I should not hope for such things. I should face life with pragmatism. For the blind, others are a hindrance. They change things. They disrupt routines. I cannot have that. For my independence, things must be as I have committed to memory.
“I will not be silent simply because you command it!” Georgia snapped suddenly.
“I am your husband...” Keaton began, unable to stop himself from responding.
“When itsuitsyou! And when it does not, you push me away!”
“This was only meant to be a marriage of convenience,” he reminded. “There need be no closeness. So far, we have not managed to suppress any gossip, only to generate more.This,” he waved in the space between them, “is clearly not working.”
They were slipping away from the innards of London now, the road becoming less congested. Keaton could feel the speed of the carriage increasing. They would soon be back at Westvale, and he would be able to breathe easily.
I will return to the investigation. Discover who did this to me. Unravel the mystery of the fork in my life's path that I was forced down without my knowledge. That is all that matters. Anything else is just a distraction.
“I will not beg,” Georgia said with quiet resolve.
Keaton turned to her despite himself. “Beg?”
“I know that I forced your hand, and I did that quite deliberately. My circumstances were... unpleasant, and I sought to escape from them.”
Keaton waited, but she did not say more. He detected the subtle hints that she was looking for the right words, or battling with herself. Wanting to speak further but holding back. He heard the intakes of breath, the shifting on the seat, the exasperated sigh.
“Go on,” he said slowly.
“No. I will not.”
She does not want to beg and does not want my sympathy. She is certainly no beggar. Georgia Roseton is proud as a lioness. Would she keep that pride if I told her to leave my house? If I annulled the marriage? Or would she beg then?
The idea of Georgia begging made his breath catch in his throat. He tightened his mouth, refusing to let any sign of arousal show. But he could not dislodge the image that was now rampant in his mind—her on her knees, wet, panting, and desperate. The face he had touched and mapped, flushed and imploring, prepared to do anything just to please him…
His train of thought was interrupted by a sudden lurch in the carriage. It was followed by a cry from the driver and then an almighty crash. Georgia shrieked, and Keaton felt her body slam into his. The world tilted, and when it came to rest, he was beneath her, lying against the side of the carriage.
“India,” he whispered, “a ship around the Cape and up the east coast of Africa...”
Georgia mumbled drowsily. Keaton realized she was not fully conscious. He himself had been in a daze. A memory had resurfaced. Of discussing travel with someone, to India...
When was that? And why do I think the conversation took place in a carriage? And that it was interrupted?
He tried to focus on the memory, repeating the words he had just whispered to himself. But it was elusive... More a feeling than a concrete recollection.
Georgia stirred against him. Their pose in the upturned carriage was a mockery of two lovers. Georgia lay stretched atop him, and he had both arms around her. Her head lay beside his, their cheeks touching. It was warm, smooth, and her skin felt soft. Nothing should feel so smooth. Nothing in the world could be so soft.
As he tried to shift, he only succeeded in becoming more aware of the contact between their bodies. His arousal stirred from the feel of her hips pressed to his.
“Georgia?” he whispered, “Georgia, wake up.”
“Elias?” she mumbled.
Keaton frowned. Who wasEliasthat his name came to her in such an unguarded moment? He felt a flash of jealousy and cursed himself for being a fool.
What business of mine is it if there is an Elias somewhere that she desires? I do not want this woman, for devil’s sake!
But his manhood gave the lie to that as Georgia pushed herself up with the result that her hips ground into his. Keaton almost groaned at the surge of pleasure it wrenched through his body.
“Keaton?” she whispered innocently.
“Y-yes,” he croaked. “I think there has been an accident. I hear nothing from outside. I do not think I am injured. Are you?”
“No, I don't think I am…”
