Romancing the Rogue (89 page)

“He’s right, Adam. You cannot marry me.”

The color leeched from his skin as he swiveled on his heel, his heart lurching in his chest.

Georgina stood there, a perfect, pale porcelain doll
—
small, fragile, and helpless amidst a room of life-size beasts. Based on the faint quiver to her lips, and the white-knuckled grip on her skirts, she’d heard Nick’s scandalous proposal. A wave of hot fury licked at his insides, and he wanted to hit his brother all over again.

Tony popped up behind Georgina. He waggled his finger at Nick. “Ain’t the thing discussing a mistress, in front of a young lady.”

And now he wanted to hit his younger brother for showing Georgina to Nick’s office and exposing her to his brother’s priggish, bombastic views on status.

“Get out,” Adam ordered quietly.

When Tony didn’t move, Nick pointed to the door. “Out.”

Adam locked eyes with Georgina. Her gaze bled with hurt and humiliation. This was a wrong he’d committed. He’d be the one to soothe those wounds. “You, too, Nick. Out.”

~~~~

Georgina braced for the earl’s protest, but to her surprise, he turned on his heel and left his office. The door closed behind him with an ominous click, leaving her and Adam alone. She rather suspected the earl’s willingness to leave had more to do with his confidence that Georgina would not capitulate to Adam’s harebrained offer. She studied the tips of her serviceable black boots atop the Aubusson carpet, the stark contrast a glaring reminder of who she was and who they were.

“Aren’t you going to look at me?” Adam asked quietly.

No. It was too hard to have all she’d ever longed for stretched out before her, hers for the taking. Except, as the minutes ticked by, she remembered Adam was the only other person who could weather silence with the same aplomb.

She glanced up and gasped, forgetting her dismissal, cruel Nurse Talbert, and the lofty earl of Whitehaven. Adam looked horrific. “Adam, your face!” She rushed over and gingerly touched his swollen lip. He flinched. His blackened eye was a blend of purple and blues. Transported back to those hellish days of his captivity, she closed her eyes.

Adam rested his hands on her shoulders. “Georgina, this isn’t your fault.”

She swallowed, not opening her eyes because she didn’t believe him. It was. All of it. More than he knew. To compound all the ways in which she’d wronged him, she was now responsible for this friction between Adam and the Earl.

“Adam, you mustn’t argue with him.”

Not for me. Not about me. I’m not worth it.

He lowered his brow to hers and inhaled deeply, as if she were a fragrant bud and he wanted to forever remember her scent. “I’ll not allow anyone to disparage you, Georgina.”

If only he knew what kind of blood flowed through her veins, he wouldn’t so much as sully his hands by throwing her out onto the street. She couldn’t continue the lie, not to a man who was willing to battle his powerful brother—a brother he loved
—
for her honor.

“I-I n-need to tell you something, Adam.” Her insides fairly shriveled in fear of the condemnation she would see once she made her revelation. How long did it take a glimmer of admiration to die? A heartbeat? A second? The blink of an eye? “I don’t deserve your kindness.”

He held a finger to her lips. “Shh. You are a good woman—”

“Stop saying that,” she cried, spinning away from him. She hugged her arms to her chest. “I am not a good woman. I’m the opposite of a good woman.” Evil. Vile. Cunning. And a coward, because she couldn’t even say those words aloud. “I can’t marry you.”

He stood there for a long time, watching her through hooded eyes. Finally, he said, “You can.”

“Fine, I won’t marry you. There are a thousand reasons,” or more, “why I can’t marry you. And only one reason I should.”

She shouldn’t have said that last part, because he dug his teeth into that statement and clung on. “What is the one reason, Georgina?”

Her throat swelled with emotion. She shook her head.

He closed the distance between them in three long strides and framed her face with his strong fingers. “What is the reason, Georgina?” he pressed.

It was the gentle prodding that weakened her resolve, shattered her, and humbled her enough to admit the truth. “I love you.” The words came out strangled.

A fat teardrop squeezed out the corner of her eye. He brushed it back with the pad of his thumb.

“Oh, Georgina,” he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “that is reason enough.”

Not, ‘I love you, too.’ Her heart wilted in her chest.

What did you expect, Georgina?

“You took care of me,” Adam continued in a husky whisper. “You protected me, and what did I do, Georgina? I left you. Let me marry you.”

Good, honorable Adam. He would marry her all out of a misplaced sense of obligation. She’d never imagined that a marriage proposal from this man could cut like a knife.

“I didn’t protect you—”

He made a sound of protest. “You did. You—”

She held a finger up. “Please!” she cried.

He fell silent.

“I could have helped you. I could have done more. And…” She sucked in a fortifying breath. “I’m just as evil as they are.”

Adam growled low in his throat. “Don’t say that!” He closed his eyes. When he opened them, calm had been restored. “You are nothing like them—”

“I—”

“Enough!” The one word resonated off the plaster of the earl of Whitehaven’s palatial office. “This is not the time to discuss what happened in the past. Marry me. If for no other reason than because you have no employment prospects and nowhere to go.”

She wanted him. Oh, how she wanted him. Yearned for him with the same intensity that had gotten Eve cast out of paradise.

The earl of Whitehaven’s vile suggestion twisted around her brain like a slithering snake, shaping an idea. “I…” She licked her lips. “I can be your mistress.”

Another man has been taken captive. His name is Adam Markham.

Signed,

A Loyal British Subject

I can be your mistress.

Adam had to remind himself to breathe. His body stiffened, and an uncomfortable ache settled in his groin. Throughout his captivity, he’d longed for her, but then there had been Grace and because of that—his love for her, his honor—he’d not succumbed to his base desires. Instead, he’d tortured himself with thoughts of her pale, white thighs quivering as he stroked her center. He’d imagined himself plunging into her heat.

Now she was offering herself to him. He needn’t wed her
.
So why did he persist? Because she didn’t feel worthy of him. That much was clear. Considering Nurse Talbert’s condescension and Nick’s priggish treatment of her thus far, what would she feel any differently?

Jagged fury slashed through him. Georgina had braved more than lauded war heroes. She was a better person than all members of the
haute ton
combined. It was he who didn’t deserve her. And, suddenly, it was very important that she say yes to his suit. For reasons he didn’t fully understand or care to examine.

“I don’t want you to be my mistress. I want you to be my wife.”

She troubled her lower lip, the ruby-red flesh he had dreamed about. “Why?”

Her question brought him up short. He suspected his answer would determine hers. “When I…left Bristol, I tortured myself imagining the worst. I…” He looked beyond her shoulder, seeing the chambers that had served as his prison. “I feared they’d killed you, and the thought of that almost killed me. I looked for you. I need you to know that. I didn’t forget you.”

A brown tendril escaped the harsh bun at the base of her neck. She brushed it away. “I—I know.” The strand bounced right back, refusing to be tamed.

It didn’t take an expert spy to detect the lie in her words. He caught the dark curl, rubbing the silky tendril between the pad of his thumb and forefinger. He brought it to his nose, and inhaled the pure, clean lemony scent that was Georgina.

She’d thought he’d abandoned her. He tried to imagine the terror she must have felt as a young woman without references, family, or money. Most women would have dissolved into a puddle of nothingness. Not Georgina. Sweet, determined, resourceful Georgina. At one time, he’d thought her weak. How wrong he’d been. There was a resolute determination in her to survive. She’d stared down some of the most unimaginable horrors and still managed to retain the aura of innocence and beauty that all but radiated from her.

Finally, he found the words to her question. “Georgina, I care very deeply about what happens to you. After I’d been freed, I recalled your smile, your laughter, your pain. And I yearned to see you again. So marry me. I promise I’ll never hurt you, and I’ll tear any man who tried limb from limb.”

Georgina’s lids fluttered like the delicate wings of a butterfly. His eyes roved a path across her heart-shaped face, settling on her full lips.

He leaned down and claimed them as his, searching, tasting. He explored the flesh, sucking at her slightly fuller bottom lip and, when a breathy moan escaped her, swept his tongue into the moist cavern of her mouth. Adam settled his hands on her hips, dragging her close to him, his swollen shaft pressing against the soft flesh of her belly. She cried out, and her tongue met his in a violent parry and thrust.

He tugged her skirts up, caressing the silky skin of her thighs, cupping her buttocks. Her whimper melded with his groan in a symphony of erotic delight. For too long, he’d imagined plunging his shaft deep inside her. Now, there was nothing stopping him. There was no Grace. No sense of honor. No—

A knock sounded in the room like a gunshot. “Adam?” Nick called out. The interruption killed Adam’s desire faster than being dumped head first into the Thames.

Adam yanked his lips away from Georgina’s with a violent curse. Her chest heaved, and her lashes fluttered against the pale skin of her cheeks. God, he wanted to kiss her again. Craved it like a starving man did food. He lowered his head—

Nick’s peevish tone penetrated the hard oak door again. “Adam?”

It seemed to shock Georgina back to the moment. Her body stiffened against his, and she made to pull away.

He held firm.

A lone brown curl fell across her eye. Brushing back the silken strand, he dropped a final kiss on her brow. Her eyes widened and the remaining color faded from her cheeks. She looked like a woman about to battle a beast, armed with little more than her pride.

And he knew. He sucked in a breath. This is why he wanted to marry her. Not out of any silly sense of obligation. Not because she was alone in the world, though that would have been reason enough. He wanted to marry her because of her strength. Her goodness. Her courage. Adam trailed a finger over her jawline, tipping her chin upward, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Marry me, Georgina. I’ll take care of you.”

She wet her lips. “I—”

“Adam, if you don’t open this door, by God, I’m coming in—”

Adam growled. “Go to hell.” He tossed the insult over his shoulder.

A shocked gasp met his curse. Then silence.

Adam rested his forehead against Georgina’s, sending a silent entreaty to the gods.

It would appear the gods were otherwise engaged.

The door opened, admitting his mother. Nick stood over her shoulder, arms folded, his mouth set in a hard, flat line of earlish disapproval. He slammed the door behind them, the reverberations echoing off the walls.

His mother’s shrewd gaze narrowed in on Georgina. She pursed her lips. “What is the meaning of this, Adam?”

~~~~

Georgina wanted the floor to open up beneath her feet. She wanted it to swallow her whole, and then have the carpet pulled above her mortified body for good measure.

Meeting green eyes so like Adam’s, and so filled with stinging rebuke, robbed Georgina of breath. Attired in Wedgewood blue satin skirts trimmed with fine lace, the tall and gracefully elegant woman could only be Adam’s mother.

She jerked her gaze away. Only to have it land on the earl of Whitehaven’s lowered brows, the pinched tension around his narrow lips.

The years and years of her father’s sneering looks and hurtful barbs threatened to sweep her away into a sea of old hurts
—
hurts that still stuck like pinpricks.

Standing beside Adam, with the hard muscles in his chest straining the fabric of his jacket, she should have found solace. Instead, it only served to remind her of her own inadequacies and failings.

Then Adam slipped his hand into hers. His warmth pumped strength and support into her trembling fingers.

“Good afternoon, Mother,” Adam drawled.

The countess frowned. She cast another glance at Georgina. “Adam,” she murmured.

Apparently, the earl had tired of false pleasantries. “For the love of God, release that woman’s hand now.”

Georgina’s toes curled in her boots.

You are worthless, Georgina.

She swallowed, almost choking on the memories.

Father is not here. He is gone. You are free of him and the pain he caused you.

When she shoved back the pall of her father’s memory, she became aware of the quiet enfolding the room.

She stole a peek from the corner of her eye. Adam studied her through hooded lids. Fury melded with something else; something that looked remarkably like…love.

“Mother, would you tell Nicholas that if he disrespects Miss Wilcox one more time, I will lay him flat on this office floor?”

The countess tapped a finger on the edge of her skirts. “Perhaps this might be a good time to introduce me to…what did you say it is? Miss Wilcox?”

“He’ll do no such thing!” the earl barked. He took a step forward. “This woman is a maid.” He cast a glance toward the door, as if fearing that some passing servant should hear the horror of all horrors.

The countess showed no outward reaction, with the exception of her elegantly arched golden eyebrow. “Is this true, Adam?”

Adam’s fingers tightened around Georgina’s. She winced from the pain of his grip. He immediately loosened his hold but did not release her. “She is a nurse. And,” he looked down at Georgina, holding her eyes with his, “I’m going to marry her.”

Silence met his pronouncement.

His mother inclined her head. “Is that so?”

Georgina pulled her hand free. “No!” She couldn’t marry him. Not with all the lies between them. When he finally heard her confession, he would withdraw his offer faster than her racing heart.

Adam glowered at her. “I’m marrying her. With or without approval.” That statement was directed at the earl.

Georgina expected a vitriolic outburst from the staid nobleman.

It did not come.

“Is…” His mother paused and, for a moment, her mouth opened and closed like a trout out of water. “Is there a reason for…for haste?” she finished, ever so hesitantly.

The meaning was quite clear. Heat flooded Georgina’s cheeks.

Adam shook his head. “There is no child.”

“Thank God,” the earl muttered beneath his breath.

She failed to hear the heated conversation that ensued.

A child. Suddenly, the cold within her melted beneath a single frisson of warmth. It flickered like a small flame in her womb, spiraling, and spinning, and catching her afire. It grew and grew
—
the longing for a child sucked her into its fold, and she embraced it, wrapped herself around it, letting it consume her.

She wanted this marriage. Needed it for reasons that were entirely selfish. Not all of which had to do with her and Adam, but also for the hope and dreams of a child. Yearning filled her
—
for the unborn child she would cradle to her breast, love, and protect with all her heart. In her mind, the babe had the look of a cherub; he had Adam’s pale golden curls and moss-green eyes. He was so real. So close, she wanted to reach out and caress his satiny skin. Her child. A person who would love her unconditionally. A person she would never fail. Not as her own mother and father had failed her.

“Georgina?”

She jumped, her heart racing.

Three pairs of eyes were leveled on her.

Adam claimed her hand. “If you don’t wish to wed me, I will not force you. But I—”

Selfish, greedy creature that she was, Georgina’s answer sprang to her lips. “Yes!”

The earl cursed.

She ignored him. “I want to marry you. I…that is, if you still want to wed me. I—”

Adam held a finger to her lips, silencing her. “I’m marrying you, love.”

Georgina smiled. It would appear that sometimes people like her managed to find their own slivers of heaven, after all. Reality jabbed at the corners of her heart, but she forced doubt away. She shared her father’s blood, but they were not the same person. And she would be a good wife to Adam.

Wife.

Still the guilt twisted within her.

“We’ll need to prepare her for London,” the countess was saying, her mouth pinched at the corners. “We’ll need to have a story for Miss Wilcox.” She looked at Georgina. “I imagine since you are to be my daughter-in-law, it would be appropriate for me to address you by your first name.”

“Georgina.”

“This is madness!” the earl shouted. He took two steps toward Georgina, jabbing a finger in her direction. “This woman isn’t fit to grace the front stoop of this townhouse, let alone marry Adam. This—”

Adam had his brother by the collar of his shirt. The countess cried out, but fury thrummed through him. He dragged his brother up until they were eye to eye. “Do not say one more word. If you value me as a friend and brother, you will quit your insults. I’m marrying her.” He released the earl so suddenly the other man stumbled back, gasping for breath.

“You’d choose this…
this interloper over me?” he asked, a solemnity to that question.

“I would.”

Georgina’s heart lodged in her throat.

Oh God, I do not deserve him
.
He is good and loyal and I am destroying the bond he shares with his brother.

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She tried to force them up through her constricted throat. To no avail.

The earl took a step toward Adam, eyes ablaze with fury.

But the countess placed a staying hand on his arm. “Stop,” she murmured. “It is done.”

The other man wrenched free. “Surely you cannot agree to this! We know nothing about
her
.” He used the word as if discussing the lowest whore from the streets of London. He looked at Georgina, his eyes shooting sparks of fury and distrust. “She will hurt you, Adam. Mark my words. This woman is not to be trusted.”

Georgina curled her fingers into tight balls. Jagged nails bit painfully into the palms of her hand, leaving indentations of guilt. The earl was right. Adam deserved better than a deceitful creature like her. Moments ago, she’d managed to silently convince herself that her birthright didn’t matter, had tried to separate herself from Father and Jamie’s treachery. Though she’d trade her right hand for this marriage, she couldn’t trap Adam this way. A confession sprang to her lips.

Adam placed his hands upon her shoulders. “You don’t know anything about her. She is good, loyal, and loving. And you aren’t fit to touch the heels of her boots.”

Screeching silence followed that definitive proclamation.

The earl’s head whipped back as if he’d been punched on the chin. “Very well. I see how it is to be then.” He pinned Georgina with a final glare full of icy loathing. Then he spun on his heel and stormed from the room.

The countess bowed her head. “Welcome to the family, my dear,” she said.