Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
The package arrived on Christmas Eve.
A simple white box wrapped with twine, no note accompanying it.
With butterflies erupting in her belly, Georgie took the parcel to her chamber and laid it on the bed, staring at it in pained silence before wrapping the end of the string around her thumb and giving it a hesitant tug.
Inside was a hooded cape the color of the lapis stone she’d nearly worn to dullness from her fretting caresses.
Trimmed in fox fur and gold cord, the cape was more lavish than any she’d ever owned.
More lavish than she needed. An intimate gift meant to send Dex’s jarring avowal like a dart straight into the fleshy center of her heart.
Make a list of how I should touch you, and I’ll eagerly strike each off…
Georgie pursed her lips and nudged the package closer. In the folds of tissue surrounding the cloak, she’d seen a flash of color. She lifted the beetle fossil from the box, brought it to her breast, and closed her eyes in anguish. Amusement. Fondness.
Blast him, the mischievous cad.
And a thief, she concluded, laughing until her stomach hurt. Because the fossil wasn’t being returned to a German museum. Along with her lapis stone, she’d never relinquish it.
Dexter Munro, what am I going to do with you ?
“You’re going to find him a duchess, that’s what,” she answered, blinking the hearthfire into view.
A mere hour from now, Edward Mullen, Viscount Lindley, and his family were arriving for a dinner party to introduce his daughter, Letitia, to the heir to the Duke of Markham.
Lovely, lively, wholly appropriate Letitia. Handsome, clever, wholly available Dex.
They would make a gorgeous couple, have gorgeous children.
Live a gorgeous life.
The only wrinkle in the plan being he’d told her he wanted her .
Georgie. His childhood friend. The scrap of a girl who’d tripped along behind him on a thousand artless adventures, hanging on his every word, recording his every move until she knew him better than she knew herself.
In the end, she’d married out of necessity, like Dex was set to do.
She’d survived her heart being smashed to bits.
In any case, he couldn’t possibly feel for her what she’d once felt for him; he would survive her gentle rebuff.
The love she’d felt then could only belong to an impressionable girl, someone able to give entirely without knowledge about how vile relationships could be.
Under the guise of matrimony, how much one had to lose.
How one could be hurt, damaged, changed.
You’re bitter, Georgiana comprehended with a pulse of astonishment that had her slumping to the bed.
You’re letting that horse’s arse win. She flopped to her back, arms outstretched, the fossil still clutched tightly in her fist. The ceiling had a tiny spider crack she traced with her eyes to the dark corner of the room.
Her fury was fierce and precipitous, cleansing as well as harrowing.
Three years after his demise, Arthur still had his fingers circling her wrist and was squeezing as she dropped to her knees.
She flexed her hand, almost able to feel the pressure.
Dex’s passionate response, lips sliding along her neck, warm breath stealing into her ear, returned to her on a wave of regret and yearning. He’d told her while they organized his fossils: experience in every aspect of life lies in the details, and I love details.
Georgiana palmed her quivering stomach and swallowed deeply. What if, when she fantasized about lovemaking, images of Dex seized her mind instead of images of Arthur? Not the man of her dreams but the real man .
The resolution was easy.
Dex was a passionate man, and he, for his own reasons, wanted her.
She was passionate, she hoped, and she wanted him.
She could give him what he wanted, one night to satisfy both their needs.
One night to wash away Arthur and her unhappy marriage for good.
One night to show Dex she was a dream he’d created in his mind to ease the loneliness of being back in Derbyshire, the heartache of watching his father die.
She was merely a woman he’d once known well, no more, no less.
They could come together with no business arrangement attached, no contracts, no ticking clock, no weight of a hundred tenants on their shoulders.
Simple want and desire allowed out of a cage, if those things were ever simple.
Passion for passion’s sake.
Then he would be free to marry without worry he’d left anyone behind, and she would be free to never marry again.
For a potentially life-changing event, this dinner party wasn’t any better than the last.
The lady was lovely. Excellent teeth and nice hair.
Lavinia, Dex silently asked and sent a frowning glance into his wineglass.
Lydia? Not that he could address her this casually even if they were appraising each other like horses at auction.
He wouldn’t be surprised if Viscount Lindley asked to see his molars.
Dex threaded his fingers through his hair and gave the strands an exasperated tug.
Lord , he was surviving on little sleep and too many damn questions he couldn’t answer.
Dex thought of his father rapidly failing in his massive tester bed at Markham Manor and realized the solution to his Twelfth Night promise did not reside in Georgie’s leased dining room.
Unless you counted Georgie, and Dex didn’t think he could.
She seemed anxious for this match to take.
The veranda door opened, and he stumbled back into the shadows, a rough smack against chilled stone.
“Dexter Reed Munro, you’d better come out right now!” Georgie said in an angry hiss .
Dex finished his wine, placing the glass on the ledge at his side. When Georgie stalked past him, he slipped his arm around her waist and tugged her into the darkened alcove. “Don’t scream,” he said in her ear, his body moving in to protect her from the fierce wind. “It’s me.”
Her breath caught, her arms clenching. “I’m going to murder you.” She tipped her head, gazing at him from a circle of fox fur and gold trim. “A disappearing marquess is not reassuring, Dex. She’ll think you don’t want her.”
“I don’t.”
Her curse was one he was surprised she knew.
“You’re wearing the cape,” he mumbled like a man waking from a dream. His world dissolved into shades of blue and silver, a winter wonderland. “This was the real Christmas present, a little early. The stone was an impulsive gesture.”
Her mouth kicked, just the one side, so delightful a response his knees weakened.
“I don’t want her,” he echoed on a rushed breath, knowing he might as well be honest since Georgie was already mad about the entire evening. “I’m sorry. I know I must let my father know by Twelfth Night, and I’m running out of time, but Lydia wasn’t the one for me.”
“Letitia.” With a sigh, she let her head fall against the stone, her eyes drifting closed. Her breath fogged the air, tepid gusts melting over his skin. “I told them you received a note about your father and had to rush home. Apologies were made, ones befitting a duke.”
“It seems I’m not ready for polite society. Better with a pickax and a pile of rocks, as you said. Beneath the titles, there lies a humble geologist, though no one wants to believe it.”
“I don’t think I can help you with this,” she whispered and lowered her gaze. “Your search for a duchess.”
“Because I’m making it difficult?”
She paused for so long his ears started to sting from the cold. He had to get them inside before they froze to death.
“I would call it a conflict of interest,” she finally murmured.
Blowing out a dumbfounded breath, Dex grabbed Georgie’s hand and tugged her behind him through the slush, back into the house and into the first vacant room, which happened to be a cramped linen closet.
Pushing her inside, he closed the door and leaned against it, darkness swallowing them.
“We’re not leaving this cupboard until you explain your comment. ”
“You said you wanted me.” He heard her swallow, throat clicking. She exhaled softly, licked her lips if he wasn’t mistaken. “The other day, by the carriage.”
Like he didn’t remember slicing a vein and bleeding in front of her?
He walked forward, bumping her back into the shelves.
Grasping her hips, he drew her against his body, where it was very apparent he wanted her.
A flash decision, he resolved to quit hiding the way he felt about her.
He only had pride to lose, which wasn’t much when compared to losing her. “I remember. I did. I do .”
She gasped at the blatant feel of him, arching her back, a languid abrasion which made everything worse. “I can’t think when you’re touching me like this.”
“And your point is…?” His hands curled around her waist as he pulled her deeper into the curve of his body.
She wiggled with a staccato sound of pleasure, silky softness settling against his pulsing hardness.
Regrettably, he was fast losing his focus.
Take her , his body shouted while his mind grappled with more sensible options.
“Hold a sec. I’ve forgotten my question. ”
“Oh bloody fine, Dex,” she whispered, bounced up on her toes and slanted her lips over his.