Chapter 23 #2
“For now,” she added ambivalently, “isn’t that what we agreed?”
She lifted her head and drew away. Keaton felt the absence keenly. Suddenly, he pulled her back into his embrace, picking her up bodily and depositing her on his lap.
Georgia laughed softly as he buried his face in her breasts.
They were completely exposed now, free of the dress that almost didn’t cover them at all.
Keaton kissed and felt her shudder with desire, wrapping her arms about him, pulling him closer still.
He explored the contours of her curves, first through the sheer fabric and then beneath it, finding entry points where his hands could sample of her perfect, pale flesh.
She pulled his head back by the hair with a firm grip and kissed him. It was long and slow, languorous and deep. Keaton tugged the dress down her sides until it rested on her hips. He traced cold fingertips up her back, glorying as she arched her spine against his graze like a cat.
“For now,” he echoed, but without conviction.
It implied the arrival of a time when he would have no claim over her. A time when she might find another. He should have been able to distance himself, given the terms of their arrangement, to be ambivalent to that idea. But he was not. Far from it.
I am feeling possessive simply because the world sees her as my wife. I know there is no truth to it. Then why do I not instruct Thorne to put all of his resources into the search for this brother of hers?
“We are almost there. What do you think the Duchess of Bath and her guests will make of me?” Georgia whispered hesitantly.
“You sound anxious. If you were, then why do it in the first place?”
She laughed softly. “A silly idea cooked up between Hermione and myself. We made a list. Of things that I wished to accomplish or experience before this all comes to an end, and with it my freedom.”
“Your freedom? You make it sound like you will be leaving Westvale for Newgate Prison.”
“Silverton is worse than Newgate,” Georgia said solemnly.
“Do not exaggerate. You will have your freedom at Silverton. It may not be as much as at Westvale, but it is different to gaol.”
“At Silverton, I cannot eat if my Aunt and Uncle decide I should not. I will be forced to marry based on their needs, regardless of how cruel and unsuitable the husband may be. I can be punished if I anger them. A prisoner will not be forced to marry. That is a difference, I grant you that.”
Keaton was silent for a moment.
“I will not send you back to that,” he said finally.
“That is sweet, but how will you prevent it? When Westvale is no longer my home, I must have shelter. I must eat. Silverton may be a veritable prison, but I do not doubt that it is preferable to a poor house.”
“It will not come to that.”
“How can it not? Without my marriage to you, I quite literally have nothing.”
“So, you rely upon our arrangement for your livelihood?” Keaton queried.
“I did not enter into it in order to secure a livelihood,” Georgia answered.
“I think my Uncle believes it is so.”
“And do you?”
Keaton sighed, missing her body against his. Missing her arms around him. He breathed in, engulfed by her perfume, by the scent of her soap beneath that. The fragrance of her clothing. It all combined uniquely. As her.
“I have always been wary of those who seek to exploit the supposed weakness of a blind man,” he said at last. “I must always be on my guard against that.”
“So you do,” she murmured, unbearable sadness in her voice.
“No!” He exclaimed, then ground his teeth together.
The outburst had exploded from him without conscious thought. It was the purest instinct to refute her assertion, nothing to do with his logical mind. That part of him reasoned that her behaviour was indicative of someone who had set out to exploit him from the very beginning.
And has now admitted to it. This should be my opportunity to reiterate the rigid terms of our marriage and leave no question that it will be anything else.
But he could not bring himself to speak. At least, not to say those words.
“What else is on this list that you have concocted with Lady Archer?” he asked, not wanting to be pressed further on the matter, “I should like to be prepared.”
“I have achieved some things already. I drank too much champagne in public, for example.”
“That was on the list?” he asked.
“It was. I have never done anything like it and never will again when the freedom I have now is gone. It seemed like a good reason to include it.”
“What else?”
“To wear a scandalous dress in public.”
Keaton found himself laughing.
“Why is that funny?” Georgia asked.
“Here, I was thinking that your wearing of this dress was intended to entice me. How arrogant of me.”
“Exceedingly,” she agreed, a playful lilt in her voice.
“Anything else?”
“I want to go swimming,” she added after a thought, “somewhere wild and lonely. A lake or a river, perhaps.”
“I know of no such place, I’m afraid.”
“You do. There is a place you used to visit as a boy. On your estate.”
He tilted his head slightly. “I have told you, that place is out of bounds for me. I cannot safely navigate such thick woodland.”
“Not alone, certainly. But with me…” Georgia began.
Keaton looked thoughtful. The idea was not unappealing.
“After all, I can be with no one safer. I can swim nude and my modesty will be intact,” she put in, lowering her voice.
“Nude?” Keaton asked, wishing it was not so obvious that his ears had pricked up at the word.
“I do not propose to swim in my chemise.”
“That dress is practically a chemise.”
“Do you like it?”
“Exceedingly.”