She angled her body to help him onto the mattress. “Here now,” she said, hoping he read the breathlessness in her voice as owing to her efforts to support him rather than the truth. His nearness, his hands on her and hers on him, had all combined to wreak havoc on her senses.
She released him, edging back, then gave a muffled, “Oof,” as shenearly tumbled onto his lap, thanks to his reluctance to unhand her. She managed to keep her footing, barely, skittering back at the last minute.
“Sorry, darling,” he drawled, reclining onto his elbows. A small smile played at the corners of his mouth, as he gazed up at her through heavy-lidded eyes and stretched out his long legs to bracket hers.
Warmth pooled low in her belly at the sight of him half sprawled on the bed before her. The barely-large-enough-for-him bed with its too-feminine cream-and-rose coverlet. Though he’d lost weight since last she’d seen him, something she could say for certain since she’d felt his wiry hardness against her frame as they made their way here, he was still so large and masculine.
Her chamber wasn’t any less feminine than this one, but she really ought to have given him the master bed chamber with its much larger, four-post bed.
“What has you grinning so, Georgina?” He said her name slowly, as if savoring it and crooked one finger toward her. “Why don’t you come here and tell me?”
He was flirting with her. Oh, God. How many times had she fantasized about just such a scene, of having Teddy all to herself to touch and kiss and do any number of wicked things with to her heart’s content. Now, here he was, ready to offer himself up, and she could do none of those things becauseshe wasn’t actually married to the man.
She dragged her gaze off of him and crouched at his feet. “Let’s get these off you, shall we?” She unbuckled his hessians with quick, efficient moves, then levered the boots off.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
She took a moment to regard his feet, well-shaped, high-arched, and large. She really should go. Instead she peeled off the first stocking.
When her fingers brushed the arch of his foot, he jerked and gave a muffled laugh.
Glancing up in delighted surprise, she asked, “Are you ticklish?”
“No,” he answered, far too quickly.
She bit her lip, staunching a grin, and started on the next stocking. This time, she eased it off while simultaneously running one fingertip ever-so-lightly along the underside of his foot. He kicked his foot free of her grasp and hooted with laughter that proved too contagious to resist.
“You she-devil,” he accused, hinging up to a sitting position to finish removing the stocking himself while slanting her a mock look of annoyance.
Utterly charmed, she rose to her feet. Oh, the power he had over her. It had always been like this. One look, one crooked smile, one quiet word, murmured for her ears alone as if they shared some special bond. Which of course, they didn’t. He couldn’t help it if she was mad for him from day one.
“Well, then,” she said, backing for the door.
He unfolded from the bed with languid grace, no longer looking the least bit woozy.
As she watched, frozen in place, he closed the distance between them. “Care to help me with my buttons, pet?”
Pet.He’d always called her that.
“I…” Her heart in her throat, she looked up into his achingly familiar face, even with the unkempt beard she’d never imagined she see on him. Though hardness and lines and the fading bruise marred his usual perfection, she saw through them to the man she knew and loved. She would do anything she could to see him returned to himself in full measure. Anything. Wasn’t that why she had brought him here?
She must not act on selfish impulse, thereby ensnaring him into a real marriage when all this was through. Because he would do right by her, once his memory returned, if she allowed this farce of a marriage she had commenced to cross the point of no return.
Which meant she must nip this mouthwatering temptation in the bud—for his sake.
He inched closer ’til she could feel the heat pulsing off his body. “Must I beg?” he breathed.
Gooseflesh sprouted over her. “I’m happy to h-help,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
She began unbuttoning his waistcoat, her fingers trembling, her body yearning for something unknown, but which she understood intuitively only he could give her. To have everything she ever wanted so close she could taste it, but unable to take the first sip…agony.
She knew what she must do. She must force a wedge between them, something to make the thought of physical intimacy with her abhorrent to him. But what? She had no notion.
Unless…the semblance of an idea came to her. A perfectly horrid idea. Before she could talk herself out of it, she forced herself to speak. “There’s something I need you to tell you.”
She had his jacket undone and bought herself a moment, helping him out of it.
“Do you? What is that?”
