At the Spanish Duke's Command (4 page)

Sitting up, Juan pulled himself together.

It was absurd. Ridiculous.

He was reacting like a teenager, not a man of thirty. Perhaps he should call Leticia tomorrow and suggest they bring forward the wedding. The sooner he got married and settled the better. He shook his head and let out a harsh, disparaging laugh at himself. How could he—a veteran, a man who'd had his share of experience, who knew women like the back of his hand—be caught unawares by a simple kiss?

Closing his eyes once more, Juan groaned as the memory of Georgiana's nipples hardening against his chest caused another flame of heat to flash straight to his groin.
Dios
, this was unbearable.

Then abruptly he rose and, turning out the lights, headed
to his room. Tomorrow he would take measures to curtail this absurd business. But all that would help his present state, he reflected wryly, was a very cold shower.

 

The next day being Saturday, it was close to noon by the time Georgiana finally woke up. As she stretched and opened her eyes the previous night's adventures surfaced.

“Oh, dear,” she muttered, feeling the button of her pants squeezing her tummy. She hadn't even undressed.

Climbing stiffly out of bed, she headed to the bathroom and stared at her face. Smeared mascara and rumpled hair was not a pretty sight. She grimaced at herself and, throwing off her clothes, walked into the huge marble shower, letting the hard water jets wake her sleepy body. As she did so the previous evening rolled out in slow motion, including the unexpected finish.

How, she wondered, lathering the soap, had she ended up in Juan's arms? And how could it have felt so very wonderful to be there? It was crazy. Juan. The man she'd come to loathe, who was so much older than her—a man who never would have crossed her mind as anything but an odious figure of authority. Yet now, as the water trickled down her back, her nipples hardened and a delicious hitherto unknown sensation pulsated between her thighs at the thought of him.

Turning off the water abruptly, Georgiana stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in one of the soft white terry cloth monogrammed towels. As she did so she thought of Leticia.

Oh, no. How awful. Poor Leticia, who had been so welcoming and nice to her. How could she have allowed such a thing to happen?

Feeling like a Jezebel, Georgiana perched on the edge of the vast bathtub and wallowed in an attack of guilt. She
must get away from here. She couldn't possibly stay under the same roof as Juan after what had occurred. She simply must find a way of persuading her mother to allow her to go into a flat.

On this determined note Georgiana rose and returned to the bedroom to get dressed. She would slip out of the house and spend the day somewhere—anywhere but here.

“T
HAT
was not too bad, all things considered,” Leticia said once she and Juan were ensconced in the back of the Rolls Royce and being driven by Juan's chauffeur, Jacobo.

“No. For an evening of speeches and mediocre food, I suppose it wasn't,” Juan agreed, laughing, loosening his satin bow-tie, which he left hanging around his neck, and reaching for Leticia's hand. “You'll be a great duchess, Letti. A credit to the family, mark my words. You're wonderful at looking interested when people are boring you stiff.”

“Rubbish!” she exclaimed, giving his hand a friendly squeeze. “I'm used to listening to people. It's part of a lawyer's job.”

“Certainly a dedicated, socially conscious lawyer like you,” he replied in a more serious tone. “When are you going to the conference on abused women's rights?”

“Next week. Tuesday night. At the university. Will you come?”

“Of course. I'll be interested to hear your views.”

“You may not entirely approve of them,” she murmured ruefully as the car drew up in front of the sleek apartment block on Velazquez where she lived.

“I may surprise you yet. I have great respect for women, and detest the idea of any woman being mistreated.”

“I know you do,” she replied affectionately. Then, as
the car slowed, she dropped a kiss on his cheek. “I won't ask you in for a nightcap as I have to be in court at eight o'clock.” She grimaced.

Juan hesitated, then, leaning over, drew her into his arms.

“Surely we could do a good deal better than this, Letti? After all, in a few months we'll be married.” He looked down into her eyes, and frowned when he saw a wary restraint enter them. He had no desire to frighten her, but she was a thirty-year-old woman after all. He'd naturally presumed that over the years she must have acquired some kind of sexual experience. Yet the way she went stiff in his arms was anything but encouraging. “Sorry,” he said, drawing back, his tone stiff. “I didn't mean to offend you in any manner.”

“You don't bother me in the least, Juan,” Leticia said, embarrassed. “It's just that I have to get up early, and it's late, and I—”

“Of course.” He cut her short, smiled perfunctorily and got out of the car to see her to the door. “I'll give you a ring tomorrow. Perhaps we can get together at the weekend?”

“Yes,” she said, sounding relieved. “That would be lovely. We could take in a round of golf and have dinner at the Club.”

“Perfect.” He dropped a chaste kiss on her forehead and watched as she entered the marble-halled building with a wave.

But as he was driven the rest of the way home Juan frowned again. What was it about Letti that wasn't right? She was always obliging and friendly. They were at ease in each other's company. So what had made her draw back when he tried to kiss her? A sudden flash of Georgiana, whom he hadn't seen since the fateful incident the week
before, made him swallow. He let out a muffled oath and told the chauffeur to drop him a couple of blocks from his home. He needed to walk.

As he arrived at the front door of the building the night porter opened up.

“
Buenas noches
, Don Juan.”

“
Buenas noches
, Julio.” Juan smiled at the man, then made his way to the lift. On reaching the apartment he entered quietly and headed straight down the wide carpeted corridor, lit by small bronze picture lights which illuminated the art gracing the walls. When he reached Georgiana's room he stopped. He saw a sliver of light seeping from below the door and hesitated. Just as he was about to move on the door opened.

“Oh!” Georgiana jumped.

“I'm sorry.” Juan stepped back immediately.

“I—I was going to the kitchen to get a glass of water,” she stammered, blushing. This was their first encounter since the night he'd kissed her. Georgiana swallowed, enveloped by a sudden rush of heat.

“I was just passing on the way to my room,” he said stiffly.

“Ah, yes, of course.” Georgiana smiled weakly. He looked so handsome, with his hair slightly dishevelled, his bow-tie lying negligently on the white shirt-front, the jacket of his tux casually opened.

Then all at once, as though sensing her discomfort, he smiled. “Come,” he said winningly. “A glass of water is a good idea. I'll join you. Though I fear my nightcap will be a brandy.”

She smiled back tentatively, then together they walked back down the corridor, across the hall and into the kitchen. Georgiana headed for the cupboard. She removed a glass,
and Juan was ready with a bottle of chilled mineral water he'd taken from the fridge. He filled the glass carefully.

“There. Now we can make ourselves comfortable in the study.”

He held the door for her and she passed through, willing the churning sensations she was experiencing to quieten down. She tugged her nightgown, wishing rather wistfully that she was wearing flowing silk rather than graceless flannel stamped with images of Winnie the Pooh. Though of course she shouldn't care what she looked like, she admonished herself severely as they entered the study and Juan poured himself a brandy from the decanter. After all, the man was engaged to be married to another woman.

Sitting on the deep couch near the fireplace, Georgiana curled her toes beneath her among the cushions.

“Salud.”
Juan raised the brandy snifter and sat in the armchair opposite, at a suitable distance.

“Cheers,”
she said, a smile curving her lips as she raised her glass of water.

“I think we need a fire,” Juan said, getting up and lighting the logs already set in the hearth. Soon the pleasant crackle of flames filled the air.

Georgiana let out a tiny sigh and relaxed, feeling at ease with him again, as though the kissing incident hadn't taken place. Though of course it had, she reminded herself, trying to convince herself she wouldn't want it to happen again.

“So. Tell me about your classes,” Juan said, leaning back in the soft leather chair and taking a long swig of brandy. Georgiana, he realised with a touch of dry humour, had not the faintest idea how deliciously sexy she looked in her long flannel nightgown, her hair falling about her shoulders, the tiny moist film over her top lip as she sipped the water just asking to be removed. The sudden desire to
kiss it away made him sit up straighter and take another quick sip of brandy.

“It's fine,” she was saying. “We're beginning to study some literature.
Romancero Gitano
.”

“Ah. Federico García Lorca. One of our great poets, executed by the Fascists during the civil war.”

“Yes. It's beautiful verse.”

Juan smiled and recited part of a poem.

“You know Lorca by heart?” she exclaimed, surprised.

“I'm fond of poetry.”

“So am I,” she said, and their eyes met in a shared moment of complicity. Then Georgiana looked quickly away and finished her water. “I suppose I'd better go back to bed. It's getting late.”

“Already? Shall I get you some more water?” Juan rose, moving lithely to where she stood, hovering and unsure whether to leave or stay.

“I don't think—”

He removed the glass from her hand.

He shouldn't—mustn't. But the need was too strong.

Lightly he touched her cheek. “You are too lovely for your own good,” he murmured hoarsely, enchanted not just by her sensuous beauty but by the sensitive creature he intuitively perceived her to be just below the surface. Then, unable to resist, he drew her into his arms.

This time, regardless of all her noble resolutions, Georgiana did not resist. Like a magnet, a mesmerising force was drawing her in, and despite every good intention not to, she succumbed. Slowly Juan's lips came purposefully down on hers, prying them open. As his arms enveloped her, his hands stroked up and down her back, pulling her to him until she felt the hardness of his desire. Another torrent of emotion splintered through her body. Heat rushed to her cheeks, her breast, her abdomen, and she melted
between her thighs. As the kiss deepened, and his body cleaved to hers, she let out a little moan.

“Linda,”
he whispered, taking her down with him onto the sofa and laying her back amongst the cushions,
“Mi Linda.”

Georgiana could no more walk away than she could resist. Her entire being felt deliciously on fire, her nipples two sensitive peaks, her core a throbbing, anticipating chalice of pent-up desire. When Juan's tantalising fingers finally reached her aching nipples, gently grazing them through the soft flannel nightdress, she threw her head back and let out a low gasp of delight, arching towards him as he taunted her further, guiding her expertly towards the brink.

Now, as Juan gazed down at her, arching in his arms, he knew instinctively that it was the first time Georgiana had experienced anything like this. It was too late to go back, too late to stop, he realised, knowing he couldn't even if he'd wanted to. Gently he lifted her nightdress and drew it over her head, revelling in her creamy-skinned body lying naked before him, etched in the soft glow of the flames.

“You are beautiful,” he whispered, lowering his head to her breast while his fingers caressed her legs, travelling upwards until he reached her inner thigh.

For an instant he hesitated, knowing that what he was doing was wrong, that he should not be here with this girl. But it was too late. As his fingers discovered the soft, moist honey between her thighs he groaned and gave way to the delicious intense sensation of bringing her to orgasm. Slowly he reconnoitered, let his thumb graze the tiny nub of flesh until she arched and cried for fulfilment. Now he laved and teased her nipples further as she arched again, begging for release. But still he carried on, driving her to a peak, until in one thrusting movement she let out a cry
of joy. He muffled it with his lips and she fell back, trembling.

When he felt her go limp in his arms, Juan drew her carefully to him, held her close. And together they shared a long intimate moment of joy where nothing was present but their shared pleasure.

Little by little Georgiana came slowly back to earth. Never had she experienced anything remotely similar. Now, as she lay quietly naked in Juan's arms, her head resting against the breast pocket of his dinner jacket, breathing the scent of his aftershave, she felt as though a window had opened and a new part of her life had begun. Instinctively she reached her hand up and touched his cheek.

The tenderness of the gesture shocked him back to life. Made him realise how entirely irresponsible and wrong he'd been to permit things to go this far. He had no right to let this young woman fall in love with him—as he sensed from her tender gesture she would—had no right to take her innocence and betray his future wife inside the portals of his home where, within a few months, Leticia would be residing.

Placing Georgiana's hand gently back in her lap, he picked up the flannel nightgown and slipped it over her head. Georgiana struggled to get her arms in and he smiled. She was part-child, part-woman—the most lovely, desirable creature he'd ever met. Yet she was out of bounds and he must not forget it.

She sighed and smiled up into his face. Juan felt a rush of guilt.

“Georgiana, what happened here tonight shouldn't have,” he said bluntly.

She nodded, swallowed. “I know. What are we going to do?” she asked in a small voice, looking to him for guidance.

“There is nothing to be done, I'm afraid,” he replied harshly, getting up and pacing the room. “You must forgive me for having taken advantage of your innocence and forget I exist. I had no business seducing you. As you well know, I'm engaged to be married. This was out of line.”

“But it happened all the same,” Georgiana protested, hurt pride coming to her rescue. “We both knew the circumstances before. I'm not a child, you know. I can take responsibility. If this—if this has happened,” she said, a delicious flush covering her cheeks, “it's because we both wanted it to. Doesn't that count for something?”

He stopped pacing and looked down at her, hearing the truth of her words. In a gentler voice he replied. “It should,
cariña
. But unfortunately it is not to be. We must resist this temptation. As for blame, the only guilty party here is me. You are not to feel at fault. I am eleven years your senior—a man of the world. I should have known better than to take advantage of you. Particularly when you are residing under my roof,” he added, disgusted.

“Oh, no, we're not back at that again, are we?” Georgiana said, his words causing a surge of anger. “We both knew we shouldn't do it, but we did. Well, it may have been wrong. But is it wrong for two people to feel so intensely drawn to each other?” she questioned, her small chin jutting out, her huge eyes seeking the truth in his.

Juan dragged his fingers through his rumpled hair. “Yes. No. It is not wrong to feel what we felt. It is the circumstances that are wrong.”

“I agree,” Georgiana said, making a dignified retreat. All she'd needed to know was that he'd felt the same way she had. “I will make arrangements to leave the house as soon as possible.”

“Absolutely not,” he said harshly. “You will stay here. It is I who will leave. I have to go on several business trips
anyway. Plus I have another place here in town—a bachelor pad I can stay at. I will tell the Condessa that I'm very busy. She'll understand,” he added ironically.

“How about Letti?” she challenged. “Will she understand?”

“Yes. Oh, she will never suspect that anything went on between us,” he said, an ironic twist to his lips. “She'll just think I'm having an affair with an actress or some new model and turn her eyes the other way.”

“And is that really what you want out of marriage?” Georgiana asked, her brows meeting in a frown. “How can you think of marrying a woman you don't love and who doesn't love you? For if she loved you,” Georgiana threw hotly, “she would never tolerate that kind of behaviour.”