“Don’t,” she snapped, rearing back.
He pulled away, obviously surprised.
“I apologize,” Georgie said, her voice thinning out with the building tears. “I don’t think I can maintain my composure if you offer comfort right this minute.”
She knew he was watching her like a mad horse, just waiting for her to kick out. She didn’t think she cared. As long as he didn’t touch her, she could hold off the storm. And she had to do that until she saw Lully and reassured herself everything was all right.
And then she needed to speak with the duke and put all this nonsense to rest.
5
Lully, it turned out, was in far better condition than her mother. She and Hattie were ensconced in the green and yellow nursery having bread and butter with her dolls, whom Lully was regaling with the story of the bad man who had been vanquished by brave Lully, monstrous Murphy, and Hattie’s ferocious umbrella. Georgie managed to smile. By the time young Jamie came home, it would be an epic poem filled with swords and dragons.
Georgie left Murphy there, happily dozing in the corner with the bone Mrs. Prince had awarded him like a heroic soldier and went to change her dress yet again. When she’d walked back into the house Mrs. Prince had pointed out the blood on her skirt.
“Ned?” Georgie asked her.
“He’ll limp for a while,” Mrs. Prince had said, “that’s f’r sure. But he’ll mend. He’s a good boy, I’m thinking. An evil deed to force him to this.”
“Yes,” Georgie agreed, her chest tightening another degree. “An evil deed.”
By the time she walked into Jack’s library where the brandy was kept, she’d almost forgotten that the duke waited for her. All she could think of was the soothing tonic that also awaited her. She didn’t enjoy spirits. But right now, she positively yearned for the burn of the liquor down her throat. She desperately needed not only the distraction, but the harsh comfort.
She walked in to see Adam turn from the decanters, two snifters in his hands. “I took you at your word,” he said with a gentle smile. “How is our brave girl?”
Georgie couldn’t imagine any man looking more dear at that moment. She managed another smile for him. “Quite full of herself for kicking young Ned when he tried to grab her. She has decided she should join the army when she is old enough.”
Adam laughed as he limped toward her. “I pity whichever enemy she faces.”
Georgie nodded. “I pity the army she joins.”
Her chest hurt. She laid a hand against her breastbone, as if she could help ease the growing tightness. Adam handed a brandy to her, but she found herself just staring at it, as if she couldn’t make out what it was.
“Georgie?”
She opened her mouth, then shook her head. Oh, no, she thought, breathing fast to dispel those hateful tears building behind her ribs. Not now. Not in front of him. She reached for the brandy and downed it in one swallow. She didn’t even choke. That fire exploded inside her and eased the pain in her chest a bit.
She saw the growing alarm on the duke’s face and tried to smile. Instead, she laughed, except it sounded like a sob. She pushed her fist against her mouth, as if she could force it back in, but it happened again, and then again, until she was shuddering, and the tears splashed her arms and she dropped the snifter to the floor where it rolled onto the parquet.
Adam must have set his own snifter down, because suddenly his arms were around her,
holding her up, holding her against him, holding her safe as she dissolved into the most hideous, mortifying sobs she had ever spent.
She had no idea how long she wept, only that she thoroughly soaked Adam’s waistcoat and creased his coat where she clutched at it to hold herself up. She just knew that for the first time since her Jamie had gone to sea, she felt safe with a man. Protected. And yes, comforted. Just the steady thud of his heart against her ear soothed her, his hand rubbing her back, his murmurs in her ear.
“Fuis,”he finally whispered, his hand holding her head to his chest. “Tá sé ceart go leor.”
Still gasping with sobs, she pulled her head back. “‘It’s all right?’ You...knowIrish?!”
His smile was gentle as dawn. “It helps to know what your Irish troops are saying about you.”
Her chuckle was very watery, but she found she could smile. She was still trembling like a blancmange, and she struggled with the monstrosity of what her father had done. Tried to do.Meantto do. But she felt a little calmer.
And then she looked into those sea-blue eyes. Piercing, compelling, like wells in a desert. She couldn’t seem to look away. She couldn’t breathe correctly. It was as if the world stood still and waited.
Before she could think or pull away or step closer, he cupped her face in his hands and drew her back to him. For a moment, he just brushed away the tears that still tracked her cheeks, his eyes soft and kind. Then, without real intention, as if it was simply meant to be, Georgie found herself being kissed.
And oh, what a kiss. Her Jamie had been all bright energy and boyish enthusiasm. He would buss her as if she were running past him. This man was deliberate, gentle, suggestive. His mouth was soft, inviting, clever, coaxing her to open to him until she couldn’t seem to think or protest. She felt his fingers stroke her cheek and heard the quickening of his breath. She didn’t know what she felt, except that somehow this seemed right. It seemed inevitable. It seemed to fill her with a sweet fire that warmed her far more than the brandy. She couldn’t even think to wrap her own arms around him. She could only stand where she was, lost in a kiss.
