Dark Deceptions

by Christi Caldwell

  She shifted her hips, burrowing close to him. The rounded flesh of her bottom nestled against his shaft, which roared to life in response.

  He groaned, flexing his hips. This uncontrollable desire had more to do with Georgina being the first woman he’d taken in more than two years. First, he’d remained celibate out of respect for Grace, and then he’d battled his baser urges while in captivity.

  When The Brethren had allowed him to return to London, and he’d discovered the truth about Grace, learned she’d married some other man, he’d gone off to Madam Touseou’s—one of the most popular gentleman’s clubs, which had a reputation for the most unique, inventive beauties. Bitter anger had driven him like a man gone mad. All he’d wanted was to lay down some nameless beauty and fuck her until he forgot Grace, Georgina, Bristol, and all the hell he’d endured.

  He’d sat down with a bottle of whiskey and eyed a narrow-waisted blonde who had possessed the kind of beauty men went to war over. Except the moment she’d stepped in front of him, all Adam had been able to see was another woman with a slightly fuller figure and brown, untamable curls. Adam’s determination to losing himself in the courtesan’s arms was killed by images of Georgina Wilcox.

  He’d dropped his tumbler and beat a hasty retreat, ignoring the curious stares shot his way.

  Now, holding Georgina, Adam was grateful he hadn’t turned himself over to empty desire. Not when he could have…this, whatever it was, with his wife.

  Adam stroked the corner of her breast, rubbing the tip of her breast between his fingers. In response, the bud puckered and peaked. Even in her sleep, she moaned her need.

  She undulated her hips against him.

  A hiss slipped from between his clenched teeth. What had he initiated? Georgina had been a virgin. She was surely sore from his earlier possession of her body. But, as much as he told himself to let her sleep, his manhood throbbed with need.

  He climbed astride her. Her lids fluttered open and her pouty red lips turned up in a hungry smile. “Again?” she whispered.

  He paused, his shaft pressed against the thatch of brown curls that shielded her womanhood. “Do you need to wait?” he asked hoarsely. “If it is too soon, I can wait.” His body shook in protest of his gallant offer.

  Georgina’s response was to wrap her thighs tight around his waist. “I want you, Adam. Make love to me.”

  He claimed her with a single thrust.

  She screamed his name and Adam moved inside her.

  At last, he’d come home.

  * * *

  A quiet knocked shattered Adam’s slumber.

  His eyes shot open. A ray of sunlight burst through the curtains and he draped an arm over his eyes to blot out the glare. With his other arm, he pulled Georgina closer to his side, snuggling her body against him.

  Even in sleep, a little moan of approval escaped her.

  He closed his eyes again, shoving aside the noise that had intruded on his sleep.

  A servant’s voice penetrated the oaken door. “I’m sorry to interrupt, sir.”

  Adam’s brow wrinkled.

  Christ, what in hell does he want?

  The only thing that should have merited Adam being roused the morning after his wedding night was a house fire, and Adam didn’t smell smoke.

  You simply do not interrupt a man the morning after his wedding night.

  Wedding night. His mind conjured up an image of Georgina straddling him and riding him as if he were a prized mare. He stroked her lush thighs. She was going to be well-sated today. Sore, but well-sated. His shaft hardened in anticipation of the rest of the day’s pleasures.

  Another knock. “Your mother is here.”

  Adam’s shaft wilted beneath the coverlet.

  “What is my mother doing here at this ungodly hour?” he muttered under his breath.

  Georgina snored. Flipping over onto her stomach, she proceeded to sleep.

  God, his wife slept like the dead. Then, considering how little sleep she’d had the night before, was it really any wonder?

  He threw his legs over the side of the bed, taking care not to jostle Georgina. As he fished his clothing from around the room, tugging on his wrinkled shirt and breeches, she slept on.

  Adam pulled the door open to find the servant with his hand up to knock.

  “Do not,” he commanded, leaving the red-faced, young man standing there.

  Adam’s valet stood at the top of the stairway with a jacket outstretched. Adam stuffed his arms into the sapphire fabric.

  His butler sidled up beside them, rasping for breath.

  Adam started down the stairs.

  “Sir, I took the liberty of showing her to your office.”

  Adam continued his descent. He shot a glare over his shoulder. “You are never to pound on my bloody door again. In the future, I don’t care if the king himself is at my damned door. Is that clear?”

  “Tsk, tsk, Adam. I’m disappointed. You’d deny entry to both the King of England and me? Where have your manners gone?”

  His mother stood in the foyer, arms folded across her chest.

  Adam bit back a curse. Dead. He was going to kill his butler. “Hello, Mother. It is so very good to see you.” He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.

  She swatted him on the arm. “You are a poor liar.”

  If she only knew about his involvement with The Brethren. He smiled crookedly.

  She wrinkled her nose. “And you are in need of a bath.”

  Adam bowed low at the waist. “Forgive me,” he said dryly. “I was led to believe there was some kind of crisis that merited my immediate attention.”

  The countess slapped his fingers. “You are incorrigible.”

  He raised a brow. “You are correct, but I am sure that is not the reason for your visit.”

  His mother patted her elegant coiffure, casting a glance around the foyer. “I’d rather not discuss this for your servants to hear.” She didn’t wait for Adam, merely sailed off toward his office.

  With a shake of his head, he trailed in her wake. Where his mother was concerned, it mattered not that he was nearly nine and twenty years. He might as well have been a boy of just nine. Then again, considering how she’d suffered him and his scoundrel brothers over the years, he supposed she was entitled to her maternal concerns.

  She entered his office and he followed, closing the door behind them. His mother stopped in front of his desk, arms propped on her hips. “How could you simply leave without a word on your wedding day?”

  His jaw flexed. “Forgive me for not believing you had anything planned to honor Georgina and I. You and Nick made it abundantly clear how you felt about our nuptials.”

  She sighed, looking away from him as if guilt wouldn’t allow her to hold his eye. “I am sorry I did not organize a breakfast in your honor.”

  Adam cursed. “It isn’t about the breakfast, Mother.” How could his family not realize it was their treatment of Georgina he could not forgive? “Surely you cannot think I’d ever allow anyone to disparage my wife, including my own family?”

  “No, no, I know that,” she said in a very un-countess-like stammer.

  Adam was unrelenting. “She is going to face condemnation from most of society. I never expected she would face it from you and Nicholas.”

  Mother dropped her head, looking properly shamed.

  “It is not my intention to make you feel badly, Mother.” He walked over to where she stood in front of his desk.

  She looked up at him. “I just,” she paused. “We just want to see you happy, Adam. When you disappeared…” Tears filled her eyes and she shook her head. “You cannot imagine any greater heartbreak than worrying after your child’s whereabouts.”

  “I wrote you,” he reminded her. It wasn’t altogether a lie. Whenever he’d been off on a mission, he’d be sure to write—until his capture. Then The Brethren had seen to writing his mother.

  “But Nicholas believed differently.” Her gaze scoured his face as t
hough she were unraveling a puzzle. “He believed there was more to your absence.”

  Not for the first time, Adam cursed his older brother to hell. He should never have needlessly troubled Mother with his unsubstantiated concerns. Adam forced a smile. “There was nothing more to my absence.”

  Mother was nothing if not tenacious. “You came home a different person.” Her hand fluttered about. “The gaming, the women, the overindulging in spirits.”

  “I always enjoyed gaming, women, and spirits,” he said sardonically.

  Her lips formed a small moue of annoyance. “You once indicated there was a woman behind your sadness.” She squared her shoulders.

  Adam propped his hip against the edge of his desk and, folding his arms across his chest, said, “And?”

  “Was it her? Georgina,” she amended. “Was she the reason for your sadness?”

  His body went rigid. Georgina had spoken to him several times about being the adored daughter of two simple servants. Somewhere along the way, her life had turned far off course, and all she’d known was pain. Yet she had emerged from all that darkness as a strong, courageous, kind-hearted woman. Georgina could never be the reason for his sadness.

  “There was someone else,” he said quietly. “She married another.”

  His mother made a pitying sound that grated like glass scraped along his flesh. The last thing he wanted or desired was anyone’s pity. “What if I told you that Georgina saved me when I desperately needed saving?”

  She said nothing for a long while. Instead, she claimed the seat in front of his desk and smoothed the fabric of her immaculate skirts in two long strokes. When she looked up at him, a smile wreathed her face. “Then I would say I will gladly call her daughter. Would you like to speak of her?” She hesitated. “The other woman,” she clarified.

  Filled with a restive energy, Adam shoved himself up. “I would not,” he bit out. Grace was part of his past. He’d come to find peace with her betrayal. He’d moved on. She would always be an aching memory of simpler, less complicated times, but he was content to remember her that way.

  His mother looked like she wanted to say something else, so he cut her off. “I imagine there was another reason for your visit today?”

  Her green eyes sparkled and she perked up. “There was! We don’t have much time.”

  His head swam with confusion. “Time for what?”

  “Why, to prepare Georgina for her entrance into Society!” She hopped from her seat as if a fire had been lit beneath her feet. “She requires a dance instructor, tutor, and the most fashionable modiste. We have several months…” She paused. “Is she a quick study?”

  Adam blinked. “A quick study?”

  She waved her hand about. “Yes, you know? Do you imagine it will take her more than the three months before the Season begins?” Mother troubled her lower lip between her teeth. “I had hoped we could have her all prepared for the start of the Season, but if you believe she’ll need more time then…”

  Adam shook his head. “She won’t need more time. She is very intelligent.”

  His mother snorted. “Most men wouldn’t have such a pleased little expression when saying their wives are intelligent.”

  He laughed. “Oh? What of Father?”

  She beamed at him. “Your father was different than most men.”

  He inclined his head. “Then I can only assume I am different than most men.”

  Mother’s smile dipped and sadness came into her eyes. “I miss your father so very much.” A little spasm contorted her ageless face. “For twenty-two years I had everything in the world I could have dreamed of. And do you know what?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “As fast as they ticked by, those years may as well have been minutes. Live joyously, every moment of every day that you are blessed with her, because it can all be taken as quickly as you can blink your eyes. Promise me you’ll steal any and all happiness you can.”

  A cold, ominous chill fell over Adam. He told himself it was merely his mother’s macabre words, words that really weren’t intended to be morbid.

  He bowed his head solemnly, shoving aside the cloying unease eating at his insides. “I promise,” he murmured. Georgina had known too much heartache—she deserved a lifetime of happiness and he intended to be the person to give it to her.

  He showed his mother out. When he returned to his office, he sat behind his desk, staring blankly at the empty room, wondering why he couldn’t stifle the unease that lingered like the shadow of a ghost.

  * * *

  Georgina had awakened two hours ago. In that time, she’d taken a warm bath, had a cheery, young maid, Lucy, drag a brush through her tangled knots and help her into a simple, pale yellow dress. She had waited with breathless anticipation for Adam to walk through her chamber door…

  He hadn’t come.

  She had gone down to the dining room and found a large buffet atop the sideboard. Her stomach had rumbled in hunger, but she’d looked around the room…

  And he hadn’t been there either.

  A servant had rushed forward to pull out a chair, but she waved him off with a smile, seeing to it herself. She imagined the young man could detect it wasn’t sincere. Georgina forced herself to sit and nibble several links of sausage and a piece of toast. With a napkin, she dabbed at the corners of her lips, and then rose, determined to find her husband—even if he wasn’t as determined to find her.

  The servant cleared his throat and she looked up.

  “If I may? Mr. Markham can usually be found in his office.” He dropped his gaze to the floor in deferential respect.

  Georgina smiled. “Thank you,” she murmured.

  His gaze shot up and he returned her smile.

  So here she stood, two…no, now three hours, one bath, one meal, and one painful hair-arrangement later, outside his office.

  His door was closed as if to say go away, you are unwanted.

  She stuck her tongue out at the wood. Well, that was fine, she’d been unwanted the better part of her life.

  “Did you just stick your tongue out at the door?”

  Georgina screeched and spun around. Her hand covered her thundering heart.

  Her wide-eyed gaze shot from where Adam stood several feet away, leaning against the wall, to the closed door. “I thought—you…I…” She stopped talking.

  He shoved away from the wall and stalked her like a wild beast stalking its prey and, oh God, how she wanted to be caught. Longed to lay herself bare for him. Her wanton desires turned her skin hot with embarrassment.

  “Were you looking for me, Georgina?” A teasing sparkle glinted within the depths of his green eyes.

  She wet her lips. “I—I may have been,” she conceded. She couldn’t conjure any real excuse for being outside his office.

  “Did you stick your tongue out at my door?”

  Her skin grew ten shades warmer. “I—I may have.” She could have kicked herself for answering, but doing so would garner even more attention than the whole sticking her tongue out business, so she contented herself with closing her mouth.

  Adam tipped her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. His breath, a sweet blend of mint and coffee, wafted over her skin. He lowered his mouth and claimed her lips. She swayed on her feet, but Adam was there to steady her. Georgina pulled away. Her lids fluttered open. “I love you.” The words spilled from her before she could even try to call them back.

  Except she didn’t want to call them back.

  She loved him. There was no helping it. She had loved him a very, very long time, and would not be sorry for it.

  Adam’s expression grew shuttered. “I…thank you.”

  Thank you?

  Georgina swore she could hear her own heart rending beneath her breast. She took a deep breath. His love would not come overnight. He’d loved Grace for many years; he could not so easily switch his affections to her, plump, plain Georgina Wilcox.

  Pride leeched into her spine, stiffening it. No, not Wilcox.
Markham. Grace may have had Adam at some point, but she had given him up. He belonged to her now. He might not love her—yet—but she would do everything in her power to change that.

  She smiled up at him as if she’d not just had her words of love offset by a courteously polite response. Searching for something, anything to shift the conversation, she said, “Were you looking for me?”

  His relieved-sounding sigh indicated he was just as eager to discuss anything but her awkward profession of love. “My mother came by.”

  Georgina’s stomach twisted into a painful knot. She thought she might rather discuss her words of love than discuss his mother. “I…uh…how lovely.”

  His lips twitched at her obvious lie. “We discussed your debut.”

  “My debut?” To her own ears, she sounded like the parrot capable of mimicry she’d once seen at a fair in Bristol.

  “My mother wants to help you—help us,” he amended.

  Georgina wanted to stamp her foot in protest. She didn’t want to have a debut. In fact, she’d be quite content to disappear to some far-flung corner of the world to keep reality from intruding on her and Adam’s growing feelings for each other. Adam smiled, but Georgina could see the nervous lines of tension at the corners of his mouth and knew her response meant a great deal. She sighed, relenting. She would do anything for him. Even if it meant going out like a lamb to the slaughter.

  “I’d be glad for her help,” she murmured.

  Adam raised her hand to his lips. “I will not leave you alone. We’ll do this all together, Georgina. I’m sure the moment my mother left she’d already contacted the most respected dance instructor and tutors.”

  Tutors?

  Dance instructors?

  It made sense. Why would Adam ever suspect she’d already been trained in the most popular dances? Why should he think she spoke French, Italian, and a smattering of Latin? Her father had scoffed at her ability to acquire languages, said a lady only had a need for the basic elements of a language. Nonetheless, Georgina was fairly fluent.

  Adam only knew her as the battered maid in Bristol. He didn’t know that her father was a wealthy merchant or that she’d had her own Bristol version of a Season. She gulped as she faced the growing realization that it would be harder and harder to keep her many lies straight.