have happened between two people who could not even claim a liking for each other?
And then she remembered the touch of Zachary’s hands upon her, his lips, his tongue, and she knew exactly how such a thing had occurred between them. They were a man and a woman, who had been forced into a situation of close proximity. Factor in Zachary’s feelings of anger towards her for past wrongs, then making love to her, ensuring that she enjoyed having him make love to her, and those intimacies had become inevitable.
Her own response to them she found harder to explain.
‘Unpleasant enough,’ she answered him sharply as she stood up restlessly. ‘Now...?’
‘I thought of you, too, whilst I was away, Georgianna.’
She stilled, once again eyeing him warily. ‘Oh, yes?’
Zachary nodded, his expression intense. ‘They were not unpleasant thoughts at all.’
Georgianna’s heart began to beat loudly in her chest, her cheeks suddenly warm. ‘You surprise me.’
‘Do I?’ He crossed the room silently until he stood only inches away, looking down at her. ‘Does it really surprise you that I remember our time together here so vividly and so pleasantly, Georgianna?’ he repeated huskily.
It did, yes. Hawksmere had not earned his reputation, as one of the five Dangerous Dukes, solely on his war record. No, his exploits in the bedchamber were also lauded by the ladies of England and much envied by the gentlemen. Georgianna did not imagine that someone as inexperienced as herself would have been in the least memorable amongst the dozens of beauties who were reputed to have shared a bed with Hawksmere.
As she had done. However briefly.
Her legs trembled slightly, hands clasped tightly together, as she looked up at him. ‘It would surprise me very much,’ she answered stiltedly.
‘And yet?’
‘I really would rather not talk about that particular subject, Hawksmere.’ She had meant the words to come out as a set-down, but instead they sounded wistful and yearning.
Yearning?
Could it be that she secretly wanted there to be a repeat of the events, the intimacies, they had shared that morning in the bedchamber above them?
That would be madness on her part.
Georgianna’s thoughts were broken off abruptly, indeed, her mind went a complete blank, as Zachary took her in his arms and claimed her lips firmly with his own.
The passion and desire were instantaneous, as Zachary’s arms tightened about her even as his mouth devoured hers hungrily. It was all that Georgianna could do to remain on her feet, by clutching tightly to the tops of his muscled arms as she returned the heat of those kisses.
Zachary broke the kiss to graze his lips against the softness of Georgianna’s cheek. ‘I have thought this past two weeks—’ he kissed her earlobe ‘—of doing this again.’ He tasted the delicate column of her neck. ‘Constantly.’ His tongue sought out the hollows at the base of her throat, the creamy softness of the tops of her breasts through the silver lace. ‘And none of those thoughts matched up to this reality,’ he acknowledged gruffly, his body throbbing and achingly engorged. ‘God, how I want you, Georgianna!’
She gasped. ‘Zachary, we cannot. We must not.’
‘I must,’ he rasped fiercely as he lifted her up in his arms and carried her over to the chaise. He lay her down on its softness and sat down beside her, his gaze holding hers as he untied her bonnet before removing it completely.
‘You have the most beautiful hair, Georgianna, so soft and silky.’ He removed the pins as he spoke, before gazing down at her appreciatively as he loosened those curls about her shoulders.
‘Zachary,’
‘And your skin is like the finest ivory.’ His gaze followed the path of his hand as it trailed down the column of her throat to the swell of her breasts. ‘So pale and so soft to the touch.’ He pushed the lace aside to reveal the scar between her breasts. A scar Zachary did not find any more repellent than she appeared to find the one upon his own throat. No, he considered this scar to be Georgianna’s own, very private, war wound.
A sign, a remembrance, of the battle she had fought, and won, and which now only he and she had knowledge of.
‘You can have no idea how much I have thought of making love to you again, Georgianna,’ he groaned achingly.
Georgianna thought, from the intensity of his kisses and the fire now gleaming, burning, in the silver depths of his eyes as he slowly lowered his head, that she might hazard a guess.
And the thought that this man, that Zachary, wanted her so deeply he had thought of her even whilst he was away in the turmoil of France, filled her with an elation, a happiness Georgianna had not even known she secretly longed for.
She gasped as she felt the warmth of his lips against the scar on her chest. ‘Zachary, don’t.’
‘Let me, Georgianna.’ He breathed hotly against her even as his lips continued to kiss every inch of that scarred flesh.
‘It is unsightly.’ It took every effort of will Georgianna possessed to stop herself from pulling that lace back over the disfiguring scar on her chest, her jaw tight, her hands clenched at her sides.
‘No more so than my own scar. Does that repulse you?’
‘How could it, when it is evidence of your bravery?’ she assured unhesitatingly.
He looked up at her darkly. ‘As your own scar is a part of the brave and beautiful woman that you are. One who has suffered and yet survived.’
‘I barely survived, Zachary,’ she reminded weakly.
‘And you are all the braver and stronger for it.’
Was she braver and stronger? Stronger, certainly, but she did not think herself braver. She still suffered nightmares in her bed at night. Dreamt constantly of that night in the woods. The pain, both emotional and physical, that she had suffered. The terror of waking up blind and in so much pain. The months afterwards when she had continued to fear for her life.
Of still suffering from that same fear.
Georgianna’s limbs turned to water, all other thoughts fleeing her mind, her hands moving up to entwine her fingers in the darkness of Zachary’s hair as he unfastened the buttons at the front of her gown and she felt the warmth of his lips against the bare swell of her breast.
She cried out achingly as his lips parted and he took the aroused and aching tip of that breast into the heat of his mouth, before suckling, gently at first, and then more deeply, hungrily. She arched up into him, instinctively seeking, wanting more, receiving more as Zachary’s hand cupped beneath her other breast and he began to roll and squeeze the second nipple to the same arousing rhythm.
The sensations were overwhelming. An all-consuming heat and a glorious pleasure that radiated out from her breasts and coursed through the rest of her body, her nipples both hard and aching, the folds between her thighs swelling and moistening, the muscles deep inside her
