent? To spend his nights in carefree passion, without reservation or restriction? Not to lock himself to one woman. Especially one whose eyes filled with tears and made him feel like the lowest snake in the world. With Danielle, there were no surprises. No expectations. No promises. Georgiana came with too many requirements. Too many working parts he hardly knew what to do with her.
“Chasing…after…you?” Her flush deepened. Her lips trembled. He ran his hands down her arms in an attempt to soothe her. She twitched away from him.
“Georgie…I didn’t mean it.”
She blinked rapidly in an attempt to quell the tears already springing from her eyes. “I thought”—she hiccupped—“I thought you were different. Edward used me to get at my money. You were always so kind, so...” She stared into his eyes for a moment, then thumped his chest. “I should have known better! You tricked me into your bed on the guise of trying to help me. You’re no different.”
“I tricked you?” He wanted to shake her, but satisfied himself with holding her waist, as she squirmed to be free. “It was your decision we marry and also to consummate this spectacle of a marriage. If it were left to me, I would be living here alone, and you would be with Aunt Adele, where you belong.”
“So this is my fault? None of this would have happened were it not for your lack of judgment before Lady Richmond!” Her jaw clenched. “You promised to help me, but all you’ve done is ruin my life!”
She broke his grip. With barely a conscious thought, he was off the ledge and behind her. He watched as if he stood apart from his body, reaching for and catching her chemise. She flailed in his arms, her swinging fist bruising his jaw. He trapped her hands and pulled her close, avoiding her raised knee and the soft battering of her bare feet against his shins. He swung her up into his arms after a bri
ef struggle, avoiding her scratching nails but unable to shut out the strangled curses she cried out.
He dropped her unceremoniously on the bed, half expecting her to scoot away from him, but she reached for him, a new curse on her lips. He joined her a second later, pinning her with his weight while she thrashed, her teeth flashing white in the dim light from the rising dawn as she struggled to bite him.
Her lips were redder than he’d ever seen. Full and trembling, it was only natural to cover them with his mouth to stifle the choppy syllabic curses she spewed at him. Her teeth sank into his lip, but he fought the sharpness, ignored the tang of blood in his mouth. He released her hands to clutch her lithe figure, the cushioned softness of her breasts crushing his chest and sending him reeling with desire.
Blood from his torn mouth mixed with her tears, but he kissed her anyway, ignoring the salt and copper taste of her lips.
“I don’t love Edward.”
Each word was punctuated with a shuddering gasp. He was lost in time and space, his mind soaring through its own universe looking for a bearing. He found it in her, his child bride whom he’d loved from the start. It was why he’d avoided her at the Christmas party. It was why he’d offered to escort her to France. God knew it was why he’d dashed the remotest chance of her marrying Richmond or anyone else.
“I know that.” The words squeezed out of him before he could stop them. “I know it. Oh, God, Georgiana...”
He bit back the words he’d never said to another human being in all his life. They remained stifled in his throat, buried deeply with the other feelings he could not dare drag to the surface. He could hold her for now and give whatever part of him she would take. It was the best he could do.
Hang it all. It was all he could do.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Finishing paperwork at the vignoble had kept Jack working far into the night, so it was well past midnight when he pushed away from the cluttered desk and rubbed his tired eyes. He’d been awake the night before, thoroughly making up with Georgiana until she’d finally fallen asleep in his arms. But he still had work to do at the vignoble and arrived late.
“I need a drink,” he said.
Gaston took a wine bottle from a nearby shelf.
Jack shook his head. “Something stronger.”
“I know a place. It’s on your way home.”
Jack grinned. “What are we waiting for?” He stood and stretched his back, grunting when it gave a satisfying crack. “I don’t see any fault with the books, old friend. You’ve done a perfect job, as usual. Lord Waverley will be very pleased.”
Gaston reached for their hats. “Why do you not call him your grandfather?”
They walked out the door. Jack took a deep breath of the warm, fresh air.
“Because this is business. Besides,” he added, stepping into his waiting carriage, “I haven’t called him anything but sir since I was a boy. Old habits, and all that.”
“He always speaks highly of you.” Gaston leaned back into the carriage.
Jack would have done the same but feared if he closed his eyes he would settle into a long deserved sleep. He had only himself to blame. Every night, he swore to himself he’d leave Georgiana alone, almost convincing himself she would be better off knowing him as little as possible. But every night, he was inevitably drawn to her, as the sea to the shore. She moved his pillows into her bed and he took it for granted they would share a bed. Amazing how the original intent of sealing their union for practical matters had evolved into something he could not live without.
He blinked. “What did you say? Oh, yes, I’m sure he speaks well of me. He doesn’t have anyone else in the family he can trust to take care of his business. My cousin is a complete scoundrel on the fast road to ruin. We were running neck and neck for a moment there, but he has outlasted me.”
“Thank the saints, your grandfather has you, then.”
A moment later, they both laughed. “Where is this tavern you spoke of? I’m near sleep as we speak.”
“Oh, it is not a tavern, Jack. It’s a chateau. A very amenable marquise has the best parties. There is one tonight.”
“Are we not a little late for a party?” The last he’d seen of his pocket watch, it was nearly two in the morning.
“The sun is not up for a few more hours. Besides, your work is almost done, and you will be a slave to your life in London soon enough. Your new bride will surely have you running around town, finding new ways to spend your money.”
Jack snorted. “She has her own money and certainly did not marry me for mine.”
The chateau loomed in the distance, lit with hundreds of lamps illuminating the drive. Jack stifled a wisp of regret. A lively party was under way with no apparent end in sight. Laughter and music reached him inside the carriage, and he almost told Gaston to keep driving. He was loathe to spend more time from Georgiana than he cared to admit, even to himself. Perhaps this party was what he needed, to clear his head. Her enthusiasm in bed was probably a result of her newfound womanhood, and nothing especially to do with him. Once they returned to England, they would likely lead separate lives as planned, coming together for family occasions and the like.
The thought was positively dreary.
“I see a few friends.” Gaston pointed toward a group in the courtyard. “Have a drink or two and make merry. Take the carriage home when you’re ready, and I will find my own way from here.”
Jack nodded. Georgiana was probably in bed by now. Lying on top of the coverlet because the night was so warm. Her chamber would be stifling, and she’d have thrown open the windows so the breeze wafted across her body as she lay in half sleep, waiting for him. He could picture her golden hair splayed across the ivory pillowcase. Feel her dewy skin, soft as rose petals, beneath his questing fingertips. Hear her murmured sighs and purrs as he stirred her desire to a feverish pitch.
He snapped out of his dream, almost annoyed with Gaston for not taking him home straightaway. A surge of impatience threatened to spill into his speech, but he remained civil.
“A few drinks then, but no gaming tables for me.”
Gaston laughed heartily. “I never thought to see it, Jack. You are besotted.”
It would be easier to deny it, but Gaston would not believe him. Hell, he thought ruefully. He hardly believed it himself.
He wandered through the salons and ballroom, recognizing a few faces. He nodded politely, avoiding conversation. One drink, he swore. One drink, and he would be on his way home, to finish the night with the one person he could not stand to be without.
Someone tapped his shoulder. Jack turned around, preparing for brief conversation. God, let it not be Danielle.
The stranger’s eyes smoldered like coals against the backdrop of his red face. His rapid breathing ruffled his lace-trimmed cravat. Jack tried to place him, but was at a loss. He sized him up for a fight, subconsciously taking in the man’s broad shoulders and clenched fists.
“May I help you?”
“Monsieur, you have insulted my wife. I demand satisfaction.”
“I am sure you are mistaken.”
Danielle emerged from behind a column, a smug smile on her rouged lips.
Jack sighed. The long night just grew longer.
****
“I’m not a baby, Georgie. You needn’t coddle me.” But he didn’t push her hand away as she helped him into the copper tub filled with steaming water. “Send for a dusky servant girl to wait on me. I’ll be myself in a while.” He leaned back against a folded towel and closed his eyes. He opened them a second later when she poured a cup of cold water onto his head. “What was that for?”
“Forgive me,” she said as sweetly as she could. “I’m not as able-bodied as a dusky servant girl.”
He grinned, and she smiled hesitantly back, knowing he’d only spoken in jest, but her heart still writhed every time he mentioned other women.
“I suppose you’ll do. I like my scalp massaged, if you please.”
“Oh, the other fellow didn’t come away so badly. Just a missing tooth, but it improved his appearance.”
“And I suppose he deserved it?”
“I wish I could tell you how much.” He closed his eyes with a heavy sigh and covered her hand, which rested on his shoulder.
She’d been shocked when he’d appeared in her chamber, his face bruised and puffy, his lip cut. He had not discussed his evening except to say he and Gaston had gone to visit friends before riding home, and he’d had an altercation with a drunken guest. She refrained from questioning him, even though she was dying to know what he’d been up to.
“Well,” she said slowly, “it isn’t proper for a gentleman to defend a questionable lady’s honor.”
“Why do you presume I was fighting over a woman? A questionable one, at that?”
“Were you?”
His jaw worked. “Yes.”
She sniffed. “I’m not surprised. You possess a ferocious appetite when it comes to women.” He irritated her further by laughing rather than apologizing. She lathered soap through his hair, tugging it more than cleaning warranted. “If you’re getting into trouble here in France, I can only shudder to think what lies awaiting you in England.” And for me.
“If it will ease your mind, we will be gone from here soon enough. My grandfather sent word to the vignoble my work here is done.”
“Is everything all right?”
“I have no idea. I seldom see him upon my return from these visits. For some reason, he is asking to see me now.” He splashed water on his face. “Damn Gaston and his loose tongue. He’s probably written the old dragon about our marriage.”
“Perhaps he’s taken ill.” She stroked the back of his hand, but he shook his head, dismissing the sentiment.
“Nothing would dare harm him. I don’t think he’s been sick a day in his life. Perhaps he’s going to present me with another ultimatum, since he enjoys controlling my life so much.” He entwined his fingers with hers. “So, my dear miss, I’m afraid your salacious rampage through my bedchamber must come to an end.”