Suzanne Robinson (19 page)

She would continue in her plans to marry Threshfield, the old misery. There were few other options. And, after all, what was different now? Very little except that she felt as if she had a dried-up, shriveled acorn for a heart. What else could she do but marry and gain her freedom? What else was there for her to do?

First thing in the morning she would make Threshfield get a special license. They would marry, and Mr. Nicholas Ross could take himself back to Texas. There she hoped he would fall prey to Comanches or rattlesnakes, preferably both.

Meanwhile, she had cried enough for now. Dukes’ daughters didn’t cry the whole night over lost
loves. Dukes’ daughters stiffened their spines and got on with the business of living, even if life seemed to offer only the prospect of unending, bleak grayness.

Using a corner table for leverage, she rose, listening for sounds outside the sitting room. All was silent. Nick must have given up. She would remain in the cabinet for a while longer, just in case he returned to accost her. Hearing his voice again would bring on more foolish tears. In the meantime she would rid herself of this cursed crinoline.

Georgiana struggled with her gown, hiking it over one shoulder so that she could reach behind her back and untie her petticoat and crinoline. The hoop and lacy covering dropped. She let go of her skirt, lifted it, and stepped across the contraption. Picking it up, she leaned it against the wall and draped her petticoat over a chair.

Sighing, she looked around the room for a lamp and saw one on a small Louis XVI desk. She took a step toward it. Her foot caught in the hem of her gown, and she stumbled forward, nearly ending up on the floor. She’d forgotten that the gown had been made for use with the crinoline, and that it dragged on the ground when unsupported.

She was gathering her skirt in both hands when she heard a soft rush of sound behind her. Turning, she beheld a dark shadow in an open window. It seemed to slither into the room and loom over her in less than a second. She was so startled, she failed to cry out, and before she could protest, the intruder was upon her. Georgiana gave a little cry, then filled her lungs for a loud shout. The intruder jumped as if surprised and clamped a hand over her mouth.

“Bleeding hell, George. That screeching would
make a ghoul piss in his shroud.” Nick moved so that he stood in a pale shaft of moonlight.

Knocking Nick’s hand aside, Georgiana hissed in a shaking voice, “Wretched vermin, you frightened me. Must you steal about like a criminal?”

“I must if you keep barricading doors. You and I got to talk.”

“We do not. I’ve no intention of speaking to you. Ever. Get out.”

“Now, George.”

She couldn’t endure his presence. Striding to the door, she tried to yank it open. Her hand slipped off the immovable knob.

“You locked it,” Nick said. “That’s why I came through the window.”

She turned the key in the lock and opened the door, but it slammed back into place when Nick put the flat of his hand on its panels.

She turned on him. “As God is in heaven, I hate you. Get out of my sight before I scream.”

“I didn’t do it, love.”

“What?” She was tired and confused by her pain and fury.

Nick kept his hand against the door and leaned down to speak softly. She could feel his breath on her bare shoulder.

“I didn’t stake a claim on you. I swear it in the name of my dead sister. Her name was Tessie. Did you know that? She died at the hands of a man who bought her for an evening. She was just a little girl.”

He stopped as his voice grew unsteady, then continued. “So, you see, I mean it, love. Tessie’s name is sacred to me, and I swear by it to you, because—because you’re important to me. Threshfield accused
me of wanting you and told me I should wait my turn. I told him to stow it. He’s an evil old bastard, and you fell for one of his mischief-making lies.”

“Oh.” She was trying to make sense of her feelings—relief, uncertainty, fear.

“Oh? Is that your answer? Oh?”

“Oh, dear.” She was going to cry! Dukes’ daughters didn’t cry in the presence of gentlemen.

He towered over her, a dark bulk that blocked out the meager light from the moon. “What’s wrong? You sound strange. Are you all right, love?”

“I—I thought you’d taken my story about married women as advice. I thought—”

“Did you, love?”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s so frivolous, and love isn’t. It’s most serious, I assure you.”

“What makes you think I mean it frivolously?”

She couldn’t see his face well. His eyes were dark, his expression severe, and she could barely get out her next words.

“Am I mistaken?”

“Bloody hell, yes.”

“Oh.”

“Oh again. Is that all you’re going to say?”

“I don’t know what to do. There were no lessons for this in boarding school.” Georgiana lowered her head and breathed Nick’s name on a sigh.

At first he didn’t respond. Then she felt a tug on her hand.

“What are you doing?”

“I told you not to say my name that way.” He
pulled her long glove off her hand and began to slide the other one down her arm.

“Nick,” she whispered. “Nick, this isn’t proper.”

“Hmmm?”

His fingers touched her wrist lightly, then skimmed up the back of her arm slowly, and she shivered. His arms came around her, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

“I would never do anything to hurt you, love.”

Georgiana heard the tension in his voice and lifted her head. He was staring into the darkness as if engaged in some agonizing inner argument. His body strained against hers, and his arms tightened around her. She sensed his turmoil and suspected the reason.

“Nick?”

He shut his eyes. “Bloody hell, don’t say it again!”

“But I like what it does to you.”

His eyes opened and he looked down at her, his lips parted in surprise. “Oh.”

“Nick,” she breathed. “Nick, Nick, Nicholas.”

She got no further, because his lips sealed her mouth. She fell against the door, and thsere he shoved his body against hers. Her breasts swelled against his chest, making her respond by trying to devour his mouth. Her fingers dug through his coat to sink into his back. He groaned and thrust his hips against her.

Georgiana felt a wave of heat burst within her and rush to her head. She had never realized the power she had over him, and now she had provoked an explosion, one so full of excitement and pleasure that she was afraid it wouldn’t last. To perdition with breeding and refinement. The feel of his body offered gratification incomparable to either, and she was going to have it.

His mouth was working its way from her lips to her throat, down to the tops of her breasts. She was surprised when her gown suddenly came loose and fell around her hips, and even more surprised when her corset followed the gown. Suddenly she felt cool air on her breasts. She was blushing, but it was too dark for him to see that. Not that he would have, anyway, because he was looking at her breasts.

“You are amazing, love.”

He didn’t give her time to answer. Bending down, he took her nipple into his mouth. Startled, Georgiana cried out. Lightning shafted through her breast and down her arms and legs. Her head fell back and bumped the door even as she thrust her breast forward and clutched his shoulders.

He nibbled at her, and she nearly went mad. Her nails clawed at his back. At the feel of them Nick cast aside his coat and shirt. When he came back to her, Georgiana stopped him and made him stay still while she stroked her palms over his shoulders in a wide sweep. His skin was smooth, and beneath it his muscles surged at the contact with her skin.

She came closer, slipped her arms around him, and raked her nails over his back. Nick arched, then rammed her against the door again. Her breasts swelled against his chest, and she felt crisp hairs prickle her skin even as his teeth skimmed across her shoulder and down to her nipples. Churning, hot tension was building between her legs, making Georgiana want to cry out.

He seemed to understand and his hands followed the ache. He caressed her hips as they smoothed her gown over them. Her undergarments vanished, but she hardly cared because she was too busy concentrating
on where his fingers traveled. Without warning his mouth opened near her ear, and she felt him breathe. It was as if his sweet breath pierced her body. A jolt of delicious sensation traveled down to the triangle between her legs. She gasped, but his breath turned to reassuring whispers. Murmuring her name, he stepped back, swept his gaze over her with a look of fierce appreciation.

Only then did she realize that he was as naked as she. Taking her hands, he spread her arms wide, backed her against the door and gently crushed her between the wood and his body. She felt him press against the ache between her legs and abruptly understood that this was the way to greater pleasure. He whispered encouragement while moving against her gently.

Soon his gentleness wasn’t enough. She widened her stance, allowing him to fit against her, and moved in her own rhythm. He followed her, his hips thrusting, his lips murmuring endearments against her mouth. Then, when she was gasping and clawing his back, he pulled away. She reached for him, but he was spreading her gown on the carpet.

Pulling her to him, he knelt before her and kissed the curve of her hips, her thighs, her knees. Then his tongue snaked a path up her inner thigh and touched her between her legs. His hands roamed over her to caress her breasts as his mouth began to kiss her. In moments her chest was heaving, and she couldn’t stop herself from sinking her fingers into his hair. She braced her legs apart and whimpered. At the sound Nick suddenly pulled her to the floor, parted her legs, and lay between them. Georgiana was desperate now, sinking her nails into his back and moaning. He raised
over her, thrust his hips against her to spread her legs farther, and stopped. She clawed at him, but he held back.

“Say it,” he whispered roughly. “Say my name.”

The word came out on a groan as he slipped inside her, and ended on a gasp at the pinch she felt. He eased his way into moist flesh. Georgiana felt the pressure she had been craving and forgot the pinch. When he began to move, she moved with him, feeling again the grinding, irresistible build of pleasure. He never stopped. Pushing against her relentlessly, his thrusts made the ache inside her swell and swell.

Their movements quickened, grew more violent. Georgiana grabbed his hips, lifted her own, and cried out over and over. As her cries subsided, Nick added his own as he rammed deeply inside her. She felt him swell within her body, then burst and release. She went still as she savored this strange new feeling of his erupting inside her.

Breathing hard, Nick sank on top of her to find her lips with his. He kissed her hard, then softened his touch and played with her tongue. She smiled, causing him to smile as well.

“Most improper, Mr. Ross.”

“Most delicious, young George.”

He nipped at the tip of her nose. She yelped and pinched his buttocks, starting a wrestling match. Georgiana twisted beneath him, dislodging him and climbing on top. She felt a rush of moisture from her body. She gasped, looking down.

“Oh, dear,” she said.

“It’s natural.” When she only stared at him, he got up, took her hand, and kissed it. “Come with me.”

She followed him out of the cabinet to her bedroom, where he helped her wash in the water basin. She bathed him with a wet cloth, pausing as it smoothed over a tight hillock of muscle on his buttock. She remembered the plunge bath and wondered if it was permissible to …

“You’re going to find out,” he said.

“What?”

“You were thinking of the plunge bath, wondering if people came together in the water.”

“How did you know that?”

“I know you, love. And, besides, I was thinking the same thing.”

“Do you think we could go there tonight?”

“Not so soon after the first time, love. Here, you’re too free with that damned cloth.”

He yanked it from her hand as she slid it up his inner thigh. She slipped her arms around his bare waist. He discarded the cloth and raked his fingers through her hair until it tumbled down her shoulders and back to curl over her bottom. Then he cupped her buttocks through the sheen of curls and drew her close.

Georgiana fastened her hands in his hair and pulled his head down. She slipped her tongue inside his mouth and sucked, following his example. In an instant she felt him stir and grow against her hips.

He lifted his head. “You’re tempting me, you little beast.”

Her hand ran down his ribs, caressed his hip, and smoothed across his thigh. She could feel the play of sinews and the fine hairs on his leg. She explored the texture of his skin where it encased his biceps, felt with her mouth the shiver that passed over him. Fascinated
with the way she could make him respond, she nibbled her way up his shoulder to gently nuzzle the bend of his neck.

“Love,” he whispered. “We shouldn’t. We’ve already done the forbidden.”

“I know. I couldn’t help it.” She ran her fingers down his back to his buttocks and squeezed.

Nick gasped, then laughed. “Neither could I, and I tried.”

“You did? Yes, you did. Why?”

He didn’t answer at first. Lowering his head, he kissed her shoulder, then sighed.

“This is a grave matter. I’ve gone against my own rule, and now I’m genuine damned.”

“We’re both sinners, but you’re not making sense,” Georgiana said.

“Let’s dress, and then we’ll talk.”

“You sound angry,” she said with growing alarm. “The more you talk, the angrier you sound.”

“Don’t come all atwitter at this late hour, young George.”

“It’s you who seems to be coming all atwitter.”

Aunt Livy’s call from the sitting-room door forestalled an argument. Georgiana hurried to the blocked door and answered.

“Come out of there. Threshfield has taken violently ill. He’s so bad, the housekeeper’s medicines haven’t helped, and we’ve sent for the doctor in town. Georgiana, he’s delirious.”

Nick joined her but said nothing.