Her Only Desire (27 page)

“Robert, may I speak with you for a moment?” She plucked at her lord's sleeve, drawing him closer, while she pointed Ian toward the music room. “Go and look in there,” she whispered to him.

Ian smiled uncertainly at his best friend's wife and went to investigate, while Bel whisked Hawk into the drawing room across the hall. The door closed.

He heard a soft voice murmuring as he approached the music room. When he stepped into the open doorway, he stopped, arrested at the sight of his little son half asleep on Georgiana's lap.

The future marquess was sucking his thumb, a babyish habit that still carried over into nap time, and holding onto the demure lace ruffle of her sleeve as if had claimed her for his very own. Georgiana was reading to him softly from a book of children's verses.

Ian stared, totally taken off guard.

The sight of her there, cuddling his motherless son, a wholesome portrait of maternal tenderness, filled him with a sudden, exquisite blend of sweetness and pain, pointing once more to the gaping hole in his life. But now, he realized, he could be looking at the start of a real family. A real home.

His house had never quite become a home because it had always lacked a heart, just as his son had always lacked a mother's nurturing love.

Georgiana looked so soft and kind and inviting, so capable and so very gentle, that Ian's throat tightened as he gazed at her. He leaned against the door frame, unable to take his eyes off her.
You have to marry me,
he thought.
I won't have it any other way.

Again, he thought of the past. He wanted better for his son than the upbringing he had known, and it was his sharpest regret that he knew he was doing even worse than his parents had done.

The aristocratic household he had grown up in had been cold and strict, substituting rank, pride, and dignity for love. Though messier and far more chaotic, the Knight clan he had attached himself to had been much more closely knit due to the strong bonds between Hawk and all his brothers. It had been easy for Ian to tag along at the edges of their tribe, but it wasn't the same. Especially now, when all of them were married, with wives and children of their own. How many years had passed?

And he was still alone.

         

Until the moment she looked over and saw Ian leaning in the doorway, Georgie was still angry at him for not telling her about Matthew. Failing to mention his former lovers who might come bursting in the door at any moment was one thing, but keeping his child a secret from her was a far more serious offense.

But then she sensed his presence, glanced over, and saw him there, watching her with his child in the drowsy hush of afternoon, and the expression on his face drew her up short.

His green eyes were deep and haunted; the stark planes and angles of his face had tensed. He stood there, mute, the rugged line of his mouth pressed shut, every inch of his big, solid frame limned with an indescribable loneliness.

Georgie stared at him.

She had sensed the hidden pain beneath his polished surface from their first meeting in Calcutta, and had glimpsed it again in the prayer cave when she had asked about his wife. Usually he hid it well, but now, for the first time, as he watched her with his son, it had emerged in plain view, showing on his face, written in his soulful gaze.

This man was hurting. And one long, searching look into his eyes was enough to transmute her earlier anger at him into compassion. How could she stay angry when he looked so bleak, so obviously in need of tenderness?

It dawned on her that there might be some greater purpose in her being sent to London. A hint of destiny. Ian Prescott had saved her life and that of her brothers. Maybe now it was her turn to save him.

She returned his stare in silence, careful not to disturb his sleeping child. He pushed away from the doorway and sauntered into the room.

His boy sensed his presence, though half asleep, and stirred in her arms. She hushed Matthew with a kiss to his warm brow.

“Papa.” Matthew wiggled his stockinged feet but was too content to climb off Georgie's lap.

Ian smiled at the tot with a glow of pride in his eyes. “Son.” He bent down and gently captured one of the child's happily dancing feet. “I see you made a friend.”

Georgie's heart quaked as Ian lifted his guarded gaze to hers. “Hallo.”

She smiled ruefully at him, recalling that she had received the exact same greeting from his son.

“Lunch will be served on the terrace in a bit,” he murmured. “I'll go find one of the nursery maids to watch him.” Ian gently cupped his child's sleepy head for a moment. “Were you good while I was gone?”

“He was an angel,” she replied stoutly on Matthew's behalf. “He hasn't got a bad bone in his body.” She kissed the child's tousled head and hugged him a little more tightly. “I'm keeping him.”

“Are you?” He glanced at her in subdued surprise. “I'm envious.”

“We need to talk,” she whispered, giving him a firm look.

He read her eyes and a fleeting shadow of uneasiness passed across his chiseled features. Then he nodded to her and withdrew to find one of the children's caretakers.

When Matthew was safely handed off into the maid's care a few minutes later, Ian closed the door quietly and turned to her, unaware that her womanly protective instincts had been roused and that she was feeling a trifle belligerent on his child's behalf.

A part of her wanted to throttle the man, but his armored demeanor betrayed the raw vulnerability just under the surface. This warned her she had better tread carefully, for it seemed she might have stumbled onto his Achilles' heel. She wanted answers, but she didn't want to hurt him.

Wondering for a moment how to proceed, she concluded with a shrug that she usually fared best with the direct approach. “Why didn't you tell me that you have a son?”

He shrugged, eyeing her from a cautious distance as he sauntered past the pianoforte. “It didn't come up.”

“You could have brought it up!” she exclaimed. “Were you trying on purpose to hide him from me, or did you just forget that he exists?”

“Neither!” He frowned at her as he turned and set his hands on his waist. “Good day to you, too,” he muttered.

“I am sorry if my greeting doesn't suit you, Ian, but I'm afraid my day started off with quite a shock. Generally, when one proposes marriage, one ought to mention if children are involved. Any others I should know about?”

“No!” His cheeks flushed at the question. He turned away and paced, beginning to look a trifle caged.

Georgie exhaled slowly, but the faint pain in her lungs reminded her afresh that her fierce and immediate connection to little Matthew Prescott had a lot to do with her own childhood and the grief she had so often felt at being left behind, left alone. It was important not to take that out on Ian. At the same time, who better than she could help him understand his child's needs?

She leaned against the scrolled arm of a fauteuil. “He is a beautiful child.”

“I know. Thank you,” Ian growled.

“He's sweet and clever and very well behaved. And—” Her words broke off.

He paused and sent her a dark look over his shoulder. “And what?”

“Starved for your notice,” she said softly.

He stared at her.

“Why didn't you ever mention him to me?”

He looked at her for a long moment, at a loss, then turned away, dragging a hand through his hair. “I don't know.”

“You don't know? That is no answer! The poor little thing, he might as well be wearing a sign around his neck that says, ‘Please, somebody, love me!' Surely you see that he craves your attention. Does he not interest you? Surely you are not ashamed of him somehow?”

“Of course not.” Ian gave her a pained look, then fell silent for a long moment. He looked away again, staring blankly at the wall.

“Talk to me,” Georgie urged him. “Don't turn away. Help me understand.”

He rubbed his mouth in agitation and then shook his head as studied the floor. “When I am away from home, I try not to think about Matthew. I have to put him out of my mind. It is the only way that I can do my job. My work, you see, requires a cool temper and a lucid mind. Detachment. Objectivity. And nothing, Georgiana, is objective for me about that boy.” He swallowed hard as he sent her an anguished glance. “He is my child. He is never far from my mind.” He faltered. “I don't talk about him when I'm on a mission because I know he's left at home wondering why I'm not there. It hurts to be away from him. And…it hurts to be near him, too.”

“Oh, Ian.” She rose from her perch on the chair's arm and went over to him, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder.

She did not need to ask why it was painful for him to be near his son. The answer was obvious: grief over Matthew's mother. The child must have reminded Ian of his dead wife. He must have loved her very much, she thought wistfully.

“Come and sit with me,” she whispered, taking his hand between both of hers.

Avoiding her tender gaze, he let her lead him over to the sofa. They sat. She let out a long sigh, but neither of them spoke. She could almost feel his first wife with him in the room like some pale ghost.

He studied his loosely clasped hands for a long moment. When he broke the silence, his tone was once again controlled and carefully sardonic. “He is part of the reason why I need you, you see.”

“I've realized that.” She paused. “I'm honored by your trust, that you think I would make a good mother.”

He cast her a wry shadow of a smile. “Of course you would. You have a way of…sprinkling joy everywhere you go.”

His words brought a fresh mist of tears to her eyes. “Thanks.”

“It's true.”

“But, you know, it doesn't serve Matthew unless you and I are sure that marriage is what we both want.”

“I'm sure,” he answered without hesitation.

“You've thought the matter through, then?”

“Of course. I wouldn't have asked if I still had doubts.”

“Perhaps, if you're willing, you would explain to me some of the reasons that helped you arrive at this conclusion.”

He shrugged. “Well, there's Matthew. And the family alliance that has long been sought. It does seem to be inevitable. I've already told you I think we make a good team. We hold many of the same values, and of course you're very beautiful. And, lastly, someday I would like to have another child. Perhaps a few.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” His nod was full of conviction, but then he hesitated. “And, er, after what happened in the prayer cave—and last night, too—marrying you is the only right and decent thing to do.”

Oh, Ian,
she thought in a poignant mix of longing and sudden sorrow.

His reasons all made sense, but it was not lost on her that he hadn't mentioned love. She knew this was no accidental oversight. He was a man who always said exactly what he meant. A pang of disappointment clenched her innards, but she voiced no protest. At least he did not insult her by telling her merely what she wanted to hear. Honesty was part of love. At least it was a start.

“It does sound as though you're very sure,” she offered in a measured tone.

“Yes. After your brothers suggested the match, I had the whole voyage to make the decision, and I can assure you, I thought of little else.”

“Hold on!” she exclaimed. “My brothers suggested you marry me?”

“Mm.” He nodded to her in idle amusement, but Georgie paled.

“Did they pressure you into this, Ian? I know how forceful they can be with their opinions—”

“No, of course not. Don't be vexed at them. They only want what's best for you—and that's me,” he said matter-of-factly.

She gave him a wry smile and took his hand again. “Ian—I'm going to need a little time.”

“What for?”

“Frankly, you can be very domineering, and if I am to put myself in your power, I need to be sure.”

“I'm not domineering, I'm decisive!” he retorted. “Isn't that a virtue, anyway? You said one wanted a husband one could look up to.”

Georgie stared at him and thought,
I want to know if you can fall in love with me.

He scowled at the floor, then slanted her a piercing glance. “You seemed very sure last night.”

“Yes, but then
she
showed up, and I realized there's so much I don't even know about you.” She searched his face, willing him to be cooperative. “Why do we have to rush? Can't we take it step by step and get to know each other better until we both are absolutely certain this is right? For Matthew's sake?”

“Step by step? I think we've already skipped a few,” he said with a glint of innuendo in his eyes.

She blushed. She dropped her gaze, twining her fingers in her lap. “I did enjoy last night.”

“You would have enjoyed it more if Tess had not interrupted,” he murmured.

She flashed him a smile, but as he touched her face, his gaze turned serious. “I want you to know that she is not going to be a problem for us. I made sure she understands now that our affair is a thing of the past.”

“I'm glad to hear it.”

A light knock on the door interrupted just then.

“Lunch is ready!” Bel called through the closed door, not having abandoned her duties as chaperon, after all.

Georgie wasn't surprised that she had been allowed some time alone with Ian. Her cousins seemed determined to play matchmaker between them. “Thank you, we'll be right there!” she answered.

“So, what do you want to do, Georgiana?” Ian asked bluntly.

She captured his hand in a light grasp. “I just want to take things a bit more slowly. It seems to me that all three of us—you, Matthew, and I need a chance to get to know each other better before we make a definite commitment.”