Pretty Persuasion (31 page)

"Are you all right?"

"Y-yes," she rasped, throat scratchy and mouth dry, startled by the sudden softness in his voice. Gone was the harsh insistence, the relentless confidence. His thumb stroked the underside of her arm where her flesh was bared between the edges of her glove and dress sleeve, and she could neither ignore nor suppress the shiver that went through her. Sensual memories tickled her skin, delicious but dangerous to enjoy.

Maybe he won't need to marry me. We could just have an affair. I could seduce him again. We could be discreet; no one would know—

No, no, no! What was
wrong
with her?

Pulling subtly away, she cleared her throat, murmuring her gratitude when Robert returned her lemonade. She took a full swallow to soothe her sore throat. Embarrassment stung her cheeks, and she could almost believe her wicked thoughts had been written on her forehead. Humiliation turned to self-disgust as she reflected on what had caused the scene. The coolness with which she treated Robert must seem put-on, indeed. And yet, for all that she loathed her lack of indifference, she could not banish the dismay that twisted through her at the prospect of Robert laughing, dancing, even flirting with her best friend.

"Lady Louisa," he said with a small cough. "The dance?"

"Oh, I um…" Louisa's cheeks matched her pink dress as she hesitated and threw a pleading glance at Georgie.

Her friend looked as if dancing with Robert was the last thing she wanted to do at the moment, and so Georgie came to her rescue. "I'm afraid Lady Louisa has already agreed to accompany me to the dressing room. Pray, excuse us."

ROBERT STOOD WHERE they left him far too long, staring as Georgie and her friend sailed through the ballroom doors and out of sight. Clenching and unclenching his hands convulsively, he was vaguely aware of curious eyes upon him. Making a fool of himself, he certainly was. But he'd be hanged if he gave a damn.

Did she enjoy torturing him? She ought to; it seemed almost perverse for her
not
to take pleasure in something she was so bloody good at.

Right. That was it. Plotting ways to get her alone with no chance to escape, he made a beeline for the door through which she had disappeared.

She had snubbed him for the last time.

"I WOULD NOT mind dancing with him," Louisa said in a hushed tone as they ascended the stairs again behind a small party of guests who had just arrived. "It is just that I know he really wants to dance with you and only asked me because you refused. The whole situation is so dreadfully awkward, and I'd rather not be embroiled in it."

Georgie winced at the faint hint of accusation in her friend's voice. "I'm sorry. I promise it won't happen again."

Louisa made a derisive sound. "And how do you intend prevent it? He has proven that he's not easily deterred."

"Don't worry," Georgie stated with confidence she didn't really feel. "I'll find a way."

The music and hum of chatter from the ballroom became louder as they reached the top of the curved staircase. Georgie took her hand off the balustrade, and as they strolled down the dim, candle-lit hallway, she reached up to pat her coiffure one last time, making sure the curls framing her face were still in place. The mirror in the dressing room had partially restored her composure, but now she felt fidgety again. How she would get through the rest of the night, she did not know.

As they passed the half-open door to the billiard room, a hand clamped around her arm. Georgie's heart jumped, and she gave a start, then whirled to come face to face with Robert.

"A moment of your time, Georgie," he said. "I wish to speak to you."

"What?" Her chest closed up with the overwhelming need to run, and she looked around desperately for an excuse. But the hallway was empty except for them and Louisa, so she only ground out, "Not now, Robert. Not here!"

He looked past her and said, "You will excuse us, Lady Louisa? It is a matter of utmost importance. I'm certain you understand."

He tightened his grip on her arm and hauled her inside the billiard room, and she only caught a glimpse of Louisa's wide eyes and gaping mouth before he shut the door and placed himself in front of it.

She jerked her arm away, surprised when he let her go. But then, he was blocking the door, so he had no need to restrain her. It brought the memory of Gretna back in a flash, his obnoxious behavior in the inn's parlor—and her own undignified responses. She would not let him reduce her to violence and foul language again.

And so she waited silently for him to speak. They were alone, she found with surprise. Apparently, no guests had fancied a game of billiards so early in the evening. Only a few candles lit the small room, shrinking it to a smaller, more intimate retreat, and she could not see much more than the outline of Robert's face, of his tall, solid presence.

But she could feel him, as if the short physical distance were immaterial. She felt his gaze on her, felt it move over her body, felt it in a shiver that went straight down to her toes. For weeks she had been fretting and agonizing, needing him and missing him. The feelings swept over her all at once now, every last conflicting emotion that she continued to suffer for this man. It sucked her mouth dry, drew the air from her lungs.

And she hated it.

"You're avoiding me," he finally said.

She couldn't stop the snort that escaped her. "Really, Lord Sheffield. You have the most annoying habit of pointing out the obvious."

He took a step forward, and she automatically backed away from him. "And you, my dear," he said ominously, "have the most annoying habit of remaining cool and unaffected while you toy with others' feelings."

"It's a ruse," she responded, then wanted to bite her tongue. It had seemed like a good retort before she said it. "And besides, I do not
toy.
"

"You could have fooled me."

"Apparently, I did." She sighed. "Is there a point to this?"

He advanced on her again, and she stepped backward until her bottom came up against the edge of the billiard table. He didn't stop at a respectable distance this time but came closer until his body's heat wrapped around her.

"You've been avoiding me," he repeated, almost a murmur. "What are you afraid of?"

Georgie grasped behind her to grip the hard table's edge. "Nothing. Nothing at all. I simply wish you'd accept my desire to be left in peace."

"I see," he scoffed. "So we're to ignore one another's existence then? We can't even have a civil conversation anymore?"

"We never did before!"

"We did, Georgie. We were friends," he said in a small voice, a hurt voice tinged with desperation that stabbed at her chest and made her eyes burn with unshed tears.

He was right. They had been friends. And it was moments like these when her fear of him succeeding in changing her mind swelled to monstrous, clawing panic at the thought that maybe, just maybe she ought to let herself be persuaded.

Was refusing him the right choice? Half of the time, she didn't even know anymore. She wanted her dream. But she wanted him, too.
I think that you must follow your heart,
her mother had said.
As long as you are certain you know what it is you truly want.

How would she know when she was certain? Was there any way to tell for sure? So many questions with no answers. It was enough to drive her insane, and it probably would, eventually.

While she swallowed hard, fighting the smothering feeling, he drew a deep breath and said, "What about—" He cut himself short, then tried again. "Georgie, is there a child?"

Her eyes filled then, and she could only shake her head while fat tears escaped and rolled down her cheeks. She thought the darkness hid them, but he reached up and caught one with his thumb. The tender gesture left her naked and vulnerable, and she couldn't stand it.

Tears still trickling down her face, she clutched at his lapels and choked out, "Kiss me, Robert. I want you to kiss me again."

His lips covered hers, unhesitating, and then she was finally in his arms, clinging to him as she had yearned to do for five interminable weeks. As he sought entrance to her mouth, she opened willingly, eagerly. Desire swept away the tears and misery, allowing her to ignore that this was a stolen moment, a fleeting pleasure as fragile as it was consuming.

A groan came from deep in his chest, and it lit the devil within her, drove her wild with wanting. She threw her arms about his neck and pressed closer, letting his warmth wrap her and take her away. Curling her fingers in his hair, she gasped and whimpered as he broke off to trail hot, wet kisses across her cheek to her ear. His head dipped to her neck then further down while she bent backward over the billiard table, offering herself to him wantonly, unashamed.

"God, Robert," she breathed as he reached her neckline, and when it made him look up, she exclaimed, "No, no! Don't stop! Don't—"

Her protest became a gurgle in her throat as he grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her onto the billiard table. "That's better," he said roughly, and then he attacked the sensitive spot where her chin met her neck, and she thought she'd expire from the bliss of it.

The hard, blunt table digging into her thighs brought with it awareness—that they were in her parents' house with more than a hundred people just down the hall, doing deliciously wicked things. On a billiard table, of all places!

Now and then, she heard footsteps outside the door. It thrilled her, excited her beyond measure, made her feel bold and adventurous. Reckless and, at the same time, safe. Safe from everything outside this room, from worry and consequences.

"I love you," he murmured hoarsely in her ear. "I love the way you smell, the way you taste, the way you move when I touch you, the little sounds you make…" He cupped her breast through her dress, and she exhaled with a soft cry. He blew out a harsh breath and said, "Like that. God, Georgie, you're driving me mad."

"I
like
you mad," she purred, then caught his mouth and kissed him again, hungry and unrestrained. It was the truth, for although her mind rebelled against it, his madness was infectious. His desire of her, his single-minded pursuit, his declarations of love—they left her feeling wanted, needed, and esteemed. She had let that feeling go in Yorkshire, had thrown it away, and she never wanted to do so again.

She arched against him, unable to get close enough to satisfy the itch to have all of him, every inch of his hard, sinewy body. He not only made her lose control; with him, she didn't want control. It must be the sweetest heaven on earth to be able to lose herself entirely in him. To be able to trust so fully.

Just as she thought he couldn't push her higher, couldn't possibly make her ache for him more, he slid his hand inside her bodice. He slipped it under her stays and chemise, and then his calloused palm brushed her naked, sensitive flesh.

Footsteps again—several of them, and louder. Male voices came from beyond the door. There was a click and a short creak, and she felt Robert jerk and stiffen within her arms, wresting his hand from inside her dress.

"Good God!" a man burst out, and the other voices silenced a few moments before someone else said, "What? What is going on?"

"An assignation?" a third asked with playful curiosity, and then the silhouette in the doorway stumbled forward, as if pushed into the room.

They filed in, shoving and clamoring to get a look, and with a muttered curse, Robert stepped back. Georgie's hands lost the support of his shoulders; his sudden retreat left her off balance and grasping at him. She toppled forward and released a surprised "Ah!" when her stocking-clad feet met the wooden floor with a soft thump. She hadn't noticed her slippers falling off.

Robert cupped her elbows, helping her right herself, then asked for the second time that that evening, "Are you all right?"

"Yes," she whispered. Not daring to look toward the door, she placed her palms on his chest and felt his heart race as fast as her own. "Who are they? How bad is it?"

"Oh, not so bad," he said slowly. "At least, not so bad it cannot be managed."

Letting out a relieved sigh, she drew away from him and turned. Six men loomed just inside the doorway, two of them carrying candelabras that lit up and showed the different expressions on all of their faces. Her brother looked thunderous, her cousin Edward faintly annoyed, and her cousin Hugo appeared one tasteless joke away from bursting into laughter. Mr. Cameron was shaking his head slowly, Anthony Balfour seemed emotionless as he stared at them, and—

Phillip!
Of all the times he chose the company of her brother and cousins, why did it have to be tonight? His eyes were wide, his mouth agape, and he looked altogether more affected than he had reason to be.

Oh, God. Why did it have to be him? She'd almost rather be caught by the very worst gossipmonger in society than Phillip. She couldn't breathe, couldn't move while she braced herself for an outburst.

"Gentlemen," Hugo said at length, "I find myself suddenly disinclined to a game of billiards. In fact, I believe we never even set foot in this room tonight. Far too many lovely young ladies to dance with in the ballroom, y'know."

He swung around and was joined by her other cousin as he made to leave. But her brother slammed the door in their faces, saying, "No one leaves until I have everyone's sworn promise that word of this will not travel beyond this room."

Assenting murmurs spread through the small group of men as everyone hastily agreed.

Everyone except Phillip. "You cannot simply mean to leave, as if nothing has happened!" he exclaimed. His frowning gaze went to the men at his side, then back to Robert and Georgie. He gave her a long, beseeching stare. "Lady Georgiana? You have an understanding with Sheffield?"

She shook her head and opened her mouth to speak, but Robert put a hand on her shoulder and cut her off with, "I scarcely think that's any of your concern, Rossemore."

"The devil it isn't!" Phillip growled, taking one quick, jerky step in their direction before stopping as if someone were restraining him. "If you are not engaged, then you have disgraced this lady, sir, and I will not have it!"