Romancing the Rogue (103 page)

Adam had thought there could be no greater pain than having learned the truth about Georgina’s paternity.

Except as Jamie Adleyson Marshall smiled down at his wife, intimately stroking her lower back, Adam realized he couldn’t have been more wrong. He watched from within the confines of his carriage, thankful for the protection it provided, for allowing him to take in every single mind-numbing, aching moment as his wife betrayed him with his captor.

Hunter whispered in Georgina’s ear, and her response made the other man smile. Even with the distance separating him, the man’s pearl white grin caught Adam’s attention from across the street, and he wanted nothing more than to climb out of his carriage, punch Hunter in the face, and shove every single, blasted tooth down his bloody throat until he choked on them.

Georgina paused. Her body went ramrod straight, and Adam leaned close to the window, peering through the curtain. For an infinitesimal moment, in his heart of hearts, he believed she was going to turn around and leave Hunter. But the moment passed, and Hunter was handing Georgina up into the carriage.

Adam rapped on the ceiling. The orders had been clear to his driver when they’d parked the conveyance across from Ye Olde Bookshop. The moment Hunter’s carriage left, he was to follow.

All the while his conveyance carried him toward his lying wife and her lover, Adam flayed himself with the humiliated hurt he’d opened himself to at Georgina’s hands. Since they had first met, she’d done nothing but deceive and trick him. When he’d confronted her in his library those four weeks ago, she’d looked at him through teary-eyes, lips aquiver in a very believable, heart-rending tableau of a woman wronged. Adam had hardened his heart…
but the doubts had seeped in and had continued to eat at him.

Now he could no longer turn from the truth of it
—
Georgina’s loyalty did not lie with him and England. Instead, she’d pledged her heart, mind, and soul to venomous monsters who would gladly have killed him if it hadn’t been for Stone’s timely intervention.

Adam stared out at the passing scenery, expecting to see the ordinary streets give way to the darker, seedier parts of London. Instead, the carriage rumbled along through the bustling London wharves, eventually drawing to a halt beside a large warehouse. Hunter stepped down and reached inside.

Adam gnashed his teeth, battling the sting of jealousy as Hunter placed his hands around Georgina’s waist and helped her down. Adam shouldn’t have cared. The two of them deserved each other. He should have considered himself well and truly blessed to have uncovered the truth of her deceit, and left it at that.

But, as he watched Hunter guide her down the side of the large building, Adam had to acknowledge that he cared—a great deal more than he liked. He sat within the confines of his carriage, his body numbed. Visions slashed through his mind like the swift edge of a blade. Georgina in Hunter’s arms. Hunter laying her down and working her skirts up around her supple hips. Her smiling up at him.

Adam had promised Georgina that there would be no redemption if she were to again betray him. He waited for the murderous rage to consume him. It didn’t come.

Pain lanced him to the core. Georgina might have betrayed him but, damn it, he wanted her—all of her—and he would have rather lobbed off his left arm than see her walk out of his life without a backward glance.

He dropped his head into his hands as the truth intruded with a agonizing viciousness.

I did this. I drove her back to Hunter’s arms.

Adam had threatened to have her hauled off to Newgate. He’d not bothered to hide his loathing from her. And he’d taken her like a trollop on a balcony where anyone could have witnessed.

He yanked his head up. Regardless, it was time he had closure. The moment Georgina had walked across that street and into Hunter’s carriage, everything between them had died. It would do Adam little good bemoaning all he could have done differently.

But before he put Georgina from his life, he needed to see her
—
and Hunter.
’

~~~~

As Georgina descended from the carriage, she cast a desperate glance around at her surroundings. Carriages littered the streets. Men moved freely along the pavement. If she called out, surely someone would rescue her?

She didn’t want just anyone, however. She wanted her husband.

With the hopeful dreams belonging to a foolish young girl, she imagined Adam striding down the street, blocking Jamie’s path, and plucking her from his clutches.

Jamie led her down the side of the building, and a rat scurried across the path before them, a high-pitched squeal escaping the hideous creature.

Georgina took a hasty step backward. She wanted Adam, but right now she would accept aid from the devil himself if he offered.

Jamie took Georgina by the arm, the pads of his fingers biting into the soft flesh as he steered her through what appeared to be an empty warehouse.

She blinked, trying to bring the dark surroundings into focus.

“Come along.” Jamie gave her a nudge, propelling her forward.

The click of his boot-steps and the shuffle of her delicate slippers broke the eerie echoing silence. The swift pace he set for them kicked up dust, and Georgina wrinkled her nose, fighting back a sneeze in vain.

“Achoo!”

Jamie glared down at her, tightening his grip on her upper arm. “Quiet.”

He shoved her through a door.

Georgina stumbled, tripping over her slippers, but caught herself.

Jamie pointed to the lone sofa in the room. “Sit.”

Pride urged her to resist his laconic orders.

The will to survive drove her into the stiff leather seat.

Jamie tapped his finger along his jaw, studying her as if she were a species of insect he’d never seen before. With a growl, he turned away from Georgina and walked over to the heavily curtained window. He didn’t pull back the thick red velvet, merely stood there in silence, his gaze fixed on the fabric.

Georgina used his distraction to study her surroundings. Perched on the edge of a brown leather sofa, she peered around the spacious office within the factory. There was little doubt this was one of her father’s holdings, though she’d never been inside his warehouses. She’d known he had buildings in Bristol and London but hadn’t put much thought into how he spent his days—she’d just been so very grateful for his absence.

She looked on with no small amount of curiosity. Or awe for the vast wealth demonstrated in the Aubusson carpets or the wall-length shelves of leather books. Instead, her stomach churned at the prospect of facing her father, and she had to quell the urge to look over her shoulder to see if he lurked in the shadows of the room.

Time marched to the tune of the tick-tock, tick-tock of the tarnished silver clock atop the vast, mahogany desk. Jamie did not utter a single word. He stood in the exact same pose, as still as one of Da Vinci’s marble works of art. His biceps tensed so tightly, the muscles strained the expensive sapphire fabric of his coat.

Jamie had never been one to keep his rage in check. Over the years, he’d exercised his anger and frustrations quite freely. This unpredictable figure
—
rage seething beneath the surface of his immaculate façade
—
was, oddly, more threatening.

Georgina inched to the edge of her seat, casting surreptitious looks between Jamie’s back and the door, measuring the distance. A good six feet separated them and, with the added obstacle of the desk, she suspected she had another foot or so advantage.

The leather creaked beneath her, and she winced.

Jamie spun to face her, his gaze narrowed into near impenetrable slits.

When Georgina had been a small girl, she’d watched the kitchen cat corner a mouse. The fat white and black spotted creature had pranced and danced about, occasionally hitting the tiny mouse with its paw. Georgina had stared on with a sick fascination as the cat had hunkered down, his intent gaze honed in on the motionless mouse. Then the creature had made one desperate attempt to flee. The cat had taken him between his teeth, shaking him with a frenzy, until the poor thing had gone still.

Georgina now felt a remarkable oneness with that tiny, forgotten mouse. She forced herself to take a breath. She would not lie in wait for Jamie to devour her. “I imagine I’ve done something to displease you. But then that would be nothing new, would it?” She forced her chin up.

Jamie folded his hands in front of him. “It isn’t just me you’ve displeased.”

Father.

“Your father is quite disappointed in you, my dear.”

Bitterness made her rash. “But then, have I ever really pleased my father?”

Jamie turned around to face her, though the desk remained a protective barrier between them. “Do you realize you’ve not yet asked what caused our anger?”

Georgina had a strong suspicion she didn’t need to hear the revelation. “Is it my dismal entrance into London Society?”

A sharp bark of laughter escaped him. His eyes, however, were dead of all emotion. He strolled out from behind the desk.

Georgina stole another glance over her shoulder.

“Don’t even think about it,” he commanded.

Her head shot around. “Think about what?”

She burrowed within the folds of her seat when Jamie flew across the room, closing the distance between them. He leaned forward, bracing his arms on either side of her seat. “Do you take me for a bloody fool?” he snapped.

Spit landed on her cheek, and Georgina itched to wipe the filth away. “You’re not a fool, Jamie. A traitor and a cruel beast, but not a fool.”

Jamie’s face froze, but then, as though her words amused him, he smiled. “If you didn’t believe I was a fool, why would you run so quickly back to the Crown with the name I gave you?”

She started.

“Yes, my dear.” The words were hardly an endearment. “We gave you a false contact. Poor Ackerly was physically removed from his townhouse and thoroughly questioned.”

Georgina’s eyes went wide as the dawning horror settled in. “He isn’t a Republican.” Of course, they’d given her a false name to test her loyalty.

How could I have been so naïve?

Jamie confirmed her worst fears. “That’s right.” He chuckled. “Though after the questioning he received, I’d imagine he isn’t too fond of the Crown.”

Georgina closed her eyes.

This is bad. This is very bad, indeed.

She had thought, at worst, mayhap Jamie had learned of her connection with the Duke of Aubrey, but she’d hoped he’d only been speaking on suspicion of guilt. The truth was a deal more troubling
—
they had trapped her in her duplicity.

“Hmm? Nothing to say?” Like the kitchen cat, his paw was out.

No. There is nothing to say.

He lowered his brow to hers, his breath brushed her nose.

She remained motionless, and a pit settled in her stomach.

If he has lascivious intentions, there is no one to prevent Jamie from forcing himself on me. I would be helpless to stop him.

The hot, feral gleam in his eyes indicated that he had followed the exact direction of Georgina’s thoughts. He rubbed his thumb along her lower lip, his gaze dropping to study the plump flesh.

A whore’s mouth, her father used to say. Georgina had never known what her father had meant
—
until just now.

Jamie lowered his lips, and Georgina cringed, biting the inside of her cheek when suddenly he stopped.

“Do you know I would have given you everything and anything you ever desired, Georgina? Do you know I would have dressed you in the finest silks and satins, adorning you like a queen?” He cupped her jaw with one hand. “You’re no longer a stuttering child, afraid of her shadow.” His words sounded like a lover’s endearment.

Georgina broke contact with his heated gaze, lowering her eyes. “You know those things never mattered to me, Jamie,” she said with a trace of sadness and regret. “I just wanted to live a normal life.”

Please God, spare me his advances.

There was no God. Jamie took her lips in a hard, punishing kiss, his assault, a gross violation. Shivers of revulsion wracked her frame, and she pulled back, trying to dislodge him. Jamie wrapped a hand around her head, anchoring her in place, and Georgina could not fight him.

He wrenched his lips away from hers with enough force that she collapsed against the firm back of the sofa.

“Where is my father?” she asked, wishing for the first time that Father was near. She’d rather deal with his anger than Jamie’s vile touch.

Jamie blinked back the cloud of desire. “Have you missed us?”

“How could I not?” She threw the words mockingly at him. Jamie was more a child to Father than Georgina had ever been
—
or ever wanted to be. They were both sick and twisted in their machinations. “You’ve always been so very devoted and loving to me.”

“Finally, I hear the truth from your lips.”

Georgina gasped and shoved Jamie backward. Her gaze flew to the door. “Adam!”

He stood there, a towering golden god, more powerful than the avenging archangel Gabriel, a pistol trained on Jamie’s black-blooded heart.

Then Adam’s words registered.

And hope died in her breast.