Why Earls Fall in Love (21 page)

She looked up at him, and Con was struck by just how lovely she was. And just how alone she must have felt when she was making all those decisions for herself. He had little doubt that she was fully capable of making them, but he wondered who she turned to when she wished to simply let someone else take over for a little while. He suspected she had no one to turn to.

“And so, you did not tell me because you had no notion that you should,” he said at last. “I do know now, however, and I hope that you will let me work together with you to figure out who it is pulling the strings of Mr. Lowther and Mrs. Kendrick.”

“Of course,” she said, her eyes large in the candlelight. “Of course I will. I need your help. I would never have been able to lie in wait for Mr. Lowther tonight if I’d been on my own.”

Con stepped back over to the table and resumed his seat there. “I think you underestimate your own bravery,” he told her with a crooked smile.

His words seemed to amuse her, and she reached over to grasp his hand. They’d both discarded their gloves ages ago, and when they touched their bare hands together it felt like something that was as inevitable as the tides. “I will try not to shut you out again,” she said softly. “Though I cannot make promises.”

“Trying is enough for now,” Con responded. “Now, tell me more about these anonymous notes you’ve been receiving.”

“Well, there’s not much to tell,” she said with a shrug. “The first one I received before we’d even captured Isabella’s tormentor. And I believe Perdita received one around that time as well.”

“May I see them?” Con asked, thinking that there might be something about the paper or the writing or some other clue that could be gleaned from seeing the actual letters. “I promise to give them back, if that makes you hesitate.”

Georgina gave a half smile. “I’m not worried about that,” she said. “They’re in my bedchamber. You may as well come up and I’ll give them to you to look over.”

Con felt his brows rise at the invitation. But she had already turned to leave the room and head upstairs, so he couldn’t examine her expression for clues as to whether she meant what he thought she might mean.

Cursing his inability to tell innocent words from innuendo, he followed her upstairs.

*   *   *

Georgie was grateful that only she could hear her erratic heartbeat as she led the way toward her tiny bedchamber. The rest of the house was quiet, none of the other members of the household having returned yet from the musicale they attended.

She realized that it had been nearly four years since she’d had a man in her bedchamber. And then it had been her husband, who had never set her pulses racing like Con did. There was just something about Dominic, Lord Coniston, that made her want to unwrap his tidily knotted cravat and muss him up.

When she didn’t hear him behind her, she turned and found that he was there, just very quiet. He must have had some practice at sneaking about in houses after dark, she thought wryly. Reaching behind her, she took his hand in hers and led him the rest of the way until she reached her door and reclaimed her hand so that she could open it with one hand and hold the candlestick in the other.

She stepped forward to light the lamp beside her bed and she heard Con shut the door behind them and wordlessly move over to kneel before the fireplace and light the fire which had been allowed to die out earlier in the day. It had grown chillier as the night wore on and Georgie was grateful for the added warmth.

Not wishing to give up the pretext upon which she’d invited him in, she stepped over to her small writing table and opened the drawer where she’d placed the notes she’d dubbed the “Last Season Letters.” They were there where she’d left them, tied up with a bit of green ribbon.

She turned and was startled to find Con standing just behind her. “How do you do that?” she demanded, in a low voice. “I should have thought you were a green boy rather than a man grown from how light on your feet you are.”

He laughed softly at her words. “I grew up in this house and I know how prone to squeaks the floors are,” he said. “I learned to walk on the balls of my feet, though it’s rather difficult in boots. I wish I’d worn dancing slippers instead.”

She turned around to fully face him, and found herself standing in the circle of his arms. Carefully, as if she were made of spun glass, Con’s hands slipped down to hold her waist while he lowered his mouth to hers. It was a kiss of reverence, as if she were as precious to him as a fragile treasure. And Georgie felt her eyes prick with unshed tears. How did he know that what she wished, what she’d always wanted deep down in her innermost soul, was to feel valued like that? All her life she’d been expected to fend for herself, to be the strong one, to bounce back from whatever blow life sent her way. What was it about this man that made him able to see just what she craved on a bone-deep level?

When he pulled back, she looked up at him from beneath her lashes to find him smiling down at her. “You don’t know how glad I am that you didn’t just slap my face for presuming too much,” he said with a crooked smile.

“Why would I do that?” she asked, confused by his words. “You just kissed me beautifully.”

“I thought perhaps I’d misinterpreted your reason for inviting me up here,” he said with a raised brow. “I didn’t, did I?”

Now was her chance to change her mind, she told herself. If she wished to step back from the precipice upon which they were currently poised, she could do it now. But she knew in her gut that she could no more change her mind now than she could unring a bell.

“No,” she said softly, “you didn’t.”

His eyes darkened and he kissed her again. “Excellent,” he said against her mouth. This time, she didn’t allow him to keep her at arm’s length like a precious jewel, but instead kissed him back with every bit as much passion as he kissed her. His lips were soft against hers as he stroked against the seam of her lips with his tongue. She opened her lips to allow him in, and tentatively, then with more assurance, stroked her own tongue against his. She felt his hands move restlessly over her waist, and up her back, pulling her closer against him, so that her breasts pressed against his hard chest. Her own hands clasped him to her, opening and closing against his strong back, stroking up to feel the softness of the hair at the nape of his neck.

“God, Georgina,” he whispered against her chin, as he kissed a path down over her neck toward her collarbone where he licked into the hollow there. As his fingers slipped into the bodice of her gown, she pressed her breasts forward, wanting, needing to feel his hands touch them. He managed to slip her left sleeve down over her shoulder, freeing her left breast to the chill air. She gasped at the sensation and gasped again when his mouth closed over her nipple and suckled.

Con laughed softly against her chest at the sounds she made. “Shh. Sweetheart, you’ll wake the house.”

His warning brought her up short. “Oh,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

But he kissed her and soothed her and was soon offering the same kind of salute to her right breast, and Georgie, more mindful of herself, bit her lip rather than cry out at the delicious sensation of his mouth on her. “Come over to the bed,” Con said. “I want to undress you properly.”

Her body awake in a way it hadn’t ever been before, Georgie allowed him to pull her over to the iron bedstead, where he pulled the coverlet and sheets down to the end of the bed. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he turned her back to face him and began to unbutton her gown.

“I like this,” he remarked, kissing her bare back. “Not a lot of infernal buttons to wrestle with.”

“It’s because I don’t have a maid,” she remarked dryly. “I can hardly have a gown I can’t remove on my own, can I?”

“That’s my Georgina,” he said with a laugh. “Ever practical.”

He allowed her to step out of the gown and remove her shoes, at which point, he switched places with her and she sat on the edge of the bed while he knelt before her. His eyes were dark again with passion. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, sliding his hands down over her bare shoulders, over her brief corset and the shift beneath.

“Am I?” she asked, feeling almost shy. “I vow I cannot see it myself, but you do make me feel beautiful.”

“You will simply have to acquit me of knowing more in these matters than you do. I am a connoisseur, you must agree.”

“You’re a Con-i-something.” She winked, unable to resist the pun.

“Cheeky wench!” he said, biting her lightly on the knee. His mouth there gave her a tightness in her belly, and it increased as his hands stroked up over the outside of her thighs and beneath her shift.

“This will have to go, I think,” he said almost to himself, as he untied the bow at the top of her corset and thread by thread unlaced it. She let out a sigh of relief as he removed it and couldn’t help but rub the underside of her breasts where they’d been pushed up all day by the whalebone. “Poor darling,” he said, replacing her hands with his, massaging her where it had pinched most, then stroked his thumbs over her nipples. “All this discomfort simply so that you will offer up your bosoms to us lascivious males on a silver platter.”

Before she could respond, however, he leaned up to kiss her mouth, then went back to his knees before her. “Naughty Georgina,” he chided. “Your attempt to distract me from my ultimate goal was bold, but ultimately futile.”

She watched as he slid his hands over the outside of her thighs and shook her head. “Since I have no idea what your goal is, then I can hardly be guilty of deliberate distraction, can I?”

“No idea at all?” he asked playfully, as he slid his hands over the tops of her thighs and worked at the garters that were holding up her stockings. One by one he unfastened them, and rolled down first the right stocking, kissing his way down over each bit of skin he exposed. Then he moved to the other side, sending Georgie’s pulse rate up, up, up as he kissed his way down. When both legs were bare, he kissed first her right knee then her left, and sliding his large hands over her thighs, he pulled them apart and kissed the very center of her.

It sent an instantaneous jolt of intense pleasure through her. So much so that Georgie had to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from crying out. As Con’s tongue and fingers and mouth worked against her sensitive skin, Georgie felt wave after wave of passion surge through her, and unable to remain passive beneath his ministrations, she lifted her hips again and again, following him every time he pulled away. Until, that is, he placed one forearm across her hips and kept her from moving, which somehow made the sensations of his mouth on her sex even more intense.

He stroked his tongue over the most sensitive bundle of nerves and at the same time thrust first one finger, then another inside her, the tandem motion of his tongue and thrusting fingers nearly driving her to madness. When he replaced his fingers with his tongue, Georgie thought she would explode, and despite his strong arm across her belly, she tried desperately to move against his maddening mouth.

Finally, it was too much for her to endure and Georgie felt herself splinter into a million pieces and float up outside of herself into nothingness.

When she came back to herself, it was to find Con trying to remove his boots beside her, and cursing beneath his breath. “Damn boots, why didn’t I take the bloody things off before I got started? Foolish, Coniston. Damn foolish.”

Drowsy with passion’s aftermath, Georgie giggled at his annoyance. She reached out to touch him on the back and was surprised at how tense his muscles were. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Georgina,” he said, finally getting his second boot off, and standing beside the bed to remove his coat and waistcoat and to pull his shirt off over his head. “I am likely to explode,” he said through clenched teeth as he indicated the bulge in his breeches. “I want to be gentle, but I’m damned if I know how I’ll manage it.”

She giggled again, which only earned her a scowl. She scrambled back onto the bed and gave him some room to climb up onto the bed. “You think this is funny, do you?” he asked once he’d removed his breeches. Stretching out beside her, he took her in like a lion surveying his prey.

“This is as serious as serious can be,” he said, though even as the words left his mouth he grinned. “I’m clearly not serious enough to maintain the degree of gravitas necessary for a true ravishment.”

Georgie kissed him and worked between them to touch his erection. “No ravishment here,” she said against his mouth as she stroked his bare flesh between them. “The lady is more than willing.”

She felt him gasp at the touch of her hand and was pleasantly surprised to feel his arms harden around her as he flipped her onto her back, then grabbed her shift and proceeded to split it from neck to hem. “Well,” she whispered, “that’s one way to remove a shift.”

“It is indeed,” he said against her neck as he brought her left leg over his right hip and stroked against her.

Con looked up then, and his gaze met hers. Georgie felt the intensity of their connection right down to her toes. And she knew that whatever it was between them, it was far more dangerous than anything she’d shared with Robert. To her surprise she felt tears well. Before she could hide them, Con leaned forward and kissed her, the motion bringing their bodies together, and with one sure thrust, they were joined.

There were no more words then, only the desperate feel of skin against skin, and the build of sweet passion as they each worked toward crisis. Georgie had never been as overwhelmed by sheer need as she was now, with Con’s strong body against her, in her. It was impossible to remember where she left off and he began. And with each beat of her heart she felt the threads of their souls knitting together in a fabric no amount of strife could unravel.

Never had she thought to once again make herself vulnerable to a man. The very idea had been impossible to contemplate a week ago, but she felt as if she knew more about Con, about his innate sense of decency, his goodness, than she’d ever gleaned from her husband’s character. She was not a woman who took pleasure lightly. There had been more than one opportunity for her to take lovers. A certain type of gentleman gravitated to widows in their search for bed partners. And though she’d been tempted, she’d never allowed herself to succumb. Until now. And that said more about Con’s character than anything. She was not a woman who trusted easily, but she knew in her gut that whatever his faults, Con would never deliberately set out to harm her. It wasn’t in his nature.