The Rake (22 page)

She sighed. "I don't know what to think, sometimes."

Tristan made his shoulders relax. "Don't think so much. I never do."

She gave a short laugh. "Drat, I don't have a fan. If my bottom felt better, I would kick you."

A slow smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "If your bottom felt better, I would suggest several far more pleasant things for us to do together." Looking down at her, he just barely resisted running a finger along her cheek. "I want you," he murmured.
"Badly."

Georgiana swallowed. "You're just trying to make me blush. It won't work, so stop it."

"I don't want you to blush," he continued in the same low voice. "I want you to call out my name, and come for me."

"Shut up," she enunciated unsteadily. "You're obviously mad."

His smile deepened. This seemed to be working well, though he was becoming rather uncomfortable. "Say you'll go for a walk with me tomorrow in Covent Garden, and I'll stop."

"I'm having tea with Lu—"

"And I want to feel your warm skin under my fingers, and your body beneath mine, my
Georgi
—"

"All right!"
Blushing deep red, she yanked him toward the refreshment table. "Be by at ten sharp, or I
will
kick you the next time I set eyes on you."

He nodded.
"Fair enough."

The night had actually gone rather well, considering. He'd found a strategy that seemed to work. She
did
want him, which made the next step that much easier.

Would he have walked away, if she hadn't grabbed his arm? Georgiana hadn't meant to stop him, but the moment he had released her, she hadn't been able to keep from reaching out for him. And he hadn't left, and now she'd agreed to go walking with him. She still kept him close by, supposedly in case she fell, but in truth because she craved the heat and the wanting he caused in her. Just hearing him say those things aloud left her hot and trembling for him.

Even worse, the entire assembly at
Almack's
had seen them deep in conversation for an extended time. They had seen her smile and his smile and the way she'd blushed like a complete
nodcock
. If she hadn't agreed to go walking with him, though, she had the distinct feeling that he would have dragged her off to the nearest empty alcove, pulled her gown off, and ravished her—and even with her sore bottom, she would have enjoyed that far too much for her own good.

Twelve men had proposed to her over the last two years, and she reacted to none of them as she reacted to him. Since their second foolish night together, she'd even tried to imagine herself naked and impassioned with any of her other suitors. After all, if she married one of them, she would be required to share his bed on occasion.

But all those imaginings had given her
was
a faint feeling of disgust. Some of the gentlemen were pleasant enough to look at and several, like
Luxley
and Westbrook, were quite handsome. However, nothing she tried worked. She couldn't tolerate even the idea of
one of them touching her and kissing her, much less putting their—

"My lady," the Earl of
Drasten
said, striding up to her, "I beg you to give me this dance."

Beside her, Tristan
stiffened,
the muscles in his arm tensing. She forced a polite smile. No one was going to brawl over her, and certainly not at
Almack's
. She'd be banned for life. "I'm not dancing this evening, my lord."

"That's simply too cruel," the dark-haired earl protested, favoring Dare with an unfriendly glance. "You cannot deprive us of your company in favor of this rake."

She could feel the force of Tristan's sudden, dark anger flowing around her. "Are you deaf, Dr—
"

"Lord
Drasten
," she interrupted, before Tristan could challenge the idiot earl to a duel, "I was injured in a riding accident the day before yesterday, and I am not up to dancing tonight. I would be pleased, though, to receive a chocolate."

Drasten
held out his arm. "I shall escort you, then."

Tristan looked at him. "No, you won't."

"Go find some other heiress, Dare. This one doesn't even like you."

Gasping, Georgiana stepped between them, shoving at Tristan's chest before he could unleash the fist he'd coiled. Her push didn't even budge him, but neither did he strike. "No," she said, catching his gaze.

The blue eyes that met hers were narrow and angry, but she didn't release her grip on his lapels. After a long
moment, he let out his breath and grimaced. "I haven't killed anyone all month," he murmured, slight humor returning to his gaze. "No one will miss just one earl."

"I say, Dare, you can't talk—"

Moving with that deceptive speed of his, Tristan stepped around her and up to the earl. Grabbing the surprised
Drasten's
hand and shaking it, he leaned closer. "Go away," he murmured, very quietly.
"Now."

The earl must have seen the same thing in Tristan's eyes as she did, because with a small nod he backed away and suddenly found another group of cronies to talk to. Georgiana drew a long breath. She sometimes forgot that when they'd first met, Tristan had had a reputation for hard drinking and harder wagering, and being a deadly shot. He had changed, and she wondered whether it was partly because of her.

"My apologies," he said, putting his warm hand over hers.

And now he was the easy, self-controlled Tristan again. For a moment Georgiana wondered if that wasn't the most significant change in him of all; he'd learned that his actions had ramifications not just for himself, but for others, and he let that knowledge guide him—for the most part.

"I'm glad to be rid of him," she returned, wondering whether he could feel the fast rush of her pulse. All he needed to do, apparently, was mention their being naked together and then threaten someone with bodily harm on her behalf, and her knees went weak. "Thank you."

"My pleasure."

She could feel the charged air between them, the sensation that not touching him and kissing him right then and there would cause physical pain. He seemed to sense it as well, and cast a look about the room as though he wished the rest of
Almack's
guests would disappear. Perhaps he wasn't as controlled as she'd thought.

"Georgiana," he said in a low voice.

"Will you please walk me... somewhere?" She could scarcely seem to breathe, she wanted him so badly.

"The coatroom?" he suggested. "You look chilled."

She was burning up.
"Yes, exactly."

Considering that she wanted to run, they made their way across the crowded room in a fairly dignified manner. A footman stood watch at the coatroom door. As they approached, Tristan shrugged free of her grip on his arm, and put his hands behind his back.

"Would you please ..." He trailed off. "Blast it, I've forgotten my gloves. Would you please find my brother, Bradshaw, and fetch them for me?" he requested.

The servant nodded.
"At once, my lord."

As soon as he was out of sight, Tristan drew her inside the small room and closed the door. "You're wearing your gloves," she noted, looking at his hands.

He yanked them off and shoved them into a pocket. "No, I'm not."

Closing the short distance between them, he nudged her back against the door and captured her mouth in a
rough kiss. The electricity broke over them and she moaned, pulling his face down harder against her, trying to climb inside him.

His hands swept down her back and hips, closing around her bottom and tugging her against his body. She flinched. "Ouch."

"
Wh
.. .
Damnation." He released her immediately, putting his palms against the door on either side of her shoulders.
"Apologies."

"What about Bradshaw?" she asked, biting his lower lip. "That man's looking for him."

"It'll take a while. Shaw's not here."

Georgiana wanted to compliment him on his deviousness. With the small amount of time they were likely to have, however, that seemed less important than indulging in another hot, openmouthed kiss.

"I wish the damned door had a lock," he muttered against her mouth, kissing her until she felt nearly faint with wanting him.

"We couldn't, anyway." Sliding her hands around his waist, beneath his jacket, she kneaded the hard muscles of his back. "Could we?"

With one last, lingering kiss he pulled away. "No, we couldn't," he murmured, his voice husky with want. "If I intended to beat out the competition by ruining you, I would have done it a long time ago."

Georgiana leaned back against the door, trying to regain both her senses and her breath. "Then how
do
you intend to beat out the competition?"

He
smiled,
a slow, wicked curving of his lips that
made her want to pounce on him all over again. "Persistence and patience," he said, running his ringers along her cheek. "It's not just your body I want, Georgiana. I want all of you."

A few weeks ago she would have doubted his sincerity. Tonight, looking into his intelligent, hungry eyes, she believed him. And that frightened and excited her down to her toes.

The door rattled. Cursing, Tristan flung himself onto the carpeted floor and grabbed one knee in his hands. "Damnation,
Georgie
, I only
asked
for a kiss," he snapped, then threw a glance at the footman as he stepped back into the room. "Did you find my brother?"

"N . . . no, my lord.
I looked, but—"

"Never mind that.
Help me up.
Blasted flighty females."

Flushing, the servant hurried forward and pulled Tristan to his feet.

Trying to keep her jaw from falling open, Georgiana could only watch as Tristan sent an additional glare at her,
then
limped over to retrieve her shawl. "I suppose you'll want to return to your cousin now?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Y . . . yes.
At once, if you please."

The footman stifled an amused look at Dare's back as, with elaborate caution, Tristan offered her his arm. She hesitated for effect,
then
took it.

As they made their way back into the main assembly rooms, Georgiana couldn't help looking at him. Any
rumors resulting from their little adventure would be exactly as he intended—he'd tried to snatch a kiss, and she'd kicked him.

She'd known from the
ton's
lack of reaction to their first tryst that he'd done something to keep the gossips at bay. What she hadn't realized until this moment was that he'd done so intentionally, and that he'd allowed it to sully his own reputation rather than hers.

"Thank you," she said quietly, looking up at his face.

He met her gaze. "Don't. When I lead you astray, I'm obligated to protect you from any gossip about it."

She wasn't certain how much leading he'd done this evening. "Even so, it was nice of you."

"Then thank me by going walking with me in the morning."

She wondered briefly whether she could keep her hands off him for that long.
"All right."