Unraveling the Earl (19 page)

“I can’t,” she cried in pain and frustration.

“You will.”

Ignoring the gravelly command, Georgie used his next lunging
thrust to twist to the side.

Henry rolled with her, his cock buried deep inside her
cunny. His mouth claimed hers, his tongue sweeping inside to coil around hers,
to plunge deep.

Georgie met his kiss, stroking her tongue along his as she
curled her legs around his flanks, digging her heels into the backs of his
thighs, extending and spreading her toes until the last twinges of discomfort
fell away.

Henry broke the kiss and rose to his elbows, the motion
forcing his hips hard between her legs and his shaft deeper within her body.

“Look at me.” His voice was low and rough yet oddly tender.

She lifted her chin to meet his gaze, found his eyes dark
and gleaming, his face flushed, his mouth a firm line. A muscle beat along his
jaw.

Georgie placed her hand over the jumping muscle, drew her
thumb along his lips.

“I’m going to make love to you,” he whispered, his breath
warm on her flesh. “Slow and sweet.”

She shook her head in denial of his words and the promise
within them.

“Oh, yes, Georgie.” Something shifted in his eyes and they
grew soft as one corner of his mouth lifted. “Let me love you.”

“You mustn’t,” she breathed.

His fingers tangled in her hair and his thumbs swept along
her temples as he cupped her head, his hands holding her gently but firmly. “I
find I must.”

He dipped down and captured her lips, his tongue sweeping
inside to find hers, to stroke and glide as he slowly slid his cock from her
body until only the fat bulb remained.

Georgie whimpered in protest.

Henry dragged his tongue over hers and eased back into her
body at a leisurely pace that had her wrapping her legs around his flanks and
lifting her hips to hurry him along.

“Slow and sweet,” he chided before nipping her upper lip.

“No.”

Henry ignored the single word delivered on a wispy sigh that
could not, must not belong to her. Brushing his lips over hers, lightly back
and forth, he withdrew and slowly thrust into her body once more.

“Your skin is so soft,” he murmured, coasting his lips
across her cheek.

Georgie wound her arms around his back, her fingers spread
wide. His flesh was warm and slightly damp with perspiration. He shuddered
beneath her touch, a soft moan whispering from his lips to feather across the
fine hairs at her temple.

Again he withdrew from her body only to stroke back in, inch
by agonizing inch, seating himself firmly and rolling his hips between her
legs.

“Yes.” The word fell from her lips without volition as she
arched into him, grazing her nipples through the course hair on his chest.

Henry released her head to wedge his hands beneath her back,
his fingers finding her shoulder blades and tracing their contours. His lips
drifted over her jaw to her chin. “Such a pretty little chin you have.”

She tilted her head back and he kissed the pointy tip before
trailing his lips down her neck to the hollow beneath, where he stopped to dip
his tongue.

“Oh,” she gasped, drawing in a stuttering breath.

He continued onward, sweeping his lips over her collarbones,
one then the other, paying special attention to the deep crevices above and the
shallow dips beneath.

And all the while he thrust into her, his pace infinitely
slow, as if he had all the time in the world to make love to her.

Georgie tossed her head back with a soft cry when his lips
found her nipple and gently pulled the peak into his mouth to worship.

Henry’s hands flexed on her back, lifting her to him as he
sucked the peak deep into the wet heat of his mouth and twirled his tongue
around and around.

“Henry,” she whispered, tightening her legs around him to
pull him down as she surged up, needing more, needing harder and deeper.

“Not yet, love.” His breath blew over her chest as he turned
his attentions to her other breast, his mouth wetter and hotter.

Georgie was close to climaxing, so wonderfully close. She
only needed a few hard strokes, perhaps a nibble of the stiff bud he sucked deep
into his mouth.

As if to tease her, to torment her beyond reason, Henry
scraped his teeth over her nipple before lashing the peak with his tongue and
slowly gliding nearly out of her quim. He swiveled his hips, the engorged head
of his shaft circling her channel, pressing against her inner walls in a
delicious taunt.

“Please, Henry,” she panted, her fingers clenching on his
back.

He released her nipple and lunged up, claiming her lips with
devastating ardor. Taking command of her mouth, he stroked his tongue over and
around hers as he thrust his cock, hard and deep, into her body.

Georgie let loose a tremulous cry into his mouth, followed
by a choppy laugh, her hips rising and her arms and legs squeezing, desperately
pulling him close, and closer still, as she was swept into the sweetest,
loveliest, most decadent orgasm of her life.

On and on it went, wave after wave, until she was lost,
breathless and adrift in an ocean of sensations, the taste of Henry’s lips on
hers, the sound of his soft laughter mingling with hers, the feel of his hard
hands spread across her back and the wonder of his cock buried deep within her
body.

Henry lunged back and thrust deep again, and once more.

“Georgie,” he growled, lifting his head and pulling against
her legs gripping him tight.

She unwound her legs and planted her feet on the bed,
cradling his hips as he jerked his shaft from her still convulsing cunny and
surged to his knees. He threw his head back with a bellowing roar as his warm
seed shot over her belly.

And for the first time in her misbegotten life, Georgie
impulsively, selfishly, stubbornly, venally and wickedly wished she’d kept her
legs locked, that she’d taken his seed into her womb.

“You’re dressed.” Henry looked up from the ledger open on
the desk when Georgie strolled into his study just before noon.

His hair was slicked back from his forehead, his lips lifted
in a welcoming smile and a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles perched on his nose,
giving him the look of a young man at his studies.

“I didn’t know you had the need for spectacles,” she said,
crossing the room. “That certainly explains quite a bit.”

“What does it explain?” He whipped the glasses from his face
and tossed them to the desk.

“Are you balancing the accounts?” Reaching the window, she
pulled the heavy velvet drapes apart. “Are your coffers running dry from the
drought?”

“Hardly,” he replied with a chuckle, swiveling his seat
around to face her and stretching his long legs out before him. “Idyllwild is a
pleasure estate rather than a means for capital.”

“I have certainly found my time here pleasurable,” she
agreed as she swept her gaze over the rolling fields and hills that stretched
out beyond the window. “Rain and wind and thunder notwithstanding.”

“I have never enjoyed stormy weather more,” he replied, his
voice softening. “I was sorry to awaken this morning to clear skies and
sunlight.”

“I would imagine your servants will arrive shortly.”

“Ah, so that is why you are dressed to the nines.”

“I can hardly prance about in your dressing gown before the
servants,” she answered, turning to rest her hip on the window sill.

“I shall miss seeing you trip over the hem,” he teased,
patting one muscular thigh in welcome.

The man truly was blind. How convenient he must find his
short-sightedness as he blithely went about his life, viewing the world around
him as he wanted to see it rather than as it truly existed.

Georgie wandered over and perched gingerly on his proffered
thigh, wrapping one hand around his neck and tucking the other into the open
collar of his fine linen shirt.

“You aren’t concerned my servants will treat you with
anything less than respect, are you?” he asked, placing his hand on the small
of her back.

“Not in the least,” she assured him with a smile.

“I’ve only brought along the six. Critchley, who you’ve
already met…”

“A lovely man.”

“So it would seem,” he agreed. “And my valet, Davenport, who
likely will not be at all surprised to see you here, seeing as he witnessed my
temper upon waking to discover you gone and only a bloody stump left on the
pillow beside me.”

Georgie laughed despite the rather hollow pit that was
lodged in her belly and had been since she’d crawled from Henry’s bed after
he’d made slow and sweet love to her, leaving him smiling in his sleep.

“I would have left Cook behind had I known you would take up
residence,” he continued. “Your beef stew is far superior to hers.”

“And the other three servants?” she asked. “Is one of them
by chance a maid by the name of Betsy?”

Henry grinned before leaning forward to plant a hard kiss on
her lips. “You are the only maid with whom I want to dally.”

Georgie gave a soft harrumph to let him know she was not
fooled. The Earl of Hastings would dally with any lady he pleased, or more
specifically whichever lady approached him with a tumble in mind.

“There are two maids making the journey,” he said.

“I thought as much.”

“Sarah and Susan, twins I’ve inherited from Olivia,” he
offered.

“Twins, is it? Lucky you.”

“They are the devil, those two,” he replied, missing the suggestion
entirely. “Forever up to mischief of one sort or another.”

“Let me guess,” she mused, tapping her fingers against his
neck. “The sixth servant is a footman. But surely you’ve two carriages making
the journey, one for the earl and the other to carry the servants. And a
coachman for each conveyance? A groom or two?”

“Just the one groom.”

“Nine servants to care for one gentleman in a manor house no
bigger than a cottage.”

“And his lady,” he reminded her, pulling her close and
resting his forehead against hers. “His beautiful lady.”

“Oh, Henry, the nonsense you spout,” she murmured, careful
not to breathe in his breath, his scent.

“This morning,” he began, his voice soft and husky. “Making
love to you…I don’t know how to put into words the feel of you beneath me,
wrapped around me, your lips on mine, the sound of your soft laughter as you
climaxed around me.”

Georgie closed her eyes, feeling dizzy with the need for
air.

“I thought the time before, when I took you on the floor,
was the best coupling I’d ever experienced,” he continued, his hand on her back
flexing.

“Because you controlled me,” she whispered. “You ruled me,
dominated my will and my body.”

“It was more than that,” he said, pulling her closer,
angling his head and bringing his lips to hover over hers. “I was in control of
my desire in a way I’ve never been before. I unleashed the beast but held tight
to the reins. And you accepted that part of me, reveled in it even.”

“Yes.” Georgie gave up the battle and drew a breath, sorrow
and longing and bitterness seeping into her along with his minty breath and
earthy scent.

“But this morning, loving you slowly, feeling every touch
independent of the one that preceded it, of the one that followed, that
transcended any experience, any fantasy I have ever had. I want you to know—”

Georgie pressed her lips hard against his and speared her
tongue into his mouth, cutting off his words, knowing they would only come back
to haunt them both.

“Ahem.”

Georgie yanked her mouth from his and jumped from his lap,
spinning around to face the open door.

Critchley stood just over the threshold, his eyes trained on
the ceiling and a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Critchley.” Henry rose to his feet with all the arrogance
bred into him through countless generations, crossing his arms over his chest
and staring down his patrician nose. “You ought to know better than to
interrupt me in my study.”

“My apologies, my lord.” The ancient butler bowed his head
in a show of abject misery.

He might have carried off the forlorn look had he not
twittered beneath his breath and had his lips not twitched uncontrollably.

“Mr. Crotchety,” Georgie greeted as she walked toward him.
“A pleasure to see you again.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Buchanan.” The old man
studied the hand she held out as if he’d never before seen such an appendage
before taking it between both of his. “Had I known you were planning to take
tea with his lordship today I would have hastened the servants along.”

“Not to worry,” she replied, smiling at his attempt to find
a reason for her presence that did not speak of debauchery. “We’ve yet to enjoy
tea and would be pleased to have you join us.”

“I couldn’t,” the butler protested.

“Neither can I,” Henry said coming up beside her. “I must
ride out to assess the damage from the storm. And we must continue our very
interesting discussion of…er…”

“The part weather plays upon a master’s control of his
servants,” she offered just to bedevil him.

“Right you are,” he agreed. “Come, you’ll ride with me.”

Georgie peeked at him from the corner of her eye. Of course
he wore a wolfish grin, foolish man.

“Oh, but I do not ride, my lord,” she drawled, retrieving
her hand from the butler. “Your lesson of this morning aside, I am afraid I
never learned.”

“On account of her gimpy leg,” Critchley piped in.

Henry’s gaze dropped down to sweep over her lavender skirts
as if he might see said gimpy leg through the layers of silk and cotton. “Your
leg. Jesus, Georgie. That is why you—”

“Dismounted so quickly,” she interrupted, shooting a glance
at the butler to find him once more staring at the ceiling. “Please do not
concern yourself, my lord. Our impromptu riding lesson did not injure me in the
least,” she assured him quickly, laying her hand on his arm.

“You are certain?” he persisted with a frown. “I hate to
think of you in pain.”

“Honestly, my lord, my leg is paining me no more today than
it did yesterday.” Which was certainly true. “Ride out to assess your land
while Mr. Crotchety and I take tea.”

“I ought to check on the Porters’ cottage, seeing as how
they are away.”

“Porter and his wife have not been in residence?” the butler
asked, patently shocked. “But surely…you cannot have waited out the storm here?
Alone? Together?”

“I’ve only just arrived for tea,” Georgie reminded him.

“Perhaps you might see to it now?” Henry prompted when his
butler only stood staring at them with his mouth agape. “The tea.”

Without a word, the butler turned on his heel and hurried
from the room.

“Where were we?” Henry asked, tilting her chin up with one
finger, a mischievous grin pulling at his lips.

“You were riding out,” she replied, tucking her hand into
the crook of his elbow and wrapping her fingers over his forearm. “Come, I’ll
walk you to the door.”

Covering her hand with his own, he laced their fingers
together and led her from the parlor. As they turned toward the front door,
Georgie decided she’d never seen a smaller hall. Good Lord, the door was right
there, six, perhaps seven steps away.

Georgie shortened her stride, stretching the journey to
eleven steps she counted off in her head as her heart slowed until she could
have sworn it no longer beat beneath her breast.

“I shouldn’t be more than an hour or two,” Henry said as the
footmen, a tall fellow with hair as red as her own and blotchy skin, opened the
door.

Too soon. Oh God, it was too soon. “I’ll walk out onto the
porch with you.”

“There is an assembly in Deerfield this evening.” His words
seemed to come from a great distance though they walked through the door hip to
hip.

“Yes,” she agreed, blinking against the bright sunlight.

“Perhaps you would like to attend?” Henry pulled his arm
from beneath her fingers and hopped down the two shallow steps.

“With you?” Hope sprang, unwelcome and entirely unbidden,
and Georgie followed him to the edge of the porch, her toes dangling over the
paving stones.

“We could ride into the village together,” he replied,
turning to smile at her and she took the first step down, caught by the twist
of his lips and the merriment that shone in his eyes. “I’ll drop you off at the
inn to change your gown and you can attend with the Misses Brookes, seeing as
how they have recognized you for the fine gem you are. I’ll circle around and
arrive after you.”

“Of course.” She ought to have known the earl would no more
escort her to a country assembly than he would introduce her to his illustrious
family.

“We’ll dance a reel or two.” Henry’s hands landed on her
hips and he pulled her flush against him, his lips brushing over hers. “You
ought to stand one step above me more often. Makes it deuced easy to steal
kisses from you.”

“Borrow,” she whispered against his lips, her hands coming
up to cup his face as she trailed her tongue over the seam of his mouth.

“Hmm,” he murmured in appreciation, accepting the invitation
to deepen the kiss.

Georgie closed her eyes and gave herself up to the sensation
of his lips pressed to hers, his tongue sinuously stroking over hers, his hands
warm on her hips, his whiskers gently abrading her palms, and the silky glide
of his hair between her fingers.

“Come ride with me.” He broke the kiss and lifted his head.
“Come away with me my love and we shall all the pleasures prove.”

His words, the emphasis he placed on two of them, snapped
Georgie back to her senses and she stepped back and up. “Ach, off with you, you
tiresome creature.”

Henry grinned and released her, tossed a jaunty salute and
turned away.

Georgie brought one hand up to shade her eyes, her gaze
fixed on his retreating form, on the breadth of his shoulders, the shifting
muscles of his backside and thighs, and the dancing of his golden curls in the
breeze.

When she found herself counting his steps, she spun around
and retreated into the house.

“Perfect timing,” Critchley greeted with tea tray in hand.

“That would make for a nice change,” she replied, striving to
find a speck of amusement amidst the jumble of thoughts rioting around inside
her head and the foreign emotions battering beneath her breast.

Critchley’s right brow arched up in inquiry and she wondered
if he’d copied the gesture from his young lord before deciding it was likely
the opposite.

“It seems that each time I think my timing spot on, I am
proven terribly wrong,” she explained, hurrying through the parlor door so as
not to force him to stand about holding the heavy tray longer than necessary.

“You’re young yet,” he replied. “It’s likely you’ll learn
that time has a way of working itself out, coming full circle and landing you
just where you were meant to be.”

“Why, Mr. Crotchety, you are a philosopher.”

“Don’t go telling anyone,” he cautioned, lowering the tray
to the small table set between two rocking chairs. “Two sugars and more cream
than tea, if I remember correctly?”

“You’ve a fine memory.”

“Young folks nowadays are in a hurry to grow up, to spread
their wings and fly,” he said as he poured. “So certain they know the way of
the world.”

“To be sure, I doubt I’ll understand the way of the world if
I live to be a hundred years of age,” she replied, sitting in the chair that
afforded her an unimpeded view out the window.

“And that is what makes you wise beyond your years.” He
handed a cup and saucer to her and took the other seat, his bones creaking in
an alarming fashion.

“You aren’t having tea?” she asked, balancing her saucer on
her knee as Benedict had taught her during their first etiquette lesson.