by Nina Mason
Moving from section to section, she scanned all the titles at eye level before availing herself of the rolling ladder. Carefully, she climbed until she could see the next few levels of books quite well. As she read their titles, the rungs pressed uncomfortably into the soles of her feet.
At length, she lost her enthusiasm for the hunt. With so many books to peruse, it would be morning before she found what she sought—assuming Louisa owned the novel at all. Still, she chafed at the idea of leaving empty-handed after investing so much time in the quest. One more shelf, she told herself, and then she’d call it quits. Halfway down the line, her feet hurt, her leg muscles ached, and her left hand and arm were stiff from the strain of gripping the ladder.
Just as she resigned herself to calling it a night, something caught her eye. On the very next shelf, just out of reach, was a cluster of volumes in handsomely tooled leather bindings. Why these particular books drew her to them, almost uncannily, Georgie knew not. She only discerned a charge of something between excitement and fear going through her as she scaled the next rung.
By now, what began as a lark had taken on the importance of a full-fledged quest. The hand holding the candlestick trembled as she swept the flickering light across the spines. The Mysteries of Udolpho, A Romance in four volumes; The Italian in three; A Sicilian Romance in a single binding; and, finally, The Romance of the Forest in two red-leather editions that looked much knocked about.
Until that moment, she had no inkling Louisa was so enamored of Gothic romances. Or was it the Captain, perhaps, who had a taste for the macabre? Either way, she’d found her Holy Grail.
Georgie set her candle on the shelf and, gripping the ladder more firmly, reached for her prize, which lay just beyond her grasp. She stretched her arm as far as she could, but her fingers only glanced the nearest of the two-part set.
“Damn,” she muttered in frustration.
Gripping the ladder with both hands, she shook it in hopes of inching closer to the books. Confident she’d aided her cause, she extended her right arm again. This time, she managed to hook her index finger over the top of the spine. She attempted to pull the book free, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Sard it,” she cried in vexation. “Come loose, you disobliging little dickens!”
A deep laugh from below cut the silence, giving her such a start she nearly lost her footing. “Upon my soul,” declared the intruder, “I’ve not heard such vulgar language since leaving the Navy.”
From her precarious perch, Georgie looked down, but could not see the speaker in the inky blackness below. The voice and laugh, however, she knew as well as her own. They belonged to the very person she was trying to forget until morning.
“How long have you been hiding in the dark?” she asked as a blush burned her face. Had she known someone was listening, she would never have deigned to use such uncouth expletives.
“If I was hiding, I wasn’t aware,” he said in a jovial cadence. “But to answer your question, I have been sitting in the dark since before you came in.”
“Then why did you not make your presence known to me?”
“For no better reason than that it amused me to watch you, believing yourself unobserved.”
“You were spying on me, in other words.”
“Well, yes,” he admitted. “I suppose you could say I was playing the voyeur.”
“Well, I hope you will not make a habit of it.”
“I shan’t. I promise. Now come down from there and give me a kiss before you fall and break your pretty neck.”
“I shall come down as soon as I’ve got the book I came for,” she stubbornly replied.
“And, pray, what book would that be?”
“The Romance of the Forest.”
“Ah. One of Mrs. Radcliffe’s supernatural sagas. I’d not pegged you as the type to go for ghost stories.”
“Normally, I’m not. But my sister Henrietta suggested I read it.”
“You have two younger sisters, do you not?”
“I do indeed,” she confirmed. “The youngest is Charlotte, who is not yet seventeen.”
“Is she as pretty as her elder sisters?”
She could not see his teasing smile in the dark, but nonetheless knew it was there. “That is not for me to say … though I will tell you this by way of warning: she is the most determined flirt this side of Shrewsbury.”
“Really, my dear. Do you honestly think I’d fall prey to her coquetry?”
“There’s no knowing what affect her smiles and flattery will have upon your ego,” she told him, not forgetting he’d been beguiled by Jinny Stubbs. “What I can say with near certainty is that she will do her best to turn your head if she catches so much as a whiff of my interest in you.”
“Dear me,” he said, clearly apprehending her meaning. “’Tis like that, is it?”
“Yes,” she told him grimly. “It’s exactly like that with our Charlotte … and always has been, I’m sorry to say. When she was a child, she wanted all the toys for herself. And now that she’s grown, she wants all the beaus within a twenty-mile radius as her playthings. She’s like a cat with a mouse, heedless of the hearts she breaks … and I shudder to think how far she will go to make a conquest of poor Mr. Goddard.”
Silence fell between them before Georgie mustered the courage to say, “There is something else I should tell you … concerning the party.”
“More sharks in skirts to avoid, I’ll wager,” he said with a laugh. “But honestly, Georgie, you have no cause for concern. I am yours, body and soul. You have caught me in your trap, from which I have no wish to escape.” He paused briefly before adding, “Now come down and join your lips to mine, or I shall have no choice but to come up there.”
Having no desire to risk both their necks, she took up her candlestick, leaving The Romance of the Forest on the shelf. What use did she have for fictional romances, after all, when the man she adored was here with her now, begging for her kisses? She stepped down, feeling blindly with her foot for the rung below. She found it, but only for a moment before she slipped. She shrieked as she strove to hang on, but gravity worked against her. The next second, she was falling.
In her panic, she screamed and flailed, frantically clutching at nothing. She landed winded, but unharmed on something at once solid and soft. Georgie, still muddled by shock and fear, struggled to regain her breath, unsure of what had broken her fall. As realization dawned, she clung to Christian, flooded with gratitude.
“You caught me,” she said between gasps.
“I did,” he replied, also breathing hard, “and shall never let you go.”
The earthy, herbal scent of his cologne overwhelmed her senses. Suddenly, she was aware of his strong arms and solid chest pressing into her, of his woodsy scent, and of the sensual sensations coursing through her each time her nipples brushed against her nightgown. As the passion she’d sought to contain rekindled in a white-hot flash, she let her arm drop and threw back her head. “Then make love to me, my darling. Let us throw caution to the wind this night, and give our passions their way.”
He expelled a nervous laugh. “Surely, you cannot mean here … in the library.”
“Oh, but I do, my love.” She raised her head, pitched her arms around his neck, and set her cheek against his. “I desperately want you to ravish me, here and now. For we must gather our rosebuds while we may. Do you not agree?”
“In theory, yes.” He cleared his throat. “But in practicality, making love to you here is far too reckless, I daresay.”
“Then kiss me.” As she said it, she moved her mouth close to his. “Kiss me as if there is no tomorrow.”
When his lips met hers, sweet, satisfying warmth rushed through her body. She opened her mouth and his tongue darted in. Catching it between her lips, she sucked it gently. He tasted of brandy and tobacco, flavors she at once harsh and satisfying. As the kiss grew more passionate, she was only vaguely aware of being carried. Was he taking her upstairs? It would see
m not, since he stopped at the door and set her down. As he locked them in, her legs went weak.
Evidently, he’d changed his mind about ravishing her, and she couldn’t be more delighted!
Grabbing her hand, he pulled her across the room to the bookcase where she’d fallen. He pressed her back against the shelves with the front of his body as he captured her mouth in a searing kiss. She felt his warm hand come up beneath her nightgown, heard the whisper of fabric, felt intense pleasure and the onrush of moisture as his fingers stroked her intimately.
Heart pounding, breath jagged, she put her arms around his neck and held on as he opened the drop-flap of his trousers. Then, placing both hands beneath her bare buttocks, he lifted her onto the protruding edge of the bookcase. She wrapped her legs around his upper hips. He grunted like an animal and thrust his hips so savagely, she banged her head against the shelf.
She heard a click just before a section of the bookcase swung out from the wall. Though intrigued, she was too caught up in the moment to pay it much mind. Reaching down, she closed her hand around his cockstand. As it pulsed in her grasp like a hairless animal, she guided it into her grateful flesh. The sheer ecstasy of his entry made her gasp and throw back her head. She arched her pelvis higher and higher as, like an archery target, she received the arrows of his brutal thrusts.
She might have felt used had he not waited for her to reach a climax before he allowed his to come. As her sex rapturously clenched around his, he jerked free of her and spilled himself between her thighs. Slowly, her legs let go of his body, sliding downward until her feet touched the floor. For several blissful moments thereafter, they leaned against each other, spent and breathless.
The sweet afterglow was cut short by someone pounding on the door. Christian stiffened, stepped back, and quickly fastened his trousers while Georgie hurriedly smoothed down her nightgown. No sooner had they put themselves right than Jinny Stubbs screamed through the door like a fish-seller, “Open the bloody door this instant, you two-timing mongrel! I know you are in there with your whore and what the pair of you has been up to.”
“Dear me,” Georgie fretted, burning with guilt as she looked frantically about for a place to hide. “What are we to do?”
Hugging her to him, Christian whispered in her ear, “You will take the secret passageway behind the bookcase, of course, while I stay behind on my own. That way, if she does succeed in breaking the lock, she will find only yours truly within to answer to her apparently false accusations.”
Twenty
After Georgie was safely away and the bookcase was back in its place, Christian decided to let Miss Stubbs in rather than risk her waking the house with her incessant pounding and shouting. As he begrudgingly opened the door, she pushed past him and looked about the room.
Seeing no one else there, she turned on him. “Where is she, you unfaithful swine?”
“Not here, as you see,” he answered, grinning to sell his innocence.
“Do not think me so easily fooled by your tricks,” she said, stooping to check under the Captain’s desk. “For I am quite certain I heard you speaking to a woman.”
“If you are certain, then you are certainly wrong,” he said as she looked behind the chairs by the fire. “For I have not seen the dear lady since she went up to bed after the evening’s entertainments.”
“I do not believe you,” she said, checking behind the door. “For I went to her chamber after visiting yours.”
Christian furrowed his brow. “For what purpose did you seek me out?”
“No purpose, really. I only wanted to see if you were where you were supposed to be.”
“And when you found I was not, you leapt to the conclusion that I was having an assignation with Miss Bennet … in the library, of all places.”
“Naturally.”
“It never occurred to you then that I might simply be reading a book, as one is wont to do in a library?”
“It might have,” she said, narrowing her eyes, “had I not found your whore’s bedchamber as empty as yours.”
Bristling at her use of the word “whore,” he walked away and sat in the same wingback chair he’d occupied while Miss Bennet, unaware of his presence, searched the shelves for The Romance of the Forest. Pressing his palms together, he tapped the tips of his fingers against his lips whilst contemplating his next words.
“Miss Stubbs,” he began, speaking low, “whilst you are here, there is something I would like to clarify—and sincerely hope I can rely upon you to give me an honest answer.” He knew, of course, that he could not, for he was now almost certain she had trapped him under false pretenses.
The lady was now checking the cupboards below the bookcases, despite the fact that only a side-show contortionist could have compacted herself enough to fit within them. “I will answer you as honestly as I’m able.”
“On the night we allegedly entered into our understanding,” he said, folding his arms across his chest, “did we in fact make the beast with two backs, as you have led me so long to believe? For I have no recollection of the event having taken place … or of anything else, for that matter, including promising you marriage … or even leaving the tavern in your company.”
Righting herself, she turned abruptly in his direction. Though the room was too dark to read her countenance, her rigid posture and indignant tone of voice told him all he needed to know. “Our alleged understanding? Are you suggesting that I have misled you regarding the circumstances under which our betrothal came about?”
Christian steepled his fingers and breathed in sharply through his nose. “I have no doubt that you would have done anything in your power to bring our betrothal about … and had marked me as your dupe even before I entered the place that evening. Moreover, I do not believe that we had intimate relations that night … or that I ever proposed marriage to you, for that matter. For I am convinced, however deep in my cups, I would not offer marriage to a woman for whom I felt nothing more than the mindless lust born of inebriation.”
“You scoundrel!” she cried, pressing a hand to her chest. “How dare you question my word! For have you not just admitted to having no recollection of what transpired that night?”
“I might not remember what happened, Miss Stubbs, but I certainly know myself well enough to establish the unlikelihood of your claims.”
“Whether you believe them or not is of little consequence,” she said high-handedly. “For by writing to your father, Miss Bennet has made our formerly secret betrothal known to your relations. At first, I’ll admit, I was enraged by her hubris, but I have since come to view her interference as an unintended favor.”
Acid burned in Christian’s gut. “Will you still see it as such when my father disowns me?”
“He shan’t, I am sure,” she said with more confidence than he thought warranted. “For is he not a man of honor and respectability?”
“That would depend, I suppose, on whom you ask.”
“I’m asking you.”
“Then I shall give you my honest opinion,” he said, scratching his nose. “While my father is indeed regarded by his peers as a man worthy of esteem, he also believes, as they do, that a man must marry well if he is to preserve his dynasty. Ergo, my father will never allow me to marry beneath my level … and still inherit his title and estate.”
“Perhaps he will not perceive me as beneath your level,” she said, looking away from his straining gaze.
“He will, I assure you.”
She touched her neck and looked at the floor. “Even if I act the part of a gently-bred lady?”
Christian scoffed contemptuously. “Though you may harbor delusions to the contrary, you are not a good enough actress to pull off the charade.”
She stepped closer, lips pursed and eyes narrowed. “You might be surprised to learn what I can pull off to obtain my objectives.”
“On the contrary, Miss Stubbs,” he darkly replied. “I can easily imagine you capable of every sort of deception ima
ginable.”
* * * *
The secret passage led Georgie across the house to a door underneath the back staircase used almost exclusively by the servants to tend the second-floor bedchambers. She was, she deduced with a rush of relief, in little danger of being observed. And if she should encounter someone of consequence, being abroad in her nightclothes would be easy enough to explain. She could simply say she’d come down to fetch a book … or, better yet, a late-night nibble, since she had no book to support her alibi. It needn’t be a lie, either, for she was rather peckish at present, and the kitchen was but a few steps away.
Still carrying her candlestick, she made her way across the icy flagstones, shivering from the cold. What she beheld as she entered was a feast for more than the eyes. The tantalizing aromas of cinnamon, clove, lavender, and orange filled her nostrils as her eyes devoured the impressive assortment of confections occupying the long wooden table in the center of the room. There were artistically molded flummeries, jellies, and blanc manges on pedestaled platters; sugared almonds, candied fruits, and other tempting sweetmeats in the bowls of a crystal epergne; and queen’s cakes, meringues, and marzipan animals prettily arranged on floral plates of varying shapes and sizes.
Licking her lips, she reached for a bright pink marzipan pig. As she savored the sweet almond flavor, she wondered why Louisa was going to so much trouble to impress the people who, following their father’s lead, had treated her and the Captain as social pariah.
Well, never mind all that. It was Louisa’s prerogative, not hers, and she was in no position to judge anyone. Nor did she wish to dwell upon her father’s cruelties so near to going to bed. The marzipan pig would likely give her nightmares enough. For she well knew that sugar, when consumed so close to retirement, could conjure the devil in dreamland.
She stole a queen cake and ate it as she made her way up the stairs. Inside her bedroom, she locked the door and stripped off her dressing gown. Nestling between the bedclothes she breathed a sigh of satisfaction. The warmth of the covers and softness of the mattress were a comfort to her troubled mind and aching bones.