Miller, Raine - The Undoing of a Libertine (Siren Publishing Classic) (18 page)

—William Shakespeare,
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
(1595)

Georgina couldn’t breathe. Her impulse was a primitive one, directed wholly by instincts. Her thoughts revisited another time and remembered other words…
Keep fighting me. That’s it, wildcat. Fight me while I fuck you…

She had little conscious control over her response. The urge to flee was all she knew.

“
Stop! Please, just stop!”
Did she cry the words out loud or not? She had no idea.

He did stop though. He stopped everything he was doing. Stopped kissing her. Stopped touching her. He moved his body off her.

Bolting up from the bed, she scrambled to the corner, slamming her head back into the bedpost. It hurt, but more importantly served a purpose. The blow brought her out of the unbearable chasm of fear and into the present moment.

Covering her breasts, she drew her arms around them and hugged her knees, burying her chin at the top. It stabilized her, gave her a point of reference from which to gain bearings.

Jeremy lay beside her, rolled onto his back now, an arm draped over his eyes. He breathed heavily. His wide chest peeked beneath the cut of his dark-blue robe. She could see the hair that darkened his chest. He was naked under his robe. And aroused, too. She had felt him hard when he’d pressed against her hip. Now she could see it. Well, see evidence of it anyway, underneath the heavy blue silk. A solid ridge lying long on his belly. His manhood. Big. Enormous.

He wanted to have it inside her. But she knew all about that, didn’t she? She’d been well schooled in knowing what a man did to a woman when he took her.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I—I am s–s–sorry for p–p–pushing you—”

“I meant your head. You hit your head.”

“I—I am fine.”
No, you’re not fine. You’re a wretch—a bad wife. You denied him. You pushed him away!

He was quiet, still as a statue except for his breathing. She couldn’t tell if he was angry with her or not. He should be angry. He deserved to be. She wasn’t keeping to her end of their bargain was she? Heirs, babies—she’d promised.

Jeremy left the bed after a time. God, he was tall. His big body looming over her, tense and quiet, he seemed to be waiting for her to acknowledge him.

Georgina held on to her knees, afraid to move. She braved a glance up at her husband.

His expression unreadable, he broke the silence hovering in the space between them, as thick as drying mortar. “Good night, Georgina.”

His voice sounded tight, but not harsh. He wasn’t even going to make recriminations for her failure, and she realized he was taking his leave.

“Where are you going?” she blurted.

“To sleep in my chamber.”

“I am sorry. Jeremy. I didn’t mean what I did. Please don’t leave.”

He sighed. “I must. I am. You need—” he stopped himself and raked a hand through his hair. “We are both very tired from this long day of travel. Try to sleep now.”

Then he walked out the door.

Tears flowed soundless for long minutes until sensibility returned eventually, and with it, mortification. Her husband had just walked out on their wedding night.

Unable to focus on the shame, she looked around the lovely room. The lady’s chamber—her room. Done in pale blue and gold, the colors suited her, the dark woods in contrast with the lighter fabrics.

A stunning equine portrait of two horses standing along the coast hung opposite the bed. It was so unique. She’d never seen anything like it before and had to wonder about the artist.
It belongs to you now.
And then it hit her. She was now the mistress of all of this.
And you don’t deserve any bit of it.

She hadn’t done anything to deserve what was now hers by right.
You’re now his by right. He has the right to bed you whenever he wishes.
And he hadn’t.
He wanted to though.

Jeremy needed an heir for Hallborough and was doing what must be done to get one. And she’d agreed to it. He had not hurt her or done anything disrespecting. Some of what he’d done had felt…nice. He was her husband now.
You need to be a wife to him.

Georgina got out of bed and poured water for washing. She cleansed her face of the salty tears and changed out of her rumpled nightdress. She brushed her hair for a long time and left it wavy and loose about her shoulders.

Squaring those same hair-draped shoulders, determination fortifying her, she left the elegant boudoir, lamp in hand, and made for the master’s chamber.

* * * *

Jeremy didn’t know quite what he should do, being that he was frustrated and disappointed and, quite frankly, worried.
What if she always panics like that?

First things first. He needed a drink. The scotch he threw back razed his throat in a fire that strangely served only to comfort as the heat burned all the way down.

What he did next, he really should have done before he’d gone to her. Maybe he might have been more in check and not frightened her. He figured it wouldn’t take long considering the state of his cock and balls. His prediction was accurate. Once he set himself to task, it didn’t take long at all. Prick in hand, Jeremy jerked himself as ably as any self-respecting gin whore could have done.

The release did help some, but not nearly enough. He crawled into his big, lonely bed after a quick wash and chewed on the dealings of the past hour some more. Not how he’d imagined it with her. And he had hours of imagining bedding Georgina under his belt.

Jeremy snorted in the dimness. What bridegroom tossed off alone in a chair on the wedding night? He did, apparently.

Now what? He flopped over onto his side. He wanted her. Both of them knew he was well within his rights to go back in there and have her. He could get her to submit. But would that be force? Or a husband exercising his marital rights?

Georgina felt badly. He knew she did, and her reactions were based on an understandable fear. She’d looked so distraught and ashamed with her knees tucked up under her chin. If he tried again, she’d probably yield, and most likely without much fuss. Once it was done, she would know what to expect and would see that there was nothing to fear, just like sleeping with him last night.

But he just couldn’t be that way with her. He didn’t want to force Georgina to accept him. He wanted her to
want
him.

Part of Jeremy was repulsed by her fear. By the idea of her equating
him
and his lovemaking with Strawnly and what he’d done to her. He didn’t want a woman in his bed that feared him, or for that matter, thinking about the man she did fear.

Rubbing his chest, he willed the dull ache away. Jeremy knew shame for his selfishness. He must face that he’d been the one to push her into marriage. Georgina was candid with him right from the beginning. She’d said she didn’t know if she could bear the intimacy. And he pressed her anyway because he wanted her so badly. He still wanted her.

Yet he was not without any hope at all. She had seemed genuinely sorry.
“I didn’t mean what I did. Please don’t leave.”

Jeremy would have liked to stay but knew it was an impossible notion. He simply couldn’t have remained in bed with her and held himself back. He’d had no choice but to leave. He didn’t trust himself not to take her. He’d find a way into that sweet cove of hers one way or another. What a goddamn debacle he’d made of this night. His cock to blame for all of it too. Literally.

The mattress didn’t feel right, about as snug as a bed of gnarled rope. He flopped again, changing sides once more, not at all confident he’d ever find sleep tonight.

Jeremy closed his eyes and tried to get comfortable, determined to reach drowsiness, and acknowledged that he would just have to try again tomorrow in the wooing of his sweet but reluctant bride. Opening his eyes, he looked up at the ceiling and made a decision. He would give her some time to adjust to being married. He could do that for her. And it would be worth the wait because Georgina was worth it. Jeremy closed his eyes once more.

* * * *

What beauty to be had in the male form. Sculpted muscle and smooth swaths of golden skin stretched out before her. Greedily she stared at Jeremy, asleep in his bed, and as strange as the notion was, Georgina longed to have him over her so she could feel all that beautiful skin next to hers. Hopefully her overture here would be met with interest on his part.

She lifted the lamp to see him better. He slept partway on his side, his arm flung out, tousled hair feathering his cheeks and forehead. He looked younger to her in sleep.

Georgina liked his lips, the way they felt when they kissed. His bottom lip was much fuller than the top and more so even than was typical for a man. Even though Jeremy was all male, there was something womanly to his lips, and Georgina liked them all the more. They were soft, too. Maybe, if she was lucky, he’d want to kiss her again.

She set the lamp on the bedside table and lowered the flame. She turned back to look and froze. Jeremy’s eyes glowed in the lamplight like blue glass and pierced right through her.

“What are you doing?”

“I want—I am to sleep with you, Jeremy.”

“I don’t think it is a good idea, Georgina, and you know why.” His eyes swept over her body and he looked hard at her.

“Well, I do,” she retorted. She fiddled with the belt of her robe, hoping she could still her shaking hands if she had something to hold on to.

“No. Please, I cannot keep from take—touching you.” Jeremy breathed hard like he was holding himself back. “If you come into this bed, I won’t stop this time. I will not be able to stop.”

“I know.” She finally got her robe untied. His eyes went to where the fabric belt fell away and then back up to her face.

“There’s no turning back. Georgina, you’ll get all of me. Are you ready for that?” The coverings slipped to his waist as he sat up. His long, ropy muscles tensed along the length of his body. No nightshirt on her husband. He was naked and gorgeous.

It was just as well, she thought. When Georgina changed out of her nightdress, she had chosen to put on her blue dressing gown instead, with one omission. She was just as naked underneath her robe as he was underneath his bed covers.

Georgina drew as close to the bed as she could and gave Jeremy her answer. Nodding, she opened her robe and let it fall.

Her husband froze for just a second before pulling her into his bed, and he mumbled something. It sounded rather along the lines of, “Thank God!”

She got her wish. Jeremy’s beautiful skin was pressed against hers. The lick of desire lit up in her belly, and she recognized it for what it was the second she felt it—wantonness.

Underneath him, Georgina surrendered to his hands, mouth, lips, and tongue. Jeremy was gentle in the way he asserted himself with her. And it was fitting and proper because he was her husband and had rights and privileges to her now. He could do as he liked.

Surprised at herself for wanting more of what he was doing, and by how good he felt bearing down on her, his tongue moving in just the right fashion, soft but firm, she forced herself to let go and float in sensation.

“You taste sweet,” he mumbled, flicking the soft roughness over her nipple, back and forth before covering the whole thing and pulling it up into his mouth.

Jeremy’s mouth was softer than she remembered, for he’d shaved his face smooth. He usually wore a shadow of a beard, and she had felt the tickle of whiskers when he kissed her yesterday. The sensation of her flesh filling his mouth, of part of her body being inside of him was stirring. Pressing on the back of his head, Georgina brought his mouth harder against her.

“You liked that?” He lifted his head and moved up to her lips.