The Rake (18 page)

She shook her head, willing her mind back into control. "Not without a chaperone."

He said something under his breath that might have been a curse,
then
looked at his brothers. Andrew would have stood again, but Robert brushed past him. He glanced at Georgiana, and she thought she saw a touch of humor in his dark blue eyes. "Let's go."

Robert kept walking, and she and Tristan had to hurry to keep up with him. "That wasn't a very subtle attempt at privacy," she said.
"Especially when Bit tackled Andrew."

"I didn't know he was going to do that. I'll thank him later. He's a prime chaperone, as well." He glanced ahead at Robert, a good dozen yards in front of them. "We'll lose sight of him completely in a matter of seconds."

Georgiana chuckled, her hand on Tristan's sleeve. She wished she didn't like touching him so much, but she seemed helpless to resist it. "Isn't it a bit chilly to be getting ices?" she said, when her mind began to wander toward how much she liked touching his naked skin.

"I couldn't think of anything else that sounded innocent enough to lure you away from your guard."

She felt her face warm.
"You
invited Aunt Frederica."

"Because you wouldn't have come without her."

The paths through the Gardens, running between the boxes and the main gazebo, were dark and sheltered, with trees and bushes and flowers creeping up to the edge of the stone and leaning over it. Robert slowed, facing them.

"I'm going back to
Carroway
House," he said. "Good night."

"Bit," she called after him, abruptly realizing that without him, she and Tristan would be completely, totally, alone. "Are you all right?"

He paused, glancing over his shoulder at them. "Yes.
Just too many people."

In a moment, he had vanished. Though she could hear laughter and conversation from the other nearby boxes, no one was in sight.

She swallowed, glancing up at Tristan's profile as
they continued strolling toward the center of the complex. "Will he be all right?"

"As ever.
I told you he was a sterling escort."

Georgiana blew out her breath. Why couldn't she feel this rush under her skin with
Luxley
, or Westbrook, or any of the other trout swimming after her? Why only Tristan, the most unsuitable of her supposed suitors?

"What do you see?" he murmured, still looking straight ahead.

"I wish I knew," she said, belatedly looking away from him.

"Not a trout, I hope."

"That depends. Would we still be playing this game if I were a pauper?"

Tristan stopped, tightening his arm against his side to bring her to a halt beside him. To her surprise he didn't look angry, but very serious. "I don't know. I would want to be. I... don't want to see you with another man.
Ever."

"So it's just jealousy?
Preventive courting, to keep everyone else at arm's length?"

"No." He frowned, running a hand through his black hair. "I am in a certain situation. I won't complain about it, but it is reality. And I won't shirk my duty to my family. What I wish, though, is only for me to know." He leaned closer, tilting her chin up so she had to look him in the eye. "Would you choose to be a pauper? Would you be any less suspicious of a suitor's motives if you were poor and pretty?"

He'd never spoken with her like this before, and the
honest curiosity in his voice was almost painful. "I... don't know."

"Then we won't speculate on circumstances that aren't real. Agreed?"

He was right.
"Agreed."

"Good." With a quick glance down the path, he touched his mouth to hers.

Raw desire flooded her. Georgiana dug her fingers into his arm to keep from flinging her arms around his neck and pulling herself into him. She made herself stand rigid, frozen as a statue, but she couldn't help molding her mouth to his, saying with her lips what she refused to say with her body.

Someone laughed, very close by. Tristan broke the kiss, moving her back to his side again, as a small party of men and ladies came into view ahead of them.

They continued down the path, passing through the other group with nods and greetings she could scarcely remember uttering. A few of them looked at her curiously, but she imagined it was only amazement at seeing her and Dare walking together without blood being spilled rather than speculation that something further might be going on.

He would have slowed again as soon as they were alone, but she refused, giving him the choice of keeping up with her brisk pace or being left behind. They were
not
going to end up naked in a clump of rhododendron. And if he kissed her like that again tonight that was absolutely what would happen.

"Why are we running?" he asked after a moment, laughter in his voice.

At least one of them was amused.
"Because if you're running, you can't be putting your tongue into my mouth."

"I probably could, if I put my mind to it."

"It's not your mind that concerns me." She glanced up at him. "And quit laughing."

"It's funny."

Well, he didn't have to point it out, for heaven's sake. "And you shouldn't be kissing me, anyway."

"Because you've taught me my lesson already?"

That stopped her in her tracks. "You
needed
to be taught a lesson, Dare, before you hurt someone else."

"I've learned my lesson. And now I want to be inside you again."

Good Lord.
She hurried into a walk again. "If you'd learned your lesson," she said as the vendor carts came into view, "you would have been escorting Amelia Johns here."

"For the hundredth damned time, I don't want Amelia Johns," he whispered, running his cheek against her hair. "I want you. Everyone else be hanged."

"That is
not
what was supposed—"

"You don't get to dictate everything,
Georgie
. We're even now, remember?"

He was
not
supposed to be using
her own
logic against her. She'd been so stupid to try to use her own weakness for him to try to teach him a lesson. And now
it was too late, and she needed to figure out what he was planning before a worse disaster occurred. Until then, she needed to stall.

"Get the ices, why don't you?"

With a slow, wicked smile at her, he ordered the ices. Handing half of them to Georgiana, he picked up the rest and they returned to the path. This was better. He couldn't touch her or kiss her with his hands full. Not without the ice melting all over his handsome hunter green jacket and his crisp white cravat.

They returned to the box without incident, and though Frederica looked at her a little closely, Georgiana didn't think anyone knew she'd let
Dare
kiss her. She really needed to stop doing that, however intoxicating his embraces were—both for Amelia's sake and for her own. Because no matter what Tristan said, he couldn't seriously be courting her.

"Where's Robert?"
Milly
asked, looking past them.

"He uttered a complete sentence and retreated to recuperate," Tristan drawled as he passed out the treats. "He nearly said two sentences. I think
Georgie
inspired him." He dropped onto the seat beside her as she carved out the center of her lemon ice. "Enjoying
yourself
, I hope?" he asked.

"Yes, very much," she answered, relieved to be able to give a straight answer. "Were you teasing about Bit being inspired by me?"

His expression darkened a little. "Why?"

"Jealous?"

"That depends on what you're asking me."

Georgiana grimaced.
"Never mind.
I thought I might be able to help, but if it means you beating your chest, forget it."

Tristan tilted his head, eyeing her.
"My apologies.
I forget sometimes that you're not as cynical as you pretend."

"
Tris
—"

"If you can get him to talk, please do so. But be careful.
He .
.."

"He's been through a great deal," she supplied.

"Yes." Light blue eyes watched as she took another bite of the cold, bittersweet ice. "I'm glad you decided to come."

"It doesn't mean anything."

He grinned. "Everything means something."

Georgiana blushed. As soon as the conversation returned to
themselves
, her sensibilities turned to mush. "Well, how about 'I still don't trust you'? What does that mean?"

"You said 'still,' instead of 'will never.'
Which means you could, one day.
" He brushed a finger across the corner of her mouth,
then
put it to his lips.
"Lemon."

Aunt Frederica appeared, taking the seat beside her. From the look in her eyes, she had seen Tristan's gesture. Georgiana sighed.

Her feelings were so tangled. She should hate him, or at the least be angry with him for thinking his pursuit might lead somewhere. Instead, every time she looked at him her pulse raced, and everything, including her
resolve, seemed hopelessly muddled. If this had been the first time he'd pursued her rather than the second, she would have ended up in his bed by now.

Georgiana frowned. She
had
ended up in his bed— again. Something was definitely wrong with her.

"Why the dour face?" he asked.

"I was thinking about you," she answered, though if she'd had any sense she would have just shrugged. If there was one good thing about Dare, however, it was that she rarely needed to watch her tongue in his presence—except when it was trying to end up in his mouth.

"What were you thinking about me?"

"About how you never seem to realize when you're not wanted."

"I think it's
your
skills at realization that should be called into question," he said, licking the last bit of cherry ice off his thumb. "Not mine."

"
Hm
.
Well, you're wrong."

His answering chuckle made her pulse flutter. "I have always wondered why you—"

"Georgiana," the duchess interrupted, standing, "I'm feeling quite fatigued this evening. Lord Dare, do you think you might have someone see us home?"

"I'll be happy to do so myself,
Your
Grace." He stood, offering Georgiana his hand.

She took it, feeling disappointed. They had been getting into their first good argument in several days, and she'd finally begun to relax a little.

"That's not necessary, my lord. I'm sure you wish to
remain here with your family. If you'll just lend us your
coach, that
will suffice."

He
nodded,
his expression unreadable. "I'll walk you to the carriages, then."

They walked to the edge of the gardens, Tristan in the middle, and Aunt Frederica keeping up a stream of polished small talk. Clever and amusing though it was, it kept Tristan from even looking in Georgiana's direction, much less from speaking with her. Whatever the duchess had seen, she obviously hadn't liked it.

At Tristan's whistle, his coach rolled out from the mass milling across the street and came to a stop before them. He helped Frederica in,
then
finally turned his attention back to Georgiana.

"I wish you could stay," he murmured, taking her hand and bending over it.

"My aunt is tired."

With a slight grimace, he straightened. "Yes, I know." He handed her up into the coach, keeping hold of her fingers a moment longer than he needed to. "Have a good evening, Georgiana.
And pleasant dreams."