Her Only Desire (32 page)

When he arrived, Mr. Walsh, Hawk's stately butler, informed him that Miss Knight was waiting for him in the music room. Thrusting his top hat and walking stick into the old fellow's waiting hands, Ian strode across the marble foyer to show himself up, but as he started toward the stairs, the entrance to the ante-room caught his eye.

Through the open doorway, he spotted a profusion of flowers, as though the adjoining room had been turned into some dashed florist's shop.

He turned abruptly to the butler. “Egads, Walsh, did somebody die?”

“Er, no, sir. The flowers arrived today for Miss Knight. Admirers from the ball,” he added in a confidential whisper.

“What, all of them?” he exclaimed.

“You are welcome to inspect them for yourself if you desire, my lord.”

Ian frowned at him, then marched over to have a look. He nearly sneezed upon stalking into the ante-room, so thickly did the cloying floral perfumes hang upon the air.

With a faint scowl, he snatched the card off the nearest dozen roses and read it. His frown deepened. A survey of the various bouquets revealed a formidable tally of rivals for Georgiana's affections: one duke, eleven earls, and two viscounts.

Bloody hell.

In the doorway, Mr. Walsh clasped his white-gloved hands behind his back and lifted his chin with unconcealed pride in the legions the newest member of the family had conquered.

Ian pursed his lips and looked at him without a word.

“It is fortunate that milord has always been a sporting man,” the imperious butler remarked with an impertinent lift of his bushy gray eyebrows.

Ian snorted, prepared to forgive the cheeky observation, since, after all, Mr. Walsh had known him since he was Matthew's age. “Damned lucky I didn't come empty-handed.”

“Indubitably, sir. Good luck,” he added, staring forward once more with a polite show of indifference.

Ian gave the savvy old fellow a resolute nod, then left the entrance hall and bounded up the stairs.

When he stepped into the music room above, he found his fair friend bathed in a pool of sunlight from the expanse of sparkling windows along the back wall.

She was on the floor, clad in strange clothes, her willowy limbs contorted in a bizarre position. Ian tilted his head in perplexity as she unfolded her legs and pushed up into an upside-down pose.

What in blazes…?

Her dainty feet pointed straight toward the ceiling. Her hands braced the curve of her back, snug and secure, and the slim column of her body was supported by her elbows, forming a sort of tripod.

As a man who woke up most days feeling like his joints were made of iron, he thought it looked like some cunning form of torture, but her expression appeared one of perfect repose. Her wispy, Indian-style shirt had fallen down just a bit, exposing a few inches of her flat, ivory belly. Likewise, the loose black leggings that hugged her trim figure had also descended, giving him a scandalous view of her darling ankles.

Her face was turning red from being upside-down as she managed to turn her head a little. “Ian!” she greeted him in a cheerful burst of pleasure. “Come in! Oh, and shut the door, would you? I don't want my cousins to think I'm eccentric.”

He laughed in spite of himself, fearing she might be a little late for that. Nevertheless, he obeyed; then he sauntered over to her with a growing smile, tilting his head again to meet her upside-down gaze.

“What in the devil are you doing, girl?”

“I'm playing the piano. What does it look like?”

“Torture, actually.”

“It's yoga, you silly-head. I told you it's my saving grace, remember?” She closed her eyes again with a look of great tranquility. “You should try it sometime. It would help you not to be…so stiff.”

“I thought you liked me stiff,” he purred as he pulled off his morning coat and dropped into the armchair nearest her.

She laughed. “You are wicked.”

“You have no idea,” he replied in a low murmur. If only she knew where his errant thoughts were wandering to now…He found himself inspired by her impressive flexibility. “Isn't that painful?”

“It's wonderful,” she declared, then rolled slowly out of the shoulder stand and lay flat on her back.

Lying there, stretched out on the plush carpet, she looked so soft and inviting—temptation incarnate, with her skin aglow, her eyes as blue as the sky. Leaning forward in the chair, he let his gaze travel over her in rapt appreciation.

She reached a hand up to him; he linked his fingers through hers. Instead of helping her up, he joined her on the floor, lowering himself to his knees and smoothly straddling her. He lowered himself atop her and instantly claimed her mouth in a deep, unhesitating kiss, claiming her anew.

She moaned softly and wrapped her arms around him. Parting her lips, she returned his kisses with eager passion, her tongue swirled, mating with his. Her hands were warm and gentle as they cupped his face, stroked his hair. Ian slid his forearm under her, holding her in ardent hunger.

The nice part about fighting, he thought, was that then you got to make up. He splayed his palm beneath her long, luxurious tresses, cradling her head upon the floor. Georgiana kissed him again and again, intoxicating him with the warm, wet sweetness of her mouth and the sincerity of her welcome.

His heart was pounding, for her kisses told him more than any words could have expressed that he really had no reason to be jealous. Sending flowers was all very well, but those other chaps were wasting their time. Her every touch and kiss and sigh assured him she was his and his alone. He kissed her neck, then turned his head to kiss the lean, fine, womanly arms that held him.

All the while, she tormented him with her lithe body's supple undulations. His need for her climbed and his kiss deepened as she wrapped her legs around him. Then he groaned against her mouth as she raked her nails down his back.

The woman needed bedding, and how he longed to give it to her! This was not what he had come here to accomplish, but every time he touched her, it was nearly impossible to stop.

He forced himself, reining in their passion and resting his forehead against hers. If Hawk walked in on this, he wouldn't be pleased. Rolling around on the floor with his friend's luscious young cousin would not be looked upon as suitable behavior, considering she was under the duke's protection while she dwelled beneath his roof. Debauching her across the park at his own residence, well, that was easier to justify.

Georgiana kept kissing him, but Ian did his best to curb her exuberance. “You are,” he vowed, panting, “the most delicious angel.”

“More.”
She grabbed the back of his head and pulled him down roughly again.

With a husky laugh at her fiery demand, he obliged, powerless to resist her. God, he must have died and gone to heaven. Nevertheless, he thought of one way to bring his passionate nymph back down to earth before their mischief was discovered by others in the household. “Don't you want your present?” he whispered in her ear.

She paused, nibbling thoughtfully at his cheek. “You brought it?”

“It's in my pocket.”

“What else is in your pocket, Ian?” She reached down with a wicked laugh and grasped his hard cock.

“Georgiana Louise!” he exclaimed with startled laughter. “I meant in my coat pocket, you incorrigible minx.”

“I'd rather have this instead.”

She squeezed him and he groaned.

“You are…so very bad.”

“Don't you know it's in my blood?” she whispered.

“So it would seem.” With a wince of delight, he let her hand wander, but only for a moment longer. Pulling himself away from her, he went up onto his knees and reached for his coat, thrusting a hand into the inside breast pocket.

She sat up, beaming at him.

“Close your eyes and put out your hand,” he ordered.

She obeyed, and he indulged in simply staring at her for a second, admiring those ridiculously long, coal-black lashes.

What a pretty thing she was, with such an innocent quality. It never failed to surprise him every time he noticed it.

“Are you still here?” she prompted impatiently.

“I'm here, princess.” He bent and pressed a kiss into her waiting palm, and then replaced his lips with his gift. The light silvery tinkling sound gave it away even before she opened her eyes. When he placed the silver anklet in her hand, her cobalt eyes flew open wide.

“Ian!” She looked at it joyously. “You got me new bells!” All of a sudden, she pushed up onto her knees and flung her arms around his neck.

He held her in return, encircling her slim waist. “I never thought you should change, Georgiana,” he told her in a husky whisper. “You're perfect just the way you are.”

“Oh, Ian.” She clung to him, her arms twined around his neck in a long, heartfelt hug.

He did not think he had ever been hugged so thoroughly in his life. Her unbounded affection still abashed him sometimes, but he could get used to this, he thought as he smiled to himself. “Here,” he murmured to her at length. “Let me put them on you.”

Pressing a kiss to his cheek, she released him from her embrace only with reluctance, but then sat obediently on the floor again. When Ian sat back on his haunches, Georgiana stretched one dainty bare foot across his lap in the most provocative fashion.

He sent her a satyric grin, enticed by the flirty love-liness of her feet. He took hold of her heel gently and deliberately tickled her foot with a slow, light stroke of his fingertip along the arch of her sole, but she bit her lip, refusing to let herself laugh. He pinched her toe and then abandoned their little game for some other time, resting her foot on his thigh.

Taking from her hand the intricately wrought chain of tiny bells, fresh from the silversmith's shop, he draped the delicate chain around her extremely alluring ankle and fastened the clasp.

“Voilà,”
he said, flicking it to make the bells jingle.

She swung her knee and gave her new bauble a try. “Ah! It sounds even prettier than the original!” Giving him a beaming smile, she removed her foot from his lap and leaned back, planting her hands behind her as she gazed at him. “What an utterly thoughtful gift, Ian. How kind you are to me.”

“You were being too hard on yourself.”

“I really can't tell you how much it means to me that you feel that way. That you truly accept me as I am. Let's face it, after all, I am a—bit odd; I'm perfectly well aware of it.”

He laughed.

“Maybe I am an acquired taste,” she said. “I
try
to get along with everyone, but still…I never quite felt like I fit in anywhere until I met you.”

He laid his hand on her knee in a soft caress. “Not everyone will understand you, but I do.”

Without warning, she leaned toward him, cupped his jaw, and pressed a firm but tender kiss to his lips.

His heart clenched, adoring her, but somehow he maintained his decorum. The way she left him dazzled, it took him a moment to recall the purpose of his visit.

She sat back slowly, stroking the side of his leg with her bare foot.

Pure temptress, even when she wasn't trying.

He cleared his throat a little. “So, what did you, ah, want to talk to me about? I thought it was your asthma giving you trouble last night, but you said today that it was, er, something else that had been bothering you.”

“Right.” She lowered her gaze, nodding. “Oh, this is rather difficult.”

He frowned. “What is it?”

“Remember last night after we danced, when you went to get me some punch?”

He nodded.

“When you were gone, Lady Faulconer introduced herself to me.”

He froze. “What did she say?”

Georgiana hesitated, looking intensely uncomfortable. She took a deep breath, and then visibly forced herself to reveal what had been gnawing at her. “She claimed that even if we married, you would never love me because your heart died with Catherine.”

“I see.” Ian's eyebrows arched high as he absorbed this. “How perfectly absurd. And you believed her?”

“I didn't know what to believe! That's why I went outside, to think. I was quite confounded by her revelations.”

“Not revelations, lies. What other lies did she tell you?”

“That's all. That's mainly it.” Her cheeks were a deep shade of rose, her blue eyes full of youthful vulnerability. “Lady Faulconer said you never loved
her,
so that meant you would never love me, because of Catherine. But if you
can't
love me, Ian, I'm not sure I even want to know it. Perhaps you should not tell me, because I'm so in love with you, I don't think I could bear it—”

“Shh.” He stopped her lips with his fingertip and gazed at her in amazed, welling joy.

Her eyes were wide.

If he was not mistaken, she had just said she loved him.

He lowered his touch to her chin, capturing it gently between his finger and thumb. As he stared at her, a wave of awed splendor rose from the deepest core of his being. “My darling,” he said very softly, “I never loved either of them the way I love you.”

He heard her soft intake of breath and watched her blue eyes fill with agonized hope.

“You—love me?” she whispered.

He couldn't take his eyes off her. The words flowed from his lips, straight from his heart. “Georgiana, I loved you from the first moment I saw you go tearing through the spice market on that white horse. I had no idea who you were, except that you were the boldest, maddest, most beautiful creature I had ever seen. And now that I do know you, you're a thousand times more beautiful still.”

She let out a wonder-struck laugh, brilliant tears suddenly shining in her eyes like diamonds. Without warning, she launched herself into his arms, hugging him hard, while her frantic whispers spilled joyously into his ear. “Marry me. Yes. I want to marry you, Ian. I want us to be together always.”