Page 52 of Ironvine

“Yes, you do. Marry me.”

“Marry you?” Her eyes widened. “You have done so much for me already, and I cannot burden you further. My little scheme crossed perfectly with Hugh’s need to marry. But it was obviously not meant to be, and I must finally accept my fate.”

“Not meant to be? Fate can go fuck itself. You are no burden to me. Georgie. Marry me. Unless you want to go to Devonshire, be punished somehow for your willfulness, and marry whomever they force you to.”

“You know I don’t want that.”

“We’ll go to Gloucestershire tomorrow, bury my brother, and marry. You would like that, wouldn’t you? To marry there?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow, first thing.”

She bit her lip. Her chest heaved with rapid breaths as she moved closer to him, her gaze never leaving his. She kissed Charles, and his body stilled. His body hummed with the gentle touch of her most perfect lips on his. A simple yet dazzling stroke of innocence. Of sensation.

Invitation.

“What are you doing, Miss Georgina?” he whispered against her lips.

“Fate can go fuck itself. If we are to do this, then we need to make our engagement utterly binding so that it cannot be denied or pushed asunder by anyone. Even Fate herself.”

“Careful what you say…”

Her hand pressed into his chest. “Thomas and John will surely come tonight, and when they do, there can be no question of our purpose, and there shall be no other choice than for you and I to marry. If you take me to bed now, my value to them will be ruined.”

His pulse charged like a steed entering a battlefield under siege. “You wish me to ruin you?” His fingers stroked the side of her face, the soft silkiness making his blood simmer. “You wish me to make my mark on you? Take your innocence forever?”

She blinked, her tongue shot out and licked at her lip, her face flushed. “Dear Lord, you have a way of making it sound positively sordid yet infinitely delicious.”

A growl escaped his grin. “I’m gratified to hear you think so.”

She shifted her weight. “It must be plain that our intent has been completely and utterly resolved, save for a vicar’s blessing.”

The breath burned in the back of his throat as his thumb stroked her lips. “You did not answer my question.”

“What am I doing? I am seducing you.”

“Not that question.”

“You didn’t ask me a question. You made a statement.”

“True. I shall ask you now. Miss Georgina, will you marry me?”

“I thank you, sir, and yes, I will. Now, Lord Ryvves, will you take me?” She pulled on her corset strings, loosening their grip on her body. “There is no time to spare. We must be quick.”

His breathing deepened. He swallowed hard, utterly focused on her movements, on every inch of bare flesh she revealed to him in the warm candlelight. His hands cuffed her neck, bringing her close to him and his lips brushed hers. His tongue lashed hers. “Your first time should not be quick nor with the corpse of your former fiancé nearby.”

“That is of no matter to me. Hugh made his choices, as are we. You and I are alive, Charles. We are living.”

Her steady gaze met his and rooted him to the ground. To her. “Yes, we bloody well are.”

“And we must be quick.”

“You are sure?”

“Quite sure.”

“Well, then, Miss Georgina.” Charles tugged at the fastening of his breeches as her dress fell to the floor. “Let us complete your sordid downfall at the hands of the last remaining Montclare.”

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