by Jilian Rouge
Five years ago, Rafe had left Peverill Green abruptly and without a word to anyone, not even to his own brother with whom Georgie thought he shared every thought, every secret, everything. It was out of character for Rafe to leave his beloved father and brother so out of touch with his comings and goings that Georgie feared that he had no intentions of ever coming back home.
While Rafe’s family worried and wondered what had become of him, Georgie guiltily recalled what she presumed was the reason for his absence.
Stay away from me! Far away! You needn’t bother showing your face around me ever again!
Those were the last words she screamed at Rafe before he disappeared, and she was certain that he stayed away only because she demanded it. Guilt weighed heavily on her, now that she somberly watched the lowering of two caskets into the cold ground. If it weren’t for those words, Rafe would be here now, present as the final rites were being performed over his father and brother.
But he wasn’t here, and she fervently wished he was, so she could blister his ears with everything that had built up between them in his absence. She couldn’t believe a son as devoted as Rafe would allow so much time to pass without a single word or note to either his family or her. But those damning words she had uttered to him so long ago had done their job, and Rafe had obviously taken them straight to heart, staying away as she had impulsively bidden.
One would think he would at least let his wife know of his whereabouts, she thought bitterly. She didn’t think that Rafe would have carried out his streak of stubbornness this far, and it was entirely unseemly for even him to let it drag this long.
Five years ago, she and Rafe had married for convenience, although for Rafe it was out of necessity. If she hadn’t come upon Rafe and his father arguing in the library, she wouldn’t have found out that she was only a means to an end. And while she was not Rafe’s first choice for a bride, she didn’t enjoy the feeling of being the consolation prize in the end.
Maybe if she hadn’t had her heart torn in two by Nicholas Belhaven’s engagement to another, she wouldn’t have considered the idea of marriage to Rafe when her parents made mention of it. It had become apparent that Rafe’s father had desired this union between them and had made a hard case of the benefits that such a marriage would accrue to both of their families.
Painfully plain and shy at the age of twenty-one, it wasn’t likely that Georgie would have a slew of suitors lining up at her door, not with her status as a wallflower. Since her come-out, Georgie joined the ranks of the wallflowers at balls and never had another man look at her twice. Unlike her female peers of the same age, Georgie hadn’t grown out of her gangly phase and sported a mannish build with no curves to speak of.
She was no great beauty, but she did possess features that were striking when one realized that their combination created a unique, otherworldly countenance. With her slanted, silvery blue eyes one could say that their clear depths held a certain mystique about them. Her pert nose seemed overly large on such a small face, and her pointed chin and angular jaw seemed harshly angular to be categorized as feminine.
As her friend first, Rafe had never cared that she didn’t look like other women, just as she hadn’t cared too much about her looks. At the time, she had only mooned over Nicholas Belhaven, whom she thought she would like to marry one day. While she had done all she could think of to encourage Nicholas to press his suit for her, she had been devastated to learn of his sudden engagement to someone else, someone petite and pretty. The two very things that she was not.
Then came Rafe’s sudden proposal, one that was fronted by the duke she was to learn later. Both of her parents and her brother, though surprised by the suddenness of it all, had encouraged the match, and on an impulse, Georgie had jadedly accepted Rafe’s proposal. If only because she had believed that she wouldn’t receive a better offer elsewhere. A broken heart, she had discovered, sometimes made people do desperate things.
She had reasoned to herself that perhaps marrying her best friend in the whole world wouldn’t be so bad. After all, she knew him, faults and all, and had believed that she knew everything there was to know about him. However, that look in his eye, right before the kiss that had sealed both of their fates, had curiously caused her heart to flutter. He had looked at her, not as her oldest friend or as an almost-brother, but as a desirable, attractive man. Confusion had clouded her brain, and suddenly she had found herself swept away by the romance of it all.
Not knowing what to expect of their wedding night, Georgie had been gently forewarned by her mother about her marital duty in the bedchamber. It had all sounded so perfunctory the way her mother described it, but Georgie had been deliciously surprised by the reality of it. She needn’t have worried or have cause for nerves, not when Rafe had made her feel beautiful, desirable, and warm all over with his kisses and soft caresses.
She had been caught up entirely by the hungry, possessive look on his dear, familiar face that she had no time to feel shy or nervous. He had seduced her with words, telling her she was his and only his, while enflaming her with his touch in her most intimate places. He had set her aglow with heat and desire, and judging by his own reactions, she had believed that he had been just as intoxicated with her as she was with him.
He had played with her breasts, nibbling and licking at them as if they were a tasty treat to be savored. He had made her tremble almost violently when she found herself spasming around his fingers, the pleasure almost too intense. When he had braced himself above her, filling her with his cock, as he had taught her to call it, she had quickly found joy in this intimate act. Since she had been a virgin, it had been inevitable that she would experience pain at his entry, but for her it had been a slight twinge, then gone just as quickly.
That night, they had been two bodies seeking pleasure, their identities reduced to a simplistic existence that only knew need and wanting. And she had reveled in it, gloried in it. If this was what marriage to Rafe would be like for the rest of their days, then she had believed that this could portend a happy coexistence together.
But if only he hadn’t made her believe that he cared enough to warrant this union between them, then she wouldn’t have felt so betrayed by the truth. If he hadn’t introduced her to the wonderfully carnal pleasures of one night with him, she wouldn’t have felt so used. So many ifs, so many regrets.
If it weren’t for the black veil she wore, she was sure that those around her would remark at her suddenly pinkened cheeks during a somber moment. She had the errant memory of Rafe’s skillful mouth and hands on her body to thank for the unwelcome reaction. Her sexual awakening at Rafe’s instigation on their wedding night had opened a different world for her, discovering that she harbored wanton desires, ones that her mother warned her against. With him gone, she was restricted from exploring those yearnings, another regret she could lay entirely at Rafe’s feet.
Reminding herself that she stood at the graves of two men she had greatly admired, Georgie preferred to lose herself in the reminiscences of the past than dwell on the pain of their loss. Especially since Rafe remained at the heart of them all.
2
Plymouth Dock, England
Captain Raphael Griffiths stood at the port bow of his ship, surveying the land he thought not to see again in the five years that he had been away from its shores. Mooring here instead of the closest port to London would cut the journey to his friend’s estate by half, and he had some important news to relay to him as his business partner. Alex Carruthers, Earl of Merrick, had extended him an invitation to his mother’s Midsummer ball, and he owed him a visit on the merit of simply being longtime friends at sea.
In so doing, Rafe would also be avoiding a visit home, one that was overdue since his last letter to his father and Lionel was two months ago. Their reply had chased him from America to Cardiff, wherein he found that his family was doing well and in good health. Rather than asking after his wife’s health, he had implied in his letter that he hoped sh
e was doing well but made no further inquiry for more information about her. Their reply only told him in so many words that he was a fool for staying away and that his wife needed him by her side.
At that thought, Rafe snorted, knowing full well that Georgie didn’t need him at all. Chasing after Nicholas Belhaven for most of their growing years, Georgie never would have considered him at all as husband material until she had been left with no choice.
When he was at the naïve age of twenty-three, Rafe had become nothing that resembled a proper gentleman of his station. Instead, he had spent his days and his father’s money on gaming, women, and extravagant clothes. A few months past his twenty-third birthday, his father had threatened to cut him off completely if he didn’t change his ways as Rafe had racked up a mountain of debt.
But his crafty old goat of a father had always wanted a connection with the Montagus and had seen an opportunity to make that happen. When the threat of being turned out on his ear hadn’t worked on Rafe, Lord Harrison presented him with an ultimatum.
“Son, I’ll forgive you your debts by paying for them under one condition: that you marry Lady Georgina within the month. You must woo her into accepting you and only once she is your wife will I pay off the creditors. Otherwise, you can live out the rest of your life disowned and penniless.”
“That’s outrageous, even for you, Father!” Rafe cried. “And Georgie would never believe that I would want to marry her anyhow. Besides, her affections have always lain with Nicholas Belhaven, not to mention that there may soon be a proposal in the works.”
“That’s where you are wrong, my boy,” Lord Harrison said as he bowed his head to look directly into his son’s eyes and overtop his spectacles. “I know for a fact that old Bridgingham, the social climber that he is, wants his son to align himself with the only daughter of a vastly wealthy merchant. Her dowry alone could launch a thousand ships and still have money to spare.”
“If it’s my debt that hangs in the balance here, why don’t I marry this merchant’s daughter instead?” Rafe offered. To him, it was the better alternative than marrying Georgie, who pined for Nicholas.
“You can’t since the Bridgingham heir has already proposed and the girl has accepted, mostly for the title it would earn her as his wife when he becomes the next earl.”
And as a result, his twenty-three-year-old self, eager to free himself from his debts, had wooed Georgie successfully soon afterwards. Also, it had helped that Georgie herself had heard of Nicholas’ engagement to another, and to his surprise, he had been able to win her over quite easily. It had also helped that he had caught her fresh from a broken heart, distraught by the thought of being alone and unlovable. As heartless as it was to prey upon an already-emotional female whom he knew had no other prospects of making a good match, his own desperation had driven him to do what he did, regardless of his feelings for her.
He had liked her, had loved her in his own way, but it was the kind of affection he held for a sister. He had known she felt the same way towards him, one of the few females in his life who genuinely loved him, and he had felt a small measure of guilt at the thought of deceiving her into a marriage neither of them wanted.
With increasing pressure from his father, Rafe had been reluctant to trap one of his dearest friends into a marriage that had nothing to do with love. However, his need to be rid of all outstanding debt without the promised embarrassment of being disowned had far outweighed the need to preserve Georgie’s tender feelings. And so, it had been at one of the Prince Regent’s grand parties that Rafe had found the perfect opportunity to make her his. Or rather, the perfect opportunity to compromise her into marriage.
At the edge of the ballroom, Rafe had found Georgie leaning against a pillar as she watched the object of her affections waltz with his intended bride. The forlorn expression on her familiar face had been painfully too much for him to handle, and he had kindly suggested a turn outside in the gardens as a distraction.
Before his father had backed him into a corner with his ridiculous ultimatum, Rafe had never before thought of Georgie as grown up or, least of all, as marriage material. Since then, Rafe had aimed sweeping glances at her now and then when she was least aware, seeing her with different eyes, eyes that saw her suddenly as a woman. But because of their longtime closeness as friends, practically family, Rafe had never given her looks much thought. Until now.
That night, at the Prince Regent’s ball, with the help of lamplight and the stars, Rafe had realized his childhood friend had grown into a desirable woman. In those days, it didn’t take much for Rafe to sit up and take notice of a delectable pair of breasts or lush curves, the kind that made most red-blooded males go weak with desire. That those curves he had been appreciating belonged to Georgie was shocking to him at first, but he soon found his rakish instincts wanting to take control. It had taken some effort on his part to rein himself in before he pounced on his poor, unsuspecting friend.
He hadn’t been listening as attentively to her ramble on about her poor, trampled heart over Nicholas Belhaven. Instead, he had been wondering if her lips were as soft as they looked, and that he would die if he didn’t take the chance to taste her. Giving in to the daring impulse, he had grabbed her face between both hands and swiftly swooped down to kiss her.
She had frozen in his arms at first, but he had been delighted to feel her heated response to his impassioned kisses. “What are you doing?” she had whispered when they both broke away, gasping.
Rafe hadn’t known how to answer, especially since he had never before felt such possessive passion in his life. And with Georgie, no less! To have felt Georgie’s own tongue clash intimately with his was the most singular intoxicating experience of his life, and he would have done anything to taste her again, that moment, that second! If he had answered her right then, he would not have trusted his voice to be anything but unsteady, his breathing harsh and deep from the rise in passion within him.
Instead of answering, he had pulled her closer against his chest and growled, “Kiss me back.” And he had commenced setting her alight once more with his mind-numbing kisses. Georgie had done her utmost best to keep up, and she had successfully matched him in passion with each slanting of their lips against the other.
Even now, Rafe recalled how his thoughts centered on one triumphant certainty during their kiss: Georgie was his. She had always belonged to him, ever since the nursery, and she was the only female who truly knew him for what he was and loved him anyway. And until his father had presented him with his outrageous ultimatum, Rafe never thought he would exalt in such a feeling, with Georgie being at the heart of its cause.
And so, he counted himself extremely fortunate that Georgie’s parents and brother, along with the Prince Regent, had come around the corner and discovered them mid-kiss. Only, their kiss wasn’t just an innocent kiss as it had all the markings of the both of them being swept away on the waves of passion. Rafe fondly remembered how he had one hand gripping one buttock and the other busily squeezing one plump breast. Georgie herself was wrapped around him as if she was trying to burrow into him as deeply as she could.
Needless to say, they were married soon after, but even without the banns being posted Rafe couldn’t have been happier. Except for the tiniest niggling of guilt that plagued him. He had known that he would never have considered Georgie as his wife if it hadn’t been for his mountain of debt. But until that singular kiss, Rafe had decided that being married to his longtime friend wasn’t all that bad.
By this time, Rafe had been curious as to what Georgie looked like underneath the interminable numerous bits of clothing females wore. Since the idea of marriage to Georgie had been brought up, Rafe had begun looking at her differently, noticing that she wasn’t a sister to him in any sense of the word. He had started glancing at her necklines in various dresses, trying to imagine what her bosom looked like. Or viewing her backlit by a sunlit window, Rafe could see the outline of her legs or her rump through her muslin day
gown. There were numerous times he had grown hard, imagining what it would be like to pleasurably view Georgie’s body without her garments.
Then the anticipated wedding night had arrived, and again he had been surprised by the wealth of passion simmering beneath Georgie’s unassuming exterior. That night, he had taken his time introducing her to the pleasures of the flesh, teaching her how to accept the pleasure he gave her. And though she tried to repay him in kind, he had told her there was plenty of time for that later. While he knew she was a virgin, he had not expected Georgie to be so sensitive, so responsive to his touch, and he had been barely aware when she had flinched but for a moment at his initial entry into her body.
Then and there, he had decided that wallflowers such as Georgie hid such delicious, unplumbed depths. All of the time he had spent with numerous mistresses inevitably led him to this cataclysmic moment, where a simple slip of a woman possessed the ability to knock him over with a feather.
With a wry smile, he recalled how quickly his moment of happiness had shattered. After having been caught pawing at his wife in the library after breakfast, his father had shooed Georgie out to have a private word with his unruly son. He also recalled how quickly their exchange escalated into a full-blown argument, one that should have ended before his father shouted, “If it weren’t for your mountain of debt, I wouldn’t have had to force your hand into marrying the Montagu girl!”