9. Chapter 9
Georgiana
Georgie woke to the unfamiliar weight of an arm across her waist.
For a disoriented moment she didn't know where she was.
The ceiling was low and rough-hewn. The bed was narrow and the mattress was terrible and the blanket covering them was scratchy wool.
Then Louis shifted behind her, pulling her closer in his sleep.
His face pressed into the back of her neck, and everything from the night before came rushing back.
The rain. The cabin. Their engagement. She could be carrying his child. All of it.
And she’d never been more at peace in her life.
She lay still, letting herself feel the warmth of him along her body and the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back. She'd never woken up beside a man before. She'd never wanted to. Until now.
The fire had burned to embers. Morning light came through the single window, cloudy and gray.
The storm had passed, but the sun hadn’t made an appearance from behind the clouds yet.
Their clothes were still draped over the furniture where they'd left them, stiff and wrinkled from drying. The horses would need tending. They’d need to ride back to Greystone soon.
There would be questions—where they'd been, why they'd both disappeared, why neither horse was in the stable.
Louis stirred behind her. His arm tightened around her waist, and his mouth pressed against her shoulder.
“Good morning, beautiful.” His voice was rough with sleep. “I was having the best dream, and it would seem it was very real.”
She giggled and turned in his arms to face him. His hair was a disaster and there was a crease from the pillow across his cheek, but he was the most handsome man she'd ever seen. “But we have a problem.”
“Several, I'd imagine, since it seems we allowed ourselves to stay out all night.”
They’d indulged in copious pleasures, ranging from lovemaking to wild, unbridled passion, that had taken them to the wee hours of the morning. Georgie lost count of how many times she had climaxed.
“We should get back and confirm we can get Wesley and Thea to help with whatever scandal we’ve already created.” Assistance from a duke and duchess surely couldn’t hurt.
“Not quite yet.” Louis urged her onto her back and then shifted so he was on top of her, kissing his way down her body.
His mouth traced a path between her breasts, across her stomach, and lower. She knew where he was headed, and her body was already responding. Her thighs parted for him before his hands urged them apart.
“Louis, we really should—”
“We should.” He pressed his mouth to the inside of her thigh. “But we have enough time for this.”
His tongue found her, and her protest died in her throat. He licked through her seam in a long, unhurried stroke, his hands gripping her thighs, holding her open for him. There was no urgency in it—just the deliberate attention of a man who intended to take his time.
“We have a decidedly wicked scandal to manage.” Her words came out between moans as her fingers threaded into his hair.
“I might as well start the day feasting on my betrothed.” He circled her clit with his tongue, and her hips lifted off the mattress. “So damn sweet.”
He settled into a rhythm that made her grip the sheets—slow, focused strokes that built the most delicious tension in her core. His fingers dug into her thighs, and his mouth worked her with the kind of thorough diligence that told her he was enjoying this as much as she was.
She stopped pretending she wanted him to stop.
Her hand fisted in his hair. She held his mouth against her, and he groaned when she rocked against his face, the vibration sending a shudder through her entire body.
He slid two fingers inside her while his tongue pressed harder against her clit.
The combination undid her fast. Her back arched, her thighs clenched around his head, and she screamed in pleasure as she came apart against his mouth.
He worked her through it. His tongue gentled as the aftershocks rolled through her, and then he pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh and looked up at her with an expression of pure satisfaction. “Now my future wife may dress.”
“You're insufferable.”
“You'll have a lifetime to grow accustomed to it.” He kissed her hip and climbed back up the bed to press his mouth against hers. She could taste herself on his lips, and it made her want to pull him back down and forget about ever returning to Greystone. They could just live in this very cabin.
But they had to face whatever awaited them. The sooner they did, the sooner they could marry and start their life together. So she kissed him once more and forced herself to climb from the bed.
They dressed in their wrinkled clothes that still smelled of rain. Louis helped her with her stays and the buttons on her gown.
“You don’t speak to Dunblane without me.” He met her gaze. “I don’t trust him. I don’t trust any man that threatens a woman.”
“Just don’t do anything that will delay our hasty marriage.”
He grinned, and that handsome grin made her sway on her feet. She only hoped it would always be that way.
They rode back to Greystone in the morning light, side by side. The estate came into view and Georgie's hands tightened on the reins. Two men were crossing the front lawn toward the stables. Their focus fixed on Georgie and Louis.
Wesley.
And Max.
Her stomach dropped to her boots. Hell and damnation. Max had to choose now to finally make his appearance. There he was, striding across the lawn beside Wesley. From the set of his shoulders, she could tell he was well aware that he had reason to throttle the pair of them.
“Louis.”
“I see him, sweetheart.” Louis's voice was steady, but his jaw had gone tight. “Well. This just got considerably more complicated more quickly than we intended.”
They dismounted in the stable yard. Max was already closing the distance with Wesley a step behind wearing a similar hard expression.
“Where the hell have you been?” Max's voice was controlled. She’d rather he shouted.
His gaze moved from Georgie to Louis and back again, taking in their disheveled appearance.
His expression hardened in a way she hadn't seen since their father died. “Tell me something that will make me believe this isn’t what this bloody looks like.”
Louis raked his fingers through his hair, and then cast Georgie a soft glance before stepping forward. “Max, we . . . we didn’t mean for it to happen this way.”
“Don't, you bastard.” Max drew his fist back and punched Louis. “I trusted you.”
Louis took it. He didn't even try to block the hit or fight back. Georgie rushed in front of Louis, putting herself between the men before her brother could try to hit him again.
“Max,” she screamed. “Stop. This instant.”
“Don’t try to protect him right now, Georgie.
” Max's chest was heaving. His knuckles were red, and his eyes were wild with a fury she'd never seen before. “He was supposed to look after you. And then he ruins you. He takes your virtue and keeps you out all night, ensuring that he’d get what he wanted. He was supposed to keep you safe, and he goes and does this.”
She held her ground between them, one hand pressed against Max's chest. “Max. Brother. Listen to me. We love each other. We didn’t plan for it to happen this way, but we’re going to marry and you are going to support it.”
Max’s expression hardened. “Of course you’re going to marry. That’s what happens when you court scandal by spreading your legs and ruining yourself with my supposed friend, sister. You get to marry the arse.”
“Don’t you dare speak to her that way,” Louis growled, trying to move her to the side, but she wouldn’t budge.
“I was already ruined as you so eloquently speak of me, brother. I’m certain you can’t count the number of women who have wet your wick, so keep your judgement about how I live my life to yourself. And do not put your hands on him again.”
Max's mouth opened and closed. The fury was still there but something else had broken through—shock and confusion about what she’d revealed. Wesley glanced between them, appearing uncertain what to do.
“What do you mean, already ruined?” His voice had lost its edge. It was quieter now, which was worse.
“There are things I hoped you’d never need to know.
” She drew a breath and held his gaze. “Dunblane. Lord Dunblane, who is currently a guest in this house. You will recall that he paid me interest in my first Season, and I was foolish enough to think I might marry him. I stupidly gave him what it was he truly wanted. Then he moved on to his next conquest. That’s why I’ve shunned the idea of marriage.
” She glanced back at Louis, his chest heaving as it was obvious that very little would hold him back from going after Max. “Until now that is.”
Louis’s expression softened, and she turned back to face her brother. The color had drained from Max's face.
“I’m the one who pursued Louis. I can be quite convincing, as you well know.
And we fell in love. That is the extent of what you need to know, brother.
Louis didn’t take anything from me or force my hand.
You are going to support the match, and you are not going to punish either of us for being as happy as we are. ”
Max stood very still. His gaze dropped to the ground, and his jaw worked. When he looked up, his eyes were remorseful.
“You could have come to me.” His voice was hoarse. “I would have killed the bloody bastard.”
“That’s exactly why I couldn’t tell you, Max.”
Louis stepped closer and wrapped his arm around Georgie’s waist, pulling her close.
Just the feel of him made her entire body ache with need.
Nothing had ever been as intense as the love she had for the man beside her.
She looked up at him. His jaw was swelling where Max had hit him, and she wanted to slap her brother for doing that to her future husband.
“I really want your blessing, Max,” Louis started. “Georgie is of age and doesn’t need your permission, but I’d still like to have it. And mark my words, I have every intention of dealing with Dunblane on behalf of my betrothed.”
Max looked at Louis. The fire had left his expression.
“You love my sister.”
It wasn’t a question.
“More than I thought I was capable of.”
Tears welled in the corner of her eyes at his declaration.
Max turned to Georgie. “And you love him? You want to marry him? I don’t care what occurred between the two of you. Tell me now, and you won’t have to marry him. I’ll never make you marry someone who took advantage of you.”
“I love him, and I’m marrying him, Max.”
Max exhaled through his nose. He looked at Louis for a long moment and then extended his hand. Louis took it. It wasn't forgiveness—not yet—but it was a start. “We’ll manage the situation here, and then we’ll see about the wedding. I’m certain Mother will be beside herself with excitement.”
Georgie winced. She hadn’t thought yet about how her mother would react. She’d be pleased, but she’d have questions. Too many questions.
They walked toward the house. Georgie's hand found Louis's, and she didn't care who saw it. They were crossing the entrance hall when Dunblane appeared at the top of the staircase.
He was dressed for the morning, smiling down at them. His gaze found Georgie first, then Louis, then their joined hands.
“I don’t mind waiting for my turn.” There was nothing but amusement in his tone as he descended the stairs to join them. “Just send her to my chamber when you’re done, Ashworth.”
Louis released her hand.
The punch was fast and clean. One strike. Louis's fist connected with Dunblane's jaw with a crack that echoed through the entrance hall. Dunblane staggered backward, hit the banister, and went down.
Guests appeared in the doorways. Thea stood in the morning room entrance with her hand over her mouth. Maddie was behind her looking thoroughly pleased. Georgie's mother emerged from the breakfast room.
“If you come near her again,” Louis seethed, keeping his voice low, “I will do far worse. And if I hear you've touched Miss Barrow or any other woman, I will do everything in my power to destroy you.”
Max and Wesley stood at Louis’s side, arms crossed, and watched Dunblane on the ground.
The bastard scrambled to his feet, pressing his handkerchief against his split lip. His gaze darted around the hall at those who had gathered.
“I believe your carriage should be called,” Wesley said. “I’m certain you understand that it’s time you took your leave.”
Georgie pulled Louis away and into an alcove where they could have a moment of privacy. “Does your hand hurt?”
“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. That felt good.”
She took his hand in hers, and gently rubbed her fingers across his knuckles. They would bruise. “It’s a good thing that I won our little wager.”
Louis scoffed. “You didn’t win. We haven’t finished. But I’d rather marry you and take you anywhere but here.”
“Then you forfeit,” she teased. “But I probably would have dared you to punch that useless arse anyway.”
“Then what else would you like me to do for you, beautiful?” He pulled her to him, pressing their bodies together. “I concede that you are the victor. And based on our terms, I can’t refuse you.”
Georgie pressed up on her toes to kiss him.
“I’ll think of something.”