Miller, Raine - The Undoing of a Libertine (Siren Publishing Classic) (26 page)

“You speak cant magnificently.”

“Well, Tom is my brother. You know then I learned from the master.”

“Indeed you have done.” Jeremy chuckled despite the circumstances.

“Does that laugh mean you’re ready to come back to bed now?” she asked.

“How could you even want me back there with you?”

“Because it is where you belong. And…we are the happiest of lovers, remember?”

His breath punched out in a gush. He hadn’t realized he was holding it in. “Still?”

“I am certain of the fact.”

“After that—after I was so rough in bedding you? How can it be, Gina?”

She set down her candle on the floor and deliberately plopped onto his lap. She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his chest. God, she felt and smelled divine, her hair just under his nose. He folded his hands together over her hip to secure her, the lovely warmth of her melting his cold dread instantly. Miracles of miracles, she wasn’t disgusted or afraid of him!

“My feelings for you will not be denied. I am right where I want to be, next to you. And I know you have never hurt me or scared me or made me frightened of anything you’ve done, ever.”

“But I saw your face! You had tears, and you looked stricken, and I marked your neck all up! I am so sorry—”

She put her fingers over his mouth again. “You misinterpreted what you saw.” She stroked his lips softly, the pads of her fingers following the curves. “Jeremy, I did have some tears and I may have looked stricken to you, but it was not from fear, rather the shattering pleasure—”

“Truly?” he cut in.

She nodded slowly. “Truly. I was in disbelief from what we’d done, and you took those signs to mean I’d been frightened and you tore off before I could explain.”

He took her face in both of his hands and just held it for a moment. “I adore you. And I only want to show you, but I made a bloody mess of it. Gina, I know I let my self-control slip tonight, and I fell into behavior I swore I’d never show to you.”

“You don’t want to be like that with me?”

“No.”

“But what if I want you to be—” She frowned at him. “Well, I suppose it is forgivable to let your self-control slip when in the throes of what…we did tonight.” He could tell she blushed even though the light was too dim to see it. “I know I had no self-control when it was happening to me.” She whispered the rest to him. “You should know that I—I liked it—the whole thing—and I hope we do it again sometime.” She kept her head down when she was done.

Can this be happening? Can she be real?
Jeremy was in utter shock at what she was saying to him. Could his beautiful Gina, traumatic experience and all, be telling him she liked what he’d done to her? Not offended by the hard fucking? Because that was what it’d been. He loved her, yes, but he’d fucked her all the same. But as impossible as he thought it to be, it seemed she didn’t have a problem with the rough ride he’d just given her.

He met foreheads with her and whispered back, “Are you real?”

“Yes.” She made a soft sound, halfway between a laugh and a sigh.

He had to shake his head in disbelief, rocking their heads together. “You amaze me and I don’t deserve you, but still I count myself among the luckiest of men.”

She snuggled down against his chest, and he gripped her a little tighter. “Do you feel better now?” She spoke at his throat.

“Much better.” He kissed the top of her head.

“Better enough to come back to bed? ’Tis like ice in here.”

“God, yes! For I think my arse is truly frozen to this marble bench I was stupid enough to sit on.”

She laughed at him and slipped off his lap. “Come on then. I promise to warm you.”

“Hmmm, I cannot wait to be privy to your methods.” He leaned in behind her to whisper at her ear, his mind running rampant at the idea of what they’d do to find warmth together. “You’re exceptionally skilled at warming me.”

“Thank you for the compliment, lover.” Georgina bent down to retrieve her candle from the floor, and as the flame was lifted, it illuminated the painting behind it. Her soft gasp caught his attention.

“Who is that, Jeremy?”

He put his eyes on the painting again. “It is my mother, Clarissa.”

“She was lovely, your mother. I can see you, in her. Your eyes are the same.”

“Gina, when you look at her, how do you find her countenance?” he asked.

Georgina observed carefully in the candlelight before answering him. “Well, she is beautiful but composed in a way that seems…well, almost sad to me. She does not look happy, I think. How did you lose her?”

“I was ten when I lost my parents, well, mostly just her. My father was always a distant parent, literally and figuratively. He left in my tenth year, and it killed her. Truly it did, for after he left, she died of a broken heart.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Now let it work; mischief, thou are afoot…

—William Shakespeare,
Julius Caesar
(1599)

Georgina looked up at the painting. In the daylight, the nuances of color were exceptional. The light brown hair and blue eyes so emotive of Jeremy. The son definitely took after the mother.

Clarissa Greymont, nee Bleddington, had been blessed with beauty, but not in love. She married a cad. Henri Greymont was a poor husband and even worse father. Jeremy had shared the sad tale when she’d asked about his parents.

Henri married Clarissa, the only child of Jeremy’s maternal grandparents, Sir Rodney and Lady Bleddington. Clarissa loved Henri. Henri loved her money even more. Jeremy was a product of the very first years of the marriage, when they’d actually lived together.

Henri spent the majority of his time philandering and racking up debts. Clarissa spent the majority of her time pining for her husband and welcoming him home with open arms, that is, whenever he deigned to return to it.

But Henri finally killed even that eternal optimism. When there was no more money to extract from her, Henri left England with an actress he’d taken up with. He wrote, saying he wanted a divorce. That was the final nail in Clarissa’s coffin. She lost the will to live and simply faded out of life. Within six months, she was dead. And even in her death, she granted Henri Greymont’s last request of her—an irrevocable dissolution of their marriage.

Yes, she was right to look sad in the portrait, Georgina thought. Clarissa Greymont was a tragic woman with a heartrending past. Yet, selfishly, Georgina could not regret the union, for without it, Jeremy would not be. He wouldn’t be in her life. He would never have found her, saved her, given her a life.

Turning abruptly away from those melancholy, blue eyes, she left the gallery for other pursuits, thinking about how lucky she was. She
had
married well. Jeremy was nothing like his father. He would never treat his wife and children in such a way…

* * * *

Jeremy returned from the day’s business. The dark, rolling sky, ominous above him, foretold of impending rain. He quickened his pace, thinking of Gina and what she might be doing. The tremor between his legs inspired thoughts of what he’d like to be doing with her. Yes, with the day so ugly, outdoor pursuits were not an option. How timely, he thought. What better way to pass the afternoon than in a warm, cozy bed—naked of course—and making love to his wife.

Pulling up to the house, he handed off his horse to a groom and took the steps two at a time. He figured the faster he found her, the sooner he could be inside her. With all the sex they’d been having, he should have been able to focus on something else. But no, not really the case. The more he had her, the more he needed her, and not always just for the sex. He just needed
her.
Needed to be with her, spend time in her company, be near her.

Handing over his overcoat and gloves, he inquired of the butler, “Clarke, where can I find Mrs. Greymont?” He smiled, thinking how much he loved saying “Mrs. Greymont.”

“Madam is in with Mrs. Richards, sir.” Nothing much ruffled Clarke. He was as somber as they come. His voice was all muted dignity and calm.

“Thank you, Clarke.”

A few minutes later, Jeremy popped his head into the housekeeping office after a short preemptory knock. There she was, head bent, furrowed brow, all concentration as she reviewed accounts with Richards. It made him all the prouder of her, seeing how she stepped up to her new role as mistress by learning the workings of Hallborough. So diligent in her efforts.

God, how she aroused him! Just seeing Gina now made his cock ache to be inside her. He wanted to stride over and sweep her into a deep kiss, and then carry her upstairs to bed, where he’d see her clothes removed slowly, and one garment at a time, until she was gloriously naked. Gina liked him directing her, taking comfort in his mastery at pleasuring her. And pleasure her he would. He’d lay her out on the bed and kiss every inch of skin. He wanted his tongue on her breasts, inside her quim, anywhere, everywhere. He needed to taste her honey again—

“Jeremy?” She smiled up at him, inquiring with a gentle look.

Caught again…thinking with your prick.

“Oh, hello. Sorry for interrupting you at your work. Just wanted to let you know I’ve returned. Made it inside before the rain.”

Christ, he was rambling like an idiot, and his cock was throbbing like a bass drum in a soldier band. He wondered if they could hear it. Thank heavens his jacket covered him. He was stiff enough to work as a coat hook for the damn thing in case he decided to take it off in any case.

“Um, come find me when you are done? Yes? I’ll be in my study.”

Flustered, he shut the door and got the hell out of there as fast as his feet could take him, the ache in his kecks subsiding only a little. He needed a drink.

The scotch soothed him some. Seated at his desk, he worked through some correspondence that had accumulated, hoping the time could pass quickly before Gina came to him. He was still halfway hard when the knock at the door came. His cock punched against the fabric. She was just behind that door. Relief at last! Maybe they could play in here, with the door locked of course. Perhaps, just possibly, she might want to try a new game…called fellatio. Jeremy’s mind went rampant with the possibilities of fantasies he only dreamed about with her, but so far had not attempted. He was taking a slow path with Gina, and felt that when the time was right, they would know.

He arranged himself in the chair, leaned back, spread his thighs, cupped himself, and slapped a very naughty, very randy look on his face. “Come!” he sang at the knock.

The sight of the burly Mr. Mills, his steward, coming through the door, killed the throb in his prick, that and the pain of slamming his knee into the desk as he jerked upright. A ripe curse greeted the steward who entered hesitantly after that salute, peering around the door to see if there was someone else already in the room with his master.

“No, just me, Mills. What can I do for you?” Recovering his poise, Jeremy gave in with resignation and just in time to be snagged into a discussion about some troubles with the tenants.

When Gina did step in some three quarters of an hour later, he was still tangled in pressing estate business. Both men stood to acknowledge her. She greeted Mr. Mills and tilted her head.

He felt like moaning, she looked so delectable. He smiled longingly and flashed a wink instead. “I’ll find you as soon as I’m done here. Where will you be?”

“The library…I shall be in the library.” She showed what he interpreted as a smoky glance in his direction and let herself out.

The snail’s pace of the business with Mills was near to making him scream. He needed to get the hell out of here and into bed with his wife! Still, it was another half hour before he could get rid of the tenacious man. At the moment, Mills might be as unwelcome as a stiff prick in church, but he was a damn fine steward and Jeremy was not stupid enough to offend him.