Page 75 of Ladies in Hating
“Have you?” Georgiana’s fingers found their way to the back of Cat’s frock and toyed with the place where the fabric ended, just at the nape of her neck.
“Mm. There was something quite dashing about your lady knight.” Cat blew out a breath and watched gooseflesh rise along Georgiana’s skin. “Do people tell you that often?”
“Ah”—Georgiana shivered—“no.”
“What a shame.” A thought struck Cat, and she pulled back. “Nearly adecadeold?”
“Well. Seven years.” The pink was back in Georgiana’s cheeks.
“You wereeighteenwhen you wroteThe Tale of Josiah Raven?”
“Yes?”
“Sweet sainted Margaret.” She yanked Georgiana back up against her and gave in to the desire to slide her lips along Georgiana’s jaw. “That is remarkable.Youare remarkable.”
Georgiana brushed the side of Cat’s neck, delicate, seeking. Her fingers settled beneath Cat’s ear, and Cat felt desire curl inside her, warmth rising to the surface of her skin.
“You needn’t flatter me,” Georgiana murmured. “I’ve read your books, you know. I know how talented you are.”
“Who’s the flatterer now?” God, she could die like this, with her face pressed into Georgiana’s translucent skin and her head full of Georgiana’s scent. She ran her tongue very lightly along the curve of Georgiana’s ear and murmured: “How old were you when you wrote your first novel?”
Georgiana was shivering harder now. Her skin was hot beneath Cat’s mouth. “Ah—sixteen.”
Her normally crisp consonants were blurred, and the sound of it made Cat feel a little dizzy. Her nipples had gone tight as they brushed against Georgiana’s body. “So clever.” She took Georgiana’s earlobe between her teeth and bit down, and the gasp Georgiana made felt like a spark falling on tinder.
But she wanted Georgiana to keep talking. She wanted to listen as Georgiana came undone.
So she slid her hands down, molding the slim curve of Georgiana’s waist, and then back up to the underside of her breasts. “How did you choose your nom de plume?”
To Cat’s surprise, Georgiana went stock-still beneath her hands.
She drew back instantly to look into Georgiana’s face. Had she gone too far, somehow? Perhaps—
But Georgiana did not look offended, only startled and scarlet-cheeked.
“What is it?” Cat asked.
“Ah—nothing.” Georgiana blushed even harder and pressed her knuckles against her mouth. “It’s nothing.”
What on earth…Cat’s gaze fell to the book on her desk, Georgiana’s pen name stamped into the green cloth.Geneva Desrosiers.
She glanced back up at Georgiana. “You do not have to explain it if you do not wish to. You are entitled to your privacy.”
“It’s—it’s—” Georgiana’s lashes flickered down and then back up. And then back down again. “It’s mortifying,” she said, and to Cat’s shock, her elegant voice was almost a wail. “I was only sixteen! Everyone makes impulsive decisions when they are sixteen.”
Cat looked at the name on the book again, which did not seem obviously embarrassing in any way.
Geneva Desrosiers. Geneva was a city in Switzerland, and Desrosiers meant “among the roses,” if her execrable French was to be trusted.
Geneva. Desrosiers.
Among the roses.
Her mouth fell open. She looked up at Georgiana. “You—you—”
“No,” Georgiana protested plaintively, and then buried her face in her hands.
“You chose your pen name for… me?”
