Divine (34 page)

“Ugh! Shatner.”

“I am sorry for the way I treated him—”

“Please don’t apologize, Seb—”

“I am sure the entire evening proved a shock and—”

“
That’s
an understatement.”

Staring down at their hands hidden in the darkness, she gently rubbed her fingers along the length of his palm.

Sending gooseflesh skimming the back of his neck.

After a moment, she nestled her smaller hand into his larger one, holding it tightly.

Sebastian took in a shuddering breath.

“Georgie . . . I’m sure in time you will move past this loss—”

She laughed. Shook her head.

“No—no, that’s not the problem.”

She let out a gust of breath, still shaking her head.

Sebastian waited for her to continue.

“He had the Zeus mark on his arm.” Words said stonily. Toneless. “No, not just
on
his arm. Tattooed into it. Like a branding iron.”

Sebastian reared his head back, a hiss escaping him.

“What?! How is that even possible?”

Georgiana gave a mirthless laugh.

“My thoughts exactly.”

“Heavens, what a twist—”

“I know it’s supposed to be thrilling—I mean, how could such a thing
not
be thrilling—but instead it’s confusing and troubling. How is he involved in this?”

“Oh, Georgie . . . that’s terrible. And from Shatner, no less.” He squeezed her hand, trying to give some comfort. “I am sure in time your heart will heal, that you will not feel this . . . betrayal so keenly—”

She grunted, still shaking her head.

Back and forth, back and forth. Rubbed his hand again.

“I am so . . .
so
sorry. So terribly sorry I have involved you in this muddle—How can you ever forgive me?”

“Forgive you?”

She shrugged.

“Without this mess, you would probably be back in 1813 pursuing some perfectly normal woman and resolving the issue with the old earl’s will . . .”

He trapped her hand in his. “No, no Georgie—”

“I am so confused, Sebastian. There is so much I don’t know . . . So much—”

She stopped.

Something touched his face in the dark.

Her hand. Caressing. Tender.

Her fingers threaded into his hair.

“Georgie,” he managed to say. Hoping his voice didn’t sound whispery and faint.

It did.

Funny how difficult it was to speak past the yearning ache spreading through his chest.

A second hand followed her first, until both her hands were running through his hair, caressing his cheek. Long, languid strokes.

“What am I ever to do?” she choked. “So impossible . . .”

She leaned toward him.

He felt her breath against his ear, his temple.

Her lips brushing feather-light against his cheek.

So
impossible
.

The air stampeded from his lungs in a violent whoosh.

She didn’t stop.

His eyelids.
Kiss.
His nose.
Kiss.
His chin.
Kiss.

And then . . .

And then his mouth.

Ah!

Her lips were a wonder.

Pillowy. So unutterably soft. Moving gently over his.

Beseeching. Asking.

Lovely.

With a groan, he wrapped a hand into her hair and pulled her mouth more firmly into his. Demanding more. Needing more.

He was only human, after all.

Georgiana returned his kisses, measure for measure, hands clutched around his neck.

Somehow in all his imaginings—and there had been
many
of them over the years—he had never stopped to consider how she would taste.

But it hit him now with startling force.

Honey sweet. Liquid.

Sunshine and warmth and happiness.

She tasted of every hope, every want.

He framed her face in his hands, angling his head to drink more of her.

More of her sweetness. Her courage.

Her spirit.

All the while, a part of his mind danced with glee. He was actually kissing
her
. Finally.

Hallelujah!

Afterward, he could not recall how long their kisses had lasted. A minute? An hour?

He only knew it was not enough. A lifetime of kissing Georgiana Knight would scarcely be enough.

She pulled away, trembling.

Heaven knew he would never have been able to end the embrace on his own.

She let out a long, shuddering breath and sat back into her seat. Reclaimed his hand in hers.

He brought her hand to his lips. Kissed her knuckles lingeringly.

He refused to examine
why
she had kissed him. From shock? Loss? Or was it—finally,
at last
—something more?

No, those were questions he did not want to ask.

Ambiguity provided emotional safety.

And given the battering his heart had taken over the past week, he preferred to just let things
be
.

Georgiana lay in bed, replaying the events of the evening.

Sebastian fighting Shatner, so poised and calm. Fiercely charming in his witty repartee. Finally telling Shatner that they were done. Shatner and his startling tattoo.

Those
should
have been the events keeping her awake.

They weren’t.

It was the memory of
his
kiss.

Of his warm mouth on hers, coaxing, demanding. The coiled strength of his hand in her hair.

The inexplicable
rightness
of it all.

As if she had been waiting her entire life for that one kiss. Her heart sang hosannas through her veins. But a thousand questions lingered.

Well, that wasn’t quite true.

It was one question, and one question only, that plagued her.

Why
had he kissed her?

Okay, so she had technically kissed him first. (Which made it decidedly seven men that she had kissed. No doubting the kiss this time.)

And she knew why she had kissed him. This new
awareness
of him demanded no less. She ached to be closer, to learn him. Like an explorer charting a new country, she wanted to get a stronger lay of the land. Understand the natives and how they viewed her.

But what had motivated him? Because he was a polite man? And when kissed, polite men generally returned the affection?

Though, he had definitely,
enthusiastically
kissed her back, a little more ardently than mere politeness, despite being quiet and reserved before and after said kiss.

What did it all mean? Had he wanted to comfort her, just as he had a few days previously when she had cried into his chest?

Or after all this time, could there perhaps be truth in all his teasing, that he saw her as substantially more than just a friend?

Her breathing went all fuzzy at that thought.

She had no answers.

She knew one thing only . . .

She ached to kiss him again.

After an hour of staring at her ceiling, she gave up. Maybe some ice cream and late night television would calm her.

Padding downstairs in loose pajama bottoms and t-shirt, she absently twisted her hair into a knot on her head, flipped on the light in the kitchen and then froze. Surprised.

Sebastian was there, leaning back against the island, a carton of ice cream in one hand, spoon halfway to his mouth in the other.

Dressed just like her: loose pajama bottoms and a t-shirt that hugged his shoulders.

Hair rumpled, side whiskers a little ragged. Dark eyes gleaming as they raked her from head to toe.

He looked so young, like a university student just down for the term. Not a weathered soldier turned earl and parliamentary lord.

The contrast made her knees weak.

He was utterly delicious.

Shooting her an appreciative look, he popped the spoon in his mouth.

“You willing to share that?” she asked, sauntering over, leaning against the island next to him.

He nodded, digging out another bite. Offering it to her from his spoon.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he explained.

She sighed, relishing the smooth chill of the ice cream.

“Me either.” She took another offered bite. “What’s bothering you?”

He ignored her question.

“Why does chocolate ice cream make everything instantly better?” He shook his head in wonderment, taking another bite for himself before gouging out a spoonful for her. “It’s the most amazing thing.”

“Seb, you are avoiding my question. What’s wrong?” She fixed him with a stern stare. But still readily opened her mouth for another spoonful of ice cream.

He dug back into the carton. Shrugged.

“I have this friend. A very old . . . very dear friend, mind you. And as best I can tell, she broke up with a man she cares about . . .” He lifted his gaze and fixed her with his chocolate brown eyes. “And then, adding insult to injury, another old friend took advantage of her downcast spirits . . .”

His eyes flicked down to her mouth.

Oh!

He shrugged again. Turned slightly away. Head bent, digging out the last bits of ice cream from the bottom of the carton.

“How about you?” he asked, a little too casually.

Georgiana sighed. “Well, I have had an interesting evening myself. I realized my
former
boyfriend—who I have been meaning to break up with for several days now—is most likely in league with some nefarious underworld organization. But, surprisingly, that wasn’t the most shocking revelation of the evening.”

Sebastian instantly stilled, lifting his head. Offered her the last bite of ice cream. She licked it, leisurely, off the spoon.

“No? So what was most surprising?”

His voice sounded nonchalant. But the tension in his shoulders gave him away.

“Well, you see, I have this friend too. A very old, very dear friend. Really like a
brother
to me . . .”

He deflated, just like that.

A popped balloon.

His eyes shuttered and then he instantly turned away, walking over to drop the empty carton into the recycle bin.

Well.

That had been unexpected.

Apparently, he did not appreciate references—even ironic ones—to the once filial nature of their relationship.

Happiness burned through her like fire.

Giddy.

“I find I am exceptionally tired after all,” he said, coming back around the island. “So I believe I will bid you good night.”

He made her a small bow, which looked absurd in his flannel pajama bottoms and t-shirt. He moved to walk past her, but she stopped him with a hand to his chest.

His exceptionally firm,
warm
chest.

She could feel his heart beating fast under her fingers.

“You didn’t allow me to finish,” she whispered.

“Georgiana, it’s late and—”

“Hush.” She placed the fingers of her other hand over his mouth. “You see, I had always considered this friend to be more like a brother to me. But then . . . something happened. Well, it’s been gradually happening over the last couple weeks.”

He quit breathing. His chest just stopped moving under her touch. A light kindled in his eyes.

She continued. “Tonight, I—I realized when this excessively
dashing
friend of mine smiled, that slow, spreading smile of his . . . Yes, just like he is right now, in fact . . .”

With a wondrous laugh, Sebastian turned his head into her hand. Kissed her palm.

Wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him.

He blazed with light. Like a beacon suddenly lit.

Popping up on her tiptoes, Georgiana whispered against his cheek, “Well, tonight I realized his smile turns my insides all
melty
and—”

Whatever else she intended to say vanished as his mouth captured hers.

Achingly tender, lips lingeringly cold from the ice cream.

She threaded her hand into his hair, somehow needing to be even closer. Her other hand slipped around to his back, reveling in the heat of his muscles radiating through the t-shirt.

He enveloped her in his arms, kissing her like a man in a desert.

Like he had been thirsty for far too long, and she was the only one who could quench it.

“So help me,” he growled after a long while, “if you ever mention
brotherly
affections to me again . . .”

He emphasized his statement by giving her a decidedly
non-brotherly
kiss.

Georgiana laughed. A cascade of pure joy.

He groaned, hugging her to him. “Ah, darling, that laugh,” he whispered. “That amazing, glorious sound . . .”

She laughed again. How could she not?

A while later, Georgiana found herself snuggled against him on the sofa, his arm wrapped around her.

His hand was large and warm on her hip, thumb moving in lazy circles that did tingly things to her insides. She had her head on his chest, the slow thump of his heart soothing her to sleep.

How could she ever bear to be parted from him?

It was the last thought before sleep took her.

Chapter 21