“Mr. Daniel Stannis.” She waited, holding her breath to see if mentioning his title would jar his memory.
He frowned, then murmured the name a few times before raking his fingers through his already mussed hair. “I presume I am a man of some distinction?”
Good heavens, this was getting complicated. “We never got around to discussing it.”
His gaze swept over her, a hard curve touching his mouth. “The implication that I was so enamored by your charms that we spent all our time in bed, hmm? That I find bloody hard to accept. I am not a man led by his cock.”
She flushed at his crudeness. “You do have a head wound, so I shall forgive your skepticism and vulgarity, husband, or my heart might be forever wounded.”
The sound from his throat was like a growl.
“What attracted me to you, Miss Heyford? You have no elegance or style. You are plainly dressed in one of the most God-awful gowns I am sure I must have ever seen, you wear no gloves, and I can see the callouses on the tips of your fingers from here. You are not a great beauty and from the little I recall from my memory…a mediocre lover. What could have possessed me to marry you?”
Her cheeks heated at the raw incredulity in his tone.
“It’sMrs. Stannis,” she snapped, hating the thickness in her throat and the burn of tears behind her eyes. Why did it hurt that he thought of her in such an unflattering manner? Was it only the practiced libertine who had taken her mouth with such passion? Was it a mere route for him to kiss ladies and take them to his bed? Even more mortifying, for the last few days, she had to admit that illicit embrace had tormented her dreams.
The rough clearing of a throat sounded from behind her. Albert’s expression was carefully blank as he came to stand close to them.
“Mr. Stannis, I could tell from Miss Heyford’s expression that she knew you. And, ah…from what you said…ah…there have been carnal relations between you. So if you are not married to Miss Heyford, I would most certainly insist upon a ceremony for the liberties taken with my cousin,” Albert said stiffly. “Honor would demand it, sir.”
Georgianna fought the blush with ruthless will and abysmally failed. Her entire body burned.
“She could have been my mistress,” the earl drawled, his gaze watchful and indecipherable.
Outraged, she gasped, “Upon my honor, I was not your or anyone’s soiled dove!”
He stepped forward. “Did you somehow compromise me? I will not bloody well believe I had my pick of the crème of the crop and chose—”
The earl paled, swayed, and she instinctively rushed forward, catching him against her. “What is it?” she gasped, glancing over her shoulders at her cousin. “Albert, is this normal?”
“I remember your smell,” the earl murmured, dipping his head perilously close to her cheek. “The feel of you against my body.”
Shocked, she glanced up, their gazes collided, and her heart lurched at the flare of heat in his gaze. Georgianna helplessly stared at him, painfully aware of the power and size of him. Except this close, she could see the curl of uncertainty in those dark green eyes, and perhaps a hint of pain.
Are you afraid?
Of course, he must be. A lump formed in her throat as she tried to imagine how horrifying it would be should one day she opened her eyes and knew not the world or herself. “I—”
“Prove that I am your husband,” he said, lifting a hand to cup her cheek.
“Why must it be proven?” she desperately asked. “What reason have I to pretend?”Oh God, surely I will burn in the afterlife for this.
A frown flickered across his features. “Why was I alone in the sea?”
“You went aboard a party…a ball of sorts on a yacht.”
“Extravagant,” he said with another small frown. “You were there… I saw you just now…in a cabin…on my bed.”
Oh God. “I…yes…”
“Our wedding night?”
Georgianna swore an egg could be fried on her cheeks. Her wretched cousin was observing them most keenly. She delicately cleared her throat. “Yes.”
“How in God’s name did I end up here?”
“You must have fallen overboard,” she said softly. “How or why, I do not know.”
