Regency Debutantes (24 page)

Captain Hawke’s eyes swept down over the woman seated by his side and felt a swell of possessive pride. His wife. His sweet Georgiana. And not for the first time wished that the wedding breakfast might soon be over so that he could speak with her, and more. She was smiling, a picture of youthful vivacity, captivating, polite, everything a man could wish his wife to present to society. Quite deliberately he moved his thigh beneath the table to brush against hers. Watched with pleasure when those sea-blue eyes met his with surprised delight. A secret smile meant only for him. And he revelled in
it, the desire to hold her to him, to protect her from any hurt, growing strong and deep within him.

Georgiana conversed admirably with all present at the table, the very picture of the happy bride. She had remembered to apologise for the tardiness of her arrival, a matter that was waved inconsequentially away by a magnanimous Admiral Tyler and his lady wife. Lady Tyler seemed in such high spirits, spouting forth maxims of romance and love at such regular intervals as to suppose that she herself might have been the bride. Amid responding graciously to her hostess and exchanging pleasantries with Lieutenant Pensenby, Georgiana still found time to watch the man beside her, the man who was now legally, and in the eyes of the Church, her husband. The dark dangerous eyes frequently swept in her direction, and in them was such indisputable affection that the breath almost caught in her throat. Perhaps Mrs Howard had been right, and Nathaniel Hawke had a care for her after all. For surely there could be no mistaking the message so clear in his gaze? Excitement fluttered in her chest, and when the strong warmth of his thigh brushed hers she felt the blood rise to her face and smiled up at him. A promise between them sealed. Secret, honourable, binding, for ever.

Georgiana pushed the curtains further back to uncover the window from which she had been examining the view of the town below. Beyond the streets of illuminated houses a smoky sky smudged with the onset of night, the horizon highlighted in a golden glow that deepened finally to a rich burnished red. Waves lapped gently upon a tranquil darkening ocean, and the topmasts of the
Pallas
were silhouetted in the distance.

‘It’ll be a fine day tomorrow, just right for us to set sail. When I was young my nurse taught me a saying: “Red sky at
night, shepherds’ delight; red sky in the morning, shepherds’ warning.” Look at the sunset, it’s beautiful.’

Nathaniel came to stand behind his wife. ‘But not as beautiful as you,’ he murmured against the shell of her ear. His arms enclosed around her waist, feeling the soft silk of her gown and the warmth of the woman beneath. His lips nibbled insistently at her ear lobe.

She sighed and relaxed against him. ‘It was kind of Admiral and Lady Tyler to let us spend the night here.’ The thought of them both squashed within the cot in Nathaniel’s night cabin with the entirety of the crew knowing full well what they were about brought a blush to her cheeks. ‘I can scarcely believe that we’re married now. It seems so strange to bid farewell to both Master Robertson and Miss Raithwaite. I’m fast running out of personas!’

He heard the laughter in her voice. ‘That’s just as well,’ he replied, ‘for you’ll be no other than Georgiana, Lady Hawke. You had best grow to like it, as I don’t intend to let you use any other.’ He chuckled and pressed his lips to her neck. The subtle aroma of roses tickled his nose, and he inhaled against the soft white skin. ‘You smell rather different to George Robertson. Did I ever tell you that my nephew-cum-ship’s boy, emitted the most robust odour of the sea? Indeed, on laundry days it was wise to stay upwind of the boy!’ Mirth creased his eyes.

‘Oh, you exasperating man!’ Georgiana exclaimed and swatted the muscular arms encircling her waist. ‘I didn’t smell any worse than the rest of the crew, and well you know it!’

‘Even on a laundry day?’ he teased.

She wriggled round to face him. ‘And whose clothes was I commanded to scrub in that foul-smelling fluid? I’ll be happy never to see that barrel ever again!’

He dropped a kiss to the top of her carefully arranged curls. ‘And neither you shall. The captain’s wife will find her journey to England somewhat different to that of poor George Robertson, that I promise you. Indeed, I’m quite looking forward to resuming the comfort of the cot in my night cabin.’ One dark eyebrow angled dangerously.

A delicate hue of tender pink suffused her cheeks at his mention of the intimacies that lay ahead. ‘You’re quite incorrigible, Captain Hawke.’

‘What’s all this
Captain Hawke?
Next thing you’ll be saluting me! We’re married now, you must call me Nathaniel, as I will call you sweet Georgiana.’

She snuggled in closer to him, laying her cheek against the hard muscle of his chest. ‘Nathaniel,’ she breathed, listening to the thud of his heart, ‘you’re so kind to me, even after all the trouble I’ve dealt you. I must confess I feel guilty that I’ve forced you to this marriage against your will. Can you ever forgive me?’ She stood quite still, not daring to move her face or meet his gaze, just waiting, waiting, for his answer.

Nathaniel gently held her from him and stared down into her face. His voice was soft and melodic. ‘What makes you think that I didn’t want to marry you?’

‘Why, given the foolish position in which I’d placed us both, marriage was the only way for you to save my reputation, and protect yourself from a possible court martial. I know you to be a man of honour. Twice you’ve saved me from death or worse, without thought for your own situation. And for your pains you’re rewarded with the burden of an unwanted wife.’ Eyes the colour of the Atlantic on a wild day regarded him solemnly, huge within the pallor of her face. Tension racked her shoulders and the swell of her bosom raised and lowered with a steady control.

His dark head gently lowered to hers, moving until the tips of their noses just touched. And once there he gently rubbed against her. ‘Georgiana, I know that you didn’t plan to land upon the
Pallas.
It’s true that your presence aboard the ship presented us both with difficulties, and that neither of us had anticipated such a situation arising. Believe me when I tell you that this marriage is very much of my making. As a gentleman I was honour-bound to wed you, but as Nathaniel Hawke—’ his lips moved softly to brush hers ‘—I
wanted
you as my wife.’

‘But …’ Georgiana regarded him in bewilderment, afraid to allow herself to believe what she thought he might be saying.

‘No buts, sweetheart, never any buts. In the time I’ve come to know you, I’m persuaded that no other lady could fulfil that role quite so well. So, you see, if anyone should feel remorse it should be me, for it was I who took advantage of a young and innocent lady within my care.’ Warm breath tickled upon her skin as he traced the line of her jaw with a myriad of butterfly kisses.

The magical allure of his mouth’s motions served to render her a trifle light-headed, but she could not let him take the blame so gallantly for something that she herself had encouraged. Indeed, had she not dreamt of his kisses from their very first encounter? ‘Nathaniel.’ His name sounded silky smooth to the roll of her tongue. ‘You did nothing that I didn’t want, took nothing that I didn’t give freely. And know this—’ her palms pressed against the strength of his body ‘—I would have given you much more than you took.’

A small rumble started from deep in his throat, and his mouth captured hers with an insistent passion. Lips sliding together, moist, hot, in desperation. ‘Georgiana,’ he whispered.

His kisses enlivened her, emboldened her beyond a level
she had reached before, goaded her to tell him the truth she had sworn never to reveal. ‘Indeed, that night, that single night, when you lay upon me in the cot and kissed me, I didn’t want you to leave, only to stay the whole night beneath the covers in my arms.’ She felt wanton, giddy, but strangely unashamed. ‘Are you shocked and disgusted with me?’

‘Never!’ he murmured against the soft lobe of her ear as he feasted on its tender flesh. ‘You don’t know what it is you would have asked.’

She twisted against him, moving her lips to press a line of small hot kisses against his throat. ‘Not then, but I do now. Mrs Howard has warned me of my wifely duties.’

His voice guttered low, a hoarse whisper and no more. ‘It’s no duty, in truth I’ll force nothing of you. Given freely or not at all.’

Slender fingers touched to the roughness of his chin, pulling it lower, so that she could look directly into those burning brown eyes. ‘You’re a good man, Nathaniel Hawke. I’ve known it since you plucked me from the Borne. I’m yours, I’ll always be yours.’

His lips caressed her cheek, moving to claim the tender-shaped form of her mouth. She opened to his touch, meeting the entry of his tongue with her own. Sensation flickering down her spine, sparks of desire rising from the banking heat growing within. Those long tanned fingers traced magic upon her skin, leaving in their wake a path of awakened sensitivity. For all the time that Mrs Howard had taken to fit the elegant rosebud wedding gown to Georgiana, Nathaniel Hawke removed it deftly and with the speed of a sailor retracting the sails in the path of a burgeoning storm. The petticoats and stays were laid carefully upon the chair, leaving her female form clearly visible beneath the sheer material of her shift.

‘Georgiana!’ The word sounded guttural in his harsh expiration of breath. And when his hands reached out to touch her she could feel the tremble within them. He pulled her to him, his strong fingers sweeping the length of her back to cup her buttocks.

The neckcloth tugged once beneath her hands before she tossed it to the floor and returned to pull at his shirt. In a flurry of impatience he disrobed all except his fine midnight-blue breeches, which, mindful of his new wife’s innocence, he determined to retain so as to save her from any fright. He had reckoned without Georgiana’s blossoming passion. As he kissed her, her back arched against the poster of the bed and he felt her fingers move to the fastening on his breeches. ‘Take them off.’ Her voice was low and throaty with escalating desire.

Nathaniel did not need to be told twice. He watched her eyes as they dropped lower. ‘Don’t be afraid,’ he whispered. Strong fingers slipped the fine woven shift to pool upon the Oriental rug, touching where he had ever longed to trace. Along the smooth flesh of her stomach, sweeping over the rounded curves of her hips.

The peaks of her finely formed breasts teased against the dark hair matting of his chest, causing her to gasp in an agony of spiralling need. His taut manhood probed her belly, and she wriggled against him. She felt his intake of breath before she heard it. And his strong arms moved to sweep her up on to the bed. He knelt over her, licking kisses down her neck, moving ever closer to her breasts until at last his wet tongue flicked against the rosy peaks. Georgiana’s thighs burned hot and hard, even while her insides elicited a curious melting sensation. Her fingers wove between his dark glossy curls, his hair sleek and glossy to her touch. Soap and sandalwood and
something that caused her to cry out his name. He slid lower, kissing the silky hidden skin of her thighs, his breath scorching other hidden places until she trembled from the need rising within her, knowing nothing but her love for the man above her and the rising pleas of her body. At last he moved away, his lips skimming her before he uttered his warning, pausing even in the depths of his passion to reassure her. With one thrust she was his, the pain dispersed by the gentle words in her ear and the soft touch of his thumb teasing her lips. He lay quite still until she eased around him and only then did he reveal to her the age-old game that escalated in such a fountain of pleasure for both its players.

Georgiana lay sated and content. Nathaniel’s arms curled around her, the light touch of his sleeping breath rhythmic upon her shoulder. This night had changed her for ever, for she knew with irrefutable certainty that she loved the man beside her, the man who was now her husband. And for all that he had not uttered the words, she had seen in his eyes, his deep dark eyes, that she had captured a place close to his heart.

G
eorgiana was doing her best to alleviate Mrs Howard’s seasickness. The poor woman had been unable to retain one morsel of food within her stomach since leaving the port at Gibraltar. Indeed, they had been only thirty minutes into the journey when her normally creamy complexion paled. By the Saturday afternoon her skin had taken on a greenish tinge and had stayed that way ever since. None of Georgiana’s ministrations seemed to make the slightest difference and even Nathaniel declared he had never seen such a bad case. Such was the lady’s malady that Georgiana was unable to leave her, spending the night-times in a hammock strung close by Mrs Howard’s narrow cot in the first lieutenant’s cabin. John Anderson had gallantly offered to share with Cyril Pensenby since the ladies had come aboard. The small room was crushed enough with only Georgiana and Mrs Howard in it. Heaven only knew how Lieutenants Anderson and Pensenby were coping. The hammock reminded Georgiana of her time amidst the midshipmen and ship’s boys, with only fourteen inches separating each man, or boy for that matter. But she did have to admit that, even when sleeping in a hammock, the captain’s
wife commanded softer, warmer bedding than that of any ship’s boy. Her mind flitted briefly to young Sam Wilson.

She rubbed a small spot of tension on her forehead and allowed Nathaniel to massage her shoulders.

‘You must not take it all upon yourself, my sweet, you’re wearing yourself out. Much more of this and
you
shall be ill. Take a break, she’ll be safe alone for one night.’ Nathaniel pressed a tender kiss to the nape of his wife’s neck and slid his arms down to capture her waist. Even as he made the suggestion he knew that Georgiana would never default in her duty to Mrs Howard, determined in the knowledge that she owed the modiste so much. They both did. But fatigue showed clearly on Georgiana’s wan features, from the shadows beneath her lacklustre eyes to the faint droop in her normally erect shoulders. ‘I’m worried about you,’ he uttered against the softness of her skin.