He wanted to make love to her.
And that was the crux of his problem.
Oliver had trusted him to tutor her, make a good match for her, and see her introduced into society. And look what he’d done—he’d done his job too well. Every single man in the county wanted her. At least that’s how it looked to Will.
It was well past midnight, and an unnerving silence encompassed the carriage. He didn’t want to say anything to Georgia with her maid present, because they could be considerable gossips, so he waited and let the time in the carriage cool his temper.
When they arrived at Autumn Ridge, Will told Eloise to go inside. “Miss Duvall and I have business to discuss. She’ll be along shortly. Leave her nightclothes out, or whatever it is you do.”
“Yes, my lord,” Eloise said and ran off like a frightened vole.
He dismissed the butler and escorted Georgia into the drawing room. Once inside, he locked the door behind them.
“I think you’ve frightened her,” Georgia said.
“Who?” Will asked distractedly. The air was dense with her lilac scent. He wanted to breathe the scent of her body until he was drunk with it.
“Eloise. My maid.” Georgia peered at him. “What is the matter? Leighton didn’t kiss me, although I think he was about to.”
“Yes, I’m certain he was about to.” He paced around the soft, blue, cornucopia-armed sofa and stoked the fire in the hearth. “What were you doing alone with him in the gardens?”
“I only wanted to take a stroll,” she murmured. “I wasn’t prepared for him to kiss me, but if he had, I wonder if I’d have had the same feelings as when I kissed you.” She gazed pensively across the room. “I doubt it.”
“What feelings?” He gripped the poker in his hand but wanted to toss it across the room.
“You know how I got light-headed and jittery inside. I had to sit down, remember? That’s never happened to me before. If Leighton had kissed me, would the same thing have happened?”
His gut churned into knots. Placing the poker back beside the hearth, he swung around. “You wanted Leighton to kiss you?”
“No.” Shaking her head, she continued, “I was merely suggesting that if he had, I might know—”
Throwing up his hands, he interjected, “Yes, yes. If you’d get light-headed. Do you understand it’s not appropriate—you shouldn’t even be alone with men who are eligible and aren’t a family member.”
“I’m alone with you now.”
“That’s because Oliver trusts me, and we’re somewhat family.” It was interesting the way she maneuvered the conversation to be about him rather than the subject at hand, which was appropriate behavior at house parties. “You know you’re to be chaperoned.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right. I do know.” She sighed. “But the truth is I was hot, so I asked Leighton to take me outside to cool off. Don’t blame him.”
She looked so damned serious, so enticing, standing there in her shimmering blue gown that, in his opinion, showed entirely too much cleavage. “You were hot?”
“Well… Yes. I’d been dancing practically nonstop. And while I’m used to being active from working with the horses, I’m not used to being in such a heavy dress and running around a stuffy, crowded ballroom. My day frocks are much lighter and aren’t so tight in the bodice.”
“Georgia, you really need to stop… Oh, never mind.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“What is it?”
“You shouldn’t talk about bodices in my presence. With your lady friends, fine, but not with me.”
“You just said we’re somewhat family. If I can’t speak freely amongst my family, then what is the point?” She tossed her hands up then slumped into the round cushions of the sofa. She leaned over her lap and placed her head in her hands.
Strands of her wavy hair fell loose, and he yearned to reach out and touch her.
The idea made him momentarily halt. He wanted to do much more than merely touch her, but it was so wrong, so very wrong. She was meant for another man, not him. She wasn’t capable of assuring his place amongst the ton; in fact, if he married her, he’d likely be where he’d been two years ago in the eyes of Londoners. He couldn’t go back there.
He sat on the end of the sofa, keeping an appropriate distance between them, like a gentleman ought to. “You’re absolutely correct. You should be able to speak freely. I was only trying to advise you in what’s considered respectable.”
She lifted her head from her hands, her eyes wide with interest. “Did you really mean it when you said you’d ruin me yourself?”
Uncertain how to answer the question, he blinked several times, wondering if he should come up with a lie or tell the truth. He’d lashed out when he said the words and never intended to voice his desire. However, since she was being truthful, then he should do the same. “Yes. When I said it, of course I meant it.”
“Why?” she asked simply.
“Because you’re a beautiful woman. Who wouldn’t want to make love to you? I’m convinced half the men at that party tonight were thinking the same as me.”
“But you said I was… I was… I’m not proper.”
“You’re coming along…a little bit. You’ve made improvements.”
“I have? How?”
“You certainly couldn’t have been doing so badly, since your dance card was full. You must have had good conversations with those men tonight.” Rubbing his cheeks in agitation at his whiskers growing back, he asked, “Did you talk about horses the entire time?”
“Yes. No. Not the entire time. It’s easy for me to talk about them,” she said wistfully. “I want to have my own racing stables one day.”
Closing the distance between them on the sofa, he reached for her hand and held it. “I didn’t realize that. But then, I guess I never asked. You are a very interesting woman, Georgia. I want to know more about you. I want to know what goes on in that head of yours.” He’d spoken the words aloud, but he shouldn’t have. Instead, he should diffuse whatever it was between them, not set out to ignite it. She wasn’t the right kind of woman for him—this notion of Georgia and him together was an impossibility.
From beneath heavy lids, she asked, “You said you thought some of the men wanted to make love to me. Would that include you?”
“Georgia.” He released her hand. “Must we speak of this?”
“You said you wanted to know more about me.” Her eyes widened, and he could see the pure earnestness there. “I want to know what you are thinking, too.”
“My thoughts aren’t that interesting,” he murmured.
She parted her lips. A lustrous, coffee-colored curl fell across her cheek, and then she asked, “Do you want to kiss me again?”
He swallowed hard. “Desperately.”
“Then why don’t you?”
“I don’t know,” he whispered, then pulled her close. He murmured into the top of her head. “Because we shouldn’t.”
She leaned back and fixed her gaze on him, and he thought if he looked hard enough, he might see into her soul. Giving his head the tiniest shake, he took her hand and raised it to lips as a last-ditch effort to stop himself, but he couldn’t.
Then he pulled the end of each gloved fingertip and gave it a little tug, loosening the silky fabric until he’d completely taken it off her hand.
He reached out and touched her chin. “I want to touch you,” he whispered. “Everywhere.”
Georgia only stared.
“But I’m getting ahead of myself. I must remove your other glove first, don’t you think?”
She nodded vigorously and lifted her other hand from her lap.
With agonizing slowness, he pinched each fingertip like he’d done to her other hand. After the second silk glove was removed, he pulled her arm to his mouth. His lips made a trail from the inside of her elbow to her wrist. “You have lovely hands.”
“Oh.” She sighed.
He continued his trail of kisses, start
ing from her fingertips, moving up the inside of her arm to her shoulder, then her collarbone to her neck. He couldn’t stop now if a gale-force wind shook the entire house. His mouth swept across hers. Her soft lips easily opened to him. One hand supported her back, and the other explored her body, until he found the swell of her breast and squeezed her flesh through the thin muslin fabric of her dress. His fingers seemed beyond his control, her nipple hard and pointed underneath his palm.
“Oh, Will,” she said, desperation filling her tone. “Kiss me more. Kiss me like you did before.”
He slipped the dress off both her shoulders, baring her breasts almost completely. His lips, his fingers, his conscience took on a life of their own. Restraint wasn’t possible.
Flashes of Leighton standing so close to Georgia invaded his mind, and he pushed them away. She couldn’t be with him. She couldn’t be with any man but him. Something snapped inside him.
Releasing her hands, he pulled her body against his, so she could feel for herself how much he wanted her. “I couldn’t sleep last night because all I thought about was you. Your taste, your smell, your smile, even your American accent. I burn for you.”
The buttons at the back of her dress were painstakingly difficult to pull from their individual prison until her breasts sprung free from the confining fabric. He tormented a rosy peak in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the top and inhaling her woman’s scent.
“Will,” she moaned.
His trousers tightened around his arousal, and the thought of being inside her nearly made his heart explode. Her skin tinged pink with desire.
No other man would have her—he would brand her as his. She was ripe, and his for the taking.
Propriety meant nothing now. Only the heat that burned between a man and a woman mattered.
She awkwardly pulled on his neck. “Don’t stop, Will.”
He reached beneath her skirts and traced along her inner thigh until he found her woman’s sex. He let his hand rest there a moment while he kept kissing her. He tasted her. He breathed her. He was no longer confident he could keep her innocence intact.
A soft mewling sound erupted from her throat. She spread her legs apart, offering easier access for his hand, and he took advantage. His fingers explored the folds of her sex, skimming over the tender flesh like petals of a flower. Delicately, he played with her, coaxed her, and teased her.
“Will,” she gasped. “Oh, Will.” She clutched at his shoulders, then she pulled on her dress. She lifted the layers up to her thighs and bent her knees then scooted back, deeper into the cushions of the sofa, all the while keeping her legs spread. “I think I might die from the wanting of something I can’t explain. My insides are crumbling. I’m desperate for…for something.”
“You’re perfect, Georgia. Perfect and beautiful,” he murmured. His fingers kept their ministrations on her flesh while he pushed away the niggling voice in his head, the voice telling him to stop. He didn’t want to be reasonable. Proper. Upstanding. He wanted her, and she wanted him. “You’re so wet. This is just how it’s supposed to be.”
He pushed her skirts beyond her thighs to her waist and positioned her knees on each side of his shoulders. He parted the silken flesh with his fingers and circled her woman’s nub. “I’m going to kiss you now.”
No wonder every man at the party wanted her. She was simply exquisite in every way. She didn’t know how to be coy or flirtatious, only to be a confident woman assured of herself and what she wanted.
“All right,” she gasped and lifted her head from the pillow behind. “Yes. Kiss me.”
“No. I’m going to kiss you between your legs, not on your mouth.”
“You, you’re”—she panted the words—“you’re going to what?”
“Lean back,” he said, “let me take care of you. Let me fill the something you need.”
Slowly, ever so slowly, he bent his head toward her until his tongue touched her warm, moist flesh. She tasted so sweet and felt like heaven. She was, he thought, meant to be here with him and for him. He flicked his tongue and caressed her. He started slow, but increased his speed and pressure.
She gasped and lifted her hips off the sofa. Will held her firm, continuing to lick, and smell, and taste her, until he heard a deeper moan escape her throat, followed by a second and a third.
She tried to sit up. “What are you doing to me?”
“I’m giving you pleasure.” He continued to massage her flesh. “Are you ready for more?”
“There’s more?” Her eyes widened.
“I want to bring you every pleasure you can imagine.”
“There’s an ache low in my belly. It’s nothing I can describe. I feel as if my skin is on fire.”
He chuckled. “That’s good. That’s what I want.” His finger circled her nub in quick, sporadic bursts. “I want your entire body to feel excruciating joy.”
Firelight danced across her inner thighs, and Will knew he’d never been with a woman more desirable, or wanted one so much. He was crossing a line, but nothing mattered except the beautiful woman before him, so willing, so wanting. He could only think to please her and hope she burned for him the way he burned for her. “I’m going to slip my finger inside you now.”
Her hips rocked against his hand and moved in desperation for something she didn’t understand. His thumb gently coaxed her woman’s nub at the same time. She moved with frantic thrusts, and he adjusted his rhythm to match her.
He wanted to unbutton his trousers, free himself, and take her completely, but he had to wait until she was fully ready. He couldn’t rush her. She must experience every moment of her orgasm and know he would give her body everything she craved.
Chapter Twelve
Waves of desire crashed through Georgia’s body like nothing she’d ever experienced.
“Will, I want you to make love to me,” she gasped between heavy breaths. She searched her mind for the right words to say. “Like you said you wanted to do.”
“Yes, my darling, I want that, too,” his voice crooned. “And you’ll have it.”
“I’m ready now.”
He stood and stripped off his shirt and then his trousers. Georgia eyed his muscled chest, his waist, his thighs, his—
“Oh my God.”
“Have you not seen a naked man before?” he asked.
“No, of course not,” she replied.
“You’ve probably not had a talk with your mother about what happens when a man and woman make love, either?” He positioned himself over her, lowering his weight onto her.
“No, but I’ve seen horses and other farm animals.” Uncertain, her brows furrowed. “I’m just not sure if you’ll, well, if you’ll fit.”
“Trust me.” He chuckled. “Will you do that?”
She nodded.
He settled his hips between her legs, but he put his hand there, too. Teasing her with little strokes of his finger, he rubbed against her sex just like he’d done before. The fire she’d felt low in her body crested again, like a wave building at sea, moving closer and closer to shore.
“Do you trust me?” he asked, while skimming his fingers relentlessly against her swollen flesh. She moaned and lifted her hips. “Yes.”
“This will only hurt for a moment.” Will plunged inside her. “You’re mine now.”
Georgia gasped. She felt full. Finally, she understood the something she was missing, the something she craved but couldn’t articulate.
“Are you all right?” Will asked, concern etched across his brow.
“It hurt for a second, but not anymore. Are we done?”
A soft chuckle left his mouth. “No, my dear, we aren’t done.”
One of his hands moved up to caress her breast, then his hips moved, causing friction inside the walls of her womb. He pushed upward tentatively at first, but then faster and with urgency.
“Oh, Georgia,” he moaned. “I can’t hang on for long.”
Her breath came faster and faster, the cres
t of the wave rising higher and higher—until she knew she’d reach that point again, just like before.
“Don’t stop,” she cried out. “Will.”
“I can’t,” he moaned and slipped his hand between them, touching her again. He pushed forward inside her one last time.
Her world shattered. She could barely breathe.
Will’s body stiffened then went still. He moaned then collapsed on top of her, his bulk pressing her deeper into the sofa.
He was so much larger than her, but the weight of him didn’t feel heavy, it only felt right. Georgia smiled and ran her hands through his hair. Now she knew, now she understood why they called it making love. Her questions had been answered.
Will kissed her, his breath filling her mouth and the blunt pressure of his sex still inside her. “Am I hurting you?”
“No. I feel fine.”
After lifting himself off of her, he donned his shirt and trousers. She enjoyed eyeing the masculine lines of his body. She wanted to remember this moment, because she knew she wouldn’t experience something this wonderful again.
“Are you all right?” Will asked, tucking in his shirt.
“I’m doing quite well,” she said as she straightened out her skirts and righted the sleeves of her dress. A small patch of blood lined the inside fabric of her dress. She’d have to get it rinsed out right away. “I should get to my room.”
“I need to get back to Black Pine Hall, but I’ll call upon you in the morning, and we’ll tell Oliver we’re to marry.”
“Whatever do you mean?” she asked. She wasn’t going to marry him—she already had plans, and they didn’t include Will. Besides, why would she want to marry someone who demanded it of her in this way? This is exactly the reason she wanted to marry an older gentleman who wouldn’t live long. He wouldn’t make demands of her.
He fastened his waistcoat. “Would you like me to be more proper about it and ask his permission?” He sat on a footstool and pulled on his boots. “Yes, of course you’re right. That’s what I’ll do.”
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