“What will you do?”
“Whatever it takes.” The promise in his voice was absolute. “He’ll never touch you again. Never threaten you again. I’ll make sure of it.”
“But how? You can’t be with me every second. And he’ll be at all the balls—”
“Then I’ll be at all the balls too. I’ll shadow you so closely he’ll never get near you.” His thumb traced across her knuckles. “And if he tries anything, anything at all, I’ll destroy him.”
The fierce protectiveness in his voice sent warmth flooding through her. “You’d do that? For me?”
“Georgiana.” He lifted their joined hands and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “I’d do anything for you.”
The air between them crackled with tension. She could see the want in his eyes, could feel it in the way his thumb continued to stroke across her skin. She leaned closer, drawn by the warmth and safety he represented.
“James…”
He cupped her face with his free hand, his thumb brushing across her cheek. “You’re so beautiful. So brave.” His voice was rough with emotion. “I want—”
But then he stopped, pulling back slightly even as his eyes remained locked on hers.
“No.” He dropped his hands and stood abruptly, putting distance between them. “Not like this.”
“What?” Confusion and hurt flooded through her.
He ran a hand through his hair, his breathing unsteady. “You’re upset and vulnerable. You’ve just told me about the worst thing that’s happened to you, and I won’t take advantage of that.”
“You wouldn’t be taking advantage—”
“Wouldn’t I?” He turned to face her, and she saw the struggle in his expression. “You’re seeking comfort, protection. And God knows I want to give you both. But when I…” He swallowed hard. “When we come together, it should be because you want me, not because you need someone to chase away the shadows.”
Her heart clenched at the nobility in his words, even as her body ached for his touch. “And if I said I wanted you anyway?”
“Then I’d ask you to tell me again tomorrow. When Julian Faneisn’t lurking in your thoughts. When you can be certain it’s really me you want, and not just safety.”
The restraint was clearly costing him—she could see it in the tension of his shoulders, in the way his hands clenched at his sides. But he held firm.
“You deserve better than a man who would take advantage of your fear,” he said quietly. “You deserve someone who will wait until you’re sure.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks, but they weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of gratitude, of recognition. Here was a man who could have what he wanted but chose to protect her from her own vulnerability instead.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He nodded once, sharp and decisive. “Go to bed, Georgiana. Tomorrow we’ll start planning how to keep you safe.”
She stood on unsteady legs and moved toward the door, pausing on the threshold. “James?”
“Yes?”
“Tomorrow I’ll still want you.”
She left him standing there, and as she climbed the stairs, she heard him release a shuddering breath that told her how much his restraint had cost him.
Chapter Eighteen
James
What in thename of God was he doing? He hadn’t meant to touch her like that. Not for so long. Not with such obvious affection. Not like she was his.
James sat in the chair before his bedroom hearth, staring at the small, flickering fire. His hands still felt the warmth of her fingers pressed between them. He’d kissed her knuckles. And then walked away like some kind of saint when every fiber of his being had screamed at him to pull her closer.
