One Night of Passion (36 page)

“Good evening, Miss Escott,” he said as smoothly as if he were entering a Regent Street address and this was an afternoon social call.

“I wouldn’t recommend seeing Kit tonight,” Georgie warned him. “She’s a little put out.”

Just then Kit stuck her nose out the door, and her face turned a livid shade of red. She caught Rafe by the ear and yanked him into the cabin. Then the door shut with a decided slam and her sister started giving the boy a wigging he wasn’t likely to forget anytime soon.

Georgie smiled and continued down the hall, fairly confident this would be the last time Raphael Danvers came calling on Kit.

Glancing down the corridor toward Colin’s cabin, Georgie felt a thrill of anticipation run through her. With each step she took, her earlier fears fell to the wayside, as her heart beat in a wild tattoo.

Colin.
She’d found her knight errant again. That he was Lord Danvers no longer mattered. She could well imagine that Uncle Phineas had brokered her marriage to Lord Harris. For if there was money at the root of all this, then there was no doubt in Georgie’s mind who had his greedy fingers well dipped into the coffers.

She shook her head. Her father had left them a fortune. She and Kit had once been heiresses.

Woe be it to Uncle Phineas when they got back to London. She had no doubts that Colin would see the situation rectified, but she wasn’t going to let her uncle escape a bit of her own retribution. Then she’d wash her hands of her faithless relations and be done with them forever.

According to Colin, there was enough money left from their father’s estate, combined with what Mrs. Taft had left them, for Kit to have a decent dowry. And that, in Georgie’s mind, was all that mattered.

For she had all the riches she needed right here in the simple fact that Colin loved her—with or without her share of the Escott fortune. It mattered naught to him, only that they be together for the rest of their lives.

He utterly and completely loved her.

Georgie grinned to herself at the miracle of it.

Why, she’d often fancied that he’d fallen in love with her the night of the Cyprian’s Ball. Goodness knows, he’d stolen her heart in those few hours together.

Now it was time to see if that night was nothing more than a fanciful memory or if they could find a lifetime of magic.

She lightly rapped on the door. It slid open immediately, as if he had been awaiting her just as anxiously on the other side.

Colin swept into a low bow to welcome her. “Will you come in?”

She nodded and stepped across the threshold, feeling as if she’d left the rest of the world behind in the corridor.

Colin had dressed in the same coat and breeches he’d worn at the Cyprian’s Ball. Though his cravat wasn’t tied with the talented touch of a London valet, there was a reckless, rakish twist to it that lent him a devil-may-care quality. He’d also shaved, evidenced by his smooth jaw and the nick on one side.

She surmised that he must have spent the rest of his time cleaning his wrecked quarters, because they were once again tidy. The only sign of the French ship’s damage was the boarded-over stern window. He’d opened the remaining window, allowing the gentle breeze of the Mediterranean to drift into the room, filling it with the fresh tang of the sea. In the distance, the moon rose, offering a single, shimmering track of light across the dark, restless waves.

Candles burned throughout the room, their flickering flames lending a final touch of magic to their evening.

“Your cook outdid himself,” Georgie said as she walked around the laden table. There was a thick soup, a fragrant ham, fresh bread, two different puddings, an apple tart and a plate of cheeses. “I’m starting to think you are a pirate to have such fine fare.”

“If you still think I’m the scourge of the Seven Seas, I hate to disappoint you.” He took a deep breath and then stared her straight in the eye. “What I am about to tell you cannot leave this cabin.”

Georgie swallowed and nodded. And when he continued, she learned the true story of Captain Danvers, his court-martial and how he’d come to gain the
Sybaris.
“That still doesn’t explain the pirate fare,” she teased, casting another glance at the laden table, while her mind digested the truth of the matter. Colin was a spy for Nelson . . . and England. And by the same token, now she was as well . . . whether he liked it or not.

“Men who are well fed and treated justly stay loyal.” Colin paused. “Please don’t feel too special, everyone is eating this tonight,” he confessed.

She laughed, then suddenly she grew serious. “I have one other question that has bothered me all this time.”

“Yes,” he said, his tone suggesting that he feared she was going to expect him to reveal some deep dark secret.

Georgie grinned at him. “Those officers, the ones at the Cyprian’s Ball, why did they call you Romulus? Have you an empire hidden away somewhere?” Though light in tone, she seemed to understand the depth of his relationship with Brummit, Paskims, and Hinchcliffe.

“Ah, Romulus and Remus. That is a long story.”

Georgie picked up an apple from the tray and took a bite out of it. She held out the rest of the fruit and said, “Do we have the time?”

Colin reached over and plucked the tempting piece from her hand. “Now that I think about it, it is really rather brief. I was a midshipman with them. On the
Titus.
Hinchcliffe and I were infamous for trying to outdo each other; we both wanted so desperately to be promoted and gain our own commands. And so we gained the nicknames Romulus and Remus for our bickering and rivalries.” He paused, and Georgie could tell he was reliving some private nightmare.

“And then something happened,” she said softly.

He nodded. “Yes. In the West Indies. We were in a skirmish, and Hinchcliffe panicked. Anyone might have—but he nearly cost us the ship.”

“And you reported what happened,” Georgie said.

“I had no choice. There was an inquiry. I had to tell the truth.”

“And he never forgave you.”

Colin nodded. “Especially after I gained my command shortly thereafter.”

“You do have a way of making enemies, don’t you?”

She paused for a second. “I suppose you would like to hear why I was at the Cyprian’s Ball that night.”

He shook his head. “I’ve got a pretty good idea why you were there.”

Georgie cringed. “It was the only way I could avoid my betrothal. If I hadn’t found you, and we hadn’t—” She blushed at the flood of memories from that wonderful, passionate night.

“Yes, if we hadn’t, you would be Lady Harris right now.” It was Colin’s turn to cringe. “Oh Georgie, I’m so sorry I drove you to such desperate lengths,” he said, before his mouth curved with wolfish delight. “But I can’t say that I’m all that remorseful that I helped you out of your dilemma.”

They both laughed.

Georgie reached out and touched his sleeve. “Thank you for being so honest.”

“I hope we both can be from now on. No more secrets, Georgie. I want nothing to stand between us.”

“I’d like that as well,” she managed to whisper. “No more lies, no more secrets.”

Colin stepped forward and drew her tenderly into his arms. “I love you, Georgie. I love you with all my heart.”

“You’re not saying that just because I rescued you, are you?” she teased, reaching up with her hand to cradle his battered face. How she ached at the sight of the damage Bertrand’s evil pair had wrought, but it pained her even more to know that his right eye was of her own doing.

He must have seen the regret in her eyes. “I’ll heal. I can’t say the same for my pride, but the bruises will fade.”

“I suspect your pride will regain its former stature. Besides, I love you not just for your handsome face.” She stood up on her toes and started to kiss him, and when she teetered on her shoes, he pulled her closer and steadied her.

“I think you wear these shoes on purpose,” he said.

She grinned. “They do have a way of bringing us together.” As her body pressed against his, all her memories of their night together came rushing forward.

Could it possibly be like that again? she wondered.

When he kissed her, she had her answer. Oh, it could. And mayhap even better.

“What about dinner?” she managed to ask. She wasn’t hungry—at least not for food, but she wanted to know that he burned for her as she did for him.

“Later,” he told her. “Much later.” He swept her up into his arms and they tumbled into his bed, Georgie laughing in triumph, Colin groaning in misery when she landed on his ribs.

“How hurt are you?” she asked, sitting up and taking a quick study of the pained expression he was doing his utmost to hide.

“I’m well enough,” he told her, casting her a sly wink before leaning over to kiss her. “I’ve waited over a year to find you, and I’m not going to let some banged-up ribs stop me.”

Georgie pushed him down on the bed and started unwinding his cravat. With that untied, she pulled and yanked his shirt over his head.

“Anxious, are we?” he asked, his hands twining around her waist, tugging her atop him.

She stared down at his now bared chest, her mouth falling open. “My goodness, you look like you’ve been run over by a coach-and-four.”

His chest was a cacophony of colors, his right side badly bruised, while his left was only slightly discolored.

“Turn this ship around,” she demanded.

“Whatever for?”

“If you don’t intend to burn the
Gallia,
I do,” she sputtered. “That bastard will pay for this. Why, I’ll—”

“You’ll do nothing tonight, my little vixen, but love me.” He reached up and began plucking the pins from her hair.

With each one that came free, he sighed and growled, while Georgie relished the feel of having her hair tumble down.

And once he had loosened all of it, he wove his hands within the silken array and pulled her face down to his. “Love me, Georgie. Love me with all your heart.”

His words mesmerized her, leaving her only too willing to do as he bid.

Closing the inches between them, Georgie pressed her lips to his. His mouth welcomed hers, and with a hunger that belied a need for food or sustenance, he kissed her deeply and impatiently. His hands left her hair, brushing it out of his way, as his fingers pulled at her bodice, edging it down over her shoulders.

He rolled them onto their sides, so their bodies touched in so many places—her breasts pressed to his chest, their hips moving together, their legs twining them together.

His mouth moved from her lips to nibble at her neck, to taste her bared shoulder, to nuzzle down to her breasts and suckle there.

“Having a child has only made you that much more beautiful,” he murmured.

She sighed and arched back, reveling in his compliment and his touch. “Tell me more.”

His fingers toyed again with her breasts, sending ribbons of desire coiling through her limbs, while his lips covered hers again, kissing her with a hunger that left her breathless.

The only thing she wanted now was for him to love her, thoroughly and completely.

“I seem to recall you liked this,” he said, stripping off her gown and kissing her bared skin. When he realized she hadn’t worn anything beneath her muslin, he laughed. “Presumptuous, aren’t we?”

“Tired of waiting,” she said, reaching out to pluck impatiently at the buttons on his breeches. When she had them open, she tugged and pulled them off, only to find that he too had forgone unnecessary clothes.

“And you call me presumptuous?” she teased, her hands closing over his manhood, welcoming the feel of his hardness beneath her touch.

He groaned at her eager strokes. “You’ve a wicked way about you, Mrs. Bridwick.” His hand stroked her thigh, teasing her legs apart, kindling a fire of passion.

“I had a very good teacher,” she said back. Her hips began to move on their own, following the beckoning touch of his fingers.

When she thought she wouldn’t last another second under his lavish attentions, she caught him by the hips and rolled him on his back. Before he could even utter a word, she moved over and atop him, covering his hardness, taking it inside her, and letting the motion of the ship, of their passion, be her guide.

But the gentle seas outside were no match for the raging storm inside Georgie. She wanted a hurricane, a furious tempest to carry them along. Rocking back and forth, she carried them both along, riding the wild waves that were casting them to and fro.

Colin shared Georgie’s wild urgency. He could almost hear the roar of the waves and howl of the wind, as she rode ahead of the storm. His own body trembled, every bit of it alive and tensed and ready. He wanted to breathe, but couldn’t. He wanted to cry out, but couldn’t, too intent was he on holding on to her hips, guiding her and urging her on, as they tumbled together into this glorious mayhem of their own making.

And then she found her release, her body shuddering, wrapping around him even tighter in a cataclysm of waves. Her lashes fluttered and then closed, while a wide smile spread across her face.

His own came only seconds later, the warmth spreading quickly from his body to hers, and leaving him spent and sated.

He wound his arms around her and pulled her down into his embrace, cradling her close to his body, enjoying the sound of her heart pounding in her chest, listening to her once again find her breath.

Kissing her lightly across her lips, her nose, the top of her head, he murmured words and secrets that he’d wished he’d said that long-ago night. And holding her tight, he knew this time, he wouldn’t wake up alone.

Georgie loved him, and was his for all eternity.

That they were surrounded by an entire sea helped matters considerably.

His little Cyprian could only flee to one place . . . back into his arms.

And nothing would ever part them again.

Chapter 16

G
eorgie’s bliss ended several months later on the morning they were sailing up the Thames toward London.

She had been digging through Colin’s trunk in a fit of domesticity, looking for any of his town clothes that needed a press or mending.