She leaned her head back and he pulled her bodice down, freeing her for him to touch, to taste. His mouth closed over a nipple and she strained toward him.
“Oh, I love the feel of your mouth on my skin ….”
He shifted in the seat and reached under her layers of clothing to caress her through her drawers. It wasn’t enough for him and the fabric gave way with a soft tearing sound. “I need you, love. I need to be inside you.”
He placed his hands on her bottom and lifted her. In one smooth motion, he lowered her onto himself, filling her completely. She cried out and clutched at his shoulders. He drove into her again and again as she held on to him. She chanted his name as she neared her fulfillment and Geoffrey threw his head back with a shout as he joined her.
She collapsed against him, her breath coming fast.
“My God,” he whispered. “What you do to me.”
She smiled up at him lazily. “I love you,” she said simply.
He nodded and held her for a while. He managed to arrange his clothing as best he could as she adjusted her gown.
She turned to him in surprise. “Geoffrey, where are my drawers?”
He smiled sheepishly at her and bent to retrieve them from the floor of the carriage. She saw their tattered state and clicked her tongue at him. He shrugged and tucked them into his pocket.
They arrived back at the townhouse a short while later and immediately headed upstairs to their chamber. He proceeded to make good on his earlier promise.
He slowly removed her gown, and she loved every moment.
Chapter 15
Geoffrey was kept very busy over the next few days, meeting with his solicitors and others, so Becca had to content herself with riding in Hyde Park with Lady Margaret and receiving callers at the house. John suggested that she come calling with Patricia and himself, but she declined. Becca knew without a doubt that her sister-in-law greatly disliked her, and the feeling was nearly mutual. The blond-haired woman barely hid her disdain and Becca soon grew tired of placating her.
Late one afternoon, after making quite a few calls with Lady Margaret, Becca climbed the stairs to her and Geoffrey’s chamber. She looked forward to a rest before readying for dinner and walked down the dimly lit hallway toward their door. She stopped in front of the door and a pair of strong arms hugged her gently from behind.
“Good afternoon, Becca,” a masculine voice whispered in her ear.
She turned with a smile but was soon shocked to see it wasn’t Geoffrey holding her so closely. “John!” She backed up against the door.
He raked his gaze over her. “You look very lovely today, sister.” He stroked her hair, her cheek.
She leaned away from him. “John, you shouldn’t—”
“What has you so flustered, Becca?” he asked smoothly.
She straightened. “That’s Geoffrey’s name for me, John.”
“Ah, but we’re brothers.” He brushed his lips over her hair. “We share everything.”
A small gasp escaped her lips.
“I know everything about you.”
“What are you—”
“I know that Kane had to marry you. That he wouldn’t pay your father for you.”
“But that’s not—”
“Yes, it’s the truth.” He trailed his finger down her neck. “I also know how passionate you are.”
“You don’t know anything of the kind.”
He traced her lips with his finger. “Kane told me all of the delightfully wicked deeds you do for him with this lovely mouth of yours.”
She shook her head. Surely Geoffrey would never divulge such things, not to his brother!
He nodded and braced his arms on either side of her. “He doesn’t love you.”
She stiffened.
“Oh, he wants you in his bed. Who could blame him? But he’ll grow tired of you.” He placed his lips against her ear. “And when he does, Becca, you will come to me.”
He punctuated his statement by flicking his tongue in her ear. She gasped, at which he laughed softly and strode down the hall to the room he shared with Patricia.
Becca closed her eyes, her mind reeling. Had John spoken the truth? Had Geoffrey shared the intimate details of their life together? She refused to believe that, despite John’s assertions. Yet how did he know about …? No! Should Geoffrey ever tire of her, and she could not give that painful possibility more than passing consideration, she would never go to his brother. Or any other man.
Her hands shook, but she managed to open the door and stumble into their room. She removed her tea gown and carelessly draped it over the chair. Sinking into the chair before the vanity, she stared at her reflection. Geoffrey refused to pay her father? Had her father begged money from him? John said he’d had to marry her. It couldn’t be true. Oh, had Geoffrey told his brother about Dr. Simon, as well? Was there nothing in her past that didn’t have the potential to shame her husband?
She thought Geoffrey loved her. True, he’d never told her. Not even once. But she had assumed he loved her as she loved him because of the way he treated her—both in bed and out. She knew that he felt affection for her …. But what of love?
Perhaps he only wanted her in his bed, as John insisted. If that were true, than she was the worst kind of fool. She was in love with a man who only wanted her body, not her heart.
She buried her face in her hands and wept.
Geoffrey found her there, nearly an hour later. He closed the door and crossed to her, placing his hands on her shoulders.
She started and met his gaze in the mirror. “Hello, Geoffrey,” she said, her tone flat.
He smiled crookedly at her. “Is that how you greet your husband?”
He bent his head to nuzzle her neck and she stiffened, pulling away from him.
“Becca,” he began. “Is something wrong?”
She shook her head. She couldn’t speak of it. If he were to admit to any of it, she’d simply perish.
“Nothing is wrong.” She came to her feet. “I must ready for dinner.”
She walked into the dressing room and closed the door behind her.
Geoffrey didn’t know what to make of her behavior. He stared at the closed door for a moment, frowning. He readied himself for dinner and sat in a chair, waiting for her to emerge.
Becca opened the door and walked out, wearing a gown of dark bronze. It was a somber color but stunning on her. He noted that she still wore that strange look on her face. She was a bit pale, her eyes vacant.
They went down to dinner where Geoffrey tried to draw her into the conversation at the table. He failed miserably. Lady Margaret barely managed to get two words out of Becca. Patricia dominated the conversation, oblivious to the tension at the table as John paid copious attention to every word she uttered.
When the meal was nearly at an end, Becca excused herself and rose from the table.
Geoffrey looked at the others. “Has Rebecca been ill?”
Lady Margaret shook her head. “No, Geoffrey. She looked tired earlier, but she seemed fine.”
“No doubt the girl is overwhelmed, poor thing,” Patricia said.
“Pardon?” Geoffrey asked.
“This city can be a bit … much for one such as Rebecca,” she explained, an expression of superiority on her face. “Surely it is far from her life in Oakham.”
Geoffrey glared at Patricia but didn’t respond to her barb. Instead, he went upstairs to get to the bottom of the matter. He opened the door and was surprised to find the room in shadows. No candles had been lit. He crossed to the bed and found Becca laying there, wearing one of her thin cotton nightgowns. She stared at the ceiling. Something wasn’t right.
“Becca?”
Becca turned and stared at him, expressionless. His breath caught. She looked as beautiful as always, but her eyes …. Their beautiful green fire was missing. He’d bring it back.
He readied for bed and stretched out beside her. “What is it, love?”
She w
himpered at the endearment. He kissed her gently, surprised when she didn’t return his kisses. He held her close and stroked her hair, her back, and she suddenly clung to him. He cupped her face in his hands, staring down at her. “Tell me, Becca,” he gently ordered. “Tell me you love me.”
Becca turned her head, her eyes closed tight. He sat upright, stunned. She rolled away from him and curled herself into a ball.
Her soft sobs reached his ears and he touched her shoulder. “What is it?”
“You don’t love me.”
The softly-spoken statement struck him. “What do you mean?”
“You want me, but you don’t love me. This is passion, nothing more.” Her voice cracked on the last words. She took in a shuddering breath. “I don’t know if I can do it, Geoffrey, but I’ll try very hard not to love you.”
He pulled back from her, speechless. He stretched out, his turn to stare at the ceiling. Was what she said true? He wanted her, yes. What man wouldn’t? He cared for her. He wanted to make her happy. And when he held her, he felt deep contentment like he never had before. A happiness he’d not felt in years. She was all fire and warmth and love.
Love ….
The truth hit him. He did love her!
He looked over at her, her slight shoulders shaking with her quiet sobs. He couldn’t tell her now. Not tonight. She’d never believe him. He’d find a way to show her. He’d bring the smile back to her lovely face, the spark back to her beautiful eyes.
He curled up next to her and held her gently, stroking her hair. “Shh, love,” he soothed. “Shh ….”
He knew when she drifted off to sleep by her soft, even breathing. It took longer for him to fall asleep, however.
The next morning, Geoffrey awoke before her. He studied her face, exquisite in repose. He felt the love he had for her surge through him. She would have no doubt of his feelings after today. He rose and dressed in his riding clothes. He wouldn’t waste another day shut away with his solicitors or on any other matters save his wife.
When he met with Chester the previous afternoon, the man promised to investigate the matter of Geoffrey’s disappearing funds. Knowing how connected Chester was in parliament and behind the scenes, Geoffrey felt confident he could get to the bottom of this.
He stepped out of the dressing room to find Becca sitting up in bed, the sheets clutched to her bosom.
He smiled at her and dropped a kiss on her tousled hair. “Good morning, wife.”
She stared up at him, still half-asleep. Her eyes were huge, her lips parted. “Geoffrey, are you going riding today?”
He shook his head. “No, love. We’re going riding today. I’m spending the entire day with my beautiful wife.”
Her face brightened for a moment, then a shadow crossed her features as she nodded solemnly. He arched an eyebrow at her change in demeanor, only more determined to prove his love for her. Slowly. He had to go slowly.
“I’ll be downstairs in the breakfast room, Becca.”
Becca watched him go, puzzled. She couldn’t deny she was thrilled to be spending the day with him. Shaking her head at herself, she rose and readied herself for an outing with her husband.
When she walked into the breakfast room, Geoffrey stood. “I was about to give up on you, Becca.”
“I’m sorry I took so long,” she answered stiffly.
He gently grasped her elbow and led her to the sideboard. He picked up a plate and asked her what she’d prefer to eat.
She quirked a smile at him. “I can carry my own dish, Geoffrey.”
He smiled and kissed her behind her ear. “I know, love. I wish to serve you today.”
She blinked at him. With an incline of her head, she allowed it.
After a light breakfast, they were off to Hyde Park. Geoffrey was extremely attentive and she soon found his charm irresistible. By the time they were finished with their ride, she felt more at ease with him.
“Becca,” he said as they neared the townhouse. “Would you like to go for a stroll after lunch? We can take tea out today.”
She was taken aback. He went on to describe a lovely little tea room not very far from the townhouse.
“Yes, Geoffrey,” she said shyly. “It’s a lovely day for a stroll.”
He smiled winningly at her. He helped her down from her horse and handed the reins to the groom, bowing to her to take the lead. She smiled at his show of gallantry, reminded of their picnic on the Oakham common all those weeks ago. He followed her up the stairs to their chamber. He walked into their dressing room and changed out of his riding clothes. He left her then, telling her he’d collect her a bit later.
Becca sat in front of the vanity, wearing a frown. Geoffrey’s actions confused her. He was acting very much like the man she’d met at Raven’s and she felt herself falling in love with him all over again. More’s the pity, since he didn’t love her. Her heart clenched with the familiar ache that the truth caused. It wouldn’t take much more to break her heart altogether.
She changed into a pretty walking dress of white muslin, dotted with sprigs of tiny violets and green leaves, just before Geoffrey knocked on the door.
He peered inside. “Are you ready, love?”
Becca stood and turned to him. His bright blue eyes sparkled and she lowered her gaze, suddenly shy around him. He cleared his throat and asked her to accompany him downstairs. She nodded and they went down to luncheon.
Shortly after the meal, Geoffrey asked her if she was ready for their stroll. He crooked his arm and she took it. They went out into the bright afternoon and slowly made their way down the sidewalk.
He leaned his head close to hers. “Have you been enjoying our day together, Becca?”
“Indeed, I have. It’s been lovely.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been spending much time with you.”
“I understand, Geoffrey. This business with your accounts and such.”
“That’s no reason to leave my wife on her own for much of the day.”
She smiled at his resolve. They continued on, nodding at the other people out enjoying the beautiful afternoon.
A while later, they entered the tea room. It was as charming as he’d said. They sat at a little round table and sipped cups of rich and fragrant tea. They shared a plate of biscuits, lemony and crisp and as fine as any she’d ever served at the inn.
Several acquaintances stopped by their table to greet the couple. They chatted amiably for a bit, and even Becca had to take note of how closely Geoffrey was sitting to her. He might not love her, but he felt … something. She wouldn’t spoil their day together with the worry that had clouded her last night. She would focus on this one day of happiness and face the harsh reality of her marriage another day.
Chapter 16
When their tea time was over, they left the tea room and turned down the sidewalk, bound for home. Geoffrey thought it was as good a time as any to broach the subject that had been gnawing at him since last night.
He grasped her hand. “I want to talk about what you said last night.”
She stiffened. “Geoffrey, I—”
“I have something to tell you, love.”
She looked up at him and her lips thinned. No doubt she was bracing for the worst. God, he had been such a fool.
“Becca, when you said that I don’t love you, I was shocked. You took me by surprise.”
She simply stared up at him as they continued toward the townhouse.
“You made me realize something,” he went on. “Something I should have known a long time ago.”
He led her across the street. “Becca.” He faltered. How to tell her what was in his heart? He turned to face her fully. “Becca, I have to tell you that I—”
“Look out!” a voice screamed from across the street.
“It’s a runaway!” came another one.
Geoffrey turned and saw a carriage bearing down on them, the horses wild-eyed and apparently out of control.
Becca seemed riveted to t
he spot. Geoffrey grabbed her and ran for the sidewalk, losing his footing on the curb. He went sprawling on the walk and landed roughly on his back. The carriage continued on down the street, rounding the corner and racing out of sight.
It took him a moment to catch his breath. He pushed up to a sitting position and shook his head, then looked frantically for Becca. He spotted her near the wrought-iron gate, less than five feet away from where he sat. She lay on her side, perfectly still. He scrambled over to her and placed his hand on her shoulder, turning her toward him. Her eyes were closed and there were scratches on her face.
“Becca?” She didn’t answer. “Becca!”
She didn’t open her eyes. The commotion had everyone out of their houses, murmuring and speculating on the event and the victims.
Geoffrey’s butler, Miles, opened the front door, shock on his usually dour face. “My lord?”
Geoffrey turned his head sharply. “Go fetch the doctor, Miles,” he commanded. “Now!”
The man ran off to do his master’s bidding. Geoffrey scooped Becca up in his arms and carried her into the house. She was as limp as a rag doll in his arms. “Oh, God, no,” he breathed.
He carried her into the parlor. “Mother!”
Lady Margaret rushed into the room. “Geoffrey, what is it? Oh, my!”
He laid Becca gently on the settee and brushed her hair away from her battered face. “Becca, please wake up.” He swallowed thickly. “Please.” He knelt beside her and buried his face in her lap. “Don’t leave me, Becca.” He choked back a sob. “I only just found you.”
He stayed that way for several minutes, silently praying that she’d come back to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his mother wringing her hands.
At last, Becca stirred. Her hand brushed over the back of his head. “Geoffrey?” she whispered.
His head shot up, his gaze flying to her face. He grabbed her shoulders. “Becca!”
He rained kisses on her face and stroked her hair. “I thought I lost you, love,” he said brokenly.
She favored him with a weak smile.
“I love you, Becca.” He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. “I’ve loved you for so very long.”
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