Her Only Desire (41 page)

“What else died, Ian?” Georgie whispered.

“Any hope in me that I would ever know real love.” He looked at her sadly. “That same hopelessness drove me to bury myself in work. Perhaps I was trying in some way to pay for my sins by helping others make peace, though I myself knew none.”

“Perhaps that made you understand its value all the more.”

“Perhaps. All I know for sure is that working full-force for five straight years without halt, especially during such difficult times for our country—Napoleon and the war and all—I wound up in some strange sort of dark fugue, spiritually, I suppose you might say. Desolate somehow. Your cousin Bel suggested that I might be exhausted. But it was not a physical exhaustion. It was…something else. Deeper. An emptiness. And that, Georgiana, was what sent me wandering off to Ceylon, where I was trying at last to make peace with my own private demons—without much success, I'm afraid. And then Governor Lord Hastings caught wind of my presence in the region, and asked for my help in dealing with the Maharajah of Janpur. I answered the summons,” he whispered, reaching over and gently cupping her face, “and then, there, on the far side of the world, I saw you. Like the promise of love I'd always dreamed of, but never thought I'd know. I'd given up on hoping.”

“Oh, Ian.” She moved closer to him.

“You saved my mission in Janpur with your meddling, and now, once again, I find my fate in your hands, my sweet Georgiana.” He looked into her eyes in stark longing. “Can you still love me, even though you know now what a fraud I've been?”

“You're not a fraud,” she whispered, pausing for a long moment as she tried to absorb all that he had told her. “I think you're a man who tried to hold his family together with dignity, despite a huge and terrible betrayal. And you're a father who'd sacrifice what he holds most dear out of love for his son.”

“My honor,” he agreed barely audibly.

“But it isn't lost, my darling. It's right here.” She touched his chest, laying her hand over his heart. “And to answer your question, yes. Of course, I
do
still love you. I'll always love you. Never doubt that.” She gazed into his eyes. “Thank you for trusting me at last with your secrets. Now I can see why it took you so long to confide in me. If someone had done such things to me, I don't know if I could ever trust again. I love you, Ian. And I promise I will never betray you.”

“Does that mean you'll stay?” he whispered.

Georgie summoned up a tender smile. “What, leave you? And that darling son of yours? That would make me an even bigger fool than she was. I'm not going anywhere, sweeting. This is where I belong now. With you.”

He shook his head, looking stunned.

“What is it?”

“I was so terrified that if I told you all this, I would lose you.”

“No. Not telling me, now, that would have been worse.”

He nodded solemnly. “I understand.”

She leaned closer and kissed his cheek, draping her arms loosely around his wide shoulders. “You know,” she whispered, “I don't expect perfection from you—even though, for some reason, you seem to demand it of yourself.”

He covered her hand with his own against his chest and leaned his head against hers. “Georgiana,” he whispered. “Tell me one more time that you'll never leave me.”

“I won't ever leave you, darling. I could never bring myself to go.”

He turned his head and kissed her face. She lifted her chin as he sought her mouth. Her blood caught fire as he gently caressed her lips with his own and took hold of her hip. She wrapped her arms around him, parting her lips to invite his deeper kiss. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and moaned softly as he pressed her back onto the bed with a smooth motion.

She knew his intent by the way that he kissed her—and she assented to it heartily.

“Never leave me,” he whispered again as his clever hands began deftly unfastening her bodice. “I love you.”

“I adore you, Ian,” she breathed, melting under his touch. She caressed his face and hair. “No one should ever have hurt you that way. But I'm going to spend the rest of my life giving you all the love you need.”

“I do need it. I need you.”

“Then take me,” she whispered, looking into his eyes. “I'm all yours.”

His groan was barely audible as his mouth swooped down on hers again in burning hunger, his fingers tangling roughly in her hair. He dragged her neckline down while she freed him from his cravat, in turn, and tore away his waistcoat.

“Hurry,” she panted.

“Wrap your legs around me.”

She obeyed eagerly as he lifted her skirts, then he mounted her in a fierce, needy, and passionate coupling. The whole bed rocked as they made love hungrily. She kissed him as he took her, certain she would never get enough of this man.

“Oh, God, Ian!” she fairly sobbed with pleasure, her heart brimming.

“I want to start over,” he whispered fiercely. “I want a whole new life with you. Let's have a child.”

“Whatever you want, I will do it.”

“Sweeting.” He slowed, paused, stroked her flushed, perspiring face for a second, and looked into her eyes, a misty sheen of tears creeping into his for a fleeting instant. “I'm so sorry I hid so much from you. I won't ever do it again.”

“I forgive you, love.”

“I just thank God you believe me.”

“Of course I do.” She captured his hand and linked her fingers through his. “Just don't keep secrets from me anymore.”

He shook his head, the coltish forelock of his hair falling into his eyes. “I won't. You have my word.”

“The word of a gentleman,” she answered with an unabashedly doting caress.

But the little smile he sent her from under his dark forelock filled her with that particular brand of thrill that only Ian Prescott could inspire in her. “Not always,” he whispered.

“Thank goodness for that!” she declared. Then she laughed in luxurious pleasure as he proceeded to show her what a very bad boy he could be.

         
EPILOGUE
         

I
n the quayside hubbub of the Thames docks at London, smells from the fish market hung on the close summer air, while swirling seagulls cawed for scraps. The summer sun glinted in bright flashes on the deep olive river as innumerable small skiffs and fishing boats scuttled among the great square-rigged ships. From the nearby docks, where Georgie and Ian stood with Matthew, each holding a hand, they could hear the rhythmic cries of sailors throwing more muscle into their tasks.

They had left Aylesworth Park only a few days ago, hastening to Town after receiving word that her brothers' arrival was imminent. Her father, Lord Arthur Knight, was expected to appear with Derek and Gabriel. According to his letter, Papa had managed to join her brothers when their ship had docked at Portugal to unload some Indian cargoes.

Now the three Prescotts watched the ships eagerly, Ian pointing out noteworthy sights to his son. In all, they made a very proper English family, Georgie mused, holding a parasol over her bonneted head to ward off the midday sun.

They had arrived at the pier with two carriages: Ian's large town coach for the family to travel in, and a wagon to transport the new arrivals' luggage.

“There!” Ian said suddenly, pointing as yet another longboat full of disembarking passengers approached the pier.

Georgie drew in her breath, a smile breaking across her face. She looked on in breathless delight as her brothers and her sire soon climbed the ladder onto the docks. Derek sprang up easily, then turned to see if Gabriel required help; Papa remained below to steady their wounded warrior. Gabriel moved slowly, gingerly up the ladder. Georgie could only imagine how much the proud commander must hate his weakened condition, but for her part, she could only thank God he was alive.

“Why don't you go ahead and see them first?” Ian suggested softly, meeting her glance.

“You don't mind?”

“'Course not. Go.”

She gazed at him in loving gratitude—then grinned, unable to contain her exuberance. Handing off her parasol to one of their servants who stood in attendance, Georgie picked up the hem of her skirts and rushed to the pier to greet her family.

Papa was the first to spot her as he climbed up the ladder after Gabriel. Tall and hale, still handsome and robust in his sixties, Lord Arthur swept off his bicorn hat and waved it to her with a grin from ear to ear, the sunlight gleamed on his thick white curls that had once been as black as her brothers' hair was.

“Papa!” Georgie pounded down the planks toward them, dodging tattooed sailors and fishwives carrying crates of herrings on their heads, and in the next moment, she was in their arms, all of them hugging each other in joyous reunion. Georgie could barely speak, choked up with the knowledge that they had nearly been parted
permanently.

She turned to Gabriel, wrapping her arms around him in a gentle embrace. “I don't think I've ever been so happy to see you,” she whispered. “How are you?” When she pulled back a small distance to study him, her stern eldest brother only nodded, his lips pressed into a taut line. She cupped his jaw, noting that he was thinner than before, and a trifle pale.

The traces of pain had been stamped into his rugged face, but his dark blue eyes were as determined as ever.

Tears filled her own. “My hero-brother. You saved our lives and nearly lost your own. But now you're finally here, and I'm going to take care of you until you're strong again.”

“Good, 'cause I'm a little sick of Derek,” he muttered dryly.

“Hey!” their middle brother retorted in mock indignation as the others laughed. “Ungrateful bastard. He's had me waiting on him hand and foot!”

Gabriel cast him a sly grin.

“How now, where's my little girl?” Papa boomed.

When he opened his arms to her, Georgie lit up and flew into his embrace. “You old rascal!” She hugged her father hard and then pulled back to stare sternly at him. “No more adventures for you, sir! My nerves can't take it! Jack is going to have to find a new volunteer, because I'm not letting you go anymore. Do you understand?”

“Tut, tut, my dear.” With a fond chuckle, Lord Arthur pried her back and held her by her shoulders, giving her a once-over glance of distinct pride. “Well, look at you: Mrs. Married Lady!”

“Thanks to me,” Derek interjected.

Georgie turned, beaming at him. “
Derek.
Come here, you brilliant matchmaker!” She captured him next, and he returned her embrace with a roguish bear hug. “Sometimes, you know, you are the very best brother in the world.”

“Aren't I, though?”

She rolled her eyes. “Very well. Go on, say it.”

He flashed a charming smile. “I told you so.”

She laughed at him, shook her head, and hugged him again. He returned her embrace for a moment longer, neither needing any words to ensure they both understood there were no hard feelings left over from their quarrel upon leaving Janpur.

“How's the war going?” she asked, pulling back.

He shrugged. “It's going. Haven't heard anything since we left India months ago.”

“Are you still under orders from Colonel Montrose to lobby Parliament for more army funds?”

“Yes, God help me,” he drawled. “I told Gabriel I'd handle this one myself. That way, he can concentrate all his efforts on getting well. By the way,” he added, glancing over as Ian approached, bringing Matthew down the pier to meet his new kin. “King Johar found out about Queen Sujana's attempts to have us all butchered, and well, let's just say he took care of the problem in the Eastern fashion.”

“Oh, dear,” Georgie said, wincing at the amount of bloodshed that his words implied, but nevertheless, she was wholeheartedly relieved to hear it. If King Johar had ordered all of Queen Sujana's loyal henchmen beheaded or thrown to the tigers, or otherwise done in by some imaginative Eastern device, that meant there was nobody left to come after
them.
Now each night when she put Matthew to bed, she'd be able to assure the boy more convincingly that he truly was safe.

Ian was accepting handshakes and congratulations on their nuptials from Papa and Gabriel.

“Oh, look,” Georgie suddenly murmured to Derek, nodding toward their father, who had just been introduced to his new grandson. “Remember that old trick?”

Derek rolled his eyes and laughed.

“Right here, m'boy,” Lord Arthur ordered Matthew, holding up his palm and pointing to it. “Give me your best punch! Let's see what you've got!”

Matthew looked up at Ian with a puzzled glance.

“Go on, son,” her husband murmured, his amused look suggesting that he, too, remembered Lord Arthur's hallmark challenge from when he and all her Knight cousins were boys.

“Come on, lad! Have at you!” Lord Arthur urged.

Matthew knotted up his brow, drew back, and punched his new grandfather's open palm as hard as he could, at which, predictably, the old man let out a bellow of pain. “Oh, blast! I think it's broken! My, my, this boy's got a fist on 'im! I say!”

This, of course, was all part of the charade. Matthew looked around uncertainly at the adults and, slowly catching on, joined them in their laughter.

“Come on, Dad,” Gabriel muttered, clapping him on the shoulder. “That trick is thirty years old.”

“It's new to him. Isn't it, lad?” Lord Arthur gave Matthew a cheery wink and rumpled his hair.

Matthew decided on the spot that a real grandpa of one's own was an excellent thing to have, and latched onto Lord Arthur immediately. The old nabob, in turn, looked completely tickled by his plucky young grandson-by-marriage, and took the boy's hand protectively.

For a moment Georgie watched them together, her darling father and her small adopted son, as they headed off down the pier hand in hand; then her gaze traveled over her brothers' dear faces. They both looked glad to be done with their long and difficult journey. Gabriel still had a lot of healing to do, and as for Derek, though his manner seemed as wry and carefree as ever, she sensed a grim seriousness beneath his outward show of breezy charm. It seemed that nearly losing Gabriel had affected him more deeply than he cared to admit.

“Come on, everybody,” she forced out past the sentimental lump in her throat. “Let's go home.”

“Don't know if I'd call it home,” Derek said under his breath as he scanned the unfamiliar vista of London Town.

Georgie turned to him in surprise, lingering behind as Ian showed Gabriel up the pier toward the waiting carriages. “You plan on going back to India?”

“When my mission is complete, yes. Ah, don't fret, sis. We younger sons have to make our fortunes somehow.”

“Maybe you'll meet an English lady and end up getting married here, too.”

Derek snorted. “Why on earth would I do a foolish thing like that when the East abounds with dancing girls? Besides, I have to get back to my men. There's a battle on, you know. I should be with them.”

She gazed at him wistfully, and then he swept a gentlemanly gesture toward the pier, inviting her to go ahead of him. She did, hastening forward to direct everyone into the appropriate carriages.

“Are we all going to fit in there?” Lord Arthur inquired, glancing into the stately town coach.

“We're family, we can squeeze!” she answered brightly.

“Maybe not the best thing for Gabriel's wound,” Derek murmured.

“You all sit in the back. I'll drive,” Ian volunteered.

“What an excellent son-in-law!” Lord Arthur exclaimed, giving Ian an affectionate slap on the back as he strode past him toward the driver's box.

“Why, thank you, sir.” He flashed her father a charming half smile and waved his coachman off to ride in the servants' wagon.

“But, er, won't the ton be shocked to see the Marquess of Griffith driving his own carriage?” her father baited him with a knowing twinkle in his bright blue eyes.

Ian sent Lord Arthur a devilish glance. “Who gives a damn what the ton thinks?”

“I say, Lord Griffith! Such shocking sentiments from a proper Prescott.”

“I know,” Ian answered dryly. “It's all your daughter's doing. She's run amuck with all of our stately Prescott traditions.”

“Perhaps that is a boon,” her father said with a sage look as he lifted Matthew into the coach.

“Indubitably so,” Ian agreed. “Come, then. All aboard!”

“I'll ride up here with you, husband!” Georgie said brightly, bounding up onto the driver's box ahead of him. “If you're going to shock Society, I want to help!”

“Which is just as it should be—my loyal helpmate,” he replied, shooting her a smile of sardonic affection.

Then he helped her up onto the driver's box.

A moment later, as the four passengers all settled into the coach with a cheerful air—her father and Matthew and both of her brothers—they all plainly overheard the newlyweds' curious exchange from up on the driver's box.

“Give me the reins, darling.”

“But Ian, I want to drive this time—”

“Georgiana. Give me the reins.”

There was a long, stubborn pause.

Listening in, Lord Arthur furrowed his brow with the barest shadow of paternal worry.

But then the sound of a smitten feminine sigh floated down to them. “Oh,
very well,
husband. Take them, if you must. They're all yours—as am I.”

“There now, princess.” Suppressed laughter softened his deep voice. “That wasn't so difficult, was it?”

“No, not when you know full well that you're wrapped around my finger.”

“Oh, am I? I shall kiss that saucy grin off your lips if you're not careful,” the marquess purred.

“I dare you to try!”

Lord Arthur raised an eyebrow as a besotted giggle echoed down to them from the region of the driver's box, and indeed, it was some moments before the coach finally jolted into motion.