Much Ado about a Widow (The Widows' Club Book 4)

by Jenna Jaxon

  “My lady?”

  The maid’s voice brought her out of her daydream. Clara stood before her holding out two day gowns. “Will these do? Or would you prefer the green brocade? That one might be warmer.”

  Lord, Georgie must keep her mind on her business. She resumed industriously brushing her hair. “I think those will do nicely. I won’t want anything so formal onboard. My pelisse will suffice for warmth, or I can remain belowdecks.”

  “Your pelisse is simply not what it used to be, my lady, if I must say so.” Clara sniffed. “I’ve tried and tried to get the wrinkles out of it, but it’s never been right ever since you got it wet. And the fur has become matted in places in the lining. If we were closer to a dressmaker, I’d say you needed to bespeak a new one.”

  “Well, that point is moot. We are not near a dressmaker, and we are technically still under siege, although Rob assured me at dinner that the few men remaining out there won’t cause any trouble. Not to mention I will be at sea in a matter of hours.” Georgie rose, wrapping her arms around her chest and going to peer out at the moonlit night. A little light bounced off the distant waves. Not long now until she was out there on the water once more. She shivered, and it had nothing to do with the cold.

  “Very well, my lady. Did you need anything more tonight?”

  “No, Clara, thank you. But I will need to be ready at first light, even though the marquess says we will breakfast first.” She wrinkled her nose. “He will breakfast first and heartily, I hope, as there likely won’t be much in the way of hot food on this voyage. Barnes has been spirited away by his wife and daughter to look after her toddler while she is attending to the birth of her next child.”

  “Hard to imagine Mr. Barnes looking after a babe.” Shaking her head, Clara headed toward the dressing room.

  “I suppose if it is your flesh and blood it becomes a different matter.” Georgie had never taken care of children before, but if she and Rob were to have one . . . Her heart raced at the thought. Well, she’d likely act differently as well. God bless Mr. Barnes. Hopefully the man had laid in a goodly supply of hardtack for her before he left for more domestic duties.

  “Likely it does, my lady.” Clara opened the door to the dressing room as furious barking erupted.

  “Lulu! Did you get shut up in there?” Georgie gathered the frenzied little dog to her, lifting her up and almost being licked to death in the process. “We have to be more careful, Clara.” She rubbed Lulu under her chin. “Poor thing. You wanted your good-night rubbing, didn’t you?” Kneeling down on the floor, Georgie set the spaniel down, then proceeded with her bedtime ritual of rubbing and chin scratching. “There you go, my dear.”

  Lulu snorted, then sauntered back into the dressing room.

  “And who do you think will do that while we’re away in Scotland, my lady?” Clara had picked up a pair of half boots and was polishing them industriously.

  “We?” Rising, Georgie cocked her head one way, then the other. Clara had never declared her intention of accompanying them. “Did I say I was taking you? One chaperone on this trip will be one too many.”

  “Two is too few where you are concerned, my lady. You and his lordship need chaperoning.” Clara gave the boot a vigorous swipe with the cloth. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

  Chuckling, Georgie returned to her toilette table and picked up the brush. “I should hope he would look at me with a bit of fondness, Clara. We are getting married in a day or two.”

  “More than ‘a bit of fondness,’ to be sure, my lady.”

  That was nothing but true. The smoldering looks she’d caught him sending her whenever they were in the same room were almost indecent. Even married couples were expected to restrain their passion in public. The Marquess of St. Just, however, did not seem to care for that ton edict.

  “Both you and my brother seem to forget that I am a widow, not some naïve, young virgin.” Brushing her auburn hair as it curled around her hand, Georgie vividly recalled her wedding night with Isaac. An awkward, painful, and blessedly brief union. Of course, she had grown to love their passionate encounters, but that first one . . . “Thank goodness I am well past that stage of life.”

  “All the more reason you should be watched over, Lady Georgina.” Clara set the shoes in the dressing room and shut the door, leaving a crack. “If you think you have nothing left to lose, no reason to guard the treasure chest.”

  Smothering a giggle, Georgie fought to maintain a somber countenance. “I promise to take that into consideration, Clara. Truly I will.” As much consideration as she would give a gnat. “So you don’t need to accompany us.”

  “Huh. I wasn’t born down a well, my lady. I’m coming with you, and that’s that. Do you require anything else this evening?”

  “Only that you take a nice long rest tonight. Sleep in in the morning, Clara. You deserve it.”

  Giving her a withering look, Clara marched out the door, poking her head back in for an instant. “I’ll awaken you at six o’ clock. Lord St. Just said we were to depart for the ship at eight.”

  Resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at the maid, Georgie resumed her brushing, sobering the instant the door closed. Despite her carefree façade, this whole business preyed upon her mind. She feared the worst from her father. Sending his servants to bring her back home, while it had not had dire consequences, still was an indication of his iron will to have her married as he directed once and for all. She could imagine to what lengths he would go, having been thwarted once, to assure himself it did not happen a second time. He was the most stubborn, inflexible, tenacious man she had ever met.

  Of course, she was just like him in that respect. If she refused to marry Travers, there was nothing her father, Lord Travers, or the King of England could do about it. Well, the king could command her to do it, but it was very unlikely, given his circumstances. And the Prince Regent would likely take her side in the matter, as he’d detested his own marriage because he’d been forced to marry a lady he didn’t love. If it came down to it, she would simply tear up the document she had signed in front of Travers and tell him to go hang.

  A quiet knock brought Georgie out of her chair and sprinting to the door. “Yes? Who is it?” she whispered and leaned her ear against the panel.

  Nothing. She pressed harder.

  Louder knocking ensued, but not from the door to the corridor. She jerked back and looked at the door in the corner, near the fireplace. The door that had always been locked. Step by cautious step she crept to the doorway, then laid her hand on the latch and paused. Best be safe. She grabbed a poker from the fireplace and lifted the latch.

  She raised the rod, her face screwed into the fiercest frown she could conjure, and the door swung wide, revealing a grinning Rob in a gray silk banyan that matched the color of his wide eyes, two glasses of wine in his hands.

  “Rob! What are you doing here?” An inane question, given his dishabille and the lateness of the hour, but she was so flustered she couldn’t think straight. She’d hoped he would come, but hadn’t dared hope too much with her brother literally down the hall.

  “I was going for a stroll and thought you might like to accompany me. The parapet is particularly lovely by moonlight.” He handed her one of the glasses, bubbles rising steadily through the golden liquid. “Have some wine. It will help you relax.”

  “Why would you think I needed to relax?” She was strung tighter than a bowstring, and he knew it. Grasping the glass, she gasped in a breath.

  “Because you were about to crack my noggin with that poker, if I don’t miss my guess. After last night’s visitor, I can’t say I blame you, but”—he grabbed the poker, and she let go—“I do not think you want to use this on me. At least, not before we marry. Afterward, well, I will simply have to take my chances.” He leaned the iron rod back against the fireplace. “I do love a resourceful woman.”

  “Oh, Rob.” She laid her head on his chest, truly relaxing now. “I was hoping you would c
ome here.” She raised her head. “But how do you come here? I tried to open that door when I first arrived, but it was locked. I thought it might be a room for Clara to occupy, then we were told she should go to the upper floor. So where does that door lead?”

  “To the marquess’s suite of rooms of course.” He sipped champagne, watching her.

  “To your bedchamber?” Georgie frowned. “If your room connects to this one, then this must be . . .” Her mouth dropped open, and he had to grab the glass in her hand to keep it from spilling.

  “The marchioness’s suite, yes. My mother vacated it years ago when my father died. I moved into his chamber when I turned twenty-one and officially assumed the marquessate. And these rooms have been waiting ever since . . . for you.”

  “Oh.” This magnificent room would be hers for as long as she lived. Right beside his.

  “That is why I asked Mamma to put you in this suite of rooms.” He smoothed a strand of hair away from Georgie’s face. “I wanted you to become very familiar with them.”

  “But that first day you hadn’t proposed to me yet.” Had he been so certain of her answer even then?

  He waved his hand. “Formality, only.” He raised her hand to his lips. “Before we landed in the cove I knew I wanted only you as my marchioness.”

  Slipping her hand from his, she stepped back. “You seem to have been very sure of yourself. Almost cocky, one might say.” She peered at him, pursing her lips. “What if I had said no?”

  Giving her an arch look, he drained his glass, then plucked hers from her hand. With a devilish grin he set them on the bedside table. “Well, as you may recall, I can be particularly persuasive.” He pulled her against his firm chest, harder now that only his robe and her gown separated them. Tipping her head back, he cupped it in his sure hands and stared deeply into her eyes. “As I recall you did say ‘yes.’ Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes.” She scarcely breathed the word.

  “And will you say ‘yes’ to me tonight?” His mouth hovered over hers, his breath warm and sweet against her cheek.

  “Oh, yes.” She urged her lips toward his, desperate for their touch.

  He met her halfway, their mouths bumping awkwardly in their hurry. Then his tongue was in her mouth, greedily licking into her, drinking her in. She thirsted too, darting into him, tasting the sweet wine that made her hungry for more.

  Pressing harder against him, she longed for them to be simply skin to skin, no barriers between them. She stepped back and, with one clean motion, pulled the tie of his belt. The gray silk slithered like quicksilver to the floor. There was a flash of smooth skin as the robe fell open, and he stood still, an air of expectancy about him.

  “Finish unwrapping your package, my dear.”

  She could hardly wait. Grasping the soft, damasked fabric, she walked slowly around him, peeling the garment off him, revealing his beautiful body bit by bit, a powerful shoulder first, then muscular arm. She remembered well the strength of those arms holding her and shivered.

  When she finally stood directly behind him, she gave a firm tug, and the robe came away, revealing the sleek muscles of his back. A low, hungry growl began deep in her throat. With a sure hand, she traced the deep crease of his spine all the way down to where his slender waist gave onto firm, small buttocks, reveling in the satiny feel of his skin. “You are beautiful, my love.”

  “And you have not yet come to the best parts.”

  Georgie couldn’t help but smile, heat tinging her cheeks. She had no doubt his best would be spectacular. She slid her arms around his waist, hugging him to her, her breasts rubbing across his back, his bottom firmly nestled against her stomach.

  A groan issued forth, and she released him, continuing around until she stood in front of him once more. His naked body reminded her strongly of the Greek statues in Lord Elgin’s collection, the clean lines, the sharply defined muscles of his chest, the deep V of his hips that led the eye directly to his manhood. Which did not resemble the marble statues at all.

  “I told you the best was yet to come.”

  Georgie jerked her gaze upward, her hands going to her hot cheeks. Had she been staring at him—down there—for very long? His entire body was magnificent, now that she could focus on his attributes above the waist: strong, broad shoulders, a well-defined smooth chest, and his stomach seemed etched in classic lines leading down to . . . There she was again, dragging her gaze back up to his laughing one.

  “Look your fill, sweetheart.” He ran his finger down her cheek. “Touch too, if you wish, although I would like to gaze on your lovely form as well.”

  “Of course.” That was only fair. She untied the drawstring and began to slide her nightgown down over her shoulders, then slowed, suddenly shy. What if he did not like what he saw? Under no misapprehensions about her own physical appearance, she’d long ago accepted that she was not the ideal form for a woman. In addition to her red hair and freckles, which Rob had been kind enough not to mention at all, she did not have the pleasing curves that many women took for granted. Her breasts were undeniably small, her hips slim, and her skin, while pale, did not have the creamy glow she envied in others.

  “May I help you with that?” He covered her hand with his and slowly pulled the gown down over one shoulder, then dipped his head to kiss the exposed flesh.

  At the touch of his lips she began to tremble, her skin pebbling, her nipples hardening to stiff points. Below, at her very core, she ached with need as she had not done for a very long time. Please don’t let him stop.

  He continued his kisses, traveling up her neck, behind her ear.

  Low, keening sounds escaped from deep in her throat. Then her gown puddled about her feet, and she stood naked before him. Afraid at first to meet his gaze, she hung her head, waiting for some sign or sound from him. When none came, she slowly raised her chin to find his rapt attention fixed on her, frank admiration in his eyes. “Oh, my love, but you are glorious.”

  Flushed now, with relief and desire, she would have gone into his arms, but he resumed his kisses, scattering them across her chest. Suddenly, he drew one nipple into his mouth, laving it, then sucking on the tiny peak.

  A bolt of desire streaked straight from that crest to her core, and she cried out, “Oh, dear God.”

  A piercing yelp sounded from the dressing room as Lulu, barking shrilly, darted out the doorway and headed straight for Rob.

  “Lulu, no.” Georgie pulled away and grabbed the spaniel before she could take a bite out of Rob. “I know you are trying to protect me, but this time it is not necessary.” With an apologetic look at her beloved, Georgie carried the still wiggling and growling dog back to the dressing room. “Go to sleep, Lulu. I promise you all is well.” After shutting the door, Georgie turned back to Rob, who had taken refuge on the bed. “She thought I needed protecting again.”

  “I hope she learns the difference between me and Lord Travers quickly, or Miss Lulu will be spending her nights locked in the dressing room.” He lay relaxed on his side, head propped up on one hand, the other one rubbing the coverlet in invitation. “Care to join me?”

  Still self-conscious, but not about to miss the offer, Georgie walked swiftly to the bed, climbed the three steps, lay down facing him, then twisted around. “Oh, I forgot to blow out the candles.”

  “Leave them lighted.” Beginning at her shoulder, he ran one finger down her arm, over her breast, along her side, and around her hip, coming to rest lightly on her thigh. “Who would not wish to see everything about you? How you look in the candlelight, with your hair glinting rubies here and here?” He stroked the locks of red that lay between them on the bed, then touched the russet thatch between her legs.

  Georgie gasped, the heat within her rising throughout her body.

  “I want to see that faint blush on your cheeks, when I caress you here.” Covering her mound, he urged her to lie back, stroking gently, but firmly. “I want to see your face the moment I enter you for the first time. I want
you to see me as well.”

  More eager than ever, she nodded as he swung himself overtop of her. Opening her legs wide, she slid her hands up his chest, needing to touch him, wanting to see all of him at this most intimate of moments. Breathing raggedly, she raised her head to stare as he guided his member to her opening and thrust forward.

  Georgie hadn’t quite expected the size nor the force of him. He stretched her wider than she’d have believed she could possibly accommodate, then filled her as he flowed forward, seemingly forever. She rocked back against the pillows, thrusting against him until he stopped, seated completely inside her. Panting, she looked into his eyes, touched his face as a look of wonder burst forth on it. A look she hoped was mirrored on hers.

  “My love. Are you—”

  “Shhh. I am fine. Show me more.”

  With a groan, he shifted his weight and began a slow, measured rhythm that fed the need within her.

  Faster, she silently urged him, not wanting to wait for the completion that seemed almost within their grasp. She thrust her hips up, meeting him each time he plunged in. Almost there . . . She cried out sharply as she shattered around him, and shattered again when he strained hard against her, his own cry triumphant as he spilled his seed deep within her.

  Immediately, he slumped over her, then rolled quickly to the side. They lay panting, matching each other breath for breath until finally her breathing slowed to normal. “Did you see everything you wished, my love?”

  “Everything and more. And the best part is”—he rolled his head to stare at her, a smile curling his lips—“in a little while I’ll be able to see it all again.” His smile turned lecherous. “And again.” He nuzzled her breast, bringing her nipple to attention. “We can’t leave the poor little thing out all alone, can we? She needs someone to play with.” He promptly sucked it into his mouth, making Georgie groan with pleasure.

  It promised to be a long and passionate night.

  Chapter Twenty-Two