by Dayna Quince
Georgie nodded. “So I did.”
Jeanie laughed. “Are you all right?”
“I’m…tired, I think.”
Jeanie frowned and touched Georgie’s temple. “Are you falling ill?”
“No, no. I didn’t sleep well last night, and my reserves of energy are depleted. Please stop fussing over me.”
Jeanie lowered her hand. “Very well, come into dinner and hopefully food will improve your mood.”
Georgie followed the crowd, catching sight of Gavin up ahead speaking to Luckfeld. Heat washed over her, uncomfortably. Her knees turned to jelly again and she almost stumbled. What had he done to her? She was possessed, the mere sight of him bringing every sensation and wicked touch back to haunt her. And there he was, so composed, hair perfect, cravat so white it glowed. He grinned at Luckfeld and Georgie nearly growled. Did intimacies only afflict women like this? Were men immune to the drugging aftereffects, the hot flashes?
It wasn’t fair.
Georgie took her chair and accepted a glass of wine. She took a large sip, fortifying her nerves for the evening to come. He was three seats down between Violet and Anne. She could hardly see him, but she could feel him. Somehow, out of the murmur of twenty people talking and eating, she could discern his voice perfectly, his rich laughter, his sly murmurs. Her body reacted as though they were for her ears alone, whispered against her skin, and spreading tingles of wanton desire throughout her body. Beside her, Mr. Seyburn attempted to hold a conversation with her, but Georgie couldn’t string two intelligent words together. She settled for smiles and noncommittal hums. At the end of dinner, she made her excuses to Violet and retired, claiming to have a headache. But before admitting defeat to this new state of her body, she was going to confront the expert and cause of her distress.
She lurked in the hall, keeping out of sight of any passing footmen until the gentlemen finished their port. She hung back, tucked into a shadowed alcove. The door opened and the gentlemen filtered out, laughing and a bit disheveled.
“Where’s Roderick?” Luckfeld asked. “He’s too good to drink with us now? Or is he off with a paramour helping her bob for his apples?”
Georgie frowned. Bob for his apples? What the devil does that mean?
Weirick chuckled. “He wishes. He ate something off. He’ll recover tomorrow.”
Gavin exited last, pausing at the door as the gentlemen meandered toward the drawing room.
“Are you coming?” Weirick asked.
“I’ll be a moment. I spilled wine on my waistcoat.”
Weirick nodded and continued on. Gavin waited there a moment and then turned toward the shadows where Georgie hid. Her heart jumped to her throat as he searched the darkness and strolled forward.
Did he know she was there?
She stepped out. “You saw me?”
“I sensed you.”
Georgie folded her arms. “So not only can you wreak havoc on my body but you also carry supernatural powers?”
He chuckled softly and took her elbow, urging her farther down the dark hall.
“Why were you waiting for me?”
“You didn’t answer my question,” she returned.
He grinned in the dark and ushered her into an empty room, a parlor of some sort. How many parlors did this castle have, Georgie wondered. The hearth was clean and dark, but moonlight filtered in through lacy curtains.
“Will you be missed?”
“I retired for the evening with a headache.” They stopped in the middle of the room and faced each other.
He drew her close but Georgie resisted. “What did you do to me?”
He bent near and inhaled. “Apples and cinnamon.”
“It’s my soap. Answer the question.” She poked his chest.
He nuzzled her neck. “I kissed you. I thought that was well understood.”
“After that, what is happening to me now? Why am I so…hot and…” She shifted, squeezing her thighs together to appease the growing ache there. “Squirmy.”
He laughed softly, his breath teasing her skin. “Did I not satisfy you?”
“You know you did. Why aren’t you this way?”
He pulled back. “I’ve considerably more experience than you. I’m better at hiding it but know that I’m not as cool and collected as I appear. I want you right now.” He cupped her bottom and brought her against him, the hard ridge of his arousal blatant through their clothing.
Georgie swallowed her gasp, her body melting into his, hungry for more. She wanted to see him as affected as her, to bring him to his knees.
“Teach me something else.”
“We don’t have the time,” he said, his voice gruff and he softly bit her shoulder.
“Then tell me what bob for his apples means.”
He froze. “You heard that?”
She nodded, running her hands over his shoulders. “What does it mean?”
He cleared his throat. “It’s nothing.”
Georgie tried to read his expression. “It wasn’t nothing. Weirick found it amusing.”
He pressed his lips together. “It was a euphemism.”
“For?”
His jaw tightened. “A sexual act.”
Georgie raised her brows and bit her lip. “Tell me more.”
“I shouldn’t.”
“You really should.”
He groaned. “I…If I do, I won’t be able to stop from thinking about it and you.”
“Then you’ll know how I feel. I can’t stop thinking about earlier. I can still feel everything and it’s driving me mad.”
He pulled her tighter against him and their hips moved together. He moaned again, burying his face against her neck.
“Tell me and teach me,” she whispered.
He sighed heavily and pulled away enough to see her face, their lower halves still locked together.
“Bob for his apples refers to the movement of the woman’s head as she uses her mouth to please her partner.”
Georgie blinked. “Please her partner how?”
He swallowed. “She kisses his prick, using her mouth as she would her body. Taking him in deep, licking, sucking.”
Georgie shivered and tried to imagine what he described, but her knowledge of the human male anatomy was nil. Medical text drawings were very unspecific and Georgie couldn’t put the pieces together.
“I’ve shocked you.”
“No. I…I don’t understand how it works.”
“It is very similar to the kiss I gave you.”
“Does it feel as good?”
“It feels amazing. Almost as good as the actual act of lovemaking.”
Georgie wanted to do it. Without a doubt. He said he wouldn’t take her virtue, but this way she could give him the pleasure he’d given her.
“Show me how to do it.”
He cursed. “You’re going to kill me. I’m expected in the drawing room after changing my jacket. We can’t both be absent.”
Georgie leaned into him, nuzzling his neck. “I want to do this.”
He groaned, grinding his hips against her. “I want to as well. But it’s too dangerous. I…I have to go but I will return after an hour. We can meet here. It looks as though this parlor isn’t used.”
Georgie nodded though she hated to stop. Her body clamored for his touch, for the release only he could give her. He set her away from him and adjusted his breeches. Georgie caught a glimpse of the outline of his manhood straining his trousers. What would it look like? What would it feel like?
She would have to wait to find out.
“Return to your room. I’ll meet you here in one hour. Don’t come if there is any risk of being seen. As I said earlier, we have to be careful.”
“I know.” Georgie left first, making it to her room. Jeanie was there, scowling as she stood in Georgie’s room, tapping her foot.
“Where were you?”
Blast it. Georgie hated to lie to her sister but she thought frantically. “The kitchens. I took
some headache powder and drank some tea. I’m feeling better but still tired. Shouldn’t you be downstairs?”
“I came to check on you and you weren’t here.”
Georgie laughed. “Where did you think I was?”
Jeanie shrugged, tucking a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear. “I don’t know. But…you’ve been different.”
Georgie sat at her vanity and took down her hair, not meeting Jeanie’s gaze. “I feel like myself. A bit harried what with seeing to my animals and running back and forth between the stables and festivities.”
“You could direct someone else to do that.”
“I see no reason. The party is almost half over. Soon I’ll be home and doing it all by myself again.”
Jeanie shook her head and sat at the foot of Georgie’s bed. “Be optimistic. We may never have a chance like this again. If even just one of us marries one of these fine gentlemen, it would change everything. We could go to London, we could be invited to more parties and… I don’t know. Many wonderful things could happen.”
Georgie watched her sister in the mirror’s reflection. Jeanie dreamed of London, of fine gowns and parties, but none of those things would suit Georgie.
“Those things could happen for you but not me. The truth is… It is likely I won’t ever marry. I’m too unconventional. I’m not like you and the others. I’ve had to be the brother and the father in the family and take on those duties. Most men won’t see past that.”
Except one did.
“You never know, Georgie.”
But she did. No one except Gavin saw her as a woman, desirable, beautiful to kiss and…make love to. Gavin was different. But he couldn’t marry her either.
“Go back downstairs. I’m going to bed.” Georgie stood and began to undress.
Jeanie pushed away. “I wish you would try a bit harder.”
“A bird cannot try to be a butterfly.”
“We are the same species, Georgie. Don’t overcomplicate things just because you’re afraid. I’m scared too. I don’t know what these gentlemen see when they look at me. A plain girl, a poor country mouse, a social climber.”
“We are not social climbers.”
“But I try anyway. I will smile and dance and laugh because one day the man who is meant to be my husband will see me and ignore all those other things.”
Georgie pulled her nightgown over her head and averted her face. She wished those things for Jeanie. Jeanie deserved happiness, all her sisters did. But they didn’t want to acknowledge the hard truth. They were poor. They had a reputation as the Northumberland Nine, the ill-fated daughters of a lackwit father who spent most of his time away proclaiming to find them husbands but always returned empty-handed. And to make matters worse, after seventeen years of barrenness, their mother was pregnant again. Her mother and father held on to a glimmer of hope that this child would be the miracle boy. The son that would keep Cousin Irving from taking the house and land. But until then, their only hope was for one of them to marry a wealthy gentleman.
And it wasn’t going to be her.
She was the least likely to attract an offer of marriage out of the lot of them. She understood this, which is what made her time with Gavin so important. It was her only chance to experience this…heat, this yearning. She glanced at the clock. The hour couldn’t pass quickly enough for her.
“Keep trying, Jeanie. Go downstairs and show those men the lovely, sweet woman you are. They all would be lucky to have you.”
Jeanie hugged her and then left, to Georgie’s relief. Georgie pulled on her brown cloak and sat on her bed to wait. If she stared at the clock time would slow, so she watched the flames in the grate and thought about what Jeanie had said. Jeanie still had hopes of marriage, of love. She knew most of her sisters did. Growing up they had all imagined gallant men coming to rescue them from their plight.
But those innocent dreams were gone now. They didn’t stand the test of time. The real world was much colder than that. But if Georgie could dream, her gallant hero was no longer faceless. He had thick dark brown hair and coffee-colored eyes that twinkled. He had an easy smile and a rich laugh that made one warm to hear it. He was honest and true, his shoulders wide enough to make a woman think he could carry the whole world, or at the very least, the burdensome weight of her heart.
Oh dear.
She shouldn’t do this to herself. The lines were drawn, the rules clear.
She couldn’t fall in love with him. There was no room for it. He’d been explicitly forward with his intent. He would not marry, not her, not anyone. He was rather elusive about his father and how he worked all the time, but in his voice she’d heard the pain. They had suffered, he said. He declared he wasn’t going to do that to someone else. No wife. No children.
She clutched her hands to her chest. But what if…
No.
“No,” she said aloud to make it even clearer to her foolish heart. “No love. You cannot fall in love with him.”
He’d made no room for love, only work and pleasure. She was only setting herself up for pain and heartbreak by thinking like this.
She had to separate her feelings from her actions. Their relationship was about pleasure, about exploring and taking what she could before the opportunity was over. Her sisters might expect a marriage from this party, but Georgie would settle for an affair. For the sheer experience of all he had yet to show her, for the knowing, and the memories that she would leave with. It had to be enough.
It had to.
She peeked at the clock. Only thirty more minutes until they would meet. Her pulse kicked up its pace in excited anticipation. She focused on what he had said, drawing pictures in her mind to block out her earlier thoughts. Whatever she had to do, she could not let her heart get any more involved with this affair.
Chapter 12
Gavin had done his best to appear politely bored during the hour of parlor games he’d had to endure, but Georgie was on the forefront of his mind. How could she not be? She’d all but begged to ease his plight right there in the parlor. No man could easily walk away from an offer like that.
But he’d done it because tempting as her offer had been, the risk was too great. She had understood that too. But now that he’d made an appearance, and the ladies would soon be retiring, he could make his own excuses. Normally he’d play billiards with Luckfeld and Selhorst for a while, but there was talk of fishing first thing in the morning. They would rise before first light and be back in time for breakfast.
His wishing to find his bed would not be too out of the ordinary.
He hoped.
“You reek of boredom, old chap.”
Luckfeld nudged Gavin aside as he tried to make his way toward his exit.
“I’m tired. If we’re to be at Derry’s pond before first light, I want a decent night’s sleep.”
Luckfeld rolled his eyes. “Have you all lost your stamina? Is it solely up to me to keep the demimonde satisfied? First Roderick and now you—”
“What’s wrong with Roderick?” Gavin asked.
“Well, it’s been a secret, but Chester at last revealed he’s quit the drink. He’s been avoiding our billiard games for that reason, though I suspect one of these women has something to do with it.”
Gavin looked around with renewed interest. Roderick had said something at the start of the party, but now Gavin couldn’t remember specifically what it was. “You think he’s courting one of the sisters?”
“I don’t think. I know,” Luckfeld whispered to dramatic effect.
“Who?”
“Miss Annette.”
Gavin blinked in stunned silence, finding Miss Annette on the settee, peering over a gossip sheet with her sister, Miss Josette.
He stroked his chin. “Interesting…”
“Isn’t it?” Luckfeld murmured. “Brought low by a simple country chit—though they are rather stunning, aren’t they?”
Gavin looked sideways at Luckfeld. “I beg your pardon?”
/>
“Could you imagine the nine of them taking Almacks by storm? I’ve told Jeanie”—he coughed—“excuse me, Miss Jeanette, about the place. You could see the stars in her eyes.”
Gavin studied Luckfeld more intently. Jeanie? What was going on here?
“Miss Jeanette is mad for town life. It’s a pity she’ll probably never get to see it.”
Gavin snorted. “Unless you marry her.”
Luckfeld turn to him with a glare. “Bite your tongue. She’s enchanting, but you know I’ve obligations and certain expectations saddled to my title.”
“Don’t we all,” Gavin muttered.
“No, you don’t.”
Gavin narrowed his eyes. “Would you like to trade? You can run four manufactories in London and open the largest forge in England, and I’ll kick my feet up at White’s while my mother chooses a bride for me. Deal?”
“Bloody hell, don’t say bride,” Luckfeld hissed and looked around.
Gavin chuckled. “You brought it up.”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I’m getting a drink.”
“You do that. I’m going to bed.”
Gavin escaped, heading toward the bachelor quarters but then detouring through the back stairs to the parlor. He hid in an alcove while a pair of footmen carried linens past him, his heart pounding with the thrill of a secret tryst.
And to think, when he’d arrived six days ago, he’d been eager to avoid all things womanly. But now he couldn’t imagine spending a day without Georgie’s bright smile or her throaty laugh.
He froze, tucked beside a bust of some famous deceased man.
He would have to spend days without her, years, the rest of his life. If he never came back to this corner of Northumberland, he’d never see her again.
His stomach dropped, like when he jumped his horse but not as pleasant. More of a foreboding feeling or a pang of warning.
He shook his head. He could always come back. Chester, Roderick, Weirick, they were all his friends and would surely invite him back for one reason or another.
But still…
In a week’s time this party would end and he’d leave.
He’d leave her.