Romancing the Rogue (81 page)

A startled laugh escaped her. That was the first time she had ever been referred to as tiny. She held up the leather folio in her hands. “I’ve brought you this.”

He crossed the room in three long strides, and Georgina panicked. She dropped the sketchpad and took a step backwards. Then another. Until her back met the wall. Her heart thumped wildly.

He froze. “You don’t think I would hurt you?”

“No, I…” She let the words trail off. “Desperate men said and did desperate things.”

Adam studied her. Silence stretched out before them and then he walked toward her. She studied the slow, rise and fall of his chest, the indecipherable expression in his eyes as he came to a stop. He reached to caress her reddened cheek. “Who did this?” Barely suppressed violence underlay the whispered question.

Georgina relished the gentleness of his caress. Never had a man touched her with such tenderness. “Please,” she rasped.

…don’t stop touching me
.

She was halfway to begging him to hold her in a way no one ever had.

He dropped his hand back to his side as though he’d been burned. “Forgive me,” he murmured.

She wanted to weep at the loss of his touch.

“It was them, wasn’t it?”

She nodded, grateful someone loathed the two men as much as she did.

A growl climbed up his throat, and it was too much. This expression of someone caring about her welfare. About her. She clenched her eyes shut, willing back tears. He could not be allowed to see her weakness. A drop slipped down her cheek. Then another. Finally a torrent of long-suppressed grief poured out.

He groaned and pulled her into his arms. She recoiled, but Adam stroked the back of her head and held her to him with a gentle strength. “Shh,” he whispered against her temple.

She sobbed against his chest, this man her father had asked her to betray. She selfishly took all the comfort and support he offered until her tears soaked the front of his rough cambric shirt.

Adam caressed the strands of her hair. “Shh,” he whispered. “They are not worth your tears.”

Except she didn’t cry for them. She cried for the little girl who’d been beaten and forgotten. She cried at the unfairness of being dependent on a man to survive. She cried for Adam, who was as trapped as she was.

They stood that way until her tears drew to a shuddery halt.

Georgina wiped her eyes, suddenly feeling very foolish for her humiliating display of emotion. “Forgive me.”

Adam brushed away a loose curl that hung over her eyes. “You are a brave woman. I meant what I said. If you free me, I will help you.”

Suddenly it was very important that Adam understood.

“There was another man,” she whispered. “I freed him and he…” She squeezed her eyes shut “He paid with his life. And I paid the price, too.”
Her father and Jamie had dragged her from the room and beat her until she’d passed out.

Adam cupped her face between his hands. His eyes met hers. “I would rather die than remain in this place.”

His words transported her back to that dark day, when the last captive had lain dead on her kitchen floor. She would not lead him to his death. “No. You don’t mean that,” she rasped.

Adam steadied her. “What is it?”

She shook her head. Her breath came in deep, gasping pants.

He swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed. “What is it?” he whispered.

Adam held her and stroked smooth circles over her back. Georgina wanted it to go on forever. “Thank you. No one has ever…” Her pride prevented her from finishing her sentence.

He frowned. “No one has ever held you? What about your—”

Georgina tripped over the web of lies she’d already spun. To stop the question on his lips, she did the unthinkable. She leaned up to kiss him.

The shock of their lips meeting struck her like a flash of lightening. A foreign hunger for his touch snaked through her limbs, and Georgina wound herself about him like a vine of ivy.

He groaned, the sound a primal masculine grumble from deep within his chest.

She twined her hands about his neck and caressed the golden locks of spun silk in her fingers.

Adam put his hands on her waist, paused, and then, as if exploring, moved his search lower, down to the curve of her hips. She angled her head, opening herself to his kiss. Parting her lips, she allowed his tongue entry. He moaned as if in pain. Georgina’s lids fluttered open, and she studied this golden god as he kissed her. His eyes were clenched tight as if creased by agonized pleasure. All because of her.

With a small cry, she threw her head back, exposing her neck for his attention.

He set her away so fast she tumbled to the floor.

It took a long while for the cloud of passion to lift. When it did, she wished she could pull it firmly back in place. Horror wreathed the hard-angled planes of Adam’s face.

Her heart sputtered to a slow halt. His revulsion had the same effect as a punch to her belly.

“Christ,” Adam whispered.

As much as she hoped his horror came from having shoved her aside, she knew it was not. In a desperate attempt at preserving the little pride she had left, she rose and brushed out her skirts.

Adam’s throat moved up and down as he seemed to force the words out. “I am in love with another woman. I will not betray her.”

Not for a woman like you
, her mind silently jeered.

A stinging jealousy for the woman who had laid claim to his heart filled her.

He’d merely been providing her with a comforting embrace, and she had flung herself at him like a shameless wanton! A scarlet blush stained her cheeks.

Adam extended his hand.

Georgina looked at his long gentleman’s fingers. With every fiber of her being, she wanted to reject it, but pride dictated that she show him how unaffected she was by his rejection. She placed her hand in his and allowed him to help her up.

He took her chin between his forefinger and thumb. “This is not about you, Georgina. I told you before—”

She angled her chin away from him. “I know.”

The last thing in the world she needed to hear was how in love he was with the nameless beauty in the sketchpad. It only reminded her that some women were born beautiful, with the love and adulation of good men, while women like her dwelled in the shadows.

In the grand scheme of lies she’d told this man, what was one more? “I am sorry I kissed you. I don’t know what came over me.” She had many regrets. Kissing him was not one of them.

“You are a lovely woman. I’m just in love with someone else.”

And there it was, a second time. Punishment for coveting what belonged to the goddess on his parchment.

She wanted to find a dark corner of the house and nurse her wounds like an injured pup. Georgina managed a jerky nod, and turned to leave.

Her father’s yell carried through the door. “Georgina?”

The blood drained from her cheeks. “I’m coming!” she called.

She hurried over to the door just as it was flung open to crash into her hip. Georgina grunted at the throb of pain that shot down her leg.

Her father and Jamie stood in the doorway. Father held a pistol trained on Adam, while Jamie pinned Adam with a glare brimming with loathing.

“It’s time to tie this animal up,” her father growled.

Jamie escorted Adam to his bed, but the golden god sprang at Jamie and caught him square in the stomach, felling him. The men wrestled for power like lions vying for control. Adam managed to straddle Jamie. He wrapped his hands around the weaker man’s neck.

Georgina watched in sick fascination as Jamie’s eyes bulged from his sockets and drool spilled from his gaping mouth. She’d seen a dead man, but she’d never seen a man’s last breath leave his body. She couldn’t tear her gaze away.

Her father wrapped his arm around her forearm and tugged her to his side. He pinched the soft skin.

Georgina cried out.

Adam froze. His head snapped up.

“Stop. Or she’ll for your disobedience.” Father’s promise seemed to penetrate Adam’s single-minded purpose to destroy Jamie.

His eyes met Georgina’s.

Father tightened his grip, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. She would not distract Adam again, not when he was handing out the beating Jamie so richly deserved. She gave a slight shake of her head, and willed him to see that she was fine.

“I’ll kill her,” Father promised on a silken whisper.

It was a lie.

Then she felt the angry bite of a pistol against her temple. A chill swept over her. Father had descended into such madness she could no longer be sure.

Hot rage flared in Adam’s eyes. “Stop,” he barked. He scrambled up from his knees, hands held out. His eyes had the crazed look of a man who’d dueled with the devil… And lost.

Jamie turned over onto his side and gasped as he tried to suck in air, like a fish thrown ashore.

“Perhaps you don’t care for your wellbeing, but should you choose to fight us, she is the one who will feel our wrath. Is that clear?” Father snapped.

Adam’s chest heaved. He took several steps backward and sat on the bed.

Father released Georgina and nodded to Adam. “I see that we understand each other.”

Except Georgina didn’t see anything. A swell of emotion clogged her throat. Why would this man, a stranger, protect her—at the expense of his freedom?

Jamie managed to stand and dusted his hands along the front of his breeches. He took a step toward the bed.

Adam held his hand out as if in supplication. He could have killed Jamie but he hadn’t. He’d saved her.

Jamie slammed his fist against Adam’s temple.

Adam grunted and collapsed onto the soft coverlet. Blood trickled in a rivulet from the corner of his right nostril.

Georgina gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. Reminded of her presence, Father shoved her toward the door. She tripped over her skirts and caught the edge of the table to keep from toppling over.

Jamie set to work binding Adam’s wrists and ankles to the corners of the four-poster bed. “Get out of here, gel,” Father snapped.

She swallowed and turned back around to face Adam.

“I said, get out!” Father gave her another nudge toward the door.

Adam’s roar of fury filled the small room and rattled off the windowpanes. “Don’t touch her, you bloody coward.”

His show of bravery was met with another fist to the head.

“No, Adam,” she hurried to assure him. “I’m fine.”

Father gripped her arm and steered her out of the room. “Go.”

The door closed, the click like the crack of a pistol at night. Her breath hitched painfully in her chest as she waited. She leaned against the wood panel and knocked her head against the solid structure.

Adam cried out.

Her teeth sank into her lower lip.

He cried out a second time.

She bit the inside of her cheek.

Then silence. No more screaming. Nor shouting. Or vile curses. And, somehow, that was worst of all.

Georgina’s fingers sought and found the edge of the doorjamb to keep herself from collapsing. Her heart climbed into her throat and threatened to strangle her.

Georgina didn’t know how long she stood there but, as the seconds ticked by, her shame grew and grew. What manner of coward was she that she should leave Adam to face her father’s cruelty? How could she have done that, when he’d sacrificed his own freedom for her safety?

She threw the door open so hard it slammed against the wall.

Two pairs of angry eyes swiveled in her direction. Jamie had a riding crop poised mid-strike over Adam’s naked chest.

“Stop,” she cried. She grabbed Jamie’s arm. “Please, you must stop.”

He shrugged her off.

Father spun around. “What’s this about, gel?” he barked.

“Please, I—” She glanced at Adam. Their gazes caught and held. “I must speak with you,” she said to her father. “Both of you.”

Jamie straightened. The riding crop dangled forgotten by his side.

Her eyes slid closed for a moment as she sent her thanks up to a God she didn’t believe in. For now, Adam had been spared this abuse. “This can wait until we’re done here,” Jamie growled, a feral gleam of bloodlust in his eyes.

“No. It cannot,” Georgina protested. She gave her father a pointed look.

He shifted his mouth from side to side. “We’ll finish this up later, Mr. Markham.”

Georgina allowed herself to be dragged off, casting one last glance over her shoulder.

Emmet is amassing the power of the United Irishmen. His men have captured a British spy.

Signed,

A Loyal British Subject

When Adam was a small boy, he and his brother Nick had been as mischievous as any other young boy in England. They’d had a very stern tutor and, one time, he and Nick had carefully dug up earthworms from the lush soil and placed them in the man’s gloves. As heir to their father’s earldom, his older brother had escaped punishment. Adam hadn’t been as fortunate.

For his troubles, the nasty tutor had locked Adam away his armoire. Even as a man of now eight and twenty, he’d sometimes awake from his sleep, gasping for breath, as he recalled the terror. The impenetrable abyss, the quiet hum of silence. He’d pounded away at the makeshift coffin, screaming until his voice had failed him.

His mother had been the one to find him. The tutor had been sacked on the spot but the horror of that moment would forever linger.

Tied up as he was now, unable to help Georgina, Adam found himself plagued by the same sense of helplessness that he’d suffered because of his tutor’s abuse.

It had been clear she was lying. Fox’s partner, known to Adam only as Hunter, had clearly realized that—Adam had seen the flash of understanding in his eyes. He couldn’t stop flagellating himself with the image of what they would do to her. All because she’d protected him.

Why would she forego her own safety for his welfare? His torture was inevitable. All she’d done was bought him a momentary reprieve. She must have known that, yet she’d still shielded him with her body, as a kind of sacrifice.

Here he was; a faithful member of the Brethren of the Lords, a group sworn to protect and defend the Crown, needing the protection of a slip of a girl.

The memory of her anchored to Fox’s side rocked through his mind, and he wrenched at his bonds in vain. With a ragged cry, he lay back against the mattress. Sweat trickled from his brow into his eyes, stinging mercilessly. He ignored it, thinking of her. He’d go mad if he imagined them with their hands on her, so he allowed himself to unearth the other thought he’d buried.

She had kissed him.

He recoiled at the betrayal of Grace and yet…the taste of Georgina lingered. As much as he railed at himself for his fickle desires, he hungered for this capable maid.

She was nothing like the women he usually desired. Adam had always preferred fair women with long limbs and fiery red tresses, prideful.

Yet Georgina had drawn him in. With her well-flared hips and generous breasts, she was curved in all the places a woman should be. There was a sultry, seductive quality to her pouty lips. When he should’ve been thinking about Grace and his freedom, those goddamn lips would enter his imaginings. He’d envision her using her mouth for all kinds of forbidden pleasures.

Adam turned his head and stared at the small window in the corner.

He was a bastard and deserved every last bit of torture doled by Fox and Hunter.

~~~~

Georgina’s mind worked furiously as her father steered her downstairs with a firm grip around her wrist.

He’d always delighted in hurting her. Georgina glared at him but he remained oblivious to her abhorrence.

When she’d turned eight and ten, he’d begun presenting her to his social circle, and the beatings had stopped. He’d had grand hopes of her making a profitable arrangement with a wealthy merchant.
Father had always been obscenely wealthy, but it had never been enough. He seemed to relish material things, status, and power a good deal more than he’d ever cared for any living creature—her included. She didn’t care. It didn’t matter.

Georgina hated that she still couldn’t lie to herself after all this time.

In the two years Father had presented her to possible suitors, it had become obvious that even his wealth was not enough to entice the most eligible gentlemen. So the beatings had resumed, and she’d faded into the background.

Jamie looked at her. The flecks of gold in his pale blue eyes sparkled with fury. “What could merit this insolence?”

She swallowed, refusing to answer him.

When they reached the kitchen, Father shoved her into a chair. He folded his arms. “Well come on then, I don’t have all day.”

“I agree to your request.” In her lap, she crossed her fingers. “You are correct, Father. It is likely Mr. Markham will simply turn over the information you seek.”

Father tapped his chin. “Why are you so suddenly willing to help?”

“It is conditional,” Georgina lied. “I ask that when I find the names of those in his organization, you set him free. I’ll not be responsible for another man’s death.”

Silence fell as her father appeared to consider her offer. “Hmm.”

She waited, unfurling her fingers which she’d unknowingly clenched into tight fists at her side. .

“I don’t trust her.” Jamie snarled. “She’s protecting him.” He turned to Georgina and stuck a finger in her direction. “You’re falling in love with him!”

No! Georgina gripped the edge of her seat, her nails dug into the hard wood. She shoved aside the panicky fear that twisted in her gut. She would never do anything so foolish as to fall in love with one of her father’s captives. She was merely caring for him as she had many others before him.

Oh God, why did that feel like a lie?

Jamie slammed his fist down on the table. “You do not even deny it.” His voice rumbled off the walls.

She stood firm even as her heart raced.

“Enough,” Father hollered. “She is doing her job, Jamie. Did you see Markham? I’d venture she could seduce the secrets out of him this day if we wanted.”

Revulsion rippled through her at his crude words. What manner of father spoke of his daughter in such a way?

Jamie’s eyes went wide. “No,” he said between gritted teeth.

“No?” her father asked.

Father was across the room in an instant. He had Jamie by the shirtfront and pressed against the wall. “Have you forgotten our goal? We lost most of our leadership in ’98 and cannot afford another setback.” He released Jamie and turned back to Georgina. “I’m proud of you, girl. Find out his secrets. Even if it means seduction. And to you, Jamie, each of us has a role. Georgina knows what hers is. I suggest you remember yours.”

The hard glint in her father’s eyes chilled her.

Jamie all but growled. “She’s not a whore.”

“Think of the information she can get out of him,” her father needled. “We’ve been running from those bloody bastards since ’93. Georgina destroyed our last chance…but she’s agreed to redeem herself.”

She kept her mouth closed. Better to let Father believe she’d agreed to his harebrained scheme. Father and Jamie could both order her to seduce Adam, and she wouldn’t do it. She’d not whore herself for their vile goals.

Father drummed his fingertips against his chin. “You haven’t lost your courage, have you, gel?”

It took her moment to realize they were both studying her.

Georgina shook her head. She knew what she needed to do. “No.”

“Very well then,” her father murmured. “See to it. If you must seduce him, see to that as well.” Her stomach turned. Father spoke of her ruin as casually as if speaking of the weather. He continued, directing his attention to Jamie. “I’ve a meeting with Emmet. I want you to remain here with Georgina.”

Her mind screamed out in protest. She wanted Jamie gone. Only then could Adam be truly safe—even if for a short while.

Father turned back to her. “Prepare something for him to eat and return to his room.”

Georgina watched him leave and stared blankly at the crusty bread atop the table.

So that was why father had tolerated the lavish meals she’d prepared for Markham. It had all been a part of his deeper plot for Georgina to earn Adam’s trust. Her stomach turned at her unknowing complicity in her father’s plan.

She gave her head a shake and set to work making a plate of food for Adam. Even with her back to Jamie, she was aware of him at the kitchen door, watching her.

Gooseflesh dotted the skin on her arms. She picked up a knife and sliced the bread. How difficult would it be to turn around and bury the makeshift weapon in Jamie’s black heart?

“I’m right, you know.”

Her blade froze above the flaky, white bread. She brushed back the stubborn curl and resumed cutting. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He crossed the room in an instant and wrapped his hand around her wrist. The knife clattered to the countertop.

She gasped as he dragged her tightly against him, crushing her body to his chest. “You’re falling in love with him.”

“I am not,” she said a touch too quickly.

It would be sheer madness to give her heart to a man who’d been taken captive by her father. Especially when
his
heart belonged to another. Why, it would be a level of foolishness that would merit committing her to Bedlam. She drew in a steadying breath. “I don’t even know him.”

Jamie lowered his forehead to hers. “I see the way you look at him and the way he looks at you.”

The only way Adam ever studied her was with bitterness and sympathy. The thought lanced her heart. She detested the idea of being the object of anyone’s pity, most especially Adam. “He does not feel anything for me.”

Jamie’s eyes went to her lips.

Her blood froze.

He snaked a hand around her arm.

She slapped at his hand. “What are you doing?”

He focused his hot, lascivious stare on her breasts. “Isn’t it obvious, love?”

Bile burned in her throat at the idea of him touching her. She yanked her hand free and turned to flee.

She cried out as he dragged her into his arms and kissed her. His lips pushed against hers, hard and unyielding, punishing. She tried to speak, and he pressed his vantage, slipping his tongue into her mouth.

Georgina gagged at the cool, moist invasion. His breath, a sick blend of stale brandy and violence filled her senses. He worked a hand between their bodies and roughly squeezed her breast. A moan rumbled from deep within his chest.

Her body shuddered at his violation.

She gave a hard nudge. Though stronger, Jamie was so engrossed in his efforts she managed to stun him into releasing her.

He stumbled backward.

She swiped the back of her hand across her mouth, trying to drive the taste of him away.

Jamie studied her from beneath hooded lids, a glimmer of satisfaction in his cruel eyes. “Finish preparing Markham’s meal.”

Her fingers shook as she followed Jamie’s instructions. When she had the tray in hand, Jamie clasped her wrist. “Perhaps I should thank Markham for breaking you in.”

Oh God, he was sick. She stared pointedly at his hand until he released her. With a flounce of her hair, she hurried abovestairs. Jamie followed at her heels. He unlocked the door and pushed her inside.

From the chair he was strapped to, Adam studied her.

She flinched as Jamie brushed a curl away from her neck. He leaned down. His hot breath fanned her nape. “Remember me, love.” With that, he took his leave, and the door closed behind him.

The sound of the lock turning filled the small space.

Georgina set the tray down beside Adam’s bed.

She dropped to her knees and set to work on his bindings.

“Georgina?”

The knots came undone, and she sank back on her haunches. “Hmm?” She took his hand between hers.

“Georgina?”

She didn’t pick her head up but continued to rub his bruised flesh.

He laid his free hand on hers, staying her movement. “Georgina, stop.”

She looked up at him.

~~~~

Adam ran his gaze over Georgina. A faint tremor wracked her stiffly held body. He thought of Hunter with his hands on her silken nape, his lips close to her creamy white skin and had to fight to keep from tossing his head back and roaring like a wounded bear.

Hunter had touched Georgina.

What else did he do to her?

The silken whisper slithered around his brain, eating at his insides like a cancer. The idea of Hunter claiming Georgina
—
his lips on hers, his hands cupping her full breasts
—
ravaged him.

“Did he hurt you?” Adam’s voice was raw.

Georgina’s chest heaved, and her gaze darted around. “No,” she said, the word terse. A lie.

He recognized a lie.

Adam tried to quell the surging sense of panic. “Georgina?” This time his voice seemed seemed to penetrate whatever horror held her in its grip.

She shook her head slowly then touched her lip, drawing Adam’s attention to the bruised, swollen flesh.

And he knew. Before she even said it, he knew.

“He kissed me.”

Rage warred with jealousy in his chest. It robbed him of speech. Hit him like a physical blow. He couldn’t understand it. With his feelings for Grace, it shouldn’t matter who Georgina kissed. Yet it did.

There was a wild, hunted look to Georgina, and she remained rooted to the floor.

His heart climbed up into his throat. “Did he do anything else?”

Her chest continued to heave rapidly. “He touched me,” she said quietly. She started to touch her chest and then her hand fluttered back to her side.

A loud humming filled his ears as imagined scenes flashed behind his eyes: Georgina with her skirts thrown above her waist; Georgina held down, defenseless while Hunter plowed between her legs. Adam’s body jerked.

He forced words out past numb lips. “Did he…?” He couldn’t finish the thought. God help Hunter; when Adam secured his freedom, he’d rip the bastard’s entrails through his throat.

She seemed to follow his unfinished question. “No,” she said quickly.

The empty hopelessness in her brown eyes ate at him. Hunter may not have violated her, but he’d still left an indelible mark. Adam could not bear seeing her like this; as if her inner light had been extinguished by his assault.

He needed to show her it didn’t have to be this way.

When he spoke, he kept his tone calm and even. “Come here, Georgina.”

For all that had happened between her and that monster, she didn’t hesitate. She hovered uncertainly at his side.

“I want to kiss you,” he said quietly.

She wet her lips. “Why?”

Because he didn’t want her to believe a kiss was vile and ugly. Because she deserved to know gentleness in an ugly, cruel world.

“Will you let me?”

Georgina remained silent so long he thought she might not answer. The tick of the clock punctuated the quiet. She gave a tight nod.

“Lean close to me. I will not hurt you,” he whispered as though speaking to a skittish mare.

She nodded took a step toward him. Then another. And another. She froze when nothing but the span of a hand separated them. Her breath, a blend of honeysuckle and tea, caressed his skin.

With infinite gentleness, he claimed her lips. The kiss lasted no longer than three heartbeats, perhaps.

Adam pulled away and placed a lingering kiss on her brow. “Run away from this place. You do not belong here.”

Her lids fluttered open, and she placed a hand against his chest.

His heart flipped over at her gentle touch. God, he wanted her lips again. He could no more stop the yearning than he could halt a runaway phaeton with his bare hands.

“Untie me.”

Georgina hesitated and cast a backward glance toward the doorway. She turned back to him with a nod. Her tongue darted out to trace the seam of her lips; the only telltale gesture of her nervousness.

Adam studied her long fingers as she freed his bindings. “Will you sing to me?”

She paused and tilted her head ever so slightly. “Sing?”

“Yes, you know? You put music to words and—”

Georgina giggled, sounding for the first time since he’d known her, like a carefree young miss. She slipped the remainder of the ropes off his wrists. “What are you doing?” she squeaked as he stood up and settled his hand around her waist. Blood rushed through his legs and he gritted his teeth at the weakness months in captivity had wrought.

“Are you all right?”

“Fine,” he lied. He twined his free hand with hers and found strength in her touch.“Go on then,” he urged.

She started to sing, and Adam nearly lost his footing. It was probably the inactivity that made him careless. He had to remind himself to count steps but Georgina Wilcox possessed a voice that would have made choirs of angels weep with envy. She closed her eyes, as if she’d drifted off on the soaring notes.

This is how he would remember her. If he died tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that, or even if he was freed, he’d think back on this moment. Christ, he wanted her…

Her lashes fluttered open. A pale pink colored her cheeks, and she dropped her gaze to his shirtfront as if embarrassed by the joyous moment they’d both stolen.

All the while, he guided her through the motions of the scandalous dance still not practiced in fashionable ballrooms in England, until she forgot her embarrassment and laughed with breathless abandon.

“What is this?”

“This is dancing.”

She laughed again, the sound as pure and clear as bells ringing. “It is terribly improper.”

“It is called the waltz. And most respectable hostesses would agree with you.”

“Where did you learn such a thing?”

“In the ballrooms of Paris.” He squeezed her waist and she picked up his cue.

Georgina resumed her jaunty song, and he twirled her in dizzying circles around the room until she was gasping for breath and singing was no longer possible.

God, he was having a good time. He’d not felt even a smidgeon of happiness since Grace had professed her love. The memory staggered him. The backs of his knees slammed into the nightstand, the abrupt movement making Georgina stumble over his feet.

They crashed down atop the feather-down mattress in a twisted heap of legs and arms. Her frame bounced several times beneath his. Adam braced his arms over her to keep from crushing her. He should move. He should roll to the other side of the mattress.

Instead he brushed back a damp tendril from her brow. “If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”

“Go?” Her voice was breathy from their exertions.

“If you could leave this place?”

A simmering heat pulsed in his veins. His body poised so close to hers. The sound of his ragged breathing filled his ear and almost drowned out her quiet response.

Almost.

He wished it had. Wished he hadn’t heard the cynical edge that should never have been part of the lovely Georgina’s words. “Why should I bother, Adam? Dreams aren’t real.”

Her words pressed on his heart. “You must have dreams?”

“Bah. They are for small children,” she scoffed.

No, they weren’t. Dreams represented hope and happiness.

“Wouldn’t you want to see Paris?”

“We’re on the cusp of war with France,” she pointed out. “I hardly think Paris would be my most logical destination.”

He chuckled. Ever practical Georgina. Too practical. He waved his hand. “Fine, Rome then, or Greece? Don’t you want to see the world?”

She shrugged.

Adam trailed a finger along the satiny smooth skin of her cheek.

An almost simultaneous awareness of the intimate nature of their position registered.

Adam’s whole body went on alert. His shaft, pressed against the vee of her thighs, hardened. Instead of doing the honorable, gentlemanly thing, he did the opposite. He lowered his arms and pressed himself closer to her core.

Her throat bobbed up and down.

Get up. Think of Grace.

He’d been too long without a woman. It had been over a year. This all-consuming desire was nothing more than a physical hunger.

That was what he told himself.

“Adam?” she whispered.

It was a lie.

He wanted her.

His words emerged as a hoarse groan. “Georgina?”

The door flew open and slammed against the wall. In unison, he and Georgina looked toward the entrance of the room.

Adam rolled off the bed in one fluid movement. “Hunter,” he growled.

Georgina scrambled to her feet.

Hunter trained his pistol on Adam, but his enraged eyes were fixed squarely on Georgina.

Adam stiffened as he switched his gaze between his captor and the young maid. It would appear he’d found the bastard’s weakness.

“What are you looking at?” Hunter snapped.

And because it would infuriate the other man, he smiled. A deliberate, knowing smile.

Hunter’s eyes lowered. He murmured, “Leave, Georgina.”

She hesitated.

“Now,” the young traitor roared.

Georgina flinched, but remained rooted to the spot beside Adam.

Adam leaned close to her ear. “Go. I will be fine.”

She chewed her lip. Her soulful brown eyes clouded with desperation.

He gave a small nod.

She turned and marched up to Hunter. “Remember what we agreed upon.”

Hunter frowned, his gaze focused on Georgina as she sailed past him. And Adam was left alone with the beast.

“Did you make love to her?” Hunter’s question gave him pause.

He blinked, and stared at the man moving toward him. He stalked Adam, all but springing forward on the balls of his feet to get his hands on him. Never had the name ‘Hunter’ been more apropos. Hunter moved the pistol to his other hand and dealt Adam a swift right hook that would have impressed Gentleman Jackson himself. “I asked you a question.”

Adam flexed his jaw. Christ, that hurt. Still it was an interesting turn of events. As he’d suspected, his captor had feelings for Georgina. Adam shouldn’t have cared but, strangely, he did. Adam assumed a relaxed pose. He walked over to the window and folded his arms across his chest.

“I asked you—”

“Oh, I heard you,” Adam murmured in casual tones. “It would hardly be gentlemanly of me to answer such a question.”

Hunter rushed him. His reflexes dulled by captivity, Adam took a step back, but not before Hunter planted another fist in his cheek.

Adam crumpled to the floor with a groan. Blood spurted out his nose and made a sticky path down his cheek. Stars danced behind his lids. He forced them back.

Hunter towered over him. “You are not to touch her. Is that clear?”

From his work with the Brethren, Adam had learned the truth. Everyone had a weakness. It would seem Georgina Wilcox was Hunter’s weakness. Could Adam exploit that valuable piece of information? Could he use Georgina to attain his release?

No
, he realized with sickening despair.

In a short time, Georgina had come to mean too much to him. He’d never be able to use her…even if it meant his freedom.

He gave Hunter a pointed look. “I’m not a coward who would force himself on a woman.”

Hunter kicked him in the stomach.

All the air left Adam on a swift exhale. He forced a smile and managed to rasp, “Feeling guilty? It appears you’re not a total monster.”

His captor brought his leg back, but Adam wrapped his hand around Hunter’s ankle and yanked the other man down. Hunter hit the floor with a grunt. His gun skittered just out of reach.

Adam’s heart kicked up a fast rhythm as he stared at the gun that represented freedom. He managed to land a neat right jab. Hunter hissed then, with a triumphant yell, overpowered Adam. His captor raised his knee, and buried it in Adam’s gut.

Adam fought the flood of nausea as Hunter, gasping for breath, dragged Adam back to his chair and strapped him to the hard piece of furniture.

He retrieved his pistol and returned, glaring down at Adam. The gun dangled at his side, taunting Adam. So close. He was so close to it. If he could only reach out…

Hunter jabbed a finger in his direction. “I want you gone. I don’t care if you’re sent back on your merry nobleman’s way or buried beneath the ground. Give me the information, and I’ll free you.”

Hunter’s words were a lie, and they both knew it. Hunter would kill him because he knew too much. He knew what they looked like. Knew their code names.

Gasping for breath, Adam forced one of his ‘merry nobleman’ smiles. “I don’t have the information you seek. I’ll say this. I will get out of here and…” He lowered his voice. “And when I do, Hunter, you’d better run. You had better run as fast and far as your pathetic legs will carry you, because I will gut you alive like the scum you are.”