by Dayna Quince
He rubbed his thumbs over the backs of her hands. “Georgie.”
She bit her lip. The way he said her name caused a flurry of butterflies in her stomach. “Yes?”
He stepped closer, letting go of her hands and taking hold of her shoulders. So very close to the embrace she had pictured, but he was still too serious, little lines appearing between his brows.
“You are a beautiful woman, and you have many unusual and practical talents. It has been a pleasure coming to know you, and I want us to be friends well after this party.”
His kind words greatly conflicted with his sober expression, and Georgie didn’t know what to make of it.
“Thank you. I’d like to remain friends too.” Friends who kiss and embrace. “I hope we can continue our friendship each time you return to Selbourne.”
And if he never married, as he swore he wouldn’t, they could resume their intimacies, an affair that could last a lifetime.
Staring up at him, she could imagine no one but him through the years, coming back to her time and time again. An arrangement of sorts, an understanding of their bodies and hearts—no not her heart. If she let her heart get involved, then she’d miss him when he was gone, and her heart would be broken if she knew he had other lovers. She had to guard her heart or she’d lose it forever.
She licked her lips and inched closer. Wanting him to do the same. Her heart thumped heavily, fearing he might reject her or step back at any moment.
“I have to ask you something,” he said. “But first I want you to know that whatever your answer may be, we are still friends. You are still the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. You can trust me. I’ve known and seen a lot of varied people in my life. You won’t shock me with your answer.”
“Very well.” She had no idea what he was getting at.
“Do you prefer women to men?”
Georgie frowned. “Well… I suppose I’m used to women more than men, having eight sisters and such, but I wouldn’t say I prefer one gender over another. Chester is rather amusing at times and always kind, and Roderick—”
He snorted. “Forgive me. I forgot how truly innocent you are.”
“I beg your pardon?”
He stopped laughing but remained smiling. She preferred this mood to his serious tone, but she didn’t appreciate feeling left out of the joke.
“Well?” she prompted him.
He cleared his throat. “There is a woman named Gemma. She’s an infamous courtesan—do you know what a courtesan is?”
“Of course.”
“She is infamous because she dresses like a man and caters mostly to female clientele. She prefers her sexual partners to be women.”
Georgie blushed. Watching his mouth say words like sexual did funny things to her insides.
“Do you understand?”
She shook her head and tore her gaze from his lips. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I’m trying to ask if you are like Gemma.”
Her eyes widened and her brain froze. Like Gemma? She replayed what he’d said. A courtesan who dresses like a man. Georgie had worn breeches before—it was her preferred clothing for working out in the fields—and Roderick had given her old clothing of his and a pair of boots. The rest of the comparison made no sense to her. Sexual partners? She had none! She was trying to procure her first and he thought—oh no. Did this mean… Her heart was pounding now, echoing through her ears. Did others think like this? Did this explain why men treated her so oddly at times or dismissed her altogether?
“You think I’m… Is there a term for it?”
“Not an official word to my knowledge.”
She would have walked away and begun pacing if his hands at her shoulders didn’t anchor her.
“But what does it mean exactly?” she asked. Her mind worked frantically to make sense of it. Gemma the courtesan liked being intimate with women. Kissing, touching. She wore men’s clothes.
Georgie had kissed no one. She’d never had the inclination to kiss anyone, let alone make a decision about whom she would kiss based on gender.
He swallowed. “I don’t think you fully understand.”
“I don’t.”
“When I use the word prefer I mean it this way. Would you prefer to kiss a woman or a man?”
She stared at him. He thought she was like Gemma, that if given a choice of whom to kiss, she would want a female standing before her and not him. She wanted to laugh, but her heart had dropped to her stomach.
“You think I’m a…Gemma?”
He raised a brow. “A Gemma? Oh, I see what you’re doing now. Sure, we can say it like that. It’s fine if you are.”
“Do you think others see me this way?”
He grimaced. “Luckfeld suspects, but truly amongst him and I there is no prejudice. We have rather liberal views on the subject. But society I’m afraid does not. You’re secret is safe with me.”
He appeared relieved, but why was he relieved? She was not a Gemma, she was Georgie, and her preference for kissing was him. Her entire life she’d had none and now it was him. But beyond him, she now feared that others had made this assumption about her. She shivered.
His hands rubbed her upper arms.
“Did I shock you?” he asked, his voice heavy with concern.
“I…I have a lot to think about.”
“This has never occurred to you?”
She studied his face. No, it had never occurred to her that women could like women romantically. She didn’t and she’d never heard of or met someone who did. Her world was their small corner of Northumberland, and she knew very little of anything beyond it.
But she knew she only wanted to kiss him. Therefore, she was not a Gemma, and she would prove it. She could not let him go on thinking for one more second that she was.
She gripped his coat and came up to her toes and kissed him.
She caught him off-guard. He gripped her waist, his hands wrapping around her back. But he didn’t pull away just yet.
Her lips molded to his, amazed by the warmth and pliancy of his mouth.
But that was the extent of her kissing knowledge. Lips touched. The end.
She set back on her feet, pulling away but keeping her hands on his jacket.
He stared down at her. “Why did you do that?”
“I’m not a Gemma,” she said.
His jaw flexed. Was he angry? His hands were still on her waist. He was holding her and she didn’t want him to let go. The weight of his hands, the warmth seeping through his gloves, she wanted more of it, up and down her back, grabbing her hips in ways she didn’t yet understand.
She could feel the moment slipping away.
“I’m a Georgie and I prefer kissing you.”
His hands tightened and his face hardened. “You’re sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure.”
“But…I won’t marry.”
“I won’t either, not if people suspect I’m a Gemma. But I don’t want to go through the rest of my life never knowing what I could have missed with you. You’re the first man to take the time to be my friend, even though I’m odd. You’re the first man who’s ever made me feel this way.” She stepped closer, pressing her front to his and looping her arms around his neck.
“Show me.”
His arms came around her. He was holding her. Her body rejoiced, her nipples sensitive and pebbling, her hips aligning with his, and sparks of sensation spreading warmth throughout her. No one and nothing had ever made her feel this drugged.
“Show you what, exactly? Be very clear what you want, Georgie. You can’t trifle with a man like me.”
She sucked in a breath, her rib cage expanding and pressing her harder against him. Even breathing was a caress now.
“Show me pleasure, show me what I’ll be missing when you leave. Teach me. I’ve never wanted anything like this before. Not until you.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“Exactly. Th
ere is so much I don’t know. No one has ever…gotten as close to me as you have. You could have ignored me. That is what most men do. They don’t understand me, so I don’t exist to them.”
He stroked her cheek. “It doesn’t feel right. I’d be taking advantage of you.”
Georgie faltered in her courage. She wasn’t a girl anymore. She was treated as many things but never as the woman she was. Maybe she was too unconventional, but she still had needs and desires, just like everyone else. She’d spent her girlhood doing things she shouldn’t have been allowed to do, chopping wood, cleaning her own kills. She’d butchered lambs and pigs, killed so her family could eat. She was not gentle and delicate. Those things had been replaced with resilience and courage a long time ago.
She knew her own mind and she wouldn’t be told what to feel.
“I know what I’m asking—maybe not specifics, but that’s where your expertise comes in. I want to know what I’m feeling, I want to understand it.”
“Georgie…”
“Don’t insult me, Mr. Cage.”
“Gavin.”
“Gavin,” she said softly. She put her hand on his chest. “You were my first kiss. Did you know that?”
He shook his head.
“No one has ever made me feel the way you do. I know I can’t afford to lose my heart to you. But I can trust you. You’ve proven that. You may be a rake, but you’ve taken great care in protecting me. I think that is why you were invited here.”
“I—” He kissed her forehead. “I’m not sure I’m worthy of the praise you’ve given me. I thought…knowing how you feel…” He swallowed. “I don’t have the control to only kiss you. I want more.”
She touched his face, her heart pounding. She’d come this far. She’d kissed him, and his arms were around her. How much courage did she have? An ornery sheep was less frightening, and she’d taken a few head butts to the stomach. But this pain could be different. She brushed his jaw. She’d never felt a man’s stubble. There was a whole world of things she’d never done, and it could all start with him. Did she want to spend the rest of her life wondering?
No.
“I want more too. I want to know it all.” She lifted her face, hoping this time he would kiss her, that he would give in.
He pressed his forehead to hers, and then he brushed his lips across her mouth, not quite a kiss, but he was so close she had to close her eyes.
He cradled her jaw and his mouth sealed over hers.
Her knees went weak with relief. She held on to him, her fingers itching to dive into his thick hair.
Searing joy swept through her. He angled his head, the pressure of his mouth insistent. She opened her lips and his tongue swept inside, bold and velvety. She almost gasped, but she couldn’t remember how to breathe.
How did one exhale while kissing so intimately?
He pulled away just enough to inhale and Georgie followed. Their lips locked again, and this time, Georgie met his tongue with hers.
His hands splayed over her back, their bodies moving against each other. He stole her breath away, and yet she didn’t need to breathe anymore, she’d found the rhythm of the kiss at last.
They broke apart, panting. She’d never been so close to another body, could feel every button of his coat through her dress, and the way her body caved into his harder planes until they fit together like puzzle pieces.
Exhilaration coursed through her veins, similar to the feelings of fear when grappling with an angry animal or a stampede of sheep. She felt alive, her lungs fuller, and her skin more sensitive. But there was no fear; she wasn’t about to jump out of his arms or brace herself for the pain of a bite. She felt free, like she could sprout wings and fly.
“We have to be careful. If this is what you truly want—”
“It is.”
He grinned. “You know, I suspect there is no other woman in the world quite like you. You’re extraordinary.”
Well, if that wasn’t the most wonderful compliment she’d ever received. She blushed, embarrassed, and yet she’d never felt prettier or more…something.
More accepted, she realized, than she did right now.
Oh, no.
She could already imagine herself falling for him, longing for him after he’d gone.
She touched her forehead to his chest to hide her face. “Thank you.”
“We have to be careful. A dalliance of this sort must be secret. It goes beyond you and I. Your sisters are at risk, and Weirick would murder me.”
She nodded. “I understand. I know they think I should want to marry as they do, and the truth is…I wouldn’t mind marriage itself, but I know…I’m not marriageable. I couldn’t commit my life to a man who didn’t accept me as myself.”
Her throat grew tight. As you do.
But he’d made his wishes clear. No marriage. And even though he accepted her as she was, and he desired her, that didn’t mean she’d make him a good wife, not for the kind of life he lived. She tried to ignore the pain in her heart, the tender throbbing that warned her she couldn’t will herself not to fall in love with him.
Be quiet, heart. I’m practical and determined. I can do this.
“Kiss me again,” she demanded.
He did, and the fervor of her desire quieted the voice of her heart. Her mind stilled, but her body came to life under his hands. She lost sense of time and the world around them, the beating of her heart and their clashing breaths the only sounds she was aware of. She wanted to stay in his arms forever, ignoring the plight of her family, the awkwardness of her life, and the judgment of others. In his arms she was perfect, she was safe, and she no longer had to worry. But like all good things, the kiss came to an end, and he insisted they return for breakfast.
“Rule number one. We must never be late to an event. Our absence must never be noted at the same time. We can’t miss breakfast.”
“Rakes have rules?”
He smirked. “I do.”
He gave her a boost onto her horse and mounted his.
“Rule number two. When in the company of others, be polite but distant. Too much friendliness, or too much pretended dislike is suspicious. Luckfeld, Selhorst, they will spot those behaviors as facades.”
Georgie considered his rules as they rode away at a trot and he continued to list them. “How often do you do this?”
He reined in beside her. “Dally with an innocent? Never.”
She didn’t want to discuss this nor would she be able to let it go. “What sort of women do you usually consort with?”
He regarded her, frowning. “Widows, women who are older and more experienced, they also have less to lose than you, Georgie. Everything hinges on hiding this affair. For it is an affair. If you don’t want to go through with it, just tell me. We can stop at any time. Being with you…is a risk.”
All her romantic notions about what they were doing evaporated like water on a hot pot. She swallowed. She was just another woman, a riskier one at that.
“We don’t have to go through with this if you don’t wish it,” she said.
He moved his horse closer to hers and took her hand, holding her gaze. “I couldn’t stop if I wanted to. Not now.”
She couldn’t speak, so she nodded. They rode on, the stables coming into view.
She didn’t know what to think or feel going forward. This was more terrifying than anything she’d ever done. She tried to put it into perspective with the things she’d accomplished, hunting for her family, teaching herself how to repair things, skin a deer, things she had to do.
For her sisters.
For herself.
But those things had been needed. Two winters ago had been bitterly cold. They’d run out of meat and other ingredients had run low. Father was gone, as usual. Georgie had gone out to hunt. It was hunt or beg, and pride wouldn’t let her go knocking on doors for food. She’d gone out, but the harsh winds, the icy rain kept all animals in their burrows. She’d been out for hours, and when her feet had
frozen and her fingers wouldn’t bend to hold her rifle properly, she’d returned home and slaughtered one of their own goats. One that had been marked to be sold. But she’d had no choice.
She still remembered how warm the blood was on her hands, and how hopeless she’d felt. Three of her sisters were ill at the time and needed the nutrients this goat would provide. She’d sat there, wondering if this was what her whole life would be.
Struggle.
Worry.
Fear.
She’d risked herself to bring food home when she could have just stayed in the barn. But losing this goat meant losing money. Money needed for other food items or candles. Everything had a cost.
Georgie blinked back to the present as they halted outside the stable.
He assisted her down. “You’re quiet.”
“You’ve made me think quite a bit about risks.”
“Have I? Have you changed your mind?”
She shook her head. “No. This risk is worth it.”
“Are you sure?” he asked quietly as the stable boy led their mounts away.
“I’m sure I want this. I’ve always taken risks for the sake of my sisters, but this I’m going to do for me. There is always a cost.” Most likely her heart. “But I’ll pay it.”
He nodded, his jaw flexing. “We’ll talk more later. When we’re alone.”
Alone.
How different that word was when uttered by a lover. Not lonely but alone. The two of them. Her skin prickled. She didn’t know if she was doing the right thing. She’d been stubborn about going out to hunt instead of using the goat two winters ago, risking herself, her life. But this time was different. She was willing to risk her heart.
For him.
Chapter 9
Gavin couldn’t focus the rest of the day. His skin was on fire, and every brush of his clothing elicited erotic thoughts. He’d never been this affected by a woman. Georgie was under his skin, in his thoughts, and worse, the more time he spent with her, the more he wanted her. Pretending aloofness toward her wasn’t easy. The moment she stepped into the room he grew hot, and his gaze followed her every move. He was like a green boy again.