The Ice Duchess: Scandalous Regency Widows, Book 2 (36 page)

* * *

“
O
h
, God, I thought you’d left the country.”

Rafe finished handing his hat, gloves and greatcoat to the attendant footman before turning to address a glowering Sir Jonathon. “It’s a pleasure to see you too,” he said with a sardonic lift of an eyebrow.

“Now, now, Jonathon,” soothed Helena. She crossed the polished parquetry floor of the entry hall and laid a placating hand on his arm. “You know, as well as I, that bringing Rafe here was the right thing to do.”

Jonathon snorted. “Unless you’ve had a genuine change of heart where my sister is concerned, Markham, I’d leave straightaway. I’m more than willing to set the dogs on you.”

“Steady on,” said Phillip. “I’m sure this situation can be resolved satisfactorily—”

“What situation?” At that moment Lord Farley stepped into the hall and when he saw Rafe, he paled. “Oh, I see... I must say, I wasn’t expecting you to turn up, Markham.” Frowning, his gaze traveled to Jonathon. “Does Georgie know he’s here?”

“No.”

Rafe addressed Georgie’s brother. “I need to speak with her. In private. Where is she?”

“Now, wait one minute,” Jonathon fumed. “You cannot just come charging in here on my sister’s wedding day and expect to be welcomed back with open arms. You broke her heart for God’s sake.”

Farley put a hand on Jonathon’s shoulder. “Enough, my friend. Everyone deserves a second chance.” He turned back to Rafe. “I think I know why you’ve come, and I won’t stand in your way. The duchess is upstairs in her room. Third floor, north wing. Second set of doors on the left.”

Rafe inclined his head. “Thank you.”

He strode across the hall and took the stairs two at a time until he reached the third floor. His heart pounding, he paused in front of a set of oak-paneled doors, trying to catch his breath as well as compose his riotous thoughts.

Groveling wouldn’t be enough.

He had to get this right.

Deciding not to knock, Rafe opened the door and stepped into a tastefully decorated, very feminine sitting room. The chamber was devoid of occupants; a fire crackled in the gray marble fireplace, but the ivory silk upholstered wing chairs before the hearth were empty. So too was the window seat. A door to the right of the fireplace stood ajar and he could see another wide window dressed in dusky blue brocade curtains.

Georgie’s bedroom no doubt.

The plush Aubusson rug deadened Rafe’s footsteps as he crossed the room. Taking a deep breath, he put his hand on the door, and then paused on the threshold when he heard something that made his heart twist with agony—a muffled sob.

Oh, God, no.
Georgie was crying. And it was all his fault.

She was sitting on the edge of the four-poster bed, her head in her hands. The sound of her weeping, the sight of her so wretched and bereft, made his heart fracture all over again. What a bloody, gutless, pathetic fool he’d been to end things with her, this beautiful, intelligent, courageous woman.

“Georgie?” he whispered, but she didn’t hear him. He risked taking a few steps closer and tried again. “Georgie, my love. Please don’t cry.”

She raised her face and blinked at him. Blinked again and then she gave a sharp cry, a hand flying to her mouth. “Rafe?”

He rushed to her and dropped to his knees. Gathered her into his arms and held her so very tight. For the briefest moment she stiffened, her hands braced against his shoulders as if to push him away, but then she sagged against him with a shudder and buried her face in his neck.

“I’m so sorry, Georgie. You’ll never know how much,” he said against her hair, his own voice thick with tears. “Please tell me you’ll forgive me.”

This time when she pushed against him, he released her. Even with disheveled hair, a tear-stained cheeks and a red nose, he was struck anew by her incomparable beauty.

She dashed the tears away from her eyes with a trembling hand and frowned at him. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

He swallowed, taken aback by the hostility in her expression. “Phillip and Helena told me you were to be married to Farley this afternoon. I cannot let you go through with it.”

“Why?” Her blue eyes were as cold as the winter sky as she searched his face.

“Because you deserve so much more from life. A real marriage to a man who you love and who loves you in return.” Rafe reached out to touch her cheek but Georgie flinched away.

Her mouth flattened into a hard line. “Well, twice in my life I thought that was a possibility. But on both occasions it seems I was mistaken.”

This time it was Rafe who flinched. “I understand you’re angry with me, Georgie. And you have every right to be.”

She lifted her chin. “Yes. Yes I do.” She slid away from him then stalked over to the window. “I still don’t really understand why you’ve come,” she said with her back to him. “Don’t you have somewhere else you need to be? I thought Lord Castlereagh would have sent you half way across the world by now.”

“Castlereagh can go hang himself.” Rafe climbed to his feet and followed Georgie across the room, taking up a position on the other side of the window. “I have another, more important duty right here in England.”

Georgie swallowed but she kept her gaze steadfastly fixed on the snow-shrouded grounds of Harrow Hall. “I can’t imagine what that might be.”

“I’m sure you can,” he said softly, drawing closer. “Georgie, I know you’re with child... My child.”

She sucked in a startled breath and her gaze whipped up to his face. “How could you possibly know that?” she whispered.

He curved his mouth into a gentle half-smile. “Why else would you agree to marry Farley?”

Her face paled but she didn’t look away. “I’m still going to marry him, Rafe,” she said, a militant light in her eyes. “You being here, it doesn’t change anything.”

He took one step closer. Then another. He was now close enough to touch her. “Of course it does,” he murmured.

She cast him a fulminating glare. “Why? The last time I saw you, you were adamant you could never lead a normal life. And I won’t marry you—even if you care to offer—because you feel it is your duty.”

He reached out and grasped her chin with gentle fingers so she couldn’t escape his gaze. “Then marry me for love.”

* * *

G
eorgie bit
her lip to stop herself saying ‘yes’ when everything within her demanded she do just that.

“Why the sudden change of heart, Rafe?” she asked, pulling away from his hold. She was too hurt, too raw to tolerate his tenderness, let alone a proposal. “You talk of marriage and love, and of spending a lifetime together yet not that long ago, you were loath to take such a risk. A baby will only make the burden of care worse for you.”

“The guilt I felt, it made me too blind to see there could be another way, Georgie. I wasn’t thinking clearly. But I sincerely believe we
can
make a life together.”

“How? How will it work?” she demanded. “Will you keep me and our child under lock and key? Hire an army to protect us around the clock just in case something should happen?”

Rafe grimaced. “If I have to... I know I ask a lot of you. The question is, would you be willing to try? For us? For our child?” He grasped her shoulders. “I love you, Georgiana Dudley. I need you. These last few weeks have been the most miserable in my life. And I can think of nothing worse than living without you. Or never knowing my child.... Our child.” Again he cupped her face. “Marry me. Say ‘yes’.”

“I don’t know, Rafe...” She searched his dark gray eyes. His expression was so sincere, full of naked expectation, yet still she hesitated. Could he really have changed that much? Vanquished the monsters inside him? And could she live with all of the constraints he was insisting upon? “I trusted you, and then you deserted me when I needed you the most. How do I know you won’t do that again? Leave me because you feel you are not worthy enough? Or because you believe that you are somehow poisonous, too dangerous to know?”

A muscle jerked in his cheek. “You doubt me. I understand that.” With a suddenness that startled her, Rafe shrugged off his black superfine tailcoat and threw it onto the window seat. His fingers then worked at the knots of his cravat.

Georgie frowned in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“Proving my love.” He pulled off the loosened neck cloth and dropped it on the floor.

“Stop that,” she said. Butterflies danced wildly in her belly.

“No.” His gaze fixed on hers, he started to undo the buttons of his charcoal-gray silk waistcoat. “If you won’t trust my word then I will show you how much you mean to me.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” She took several steps away from him but then stopped; she didn’t dare go near the bed. A strange combination of panic and lust made her feel giddy and hot all over as she watched Rafe discard his waistcoat then pull his white linen shirt from the waistband of his tight, buckskin breeches. “I want you to go. I have to get ready for the wedd—”

“No. You don’t.” He ripped off his shirt and she gasped at the sight of his naked chest and torso. The lean, defined muscles of his upper body rippled as he tossed the garment way.

He prowled closer.

“What about Lord Farley and the other guests?” she asked in a breathless, high-pitched voice as she circled away from him but her retreat was to no avail. He followed her until the back of her legs bumped against the window seat. “Helena and Phillip?”

“I don’t care about them.” Rafe was so close, she could feel the heat radiating from his body. His hands rose and gently cradled her face like she was the most precious thing in the world. “I only care about you.”

Oh...

He bent his head, his lips brushing across hers. “Say you forgive me,” he murmured against her mouth, his breath teasing her just as much as the satiny caress of his lips. “Tell me you love me.” He bestowed another kiss, the press of his mouth firmer, hotter. When he spoke again, his voice was a low, seductive rumble she felt all the way to her toes. “Marry me.”

Oh, dear God, how could she resist him? Of course she wanted to be with him, for better or for worse. But perhaps they shouldn’t... He shouldn’t...

Her hand fluttered to her stomach. “The baby,” she whispered.

He pushed her robe off her shoulder and kissed her bare neck. “I’ll be gentle. Let me love you, Georgiana.”

“Yes.” She clutched the back of Rafe’s head and pressed her body against his, offering herself to him.
Surrendering
. Sweet, Lord how she’d missed this.
Him.

With a groan, he slid an arm around her waist and lashed her closer still, claiming her mouth with a gentle ruthlessness that made her pulse race and moisture pool between her thighs. As he palmed her breast with his other hand, he pushed his hips against hers, his impressive erection jutting into the softness of her belly.

She wanted him so badly it hurt. She reached for the fall front of his breeches and stroked his rock hard length through the soft leather, wanting to enflame his need to blazing proportions, but he stilled her fingers. “Not yet, my love,” he rasped. “Take off your robe.”

Georgie couldn’t deny him, or herself. She loosened the tie at her waist and after the blue satin garment slid to the floor, Rafe eased her down onto the cushioned window seat amongst the silken pillows. Then he spread her thighs.

Georgie watched his face. Rafe’s gaze was focused, sharp with undisguised hunger as he stared at her throbbing quim. She bit her lip and moaned. “Please,” she begged rolling her hips. “I need you.”

Rafe smiled. His gaze met hers. “I know.” His thumb circled the pulsating center of her sex. Once, twice, then stopped. “But I’m still waiting to hear if you’ll accept my proposal.”

“You are too cruel.”

His smile widened to a thoroughly rakish grin. “Agreed. But then so are you.”

She arched a brow. “Perhaps. However, I thought you wanted to demonstrate how much you loved me first before demanding an answer.”

“Wench.” Rafe’s searing gaze traveled down her body, melting her will to resist him just that little bit more. “Now, where was I?” He buried his face between Georgie’s thighs and pleasured her throbbing nub and juice-slickened folds with his tongue and lips until she did not think she could endure such sweet, sweet torment a second longer. At last she was swept away in a whirlwind of sublime sensation, hurtled up, up and up to the dizzying heights of ecstasy, a place she never thought Rafe would take her to again.

Panting, bittersweet tears gathering in her eyes, Georgie barely had time to catch her breath before Rafe freed his member from his breeches and began nudging her wet, swollen entrance. She cried out as he slid inside her, not with pain but with joy. The sensation of him filling her, stretching her,
loving her
, was exquisite.

This was what she had been missing. This was what she wanted.

This wondrous feeling of completeness and connection she could only achieve with Rafe.

Lord, she would do anything he wanted, to hold onto this,
to him
, forever.

She gripped his wide shoulders then slid her hands beneath his breeches, cupping his firm buttocks as he began to pulse in and out of her slick passage, teasing her with gentle strokes. When he laved one of her nipples into a tight aching peak, she arched her back and gasped with sheer pleasure.