Chapter 8

He kissed her very briefly and casually, a mere tantalising brush of the lips, as if it meant little to him, and then without another word he left, closing the secret panel with exaggerated care behind him. Georgie collapsed onto her bed with a sob that combined frustration and anger. Frustration that he had not done any more than kiss her; anger that she had so intensely wanted him to. And on top of all that, hot shame that he had known it.

She thought that Louisa was entirely correct: this was a man who could seduce you, and convince you it was all your own idea. It would not surprise her, she mused bitterly, to hear that women by the dozen had been known to beg him to make love to them. Perhaps he thought that she would do so, if not now, then later. Perhaps that was a part of the game for him.

Perhaps she would.

She had before, after all.

When he had turned to her in that room, in that house of sin and temptation, and accused her of na?veté and folly, some species of madness had possessed her. She had no other explanation for all that had followed. In that moment, she simply could not endure that this man of all men thought her an inexperienced little idiot, even if it was all too true. She had summoned a brittle smile and said in a low voice, ‘I was tricked into coming here, you are quite correct to guess as much. A friend, or one I thought a friend, brought me here under false pretences. I had no idea… But you need not fear for my virtue. I am not the innocent you think me. I am a widow.'

She heard the words she uttered as if someone else was saying them. She had no idea where they had come from.

‘A widow?' He seemed amused rather than sorry. ‘I offer you my condolences, madam. You must have been married and then left cruelly alone so very young.'

He did not believe her, and no wonder. But she was committed to the deception now. She cleared her throat, and blurted out, ‘I was. My husband died at Waterloo. We were only married a few months.'

‘Ah.' No trace of humour in his deep voice now. ‘Many of us lost dear ones at Waterloo. And many were widowed cruelly soon. You have all my sympathy. But that does not explain why, being brought here by deception, as I can well believe, you stayed. I imagine a young widow might well be lonely, but I assure you – and you must have seen for yourself – that you will find no companionship here. Or at least, not any kind of companionship that will be of use to you. Indeed, quite the reverse. This place is for those who know what they are doing, and despite your long months of experience, my dear, it is all too plain that you do not.'

She did not know why, but sudden tears stung her eyes at his words, even though they were spoken gently enough. He saw – he saw too much – and in a second he had closed the space between them and was standing perilously near to her. He put up her chin with a gentle finger and said, ‘Oh, do not cry. Unconscionable! I am sorry.'

‘You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm not crying,' she said uselessly, and sniffed.

‘Of course you are not; forgive me. I expect you have had a trying time, finding yourself abandoned here. Were you frightened? That can paralyse one, certainly. Outrageous of me to question you.'

Had she been frightened, in all honesty? ‘I…'

He shook his head. ‘You must be aware that you owe me no explanation.'

‘I know I do not. In all honesty… I do not know if I was frightened. Shocked, I suppose. But no, not really frightened. It's not as though I truly thought anyone was going to hurt me.'

‘Not unless you wanted them to.'

She choked, aware that she was blushing furiously and grateful for the mask to conceal it, and then said, ‘Yes, I could not help but see…'

‘Nobody could help but see.'

‘It seemed to me that that was the point.'

‘I am sure you are quite correct. And I expect it has been an education of sorts for you, but I think it is time for you to leave now. My carriage is at your disposal, madam.'

The formal phrase in such an incongruous setting made her smile involuntarily, her dimples creasing below the mask, and she saw the echo of her reaction in his silver eyes. He was very quick in understanding, she thought. Dangerously so.

‘Yes,' she said, ‘I should thank you and go.' But still she did not move.

There was a charged silence, which he broke by saying very softly, ‘But you don't want to. Do you?'

‘No.'

‘What do you want, then?' His liquid voice, his intent gaze caressed her, and she shivered a little as the fine short hairs on the back of her neck rose. She wasn't smiling now, and nor was he.

‘I don't know what I want.'

‘I presume,' he said, his voice liquid honey, ‘that, unless I have misjudged you greatly, you do not, unlike the lady with the deplorable taste in jewellery, desire that I, or anyone else for that matter, should lay you naked across the sofa and take a whip to you? If you do, of course, just say the word; I am sure it can be arranged. Most things can, I understand, here.'

‘No!' she said, the contrast between his beautiful voice and his scandalous words doing curious things to her breathing. ‘No, I don't want that. But…' She was not having this conversation. It was not real. Or if it was, someone else had taken possession of her.

‘But…?' The blunt word was a caress. How did he do that?

‘You said I must be lonely, and you were right.' As she uttered the lie, she knew that it was true. Hal had Cassandra, Louisa had Miss Spry, her brother Bastian had his Matthew, however complicated their life must always be; whereas she, she had thought Captain Hart loved her, but he only cared for her money. She was a foolish, reckless, lonely girl. That was the truth of it.

‘I told you, you will find no companionship here.'

‘Not even from you?'

She thought she had shocked him into silence for a moment, and she was fiercely glad of it. It pushed her to be more daring. ‘What did you come here looking for, sir? I cannot believe you were brought here by deception.'

His laugh was a little reluctant, she thought. Another point scored. ‘Hardly. I came here seeking… Well, there is no use in telling you, for I fear very much that you would not believe me. But whatever or whoever I was looking for, I did not find it. I found you instead, fair Rosalind.'

His eyes had darkened as he spoke, and she felt dizzy suddenly. He went on, ‘And you found me. And so you are either going to walk out of that door now, while you still can, or you are going to tell me what it is you want from me.'

A whisper, barely audible. ‘I said I do not know.'

‘Then I suppose I must help you. A kiss, perhaps?'

‘Perhaps…' she sighed.

‘Then kiss me.' He smiled maliciously as she looked up at him in surprise. ‘I will not have you say later that you did not choose this. Kiss me, if you want to, or do not.'

‘You don't want to kiss me?'

‘Oh, you are spoilt! Do not make me regret the whip. My desires are not at issue here, but yours. Own them.'

He would not make it easy for her, it was plain. She stood on her tiptoes and took his face in her hands. ‘It is true that I am spoilt,' she said. ‘I know it, and I have been trying to overcome it.' And then she kissed him.

Georgie had been kissed before, but she had not kissed. A lady did not take the lead in such matters. Until she did, it seemed. She was a little unsure for a second, but then sensation and instinct took over. She brushed his sensual lower lip with hers, and then tasted it more fully. She opened her mouth a little wider, and deepened the kiss. His lips were warm and surprisingly soft, and she felt the slightest prickle of evening stubble under her palms as she cupped his face. She feared he would never respond to her – perhaps she did not please him – but just as that thought was about to freeze her into mortified immobility he made a low sound, almost a growl, against her lips, and everything changed. He came alive under her mouth, and an electric current seemed to pass between them.

An instant later they were devouring each other, open-mouthed, and she felt his big hands slide to her buttocks, capturing them, pulling her closer. She should have been shocked by his presumption, by the sudden intimacy of his hands on her, but she was not. She liked it, all of it. She moulded her body eagerly to his and fastened her hands deep in his hair, giving herself up to the embrace and the sensations it aroused in her.

When at last their lips separated, they were both breathing hard. He did not release her, but held her still in a firm grip. His hands had slid up to her back now, under her jacket, warm on her skin through her thin shirt, and their faces were still very close. She could feel his breath on her cheek. He smelled of sandalwood and leather and spiced orange soap. He smelled edible.

‘And was that what you wanted?' he whispered, and she thought that despite the ever-present note of mockery his voice was not quite steady. He had a great deal of control over himself, it seemed, but it was not quite perfect.

‘Yes.' It certainly seemed as though it was.

‘And was that all that you wanted?'

It was not enough for him – she could feel the evidence of it, pressing hard against her belly. It did not frighten her; it gave her a dangerous and illusory sense of power. But still he would not take control from her; still he would make her choose and state her choice.

This was the true moment of no return, she thought.

‘No.'

He smiled; a new smile, a wolfish one. ‘Say it,' he whispered against her mouth, and she shivered at the feather touch of his breath. ‘You need to say it.'

‘No, it was not all that I wanted. I want more from you than just a kiss.'

‘I'm not sure I would call that "just a kiss". Perhaps it was otherwise for you; I found it highly memorable. But very well, madam. I am entirely at your service. What do you require of me?'

As if in a trance, she heard herself saying, ‘I cannot do anything that would risk…'

‘Of course you cannot; I understand perfectly. But that still leaves a wide enough field of endeavour, after all, as I am sure you know.'

She did know, if only in theory. Georgiana had been cautious with Captain Hart, despite his increasingly insistent entreaties. Caution: it seemed laughable now. They had not gone further than kisses and caresses, which had been pleasurable enough in all honesty. He had told her, of course, what more they might do, in the hope of inflaming her passions so that she lost her senses, and had exerted an insidious sort of pressure besides. If she really loved him, he had said… But Georgie was stubborn, as a girl blessed with five brothers and no sisters must be, and perhaps when all was said and done she had simply not wanted it enough to take the terrible risk, had not wanted him enough.

Yet in this room, with this utter stranger, a man whose name she did not even know, who thank God did not know her name, somehow, it was different. She reached out a finger – she did not have far to reach – and traced the classic lines of his mouth, the sculpted upper, the surprising fullness of his lower lip. He let out a breath, perhaps in surprise, and then his lips parted a little, as if in invitation, under her touch. And then she boldly pushed her finger between them – he did not attempt to resist her – and ran it along the moist tender flesh inside. And his clever tongue came out to meet her exploring finger, and lick it, suck on it, and she shivered as he tasted her. The moment stretched. The most insistent of Captain Hart's caresses, his hands on her, had never made her feel anything like this. She remembered some of the shocking things that people, men and women both, had proposed to her a few minutes ago, before she had come into this room with this man. Oh, they had shocked her then, those whispered suggestions. It seemed a lifetime had passed in a few moments, and she wasn't shocked any more. Forbidden delights suddenly seemed much more tempting as they stood close together, her finger in his mouth, his tongue caressing her skin. She withdrew from him slowly, and said in the lowest of whispers, ‘Yes. Your lips, your mouth, I want you to…'

Something flared in his eyes. ‘Once again you have surprised me,' he said. ‘I congratulate you, for it is not easily done.'

‘I am glad. May I have my reward, then?'

‘Oh, yes,' he said. ‘Oh, yes, I think you may.'