‘One too many bumps on the deuced head, in my opinion,’ Reverend Shackleford muttered.
‘I don’t believe that acting in haste is in our best interests,’ Grace responded firmly. ‘We need to get word to Anthony apprising him of the most recent events certainly, but beyond that, I think we should wait for Nicholas and Malcolm’s return.’ She turned to Agnes, adding, ‘However, if you’re amenable, Stepmother, I do believe that you and Father should stay here until then.’
Clearly, Agnes had not entirely eschewed the dramatics, and her sigh as she nodded her head and accepted three shortbread biscuits was the very essence of martyrdom.
∞∞∞
Climbing wearily up the stairs, Anthony could have kicked himself. He’d handled the whole bloody conversation like an unlocked cub. But strangely, her laughter had finally eliminated the last vestige of doubt that Georgiana Huxley was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He didn’t give a tinker’s damn about her background. Whether she was some gentry cove’s by blow or she’d been stolen at birth. She was simply George. And her self-depreciation, her lack of airs and graces, her unbridled joy in even the littlest things drew him to her like a moth to a flame. In truth, he couldn’t imagine his life without her in it.
Climbing into bed, Anthony determined to keep his distance and bide his time. He would win her over eventually.
∞∞∞
Anthony Shackleford had asked her to marry him. Even now, she wanted to burst into hysterical laughter at the thought.
What the bleeding hell was the idiot thinking?
But despite the fact that his offer had clearly been made out of some ridiculous sense of honour, George felt her heart warm at the thought he would do such a bloody stupid thing. For her.
Didn’t he realise she already belonged to him? That she’d been his almost from their first meeting? He didn’t have to make an honest woman of her. Indeed, she’d rather he didn’t. The idea of being picked apart by a bunch of stuck-up nobs filled her with horror. And in truth, she could never put him through such humiliation.
George abruptly sat up on her mattress. Her hilarity earlier had been mainly a reaction to her disbelief, but could Anthony have believed her laughter a rejection of him entirely? ‘Bugger it,’ she muttered. Surely after what they’d shared, the idiot wouldn’t think she was declininganykind of relationship. Just the leg shackled bit.
Her current bed partner looked up in sleepy disgust as she made to scramble to her feet. ‘I’m sorry, Nelson. I’ve got to go and sort this out. Tomorrow might be too late.’ She tucked the dog up into her blanket and eased open the door. Then before she could change her mind, she ran barefoot towards the hall.
At the foot of the stairs, she paused slightly. What if he snubbed her? Well, at least she’d know where she stood. Biting her lip, she started up the stairs. Halfway up, she almost started laughing again – God knew why she was tiptoeing. There were only the two of them in the bloody house if she didn’t count Nelson.
In moments, she was standing outside Anthony’s door. Should she knock? If she went straight in, she risked being put on her arse again. Taking a deep breath, George banged on the door. The noise sounded like thunder in the silence. Wincing, she snatched her hand away. Likely she’d been a bit heavy handed.
There was a brief quiet, then she heard a mumbled expletive. Seconds later, the door was thrown open. ‘What the dev-’ George stepped back hastily when she saw an actual sword in his hand.
‘Where the bloody hell did you get that?’ she heard herself asking in disbelief.
He didn’t answer, just stared at her as though she was a ghost. She stared back, everything she’d thought to say driven right out of her head by the sight of him wearing only his nightshirt. His almosttransparentnightshirt. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she realised she wanted to rip it off him. She wanted it more than she’d ever wanted anything in her whole life.
Swallowing, George was abruptly made aware of two things. Firstly, that her own attire was equally diaphanous, and secondly, he was gazing at her with much the same expression.
His sword clanging on the floor was the only warning she got as he reached out and pulled her to him, his lips swooping down onto hers in the same instant. As he plundered her mouth with his own, she felt his hands run down her back, dragging up her shirt until his hands closed for the second time on her bare bottom. With a deep-seated groan, he fitted her to him, grinding her against that place thatneeded. Giving an almost kittenish whimper, George allowed him to take her weight, lifting her legs around his waist, her fingers feverishly threaded through the curling hair at his nape as he carried her into his bedchamber, kicking the door shut behind him.
Seconds later, she was dropped onto the bed. Opening her eyes, she looked up at him in awe as he drew off his nightshirt. Truly he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She watched his face as he bent forward and cupped her mound with his large hand, slipping his finger into her already soaking warmth. With a cry, she arched off the bed and Anthony used his other hand to rip open her shirt, revealing her small pert breasts, the nipples already peaking in anticipation. Bracing himself with one hand on the mattress, he bent his head and took one ripe bud into his mouth, his thumb circling relentlessly at the entrance to her core even as his finger continued to delve deeply.
Blindly, George reached down and took his cock in her hand. She heard him groan as she inexpertly stroked the velvet heat of him in the same rhythm as his finger until suddenly she was exploding, gushing over a precipice. So much pleasure, she could hardly contain it. She heard herself crying out his name as sensation rippled along every nerve until abruptly his finger slid from her and she writhed in protest, only to feel him shift above her, his cock slipping from her fingers. Her eyes flew open, and she stared up at him, feeling him position himself in between her legs.
‘If this is not what you want, tell me now, love,’ he rasped, ‘or God help me, I won’t be able to stop.’
In answer, she wrapped her legs around him and pulled him to her, feeling the blunt hot tip of his manhood at her entrance.
With a guttural moan, he plunged deep inside of her. The pain was fierce but brief. Instinctively, she squeezed her eyes shut and arched closer, only to feel him pause. Opening her eyes, she stared up at his features contorted in almost agony as he fought to keep himself still, allowing her to get used to the feel of him filling her body.
Wonderingly, she lifted her hand and tunnelled her fingers through his hair. His eyes burned into hersas he whispered, his voice ragged, ‘I want to go slow for you, but I’m not sure I can.’
In answer, she stroked the rasp of his cheek. ‘Please,’ she whispered achingly.
Slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, Anthony began to move. The last vestige of pain disappeared as the heat came back. The sensations from earlier began to gather again and instinctively she locked her legs around his back, arching up to meet his thrusts.
Her release came out of nowhere, and she cried out as the sudden rush of pleasure crashed through her. As soon as he felt her tighten around him, Anthony lost control. His mouth sought hers in a kiss that was almost savage, and she returned in kind, her tongue tangling with his as she rode his urgency, clutching at his shoulders. Seconds later, she felt his whole body shake as his release wracked him. Gradually, his thrusts slowed until finally he stopped, and with a ragged sigh lowered his body gently onto hers.
They lay just so for a few minutes, each inexplicably knowing a peace that had hitherto been missing from their lives, until at length, Anthony lifted his head and stared down at her.
