No Gentleman for Georgina (5 page)

The moment those horrible words of confession fell from his lips, Paul wished he could take them back. Especially when Georgina’s expression twisted into one of utter shock. He had gone too far, let his emotional response to the East India Company figures and the memories they inspired make him lose his faculties.

Georgina was kind to him, but there was nothing more there. And now he had ruined everything between them.

“Georgina,” he began, intent on apology and minimization of this foolish mistake.

But before he could continue, she shocked him by launching herself forward into his arms. Her hands cupped his cheeks, and she kissed him.

For a fraction of a moment, he could only register surprise. Georgina was a proper lady in all things—and this reaction was anything but proper. But that surprise faded at the innocent ardor of her kiss, and he couldn’t resist what she offered.

His arms came around her. He cupped the back of her head gently, angling her for better access, and returned the kiss. At first it was chaste and closed-mouthed, but her lips were too soft, her breath too sweet, and he couldn’t help himself. He had to taste her.

He darted his tongue out, tracing the crease of her lips. When she gasped, he took the opportunity and slid inside. She stiffened only for a flash and then relaxed, first letting him slide his tongue over hers, then tentatively returning the passion in his kiss.

She was so innocent and yet she learned quickly, and soon she was delving into exploration with as much fervor as he felt. And it was too much temptation, too much desire that she stoked in him. He felt his cock beginning to swell, his blood beginning to boil, everything in his mind and body demanding that he strip her propriety away and claim her in some way.

He couldn’t claim. That would be desperately unfair to her. But couldn’t he give pleasure? Couldn’t he have that small boon to cling to later when Georgina had married some proper man and she would likely not even be allowed to call him friend? That time was coming, he knew it, and he wanted this stolen night to give him comfort when it was all over.

He slowly guided her back, toward an exhibit where an elegantly dressed wax figure stood beside a velvet settee. When he lowered her to the seat, she didn’t resist. Her kiss didn’t slow, she didn’t pull away. In fact, she let out a low, needy moan that made his cock even harder.

He knelt beside her as she reclined and slowly let one hand roam down her collarbones, her chest, until he gently cupped her left breast. When he did so, Georgina gasped and finally broke their kiss. She looked up at him in the dim light, her eyes wild and filled with both confusion and need.

“Paul?” she whispered, her voice harsh and broken.

He stared into her eyes, those beautiful dark blue eyes that had captivated him from the very first moment he’d met her two years before. “Do you want me to stop?”

He prayed she would say no. And that silent prayer was answered. She slowly shook her head. “It feels—it feels good when you touch me,” she admitted.

He groaned, aroused even further by the response. Some women would have done that on purpose, but it was the fact that Georgina didn’t know how stimulating her words were that made them even more so.

“I won’t do anything that will…ruin you,” he promised.

Her eyes flashed with something akin to disappointment, but she didn’t answer. She merely cupped the back of his head and drew him down for another of those deep, drugging kisses.

He took that as an agreement and went back to teasing her breast. Her gown was fine, but the silk was very thin and he could feel her nipple tightening, rising to meet him. How he wished he could strip her gown away and see it, memorize its color and shape, its taste. But they had no time for such slow seduction. And the wax exhibit, with all the figures watching them, was not the place.

Resigning himself to that fact, he let his hand drift lower, across her flat stomach and to her hip. She arched a little, murmuring incoherent sounds of encouragement even as her cheeks flushed. Of course they would. No one had ever touched her so intimately. A thought that gave him another shiver of desire.

He ignored it, ignored his own needs, and focused on her. He drew back and watched her as he slid his hand down her leg and began to inch her skirt up. Her eyes went wide, but she did nothing to stop him. Her breath was ragged and her hands trembled.

“You said you wanted something just for you,” he whispered. “To do something for your pleasure that would be for no one else.”

She nodded, staring at his hand before he slipped it beneath her skirt and started the slow caress back up her calf, her knee. When he touched her thigh, she let out a garbled moan.

“I can give you something just for you. Only you and I will know. I want to do that so much, Georgina. Will you let me?”

She froze as his fingers opened the slit in her drawers and he settled his palm against her sex. He held there, waiting for her permission. Silently pleading for it even though he would withdraw in a heartbeat if she refused.

“Please,” she whimpered. “Please do it.”

He grinned and moved, letting his index finger trace the slit of her sex gently. She was already wet and so hot against him. He wanted to dive into her, slide his cock to the hilt, claim her.

But there wasn’t a place for him there. So all he could do was make her come and store her look, the feel of her sex around him. That would be enough to feed his fantasies for many lonely years to come.

He pressed a thumb against her clitoris and she jolted. She jolted again when he glided one finger into her entrance. She flexed around him, tight and slick, and he nearly came without even being touched.

“God, you are amazing,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her. She relaxed at that now-familiar caress and only when she went limp did he begin to move his finger inside of her. He swirled around her clitoris with his thumb and pumped his finger in time.

Slowly, she began to moan with pleasure at the action. Then she lifted her hips to meet him. He took his time, allowing her to experience the intimacy of this breach, the building pleasure of his touch. He could see her working toward orgasm and he was mesmerized by it.

“Paul,” she whispered, her eyes going wide just as she went over the edge. Her body spasmed around his fingers and her back arched as she let out a low, keening cry. He continued to work at her, drawing the pleasure out for both their benefit, and only withdrew when she collapsed, weak and spent, against the settee cushions.

He stared down at her, her eyes filled with satiated drowsiness. She smiled up at him.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Oh, I’m so glad to have felt such a thing.”

The words seeped into him. She meant them, of course. He could see that she did. But the reality of what he had just done was becoming increasingly clear. Paul did not act impulsively. He had not done so for years. But touching Georgina, claiming her, even in this small scale, was impulsive beyond his wildest imaginings.

Now she looked at him in pleasure, but certainly tomorrow she would regret allowing him such liberties. When she took a husband and that man was not the first to pleasure her, she would think of Paul not with kindness, but regret.

What had he been thinking allowing his unrequited feelings for this woman to make him forget his place?

“I’m sorry, Georgina,” he murmured as he smoothed her gown back over her legs and stood. He offered her a hand to stand up and she took it with a blank, confused expression.

“Sorry?” she repeated as she watched him back away. He didn’t trust himself to stand so close, not when he could smell her on his fingers. Taste her on his lips. “Why are you sorry?”

“I went too far—”

“No!” she gasped out, the high color of release leaving her cheeks in an instant, replaced by chalky paleness.

“Yes, Georgina,” he said softly.

She stared at him for a long moment and her emotions flitted across her face as plainly as if they had been written in the darkest ink. He saw pain, disappointment, embarrassment.

He had done this to her. Because he hadn’t been in control of himself as he should have been. Because he had wanted to take pleasure from giving her the same. And oh, how he had.

But it had been a selfish act in the end.

“You don’t want me.” She turned away. “I did something wrong, I’m not experienced enough or pretty enough or—”

He stepped toward her with a gasp. “No, that isn’t it.” With a shiver, he reached out to touch her arm and turned her to face him once more. “Georgina, I swear to you, there is nothing wrong with you.
I
was wrong.”

“But what about everything you said
before
?” she pressed.

He shook his head. “All true, I fear. I do care for you, Georgina. And I did want to do this for you. I wanted to do it for me. But I should have thought it through. I was my duty to you to think it through.”

“Paul—” she began, but he cut her off.

“I am a practical man, Georgina. I must be. I know my place in this world and I’m not ashamed of it.” He tilted his head, looking at her closely. Drinking her in. “But your father would never accept me.”

She sucked in a breath as if she finally understood how deeply Paul cared. He wished she didn’t. It made him feel exposed. And it was not a set of emotions that would end in anything but disappointment.

“We could talk to him,” she suggested, but her voice was weak.

He smiled at her gently and reached out to trace her silken cheek with his rough finger. “Talk until you are blue, Georgina. We both know he doesn’t even like us to be friends, let alone for me to offer for you. And he is right that you deserve more than anything I could give. No, we had this moment.” He shook his head. “I
stole
this moment, Georgina. But it was selfish of me to do so and I hope you can forgive me.”

She stared at him for so long without speaking that he was about to move on her a second time. But finally she straightened up, steel coming into her eyes, and whispered, “If you want to convince yourself that what just happened was wrong, I certainly am in no position to stop you. But you cannot take away my feelings on this moment we
shared
, not stole. And if you try, Paul Abbot,
that
is what I will never forgive you for.”

He was silent, unable to think of what to say to her. But finally she turned away and began to stroll back into the exhibit area.

“Now, I would like to finish my tour, if you don’t mind.”

He followed her, his heart aching from the passion they had shared and the strength she had exhibited. But mostly from the fact that he loved her, and now that he had let the feeling loose in the world, he realized he could never pretend it didn’t exist again.

Georgina smiled at her maid a final time as the girl finished dressing her the next morning.

“Will there be anything else, miss?” Molly asked.

Georgina shook her head. “No. Thank you.”

Her maid bobbed out a nod and then slipped from the room, leaving Georgina to stare at herself in the mirror. She hadn’t stopped thinking of her night with Paul since it had ended just a few hours ago. No one had been the wiser about her escape and return. At least she didn’t believe they had. She could easily just pretend the night had never happened.

Except she wouldn’t.

She had played every moment they shared over and over in her head for hours. She hadn’t slept, she hadn’t stopped and she hadn’t been able to keep a burgeoning plan from developing in her mind. A plan she was certain no one in the world would ever approve of.

And yet for the first time, she didn’t give a damn. She had finally admitted to herself the truth that had been there all along.

She was in love with Paul Abbot. She had always been attracted to him, of course. But it was more than that. Over the years as they shared more, talked more, as she grew to know him more, attraction had given way to love.

And now that she had experienced his passion, his caring, his regard, she wasn’t about to lose it.

She straightened her skirt one last time and marched downstairs to the breakfast room where she knew Annabelle and Marcus awaited her arrival. As she stepped into the room, she stopped. Annabelle was seated at the table and Marcus leaned over her. They were kissing.