3. Chapter 3
Georgiana
Louis Prescott was going to be the death of her, and she wasn’t even certain if the arse knew what he was doing.
The archery targets had been set up on the south lawn after breakfast, and Georgie had been doing a fine job of ignoring him until he stepped behind her to correct her stance.
His hand hovered near her elbow—not quite touching—and his voice dropped so low that it sent ripples through her entire body.
“Your arm is too low.”
She adjusted her stance. “My arm is fine.”
“You'll miss.”
“I won’t.” She released the arrow. It struck wide of the center mark, and his quiet laugh behind her made her grip tighten on the bow.
“And you intend to blame me for that, I assume?”
“Perhaps you are the one with the guilty conscience, my lord.” She turned and found him closer than she'd expected, the late morning sun catching the line of his jaw and the disarming crook of his mouth.
He'd kept his distance all morning—polite, charming, the same Louis who'd walked her to her door last night and said goodnight like a well-intentioned gentleman. When she had wanted him to shove her against the wall right there in the hallway. She'd lain awake for an hour afterward, staring at her ceiling, wishing he had done just that. And then she’d fumed, wondering if he had snuck into someone else’s chamber that night.
“Your turn.” She stepped aside without looking at him. “Since you think you are so skilled.”
He took the bow from her, his fingers brushing hers in the exchange. Her body heated, and she jerked her hand away too fast. He winked at her, then drew back and released in a single fluid motion. The arrow hit the center. Then he looked at her with that insufferable grin.
“As I said. It’s all in the arm placement.”
“Remind me—does archery count toward our wager, or only cards?”
“Only cards. Unless you'd like to add archery, in which case I'll happily take the advantage.”
“You're tied with me at the card table, Louis. Don't get ahead of yourself.” She plucked the bow back from him and took aim again just to have something to do with her hands. “What would you even dare me to do, if you won?”
His grin shifted into something less polished. “I have time to consider my options.”
“That's not an answer.”
“It's the only one you're getting.” He held her gaze a beat too long, and the warmth in his eyes had nothing to do with the sun. There was no way she was imagining it. “Some things are better left as a surprise.”
She wanted to push. She wanted to ask what was behind that look—whether he'd spent last night the way she had, replaying the moment at her door, cursing his own restraint.
Or worse, climbing into the bed of someone else to ease that ache.
It had been obvious that a certain widow had taken notice of him and would surely try to get him into her bed.
But before she could speak again, she noticed Thea and Maddie crossing the lawn toward them, and the question died in her throat.
The rest of the day was its own kind of torture.
She caught Louis’s eye over luncheon when Lady Hurst leaned too close to him.
He shifted away with a tightness in his jaw that gave Georgie more satisfaction than it should have.
During the garden walk she spotted him through the hedgerow playing lawn bowls with Wes and John, his coat discarded, his shirtsleeves rolled to the elbow.
It had caused her to lose the thread of Thea's conversation so thoroughly that Thea had to repeat herself three times.
By the time the evening card games began, Georgie's patience had worn to nothing.
She sat across from him at the vingt-et-un table. She won two hands. He won two. Thea swept the rest and declared herself an unstoppable force, while Wes shook his head with the resigned expression of a man long accustomed to losing to his wife.
But Georgie couldn’t focus on anything but Louis. The way his tongue ran along his bottom lip when he was thinking, and the sly smirk when he knew he had the upper hand.
After a few hours, the party had thinned.
When Maddie and John retired, Maddie pressed Louis's arm on the way out and murmured something Georgie couldn't hear. She could guess he didn’t appreciate it from the way his expression flattened.
Then one by one the drawing room emptied until there were just a few others left.
Her mother had seemingly forgotten that Georgie was supposed to be chaperoned, not that Georgie minded the bit of freedom.
“It appears we are tied now at four wins each.” She stacked the cards together on the table. “I might have to actually start trying.”
He cast her a disbelieving glance. “I’d like to see that.
” His gaze lingered on her, and it made her want to throw herself at him right there in the middle of Wesley’s drawing room.
He had to stop looking at her like that.
He had been doing it all day, and it drove her mad wondering if he would agree to what could be a mutually pleasurable arrangement.
Louis cleared his throat and stood. “I think I shall retire for the evening.”
Georgie rose from her chair, deciding it was time to make her intentions known. “I’ll do the same and take advantage of a handsome escort.”
His eyes widened, and then she watched his throat work. She couldn’t be imagining things. He had to be interested.
He glanced at her chest for an instant, and then his eyes were back on hers. “Of course.”
Georgie placed her arm on his, grinning to herself. He led her to the stairs, and she opened her mouth to speak a couple of times but nothing came out. How does one exactly ask their brother’s best friend to bed them?
Louis, think you might want to get naked and climb on top of me? After you use your tongue between my legs, preferably.
“I . . . uh . . .” She stumbled over her words when they reached the top of the stairs and drew a deep breath.
“Were you saying something?” He glanced over at her in the darkened hallway.
“No . . . yes.” She silently chastised herself for being such a ninny. They were only a few footsteps away from her door now. “It’s just that . . . what I meant to say is, I’m not going to lock my door.”
He stopped and turned to face her in front of her chamber door. “I’m not certain I understand what you mean.”
Georgie drew a long breath finding her courage and then stepped closer to him. Her body almost touched his. “I think you do.”
“Georgie,” he breathed. “Go to bed.”
“See, you understand, perfectly.” She pressed up on her toes and put her lips to his. Not the most ideal thing to do if anyone should enter the corridor and see them, but she couldn’t stop herself.
He didn’t pull back. He stepped into her so she was pressed against the wall and deepened the kiss, running his tongue along the seam of her lips until she opened for him. He growled into the kiss when she sucked his tongue into her mouth, and his hard cock pushed into her hip.
Louis jerked back, raising his hands up in defense. “Forgive me.”
She continued to use the wall for support, unsteady from the loss of his warm hard body against hers. “Forgive you for what? I kissed you.”
“This is . . . that . . . that shouldn’t have happened.” Now he was the one stumbling on his words. “Max asked me to . . . goodnight, Georgie.”
He turned and retreated down the hallway, entering his own chamber. She stood in the hall for a few moments wondering what he was mumbling about regarding her brother.
Georgie collected herself and then entered her room. Her lady's maid was waiting, something that Georgie had failed to consider. If she had been successful at pulling Louis into her chamber, that would have created a bit of a situation.
Her maid helped her undress, brushed out her hair, and then departed after turning down the bed.
Georgie was far too worked up and restless to sleep.
She paced her chamber, replaying every detail of the kiss.
The ache between her thighs hadn’t settled, and even more torturous was that she had felt how he responded to her.
He wanted her. But some misplaced notion of honor was keeping them from what they both wanted.
After a few more moments of pacing, she pulled her dressing robe over her shoulders and tied it around her body. She poked her head out of her chamber to see that the hallway was empty and then left her room barefooted.
The corridor was dark. Moonlight came through the tall window at the far end, laying a pale stripe across the carpet. She counted the doors. One. Two. Three.
She gripped the handle, hoping that he hadn’t locked it. When she gave it a try, she found he hadn’t. She turned the handle and it gave without resistance. She slipped inside without a sound and took care to close the door behind her.
The room was lit by moonshine and the glow of the fireplace. Silver-blue light illuminated the window, enough to see the shape of the furniture, the untouched bed, and Louis on the settee before the fire.
His shirt was unbuttoned to his stomach. His breeches were open. His head was tipped back, his eyes closed, one hand wrapped around his cock. The slow, tight stroke of his fist made her freeze in place.
Her whole body flushed hot.
She whimpered. His head snapped forward, and his eyes found her in the dark. For one suspended moment, neither of them moved.
Then panic hit his face.
“Georgie—Christ—” He lurched forward, hands scrambling to tuck himself back into his breeches, fingers fumbling with the buttons. “This isn't—I wasn't—you should not be in my room.”
She didn't move from her spot. “You didn’t lock your door either.”
“Not because . . . I didn’t intend—” He gave up on the buttons and dragged a hand down his face. Even in the low light, she could see the color in his cheeks, the rigid set of his shoulders. “You need to leave. Now. Before someone sees you, before—Georgie, your brother asked me to look after you.”
“And you've been doing such a fine job of it.” She took a step closer.