Suzanne Robinson (12 page)

“Bleeding hell! Do you mean to tell me that Threshfield allows her to run about with a musket shooting at people?”

“Only at those she thinks are spies.”
He’s forgotten all about the kiss. I’ll never forget
.

Nick strode toward the house. “I’m going to get that musket.”

“You mustn’t.”

“Watch me.”

Georgiana grabbed his arm, then snatched her hand back when he stopped and stared at her.

“You mustn’t,” she said again. “She has terrible fits if her musket is taken from her. She screams and throws herself to the floor and does harm to herself.”

“And you think this is a good reason to leave her armed with a gun? Women. They got no more sense than rabbits.”

“Don’t interfere,” she snapped. The villain had indeed forgotten their kiss. “It’s not your concern.”

He came closer, causing her to back into the tree.

“You’re my concern,” he said softly, “whether you like it or not.”

“Why?” She was too confused and upset to keep the tension from her voice.

She must have startled him, because he didn’t answer at once. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he balled his fists and frowned.

“Because I owe Jos my life, and this is the only thing he’s ever asked of me. We’re leaving for London at once.”

Somehow she’d wanted another answer from him. Taking refuge in maintaining propriety, she said, “No, and don’t think of pulling any barbarian tricks on me. Aunt Livy will take her shotgun to you, and if
you succeed, Threshfield and my father will hunt you down.”

He moved even closer to her, so close she could see the indigo in his eyes.

“Then I’ll have to think of another way.”

“I shall watch your efforts with interest.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement. “You’re coming all over stuffy again, George.”

“And you’re attempting to control me.”

He wasn’t listening. Rubbing his chin, he said, “First I’ll have to fix the sight on that musket.”

“I’ve already done that. I’m not a fool, you know. Aunt Livy helped me.”

“Excellent.”

He appeared to lapse into thought. He had forgotten what they’d done only moments ago. How could he remain so calm when something so unprecedented had happened? But he’d kissed women before. Lots. Perhaps having kissed many women made him less susceptible to this craving to have more of it. Perhaps he’d only been amusing himself with her because there was no one more appealing to attract his attention.

His gaze was fixed on the ground while he thought, giving her an opportunity to study him. A soft lock of hair had fallen down over his brow. It was a deep, warm brown, like antique wood. Sun-lightened strands formed a spray of polished bronze and amber through the darker hue. A fine, almost imperceptible frown line marked a path from his nose past his mouth. Straight, neat brows ran parallel to his mouth, which was wide, with slender lips.

There were sculpted hollows in his cheeks below the jawline, and a chin that would stop a ravening
mastiff with its belligerent firmness. It announced what she already knew about his character—Nicholas Ross was born to master those around him, or die trying. And nature had given him a body with which to accomplish his desires.

He was taller than Jocelin, which allowed him to look down at her. An annoying circumstance since she couldn’t intimidate him with her substantial height. His shoulders and arms looked as if he’d have no difficulty lifting his own horse. Unlike poor Ludwig, he needed no tailor to pad his coat to enhance his build. Nor did he need the corset some men wore to pinch in their waists.

Georgiana found herself wishing she knew what he looked like without his clothes. Society, breeding, and convention forbade her what she wanted. Ladies didn’t have such vulgar curiosity. She shouldn’t even be alone with this man, but nothing seemed to matter except the fact that she wanted him to kiss her again. He had appeared to like kissing her at first. Unlike many of her other suitors, Nicholas Ross had no interest in or need of her fortune. She already knew he didn’t seek connections in order to better his social position. His interest in her was for Jocelin’s sake and perhaps on account of boredom, but a secret part of her didn’t care.

How was she ever going to experience that amazing exhilaration again if not with him? Soon she would be married and then widowed. Widows who wished to take charge of abandoned children must have pristine reputations. But she wanted him to kiss her again. She wanted that so fiercely that the wanting trampled over the knowledge that she couldn’t compare
to the women he was used to. She just didn’t care; she still wanted him to kiss her.

The boldness of this thought summoned a blush to her cheeks just as Nick roused from his musings and glanced at her. Recognition and surprise passed over his features. She knew he’d sensed her interest, but he made no move toward her. He thrust his hands behind his back and kept them there.

“We should go back to the house,” he said.

“Mr. Ross.”

“Nick.”

She felt heat flow up her neck and face. “I—you … Would you—”

“You’re babbling, George old chap.”

She was so hot with embarrassment, her skin should be blistered, and she blurted out, “How do you expect a lady to ask a gentleman to kiss her? It isn’t done. And don’t call me George.” She shut her mouth when he suddenly dropped his hands to his sides and went still.

“You want me to kiss you again?” he asked quietly.

She bit her lip and nodded. He took a step toward her, then another, until he was so close, her skirts brushed his pant legs.

Without pausing he leaned over her and murmured, “Bleeding hell, George, I wish you hadn’t asked.”

Once more Georgiana felt his warm, supple lips working on hers. He pressed his body against her. Tree bark jabbed her back, but she was lost in heat and a growing titillation that escalated to near pain. She had never realized it was so simple. She asked, and he came to her as if he had no will of his own.

Her arms came up around his neck and she dared to kiss him back. She opened her mouth wide and drew his lips to hers. Pressing herself against him, she was rewarded with a muffled gasp and the surge of his body in a roiling column of muscle that forced her hard against the tree. His hands began to slide up her sides. One climbed the slope of her breast while the other clasped her neck. She was going to burn alive.

Then, when she was about to try to climb his body, he suddenly tore his lips from hers and sprang backward with a curse.

“No!” he cried as she reached for him. “Don’t touch me.”

“But why?”

He brushed perspiration from his upper lip and swallowed. “Damn it, you’ve put me in hell.”

“But I don’t understand.”

Shoving his hands into his pockets again, he clenched them into fists. “I know, and it’s bleeding difficult because you don’t.”

“Then explain.”

His eyes widened.

“Please?”

He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. Georgiana drew near and put her fingertips on the sleeve of his coat. For some reason her voice grew low and throaty. “Please, Nick.”

Drawing in his breath on a hiss, he shook his head. “I shouldn’t have asked you to speak my name. God. Who would have thought your just saying my name would make it worse?” He swung away from her, out of reach, and put out a hand to ward her off when she followed. “Bloody hell, woman. Stay away from me.”

“But I want—”

Without warning he was on her. He grabbed her shoulders and drew her up in a painful grip, snarling at her.

“That’s the trouble. I know you want, and I know you don’t understand what that means. Get out of here, love, before it’s too late.” He let her go so quickly, she stumbled. His voice rose until he was snarling with a violence that frightened her. “Go, my lady. If you don’t, you’ll be sorry. Run!”

He turned her around roughly and shoved her out of the woods. She staggered a few steps.

When she hesitated and glanced back at him, he came at her, gripped her arm so hard she cried out, and hissed, “Stupid, foolish. Run fast and don’t look back. Or you’ll end up on your back underneath me, and trying to marry old Threshfield will be the least of your follies.”

She understood at last. He released her and plunged back into the wood. Astonished and frightened at the same time, Georgiana lifted her skirts and sprang into a run, her legs churning. She reached the gravel avenue, raced across it, and dashed up the stairs of the portico. She kept on running until she reached her own door. Panting, she grasped the knob.

“Georgiana, where have you been!”

The earl was rolling toward her, his attendants following. His chair wheels squeaked and he stopped and poked his cane at her.

“You promised to come to luncheon this afternoon. Look at you. Your hair is falling down, and your gown has grass stains on the hem.”

Catching her breath, Georgiana found her spectacles
in her pocket and put them on. “Aunt Augusta has been shooting at me again.”

“Lavinia told me. She said she found her leaving the roof with her musket. Are you all right, my dear?”

“Of course.”

“I knew you would be. Augusta couldn’t hit Buckingham Palace from ten paces. Now, get dressed, my dear. Everyone is to be at luncheon today. We’re having it in the fishing pavilion, and I told Ludwig not to forget either.”

“I’ll be there, Threshfield.”

“Good.” He placed a shaking hand on her arm. “I’ve missed you, my dear. I’m glad you’re better.”

She patted his hand. “And I you, you old mischief maker.”

“You’re the only one who isn’t waiting for me to die. Did you know Evelyn and Prudence tried to get me declared insane last year?”

“Yes, you told me.”

“Might have succeeded, too, if I hadn’t had the most expensive solicitors in the kingdom.” The earl swept a finger over his eyebrow, then put both hands on the top of his cane and leaned toward her with his foxlike smile. “I should have told Augusta they were both French spies.”

“For shame, Threshfield.” Georgiana couldn’t help responding to his wily grin.

Threshfield laid his cane across his lap and signaled to his attendants. As he rolled away, he said, “I’ll send for Dr. Sanderson and have him prescribe something to calm Augusta. She’s been so excitable since we announced our engagement.”

Georgiana slipped inside her room and leaned against the door. Her face burned, and she tingled
with exhilaration. Rebecca walked in from the bedroom carrying a dressing gown and saw her.

“Oh, my lady, you’re a mess.”

“I know, Rebecca. I know. Is my bath ready? Good. I’m going to soak. Don’t interrupt me. I don’t care if I’m late for luncheon.”

She immersed herself in steaming water scented with jasmine, growing more and more confused the longer she remained in the bath. Until today she’d had Nicholas Ross entered in the catalog of her mind as an interfering bully. But then he’d spoken of his father and become human. And once he’d kissed her, all her neat categories exploded.

And he wanted her. She had been stunned by this discovery. He’d been tempted too. She could still see him, body taut with the strain of keeping himself from touching her, his face registering a pain she now vaguely understood.

While she’d been talking to the earl, she’d been conscious of a driving urge to find Nick and touch him again. Nothing seemed so important. Never had she experienced this compulsion that obliterated all other priorities, all other values.

He was forbidden. He wanted her to give up her life’s plan, a plan that would somehow make up for her brother’s tragedy. He thought she was a spoiled girl with unraveled lace for brains. But he kissed her as if his life depended upon touching her, and when he kissed her, the various guises he adopted vanished. He became something elemental, possessed of fire and the power to enthrall with his very nearness.

What was she going to do? For the first time she realized the true reason why young ladies weren’t allowed to be alone with men. If she’d remained much
longer with Nick, she wouldn’t have cared if they’d ended up on the ground as he’d threatened. How unfair of everyone to keep this secret away from women until they married. Now she realized why Jocelin had been so upset by her plans. This feeling she had for Nick was what he’d wanted for her. But Jocelin knew as well as she that her father would never want it for her with Nicholas Ross.

And what about Nick? How did he feel? After all, he’d sent her away. Georgiana picked up a bar of jasmine soap. Her hands worked up a lather, then froze. Had he sent her away because he hadn’t felt as she did? No, he’d certainly been as stirred. Ah, this must be one of the few instances in which he had acted the gentleman. What was she going to do? She didn’t even know if this feeling would last.

Damn her ignorance. She would talk to Aunt Livy. Aunt Livy had been married. There were rumors of her having loved a dashing young officer in the Horse Guards long ago. She would speak to Aunt Livy tonight when she retired.

Feeling unsettled and anxious at having to face Nick at luncheon, Georgiana dressed and found that she wasn’t late at all. Aunt Livy stopped by to collect her, and together they went out to the back lawn.

“You were with Mr. Ross on the lawn just now.”

“Aunt Livy, is there no privacy in this house?”

“None. Be careful, Georgiana. You’ve little experience with men like Mr. Ross.”

“You mean he’s not a gentleman.”

Lavinia put on her bonnet and tied its wide ribbons as they crossed the lawn. “No. I mean you’ve little experience with a man who can make women’s mouths water simply by unbuttoning his coat.”

“Aunt Livy!”

“That man is dangerous, child. A few years ago Lady Drille left her husband of twenty-three years to chase after him, and he hadn’t even tried to seduce her. I admit Mary Drille is a selfish and soft-brained fool, but you take my point.”

“Yes, Aunt Livy. I’ll be careful.”

Opening their parasols, they walked to the lake where the family was gathering to take boats across to the pavilion that seemed to float in the glassy water like some gleaming fairy-tale palace. Far beyond the pavilion the Palladian bridge spanned a narrower part of the lake.