Page 26 of Ironvine

The music came to an end, and her heart pounded in her chest as they applauded. Hugh took her hand and bowed his head. “Dancing with you this evening has been the most singular and exciting experience of the past few weeks here in London, Miss Georgina.”

“Thank you, my lord. I, too, greatly enjoyed our dancing this evening.”

“There are certainly more people in this ballroom now than there were before. It is quite hot in here, and we are both in need of fresh air. Perhaps you would like to join me on the terrace?”

Georgina took in a breath. Here, now, was the moment. The moment that would resolve or destroy all her hopes. She had to show him she was keen on him, but she also could not play the easily won naive girl. Although Georgina felt carried away by the power of this idea that had certainly blossomed in her favour, Ryvves must respect her if she wanted him to see her as a wife, not a dalliance.

She wasn’t afraid to be alone with him, to be kissed by him under the stars. But she couldn’t take the chance that what he wanted for them was but a passing fancy, a moment’s desire, and not marriage.

She needed a marriage proposal posthaste. And to get it, she mustn’t appear eager.

“My sister is waiting on me. I should go to her.”

“Surely she would understand.”

“What is it she would understand, sir?”

“That you and I have an undeniable connection.” The rough timbre of his voice pawed over her flesh.

She lowered her eyes. “We do, yes.”

“Such passions as you inspire, Miss Georgina, cannot be contained by boundaries or rules created by those who could not possibly understand what it is that you and I are feeling at this very moment. Blood runs hot, not cold, just like your hand in mine right now, our flesh touching…”

She withdrew her hand from his. “Sir, I beg leave of you for the moment. I must go to my sister. Otherwise, I fear…”

Suddenly, her arm was taken in a firm hold, and she was pulled deeper into the throng, out the veranda doors, quickly down the steps away from the other guests and into the gardens. Hugh’s warm breath fanned the bare flesh of her chest. “You are a divine creature, and I must have you to myself.”

She only laughed. Divine. Yes, that was the word.

“My darling, I must have you.”

“I beg your pardon, my lord?”

“Yes, beg for it, the word I long to hear,” he muttered against her hand, and her fingers curled. His wet tongue laid a trail up the inside of her bare arm, and she shivered. “Lord Ryvves, what are you doing? You mustn’t—”

“Tasting you, of course.”

Her insides tightened at his words, his darker tone. The meaning unmistakable. How she had longed to hear such things whispered under the moonlight to her by a handsome man one day.

One day had arrived, but was Hugh Montclare that man?

“I remember you as a child, Miss Georgina.” His thumb stroked the edge of her jaw. He chuckled, a rich sound filling her ears that made her heart beat faster. Was this the same heady feeling Philippa had experienced when she’d danced with Hugh Montclare at a ball years ago?

They’d danced only once, but he’d remained a god among men for her sister, the one by whom she’d measure all other males thereafter. She spoke of him endlessly, dreamed of him. Even scribbled out her name “Lady Ryvves” on a sheet of paper. But Hugh had never expressed any interest in her, never called on her. Philippa had been deeply disappointed for weeks after. A month later, she’d agreed to marry John.

“You feel it too, don’t you? This deliciousness between us.” Hugh’s warm nose nudged along the sensitive skin of her throat.

The fragrance of his lavender-scented waterfilled her nostrils. The warmth of his skin flared against hers.

Positively outrageous.

Oh, her plan had succeeded.

She’d never allowed a man to touch her like this before. “What would Philippa think if she could see us like this?”roared through Georgie’s wicked mind as she relaxed in Hugh’s hold.

He murmured against her skin. “All night long, mothers and fathers and girls have paraded by me…”

“A great compliment.”

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