Tristan swallowed, surprised into stillness as the sound of boots hitting the floor and the bed creaking with additional weight came from beyond the screen. Clothes shuffled to the floor a moment later, followed by the unmistakable sound of muffled groaning and sucking.
He looked at Georgiana again, his amusement warring with something much deeper and more intense. Just seeing her aroused him. Tonight, the combination of darkness, danger, and the obvious sounds of sex were enough to put him over the edge. She sank against him, kissing him on the throat. Tristan took her face in his hands and captured her mouth, kissing her roughly.
Luxley was making small sounds of enjoyment on the bed, and Tristan didn’t need to see to know precisely who was servicing whom. And he’d thought Amelia a novice? Shaking himself, he tore his mouth from Georgiana’s and captured her hands, tucking them into his. They needed to concentrate, to wait for the moment they could escape.
The rest of him, though, particularly the lower part, was concentrating on the slender, curvaceous figure beside him and the sounds of sex just a few feet away. Georgiana looked both embarrassed and excited, her lips parted, begging for his further caress.
The figures on the bed shifted, accompanied by some very naughty words he’d never imagined Amelia would even know, much less utter aloud. Then a rhythmic thumping began, to the accompaniment of Amelia’s moans and Luxley’s grunts of effort. The baron didn’t seem to be much for small talk or foreplay.
Tristan kissed Georgiana again, hot and openmouthed. Somehow the fact that they couldn’t make any noise made their touching even more intense, and his fingers crept beneath the neckline of her tight bodice, cupping her breast and teasing her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Her eyes closing, she leaned into his hand, running her fingers through his hair and pulling his face forward for another plundering kiss.
She intoxicated him, made him feel drunk with lifting, soaring emotions he hadn’t even known he possessed before he’d touched her the first time. Loosening the top buttons running down her back, he tugged the front of her dress down to catch her nipple in his mouth. Her body trembled against him, making him ache and yearn for more. She was his, and he wanted no one else, ever.
The sounds on the bed grew louder, the rhythmic thumping faster and harder, and Georgiana’s wandering, seeking hands found the fastening of his breeches. Unbuttoning them, she reached inside, fondling him as he fondled her breasts. His heart thundering, Tristan threw back his head, thunking it against the wardrobe.
At the same time Georgiana gave a shuddering gasp, pushing closer against him. A vase on top of the wardrobe rocked and toppled, hitting the vanity screen and knocking it sideways. Tristan had an unforgettable view of Luxley’s buttocks pumping with Amelia’s delicate heels locked around them, before all hell broke loose.
Amelia screamed, Luxley bellowed, and Tristan extracted his hand from the front of Georgiana’s dress and yanked the material back up. Shooting to his feet despite an intense discomfort in his aroused nether regions, he pulled her up beside him and held his trousers closed.
“What the devil?” Luxley blustered, looking over his bare shoulder and clearly torn between finishing his work and defending his honor.
The door burst open, followed by Mr. and Mrs. Johns and a handful of servants. “What is—Amelia!”
Obviously the Johns family had either stayed home or had returned early. For some reason, the entire episode suddenly seemed hilarious. Tristan took Georgiana’s hand as she tried to hide behind him. “Run,” he gasped, and sprinted for the door.
They barreled past the Johnses and their startled staff and ran downstairs, Georgie holding up her sagging dress and he trying to button his trousers without falling and breaking his neck. The sitting room window was still open.
As lights and raised voices flared upstairs and in the servants’ quarters, Tristan lifted Georgiana so she could scoot out, then followed behind her, grabbing her hand again as they ran through the garden and emerged around the corner, out of sight of Johns House. Together they ducked into the shadows of a neighboring stable.
Breathing hard, he stopped, and Georgiana doubled over beside him. Alarmed, he knelt at her feet, looking up at her. “Are you all right?”
A strangled laugh answered him. “Did you see their faces?” she chortled, collapsing into his lap and throwing her arms around his shoulders. “‘Amelia!’ They were so shocked!”
He laughed, relieved as he cradled her against his chest. “I don’t suppose she wanted to be a baroness, but it’s a bit late for that now.” Of course, if they’d been recognized, Georgiana was thoroughly ruined, too, but he had the perfect solution for that.
“Oh, she’ll have to marry Luxley. He has no chance of escape.”
“He wasn’t in any condition to escape. I almost wasn’t, either.” Still holding her close, he buttoned up her gown. Tonight was not the night to risk nudity in the middle of Mayfair.
“Do you think they saw us well enough to know who we are?” Brief concern touched her gaze again.
“I’m not sure. Amelia will figure it out, but the rest of them had, ah, several other things to occupy their attention.” That wasn’t quite true; in trying to defend her honor Amelia would of course identify them, and her parents would be desperate for someone else to share some of the blame and the gossip. He would take what steps he could to minimize the damage, so letting Georgiana worry about it tonight wouldn’t help anything.
“As much sympathy as I’d like to feel for her, I can’t help thinking she got what she deserved.”
“And Luxley, too,” he agreed, anger touching him, “for courting you and bedding her, the bastard.”
Lifting her head, she kissed him. It was a light kiss, full of laughter and affection, and it stopped his heart. “This was a very interesting evening,” she said, chuckling again.
“I love you,” Tristan whispered.
Her smile fading, she met his gaze. Then she touched his cheek. “I love you,” she said, in the same soft tone, as though neither of them dared to say it aloud.
“We’d best get you home, just in case all hell does break loose.” He helped her to her feet again. “How did you get here?”
“I hired a hack.” She leaned her head against his shoulder, wrapping her hands around his arm with an easy intimacy that left him almost breathless. “It’s only a few blocks. Might we walk back?”
If she’d asked, he would have carried her across the Pyrenees in his arms. He had a pistol in one pocket, which would offer them ample protection against any ne’er-do-wells wandering Mayfair in the middle of the night. That, though, wasn’t what he was worried about.
