How to Marry a Rogue (25 page)

He awaited an answer. His eyes, gray like the clouds overhead, glinted like metal. A delicious shiver crept into her belly, spreading downward until she wondered if she’d melt into the deck.

“My…provisions stand on land, sea, and the edges of volcanoes. But I do hope you choose your soul over me, should it ever come to that.”

She held her breath, expecting a kiss and preparing to stop him before they created a spectacle for the interested sailors.

“Damn my soul. I’ll take hell and Georgiana Waverley every time.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped. She could almost feel the rush of heat emanating from him through his clothes. His hand behind her became restless. He slid it upward, finding a tiny patch of skin between the collar of her pelisse and her knotted hair. She trembled at his touch and feared he would take her out there in the open, on that hard bench with the taste of salty sea air on their lips.

His mouth barely moved as he murmured, “Go down below. I’ll follow you shortly.”

Trying to hide her blush but flooded with relief at the knowledge he still wanted her, she rose casually from the bench and took her time as she made her way across the deck to the door that led to the stairs. The ship continued to rock, but the motions had lessened a bit, so she was able to walk quite easily to their cabin. Her heart pounding with excitement and an odd burst of shyness, she had barely removed her bonnet and hung it on a hook when the door opened and slammed shut.

She spun around, the greeting on her lips muffled by his mouth. He lifted her so quickly her toes scuffed the ground. Breaking away for just a moment to gasp a breath, she was nearly shocked at his expression. He looked almost fierce, his face flushed and his eyes bright. The ship rolled slightly to port, and Jack stumbled with her, falling onto the narrow bed.

“Are you hurt?” he asked anxiously, framing her face with his hands, while his heavy body pinned her to the bed. The mattress gave in spots and a knotty board pressed into her shoulder.

She only laughed in reply, and he gave her a quizzical look. “You are very exuberant, sir,” she explained.

Chuckling, he hoisted himself to a sitting position and pulled her up with him. “I cannot restrain myself in your presence, madam.” He tugged at her hairpins until her hair fell in waves over her shoulders and down her back. “Ah, Georgie,” he murmured, lifting a lock and holding it to his face. “I pity poor sailors who must do without a woman’s company for months. I think I would go mad if I were parted from you.”

She wanted to explain he imposed their future distance, but somehow, all coherent words had abandoned her. He was with her now. She nearly choked on bated breath, waiting for him to start undressing one or both of them, but he remained as he was, her hair in his hand. As she was about to speak, he leaned forward, silencing anything she might say with a gentle, lingering kiss. She pressed her mouth to his, twining her arms around his neck and stroking her fingers through his hair, blown curly from the wind.

The ship rolled again and her belly rolled along with it. Gasping, she clutched her stomach and barely had time to scoot off his lap and vomit into a nearby bucket. He knelt beside her in an instant, one hand on her shoulder and the other holding her hair out of the mess.

“Sweetheart, are you ill? Is it seasickness?”

She groped for a small towel in her valise and mopped her mouth. Her legs trembled, but she rose with his assistance, leaning heavily on his arm until she sat on the bed.

“I haven’t been ill, only it’s just…” She didn’t know what it was. The strangest feeling of sickness seemed to overcome her at the strangest moments. Once when she was in her bath. Another time when she was sitting at the pianoforte, daydreaming of him. She shrugged. “I’m fine now. It has passed.” She forced a smile but he still frowned.

“We shall see a doctor as soon as we arrive at Fairwood Hall. I’ll send word to your brother to have a doctor await us.”

She squeezed his hand. He drew her close to his side, his arm protectively around her, almost too tight. “There’s no need. It must be the fruit I ate this morning. The plums were a bit sour.”

“Hmm.” He took a bottle of water from the shelf next to the bed. “Drink a little of this. If you’re feeling better, we can go up on deck again into the fresh air.”

“I think I’ll stay here.” Despite the hard mattress and gray pillowcase, the bed offered some relief to the dizziness that often accompanied the feeling of a sore stomach.

He helped her lay down and she expected him to leave, but he sat beside her, stroking her hair from her damp forehead and alternately patting her hands.

“You’re an old mother hen. You know that, don’t you?”

His mouth twisted into a wry grin. “The only being I have ever nursed is you. Do you not remember the time you were down with fever, and your nursemaid couldn’t keep you in bed?”

She closed her eyes, enjoying the sound of his voice. “She was a horrid old thing. She’d tell me ghost stories about the moors. Lost young women abandoned by their wicked lovers. I had nightmares for years.”

“Is that why you stole into my chamber when you thought I was asleep?”

She cracked her eyelids open. “I thought you were asleep.”

The bed creaked when he shifted his position. “I pretended otherwise so you wouldn’t have to leave. I enjoyed the company, even if it was in the form of a little goose. I always wanted a brother or sister.”

“And I was your little sister?” She couldn’t help but make a face at him and he laughed, but the top curve of his ears reddened.

“No, thank heaven. I enjoyed running after you and playing with you, even when Lockewood urged me to accompany him. Perhaps I felt that you…”

His lips clamped shut. He shook his head and a lock of hair dropped before his eyes.

“What, Jack?”

“I felt that you needed me in some small way.”

She held his hand to her cheek and pressed his fingers against her skin. “More than in a small way.”

He leaned down slowly and she watched as if she were standing very far away as he came closer. She could make out the stubble on his jaw. The crease in his neckcloth. The silvery gray of his eyes, deep and filled with a meaning she could never fathom. She waited for a kiss, breathless with expectation.

His lips brushed across her forehead. “Rest now. I’ll go back up and ask about the rest of the crossing. I don’t want your sickness to return.”

“Don’t go. Not yet.” She gripped his lapels and held him close, his chest hovering above hers. Her breath quickened with the realization he wanted her as much as she wanted him. “I do wish this were a proper bed.”

“If it’s a proper bed you want, I shall procure the biggest, softest bed in England.” He kissed the end of her nose. “And we shall never come out of it.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a tight squeeze. “That sounds wonderful, Jack. But where will you put it? Your house or mine?”

His shoulders stiffened and he sat up. “We shall have to procure two of them. One for each house.”

“Will we…” She gulped, then pulled back a little so she could see his face. “Will we see each other once in a while?” She tried to keep her tone mildly interested, so he would not infer anything else from her question. “Or will your business keep you very much occupied?” She liked to pretend he was occupied with business rather than boxing and gambling and other shady things she hardly dared think about.

“I intend to see you quite often, Georgie. With the Season’s balls and parties, you need someone to escort you and keep you out of trouble, do you not? And who else will be there to shield me from all variety of bewitching females luring me to my downfall?”

She’d forgotten about the other women. Incorrigible appetite, indeed. Still, she had him for now. He wasn’t going anywhere for at least half a day. If she had her way, she’d ask the captain to circle England a hundred times before making port. It would take at least that many voyages to make her ill of his company.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

She’d never have thought she’d dread so much the sight of the English countryside, but by the time they were off the ship and away from the harbor, Georgiana was mired in depression. Jack seemed cheerful enough. He probably couldn’t wait to resume his bachelor life and abandon her at Jonathan’s home. She picked at her gloves so much he clasped his large hand over both of hers.

“Better now?”

She nodded, but wanted to scream. France was already a distant memory. Their long, sensuous nights were over. Here was reality. Two separate homes. Two separate lives.

Some of her pleasure returned as they reached the outskirts of Fairwood Hall’s park. Familiar sights of trees and the moss-covered stone walls eased her anxiety a little. Jack nudged her knee.

“The old place hasn’t changed at all.”

“No.” She didn’t intend to be short, but a new worry loomed on the horizon. How would Jonathan react when he heard their shocking announcement? Would he threaten Jack? Berate her?

As if he could read her mind, Jack took her hand. “Lockewood always was a reasonable man,” he said.

A slight tremor in his voice revealed his apprehension. She wondered if he spoke more to reassure himself than her. The inevitable could no longer be postponed. Within minutes, the carriage rolled to a stop in front of the house where a row of servants stood in neat lines. The footmen of Fairwood Hall unloaded the luggage as the front door opened wide. Jonathan and Sophie walked through it as one.

“Welcome home! How was the voyage? And Aunt Adele? Staying on with her sister, is she? Probably for the best. Wait until you see our little Sebastian.”

Jonathan spoke so quickly Georgiana could not answer one question. She embraced him first and then Sophie, who had never looked more radiant.

“The voyage was to be expected,” Jack replied. “Overcrowded and terrible food.” He shook Jonathan’s hand and kissed Sophie’s cheek. “Congratulations on the birth of your son. We thought of nothing else while we were abroad.”

Georgiana restrained herself from kicking his shin. She emulated his broad grin. “I cannot wait to see the baby.” She linked her arm through Sophie’s in order to move the group inside before the truth was revealed for all the servants to hear.

Jonathan seemed content to remain where he was. He clapped his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Thank you, again, Jack, for taking care of Georgiana and seeing to Aunt Adele. It is no less than what I expected and hoped.”

“But you are grateful all the same I did not leave them stranded,” Jack finished for him.

Jonathan laughed, but Georgiana noted his bashful grin. “As I said—you took as great care of her as I would. I am indebted to you.”

“It was my pleasure.” Jack scuffed the toe of his boot on the ground.

“I hope the ladies did not distract you from your grandfather’s business.”

Jack’s hands twisted behind his back. He suddenly appeared to be fifteen again, when he and Jonathan had been caught throwing apples at a passing carriage. Georgiana mentally urged him to remain silent, but he didn’t look at her. His face flushed scarlet and he cleared his throat.

“They were no distraction. You may as well congratulate me, Lockewood. I found more than I bargained for in France.”

“Let us go inside, shall we?” Georgiana said hastily, but her plea might have been spoken to the wind. Her brother remained planted in place, a carefully studied expression on his face as his gaze remained focused on Jack.

“Did you? Well, congratulations. I hesitate to ask for what I congratulate you. Knowing you, it could be any number of things.”

“I assure you it is nothing sordid.” He tugged at his neckcloth. “I am a married man now.”

His words hung in the air. Georgiana pushed past her brother and tugged Sophie’s arm. “Do show me the baby, dear sister! I can hardly wait…”

“Georgiana, please remain here a moment.”

Jonathan gave her such a pleasant smile she was unsure what to do. She clung to Sophie for support. The moment she’d dreaded was upon her and she was helpless to prevent it from taking its inevitable course.

“That’s wonderful news, Jack. Where is the new Mrs. Waverley? Did she accompany you back to England? We would all love to meet her.”

His jaw steeled. Georgiana silently implored her sister-in-law with her eyes. Sophie’s eyebrows rose slightly, and she patted Georgiana’s hand.

“Jonathan, dearest, why not go inside and offer some refreshment to these two weary travelers?”

He and Jack remained passively staring at each other. To his credit, Jack stood with his shoulders thrown back and his chin high.

“As a matter of fact, she is right here.” He held out his hand to Georgiana. Unsure of whom she feared more, she took it, avoiding her brother’s gaze. “Lockewood, I do beg your blessing, and also wish to assure you of my…”

Jonathan turned on his heel and strode into the house without speaking. Georgiana let out a shuddering gasp as tears filled her eyes. Jack gripped her hand in his and gazed down at her.

“I forbid you to cry,” he murmured.

“Perhaps we’d better go inside.” Sophie linked her other hand through Jack’s arm. “We will all have a nice lunch and discuss this in a civilized manner. Mr. Waverley, I also wish to thank you for taking such great care of Georgiana. Your presence in France was such a wonderful relief to Jonathan and myself.”

Her cheerful banter continued as she led them into the house. As Georgiana crossed the threshold into her family home, a foreboding sense of doom enveloped her, and no amount of Sophie’s chattering or the promise of seeing her new nephew could shake it.

****

“I never thought you to be as roguish as you’d have me believe, Waverley, but I admit I am stumped.” Jonathan poured two glasses of brandy and handed one to Jack. “I do not know if I should call you out or slap you on the back.”

“I’d prefer the slap, though I’m sure you’d prefer pistols at dawn.” Jack drank his brandy in one gulp, and Jonathan followed suit, promptly refilling their glasses a moment later. “It is not what you think, old friend. I did not go to France with the intention of marrying anyone; least of all, your sister.” He shook his head slightly. “That did not come out the way I intended. I only want to assure you my intentions are noble, such as they are.” He swirled his brandy around the glass, scowling when he observed his trembling hand. “Believe me, marriage was the farthest thing from my mind.”