by Anna Small
“Ah, Georgie,” he breathed, skimming his fingertips across her décolletage, “never pass the butter to a man. It is a sign you want him to completely ravish you.”
“Truly?” Her voice barely contained a sound. She pushed his waistcoat down his arms and began tugging at his shirt. His breath misted her face. Her eyelids flickered in expectation of the kiss he was purposely withholding to torment her. “And what if I passed you the pudding?”
“All that promise of creamy sweetness and sugared fruit? I’d have taken you right there on the table.” He lifted her chin and leaned forward so they were only inches apart.
Her eyelids lowered in a thrill of expectation. She’d wanted to kiss him all day but didn’t know how to request such a thing. In the bedchamber, she was free to do as she pleased. But when fully clothed in daylight, they were the friends who’d agreed to selflessly help each other.
“We shall have to convince Jonathan by other means.” She freed him of his shirt and locked her hands around his neck.
He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her. His lips brushed over hers in a slow, delicious way, stirring the embers that never burned out completely.
Her blood rushed through her veins, throbbing in her head until she couldn’t think or breathe. Each time she moved closer, trying to deepen the kiss, he moved slightly back, continuing the sweet torture. She wanted to laugh and scream at the same time, and pulled his hair with a sharp tug.
“Enough, sir.”
His breath tickled her lips. “A kiss is much too quiet. They might think we’re reading or doing some other such innocent activity as friends are wont to do.”
She shifted on his lap, irritable and aroused at the same time. “You haven’t quite kissed me yet.” Again, she moved forward just as he pulled back, so that her lips met the air.
“Patience, my little bride. I intend to give you everything you want and need tonight. I just want you to feel a little of my frustration today. Did you know you have the most beguiling lips in the known world?” He traced his finger over her bottom lip and she sucked it into her mouth and bit it. “Every time you speak, or laugh, or berate me, I only think of the many things I want to do with your lips.”
“I’m glad you suffered today, Jack.” She raked her fingers through his hair, ending at his ears, which she gripped, pulling him closer. “I’ve suffered, too.” She pressed a kiss to his rough jaw, brushing her cheek across it. She felt his soft groan deep in his chest and bit his neck the tiniest bit. “All of this…this pretending to be in love with you has stirred my imagination.”
“Oh, pray go on, Mrs. Waverley. Tell me everything.” His hands slid restlessly over her chest and then down the length of her thigh. The silk rustled in protest at his questing hands.
She caressed his chest, exploring the hard, flat planes and lines of his body. She’d felt him a hundred times before, but each time was like the first. The hunger was always sated just enough to leave her wanting more. Every kiss was a prelude to the next. And the next….
“I do enjoy being married to you, Jack.” She hadn’t meant to whisper but had murmured his name as softly as if it were a lullaby.
“I intend to keep it that way.” His heavy lids lowered, and he closed the short distance between them, silencing anything else she might say with a kiss. He suddenly rose from the settee, hoisted her in his arms, and deposited her onto the bed. She leaned back on her elbows to gaze at him as he stripped off his breeches, revealing his flat abdomen and the obvious sign of his desire.
“You could have been an artist’s model.”
He sat beside her, pulling her into his arms while he fumbled with the ties on her dress. “You may sculpt me if you like. But only after you allow me to do this…” His fingers brushed up her thigh. She hadn’t even noticed he’d slid his hand beneath her skirt. She giggled, then clapped her hand over her mouth. He lifted his head to look at her.
“They might hear us.”
“They bloody well better. Then, and only then, will your brother leave me in peace.” He spoke a little loudly, and she pressed her hand over his mouth. He kissed it squarely, then hovered over her, his gray eyes gleaming. “Prepare yourself, Georgie.”
“For what?” She didn’t know if it was trepidation or excitement making her so breathless.
“Because I am going to make love to you until you cry out my name, so that every man in the vicinity of a thousand miles will know you are mine. Even the ghosts of Fairwood Hall will hear you.”
She did not wish to inform him that Fairwood Hall had no resident ghosts. At this moment, he did not seem the least concerned with the presence of any spirit. Besides, the last coherent part of her brain thought, there might be a ghost or two lurking undetected behind the walls, and a little passion in the night shouldn’t disturb them very much.
****
A butterfly landed on her cheek. Georgiana lifted her hand slowly, as if she were treading water. She brushed at it, and it flew away, settling further down on her body. Its multicolored wings fanned her silk gown, but as she watched, her gown vanished. She was lying in a flower-strewn meadow. Before she could wonder what she was doing in a meadow, the butterfly disappeared and she opened her eyes.
The top of Jack’s head was inches from hers. His lips were the butterfly wings, only now they were lightly fluttering between her breasts. She drew in a surprised breath, and he lifted his head slightly.
“Good morning,” he murmured, his lips tickling her skin as he spoke.
He rolled onto his side, taking her with him, as he always did. She nestled her face in the curve of his shoulder, breathing in his own natural scent and the musky perfume of their lovemaking the night before. She ran her hands down his back, enjoying the ripple effect of his muscles twitching at her light touch.
“What are you doing?”
“I wanted to express my appreciation, Mrs. Waverley.”
“For what?”
He laughed softly. “I’m not certain, but I am sure you will do something nice for me today.”
“So you are thanking me in advance?” She pulled away slightly to look at him.
He pushed a loose strand of hair from her forehead. “In actual fact, I wished to talk with you about our plans.”
“We can stroll around the park this morning, and then play together this afternoon. Jonathan has some new music we can try.”
“Beyond today, Georgie. We should go to my grandfather as soon as possible. It’s about a two days’ ride from Fairwood Hall to Stoughton Park.” He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Of course, that will mean stopping the night in a cozy little inn.”
He gave her a knowing look. A rush of heat flowed through her. “With a tiny room and a tiny bed?”
“Very tiny.” He kissed her on the tip of her nose. “There’s something else we need to discuss. Where we will make our nest.” When she didn’t reply, he cleared his throat. “Our living arrangements.”
He twined a lock of her hair around his finger. He was no longer looking at her face but at her hair, as if it held some claim to his eyes. A chill prickled down the back of her neck. The warm feeling she’d had in her belly since she’d awakened faded as quickly as if she’d been doused with cold water.
She gulped to ensure her voice didn’t rasp or vanish altogether. “Whatever you think is best, Jack. You have your rooms in town, do you not?”
“Yes, but that place is very small. Besides, they are for men only. So, if you wanted to visit me in the middle of the night, it would not be allowed. I thought you’d prefer to be near Fairwood Hall. I can find a larger place in town for when you seek entertainment.”
Although she’d known the time to separate would come, it hadn’t seemed real. Spending so much time together had changed things. Hadn’t it? Or was it just her own foreboding sense of their eventual separation? She should be grateful their charade would soon end. It was a little tiring acting the part of the married woman when Jack so obviously could not abide being chained
to her side longer than was necessary. He had given up so much of his life to help her, and it was time she gave it back.
She shrugged, trying to match his sensible attitude. “I don’t have a preference. The country will suit me. And there’s Aunt Adele’s townhouse. We can take turns using it, so you needn’t rent rooms somewhere else.” She drew the coverlet between them, effectively shielding her body from his. Strange—she’d always dreamed of being mistress of her own home, with the furnishings and gardens just the way she wanted. Her dream would soon become reality, but rather than feel excited, she dreaded the moment.
The silence floated between them until she could bear it no longer. Before she could speak, he stroked her bare shoulder.
“You would be tired of my company, were I under foot too long.”
She blinked, trying not to sniffle. The mattress shifted as he moved closer to her, pulling her against his chest and settling his arms around her.
“You are probably right. I can hardly abide your company now as it is.” To prove her point, she pinched his arm.
He nibbled on her ear, and then his lips continued a teasing exploration of her throat, sending shivers of desire pulsating through her. “How tragic, as I find your company most distracting.”
“Then you should find some other pleasure elsewhere. I would not wish to be the cause of any discomfort.”
She bit her lip to stop the trembling, but it did no good. He reached beneath the sheet, skimming his hands over her body until she nearly shook with renewed passion. She marveled at how easily her body betrayed her.
“Fortunately, I do not mind a little discomfort.”
She wanted to push him away. To shove against his shoulders and turn her head from his burning lips which trailed streaks of fire wherever they touched. He would leave her, just as she’d always known he would. Their marriage was truly one of convenience, borne of two friends pledging to help each other. The physical aspect of their arrangement was merely a pleasurable benefit, as well as a tool to bind them together so Jonathan could not tear them apart. She’d never expected to enjoy being with him so much, and he seemed happy to play the devoted husband, especially in the bedchamber. How wonderful life would be if they were in love.
Except he’d sworn never to love any woman, and she had vowed to never give her heart away again.
But even she knew her heart could make mistakes.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Your playing is lovely, Georgiana.” Sophie glanced up from the baby who lay in her lap, his tiny legs kicking at the air. “Please, do not stop, unless you wish to. Sebastian likes it when you play.”
Georgiana blew a strand of hair from her eyes and shifted her position on the padded bench. The new Broadwood had a marvelous sound, but her heart wasn’t in her music.
“I don’t mind playing some more,” she said, and stumbled through a light sonata she could have played blindfolded.
Sophie rose from the settee, carrying Sebastian. “Perhaps some tea will revive us. My word, I do feel sleepy in this warm air.” She rang the kitchens, and then carried the baby to the window. “Oh, look, my darling boy,” she murmured, glancing quickly at Georgiana, “here comes Papa now. And he has your charming Uncle Jack with him, too.”
Georgiana thumped the keys as she ungracefully scooted off the bench and hurried to the window, where she stood beside Sophie and peered into the park below. “They have their shirts off! Gracious, Sophie—they’ve been swimming in the pond!”
While she marveled at Jack’s bronzed figure striding across the lawn, she was aware of a pronounced pounding of her heart. Sophie patted her hand, which she realized was twisting her skirts.
“Forgive me, dear sister,” she said. “I believed you and Jack married for some different reason besides love. But I can see I am wrong.”
“Of course I love him. That is why I married him.” Jonathan might have asked Sophie to seek the real reason, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“No, you told your brother you loved Jack so he would not dissolve your marriage, and thereby have you marry someone else.” Her slender eyebrow arched. “Your secret is safe with me. Jonathan believed both of you, but I saw through your protestations of love.”
“There is no secret. Jack knows how I feel. He…” She stammered and blushed her way through a pitiful explanation, irritated at her sister-in-law’s barely concealed grin.
“Jonathan assured me of your safety with Jack as escort to you and Aunt Adele. He said Jack would never marry, unless the circumstances were such that he was unable to resist.” She frowned. “I feared at first he’d married you for your fortune, or that you had agreed to marry him to thwart your brother’s plans. I worried you had taken a sacred sacrament and used it for your own ends.”
Georgiana remained silent and turned her gaze toward the window again. Jack and Jonathan must have entered the house, because she couldn’t see them anymore.
“That is ridiculous.”
“Of course, it is!” Sophie linked her arm through Georgiana’s. “I saw immediately you were both in love. I’m so happy I was wrong.”
“Both of us?” She hadn’t meant to sound so surprised. Jack had been noticeably attentive in the Lockewoods’ presence, but she’d put that to his worry her brother would still find a way to separate them.
“Why, yes. He cannot take his eyes off you for a moment. The other day, you left the room on some errand, and his gaze followed you out the door. He had obviously not heard a single word Jonathan said.”
Georgiana pressed Sophie’s hand. “Please, do not tell Jonathan! You are correct, Sophie. I had no wish to marry the suitors Jonathan chose for me, and Jack’s grandfather forced him to take a bride. We…” Her words cut off as she remembered their passionate first night together. “We agreed upon a solution for our mutual problem.”
“Well, it has worked out for the best, has it not? For now, you are both in love, truly in love. I could not be happier for you.”
“He is only pretending to love me. For Jonathan’s sake.” A rush of heat flooded her face, and it was all she could do to keep her voice steady. “Ours is an unusual arrangement, but it suits us. We are the best of friends. I truly could not be happier.”
“I did not mean to imply you were unhappy, dear Georgiana.” Sophie seemed to study her, and Georgiana tried without some difficulty not to squirm before her frank gaze. “Your protestation leads me to believe you are unhappy, though you have certainly played the loving wife this week.”
Georgiana clasped her hands together. “You should have seen Herbert Richmond, Sophie! You’d have done anything to stay as far from him as you could. And if there was a caring friend you trusted…” Her caring friend’s passionate kisses filled her thoughts until her knees weakened. She gulped. “Do you think Jonathan has been fooled, then?”
“The question is not if your brother has been fooled, but if you are able to continue with this pretense. Are you both going to play being in love in public, but remain platonic friends in private?” Her eyebrow arched. “Or does the pretense continue into the bedchamber?”
It was on the tip of her tongue to protest they did not have a platonic friendship, but she couldn’t speak of such things with Sophie. “I could not have found a better husband. Jack is kind and makes me laugh. He was so good to me in France.” She stopped herself again from saying too much. It was better Sophie not know how she had come to stay at Jack’s chateau in the first place.
“Then you are lucky, indeed. Many couples are never friends at all. Once the passion is gone…”
“He loves me in the best of ways,” Georgiana continued, as if she had to convince both of them. “I am truly blessed to have such a warm friendship with Jack. You said so yourself.” Then why did her eyes burn with unshed tears, and her throat ache with all the longing she wished to express?
“Say what you like, but I think you are wrong. He does love you, and not as a friend. A man could not feign the looks Ja
ck bestows upon you. He is worse than your brother was, when we were courting.” She laughed a little. “Jonathan found every opportunity to see me, even when there was no chaperone present. He once hid in the hedge beneath my window in hopes I would appear, but I never did. It snowed that night, and he was in a sorry state when my father found him in the morning.”
Georgiana laughed. “I did not hear that story.”‘
“And he will never forgive me for telling you.” Sophie stroked her arm. “You should tell him the truth, Georgiana.”
“Tell Jonathan?”
“No.” Sophie laughed gently. “Tell Jack. You both deserve a marriage based on the love between a man and a woman, not as brother and sister.”
Footsteps and men’s voices echoed in the corridor. Recognizing Jack’s, Georgiana shook her head. “We cannot discuss this any further. Please, Sophie.”
Sophie leaned in for an embrace. “Sooner or later, it will come out on its own.” She straightened. “Did you enjoy your walk?” she asked as Jonathan and Jack entered the room, effectively ending their conversation.
“The water was splendid. I do hope you’ve occupied yourself in our absence.” Jack’s grin was infectious as they crossed the room to where the women remained by the window. He lifted Georgiana’s trembling hand and kissed it loudly. “Look at her pink cheeks, Lockewood! Have you ever seen any woman so enamored of her husband?”
Jonathan brushed a soft kiss on Sophie’s cheek. “If truth be told, yes.”
“And what have you both been up to this afternoon?” Sophie asked.
“We walked the grounds and went for a swim. Jack was describing his grandfather’s business. It seems very promising. I have ordered six cases of their fine burgundy.”
“He wants me to succeed as a wine merchant and give up boxing,” Jack whispered sotto voce, and they all laughed. He studied Georgiana for a moment. “Are you all right, my dear? You look flushed.” He had never released her hand and now drew her to a settee, where he sat beside her.