Chapter Nineteen
Georgina had rather hoped to avoid discussing the pesky matter of her virginity until tomorrow. Or, better still, never. No such luck. At least, she didn’t have to fabricate yet another lie. She’d done that ages ago.
She drew her hands to his chest and fingered his collar bones, eyes on her task. “We…er…did not consummate our marriage, and then you were gone.”
“I’m aware, darling. What I want to know is how in God’s name you talked me into waiting?”
“I didn’t. You did.” She peeked up at him. “It was your idea for us to wait, Teddy.” She held her breath.
“Mine?” His tone said he was having a very hard time believing such a thing, but one of his large hands began traveling over her back with languid strokes.
“You said you wanted to wait in case…in case I should become with child. As no one knew of our marriage, my conceiving would have raised a few brows.
“You also said you didn’t want to take the chance of our babe being raised fatherless—should anything happen to you on the continent.”
“I see.” Several seconds passed. “It sounds as if I was bloody magnificent.”
His answer was so quintessentially Teddy, a helpless laugh escaped her. Then she sobered. “You are magnificent. And I don’t think I’ve told you, but I’m so very proud of you.”
“Of me? Why?” He sounded completely flummoxed by the notion.
“Teddy, you fought for our country. You didn’t have to. Most noblemen of your rank wouldn’t consider doing so. And then you stayed—much too long, mind you, and I might never forgive you for worrying me nearly to death when your letters ceased right when rumors of escalated fighting reached me.”
As if of their own accord, her hands found their way to his nape. His skin was warm, as if he’d come in from baking in the sun. He smelled of warm male and that delicious Teddy scent.
His eyes narrowed and he searched her face as if committing her to memory.
No, as if he could not credit how she could see him as she did. “Tell me, again, Georgina.”
She started to repeat herself, but he cut her off.
“What you said earlier, when we made love. Tell me.” His face looked hard, suddenly, and wary, as if he doubted the extent of her feelings for him.
She cupped his face with one hand. “I love you, Teddy. I’ve always loved you. I will always love you. I—”
Her words cut off when Teddy claimed her mouth in a hard, possessive kiss. His arms tightened, locking her against him.
She clung to him, just as fiercely, reveling in the feel of his hard lean frame, his heat, his rigid erection pressing through her nightshift. Desire for him stormed through her and she ground herself against him, unable to restrain herself from seeking more.
A low growl sounding deep in his throat and he broke off his kiss barely long enough to grasp the fabric of her nightshift to swipe it up, over her head and off in one move, losing several buttons in the process.
Then he had her on her back beneath him, her legs parted, his hips pressed into hers.
He grasped the crown of her head, anchoring her in place as his lips sought and found hers in a voracious kiss.
She wove her fingers into his thick hair, hardly able to take in that she was here, with him, being kissed by Teddy, her Teddy. Hardly able to fathom he could want her, seemingly as desperately as she wanted him.
No. She more than wanted him. She needed him. He was as vital to her as air.
She shifted her hips, arching and shimmying until she felt the tip of his manhood snug against her sex. Then a wanton moan spilled from her lips and she could not make herself care.
Teddy lifted his head, half cursed, half groaned and reached a hand between them, his fingers sliding over that sensitive place he’d touched earlier. “Blood of the saints, woman, you drive me mad with hunger, do you know that? Is this what you want? Tell me.”
Shuddering, she parted her legs, granting him greater access. “Yes, oh yes, please,” she begged.
He loosed a wicked laugh, caressing her with his fingers, then the tip of his slick shaft. He rubbed himself over her opening, back and forth, back and forth.
The release she’d known nothing of until a few short hours ago hovered just out of reach.
Back and forth, back and forth, then, nudging inside, nudging, nudging.
Teddy brought his mouth to her ear, his harsh breath curling through her as his continued his tender assault. “Feels good, sweetheart? How good?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but she was beyond that now. She needed to reach that pinnacle.
And then she was tumbling over the edge into ecstasy, shuddering as a long, low, moan poured from her, building until Teddy covered her mouth with his, swallowing her cry.
He sank himself inside her, his fingers still sliding over that sensitive place, while he plunged into her again and again and again.
She held onto him, trying to match his rhythm, nails scoring his back.
When his breath turned ragged, she opened her eyes to watch him, entranced by the sight of him, his beautiful face a study in ecstasy and agony that stole her breath.
And then, eyes locking with hers, his own climax broke. He shuddered and ground his hips into hers, again and again, until, with one final thrust, his entire body went rigid.
Afterward, he bracketed her body with his forearms and gazed down at her so tenderly, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he beheld, she wanted to cry. Sensing he would not welcome any such outburst, she swallowed them back and said instead, “I love you.”
“Do you? Good thing, minx,” he murmured, dropping onto his side. He shifted about, finding a comfortable position, then slung one heavy arm over her and pulled her back into his front. “Because you’re mine. No more talk of annulment, aye?”
Exhaustion, utter satiation, and desperate joy helped to quiet the guilt his words heralded.
And really, she thought, snuggling into his warmth, what else could she have done?
She could not have left him at Bell Haven.
Nor could she have told him the truth about their relationship without risking him setting off on his own and refusing to take his medicine.
As for what to do now? Heaven only knew.
Perhaps…the time had come to consult with her friends in the Ladies’ Literary Society. Perhaps.
Georgina was floating on a cloud the following morning when she settled behind her desk to work. Floating and ever so slightly sore in places she hadn’t given much consideration to prior to making love with Teddy.
She propped her elbows on her desk and rested her chin on her folded hands, gazing off into space, reliving the delight of waking to find him buried under the covers and kissing her in myriad places.
Perhaps tomorrow she might return the favor, and kiss him in any number of places.
With a sigh, she set her lascivious thoughts aside and unlocked her cabinet. She withdrew her notebook containing the outline and draft, to date, for her latest novel titled An Immodest Arrangement. Then she slipped on her spectacles, and flipped to where she’d left off in her outline.
After reacquainting herself with the section, she began writing.
An hour later, her steady progress stymied when she found herself stumped on a word choice.
The scene involved her heroine, Lady Celine, a curly-haired and vivacious Londonite and her recently wed husband and hero of the story, the suave and delicious Lord Terrence.
Lady Celine had to tell Lord Terrence something not quite a lie, but rather less than the truth.
Tapping the end of her quill on her chin, Georgina leaned back in her chair. Mislead? No. Deceive? Definitely not.
She allowed her gaze to roam the chamber. It landed on the slatted shelf within her open cabinet—and the letter she’d received from her mother several days ago. The letter in which her mother made mention of Teddy’s father’s possible illness.
She still didn’t know if she’d made the right decision, not telling Teddy of the rumor concerning the earl.
She reminded herself it was just that—a rumor. Even if it proved true, what then? Teddy could hardly hare off to offer his services. He was, in actuality, in hiding from his family.
Still. He’d want to know. Georgina knew that like she knew her own name. After all, if it was her father who had taken ill, she would want to know.
With any luck, her mother would write back swiftly, attesting to said rumors being false, and Georgina could put the entire matter to rest, with Teddy being none the wiser and no harm done.
Come to think of it, she wouldn’t mind getting confirmation about Lady Catherine and Jonathan having formed a romantic connection, as unlikely as that was.
Bother. The idea wasn’t unlikely. It was ridiculous. The elegant Lady Catherine would never settle for a mere mister, let alone one who was as bland as Jonathan Arlington.
But that did not mean she might not set her cap for someone other than Teddy. After all, he had been gone now two plus years, and Catherine, though a year Georgina’s junior, was well into her marriageable years.
What was that saying? If wishes were horses, beggars would ride? She dropped her face in her hands and tried to imagine what advice Gwen might give her—about Teddy, his father, Lady Catherine, their fake marriage.
Likely, the woman would say something crazy, like “Try telling him the truth, dearest.”
“Oh dear, as bad as all that, is it?”
Teddy.
She glanced up to see him leaning against the door jamb, arms folded over his chest, studying her through heavy-lidded caramel eyes.
Her stomach did a neat flip.
Very deliberately, he straightened, shut the doors, and shot the lock.
Her pulse went into a gallop.
Gazing at her, a small smile playing at his heavenly lips, he strolled to the small seating area comprised of a sofa and low table facing her desk, then proceeded to drop onto the sofa in a recumbent sprawl.
Only then did she note the paper he had tucked under his arm.