Page 19 of His Wicked Little Christmas
His heart skipped a beat, two, as his blood raced through his veins. But he didn’t move, didn’t blink. If she wasn’t going to give him what he wanted—forever—he was going to make her construct the dwelling they were set to momentarily settle in and beg him to visit. “Five days for what?”
A long sigh left her with the rise and fall of her shoulders. “You’re frustrated because I’m not yielding to your wishes for once. The girl tripping along behind you is all grown-up, Dex. She has her own needs and wants and, yes,wishesnow.”
“After last night, I’m well aware. Very grown-up, indeed.” He produced a phony yawn when his stomach was twisting into knots. “We’ve gone over this in triplicate. I’m resigned, not frustrated. I adore your tenaciousness, except when it gets in the way of what I want. There, I’ve admitted it. I like to get my way.”
“An impasse, because I do, too.”
“Then, the farce continues.”
Georgie plucked at the sheet, looking like she was considering snatching it to her neck if they were going to argue. “You make finding a duchess sound as appealing as tossing out the contents of a chamber pot.”
“That about covers it.”
Sliding off the bed, Georgie crossed to him, her naked body a glorious thing in the bracing, pearly light of dawn. She had a knowing luster in her eyes only a woman of proficiency can obtain. He’d given her this and now felt like prey being tracked by a more cunning animal.
“What can I do to wipe away your fierce glower?” she asked with the barest hint of a smile. Enough of one to send her dimples roaring to life, the ideal time for them to appear, damn her. “My Christmas present to you.”
His gaze sharpened, his body tightening. “I don’t know. What can you?”
Going to her knee, she gathered his cravat from the rug and looking up at him, pulled it through her fingers. “How good are your knots, Dex?”
His breath left him in a rush. “You’d let me do this? Control you in this way?”
She wrapped the length of snowy-white silk around her fist, gave it a firm tug. “I trust you. You’re my closest friend. Everything between us flows from that reality.”
Slipping a hand beneath her elbow, Dex pulled her to her feet, his intent gentle but possessive as his mouth captured hers. Love was a dull blade carving him in two, but he could not, would not, admit it. Suffering to last a lifetime lay down that path.
Georgiana’s arms went around his neck as he turned and pressed herto the wall. His cravat fluttered heedlessly to the floor. They didn’t need it. He needed nothing but her.
“I’ll take the five days,” he whispered against her lips. “And your Christmas gift.”
But he couldn’t help but think as he lost himself in her—andwhen it’s over, I’ll release you even if it kills me.
Chapter Nine
Over the next five days, Georgiana glanced up from making notes in Dex’s folio and caught him gazing at her with the same bookish expression he carried when he categorized fossils. And at other times, too. After they made love, across a candlelit dining table, walking the moors, the look was there, searching, probing when she’d told him exactly what she was thinking, why she had to return to London, why she didn’t want to remarry.
Simple statements of fact when nothing was simple.
Opting to embrace cowardice, she’d revealed all except the critical fact that she loved him with every part of her being. If this deadly admission slipped free, he wouldn’t let her leave when the time came, which it would in twenty-four hours.
Pushing aside the gloomy comprehension that had sneaked past pleasure, Georgiana lifted shakily to her elbow from her spot on the floor, where she and Dex had tumbled during a rather acrobatic session on the bed. “Are you injured? You managed to spin us around and take the brunt of the fall. It was awe-inspiring.”
Dex yanked the tangled sheet off his face, revealing moss green irises. The more relaxed, the darker his eyes. Over the past week, this had proven to be a fascinating study. “I told you not to twist that way. You nearly snapped off an essential part of my anatomy.”
She laughed and rolled to face him, her hand going to his bottom lip. It was plump and moist, battered from her attention. She’d had it caught between her teeth when they took their tumble. In retribution, he grasped her fingertip and sucked on it until her vision blurred.
“But you liked it,” she gasped.
Releasing her, he shook his head, his gaze going to the ceiling. “You know I loved it. I made enough noise to wake the ghosts in this place. Don’t try to catch me in your feminine trap, have me confessing what you do to me. Leave me with a slight crumb of dignity.”
She propped her head on her hand, questioning how she was going to survive without him. His habits had become part of her routine, part of her joy in the day, pleasureoutsidethe bedchamber. The way he folded his newspaper into a neat square and shoved it under his breakfast plate so he could read without handling; the way he paced while tossing a rock from hand to hand when he considered a vexing geological theory; the way his nose crinkled when he laughed; the way he rolled his sleeves into faultless folds on his forearms; the way he held her hand, lightly but forcefully, when they walked the heaths as if he feared she was preparing to run away from him; the way his pupils expanded a tick before he leaned in to kiss her.
Being exposed to such intimate details of a man’s life had started to change the way she looked at relationships, and her belly quivered with this understanding. She feared she’d been teaching her young ladies the wrong things?—
No. She frowned, not wrong. She’d been teaching without actual knowledge. Relationshipscouldprovide the opportunity for great passion. For love. Her gaze roved Dex’s face. High cheekbones, strong jaw. Hair too long, lips too full. And his body,God, his gorgeous, athletic, magnificent body. Maybe more men than she’d anticipated were out there, seeking affection and understanding, vulnerable in a way she’d not imagined a man could be. Like many women were. She palmed her aching chest and swallowed hard.
How had she been so mistaken about life?
