Her heart was beating an unnerving tattoo. “Who…?” Georgiana didn’t bother finishing her question. She knew who. And as if to confirm her suspicions, she felt a familiar tingling sensation start along her nerves, spreading from the bare skin of her shoulders and neck in a southerly direction. No, Lord Alton had not accepted his dismissal.
“Ah, here he is.”
With a smile and an elegant bow to her, Lord Ellsmere surrendered her to the suavely elegant gentleman who had come to stand beside her.
Georgiana felt her hand being raised and the warm pressure of his lips on her fingers.
“Georgiana?”
His husky tone rippled across her senses. Despite all her intentions, she could not prevent herself from looking up. And she was lost. His eyes caught hers and held her gaze effortlessly. Somewhere in her unconscious the subtle perfection of his attire registered, along with an appreciation of face, form and figure, all apparently designed with her own prejudices in view. But her conscious mind was only aware of the total mastery he exerted over her senses, the hypnotic tug which drew her, unresisting, into her arms. Before she knew it, they were waltzing.
With an effort, Georgiana managed to free enough wit to realise he was smiling at her in amused appreciation, quite certain of his conquest. Then, as her senses probed the ballroom about them, the enormity of his strategy hit her. They might have been waltzing amid a host of other couples, but every eye in the ballroom was on them. She blushed vividly.
This evidence of her sudden awareness drew a deep chuckle. “Don’t worry. You look radiantly lovely. Just think what a handsome couple we make.”
Georgiana tried to summon enough anger to glare at him, but her overwhelmed emotions were not up to it.
Dominic looked down at her, her golden eyes and creamy skin, the glorious riot of her golden curls filling his vision. More than satisfied with her capitulation thus far, he made a mental note to play on her senses more often—a subtle torture, at present, but so very rewarding.
The music drew to a close, Georgiana waited to be released, but, instead of bowing and escorting her back to Bella’s side, Dominic simply tucked her hand into his arm and walked out of the ballroom. Entirely unable to resist, and with a sinking feeling that it would be singularly pointless to try, Georgiana found herself wandering the corridors on Lord Alton’s arm.
Suspecting that the amble had more purpose than was apparent, Georgiana turned an enquiring gaze upwards, to be met with a smile of quite dazzling effect.
“I thought, my love, that, given your apparent misconception regarding my feelings towards you, we should find a quiet spot where I might endeavour to disabuse your mind of its strange notion.”
Georgiana tried, really tried, to come up with some suitable response, but not a coherent phrase came into her head. At the end of the long corridor, Dominic turned right, opening a glass-panelled door and ushering her through.
Vines and species of ficus grew out of large tubs artfully arranged to give the impression of a tropical forest. Cyclamens provided bursts of exotic colour amid the greenery. A small fountain played a lonely tune in the middle of a circular tiled courtyard. Of other humans, there was no sign.
With no real idea of what he meant to say, Georgiana was caught between a desire to hear his words and a conviction that it would be unwise to do so. But she was given no choice in the matter as, smoothly compelling, Dominic led her to a rustic ironwork seat. At his nod, she sat, and he sat beside her, retaining possession of her hand and showing no inclination to release it.
Sensing her skittering nerves, Dominic smiled reassuringly and raised her fingers to his lips, placing a leisurely kiss on each rosy fingertip, his eyes all the while holding hers. He watched as her golden eyes widened and her breathing suspended, then started again, more shallowly and less evenly. Entirely satisfied, he grinned wickedly. “Now where were we, when you so abruptly left the room this afternoon? Ah, yes! You believe I’m in love with Lady Changley and was intending to marry her.” He directed a look of patent enquiry at Georgiana, clearly seeking confirmation.
Trapped, in every way, Georgiana coloured.
Smiling again, Dominic continued, his voice light but perfectly serious. “I’m not, I’ll have you know, in favour of the idea of a gentleman discussing his paramours with anyone, least of all with his intended bride. Young ladies are not supposed to be cognisant of the sorts of affairs women such as Lady Changley indulge in. However, as you have already heard of her, I’ll admit we enjoyed a short liaison, which ended some weeks before I met you.”
Dominic paused to allow the full implication of his words to sink in. Georgiana’s attention was complete; she was hanging on every word, and he doubted not that she would remember what he said, even should she fail to immediately register its import.
Pensively he began to stroke her fingers with his thumb. “Like all rich and single peers, I am high on the list of prey for such as Lady Changley. She, unwisely, believed I was besotted enough to offer marriage. At no stage did I do so. You’ll have to take my word for that, although you will notice no public charges for breach of promise have been levelled at me. That’s because she knows no one would believe I would be so lost to all propriety as to offer to make her my Viscountess.”
To Georgiana his words were every bit as intoxicating as the sensations produced by the insistent pressure of his thumb over the sensitive backs of her fingers. Then his eyes lost their far-away look and his gaze became intent, capturing her own as if to focus her entire being on him. Georgiana felt herself drowning in blue.
Without releasing her from his spell, deliberately, Dominic raised her hand to his lips, but this time turned it to press a warm kiss to her palm. He smiled at the marked shiver the caress produced, but his eyes were nevertheless perfectly serious as he said, “The feelings I have for you, my love, are far removed from the lust a man feels for his mistress, a fleeting emotion which dissipates, usually in months if not weeks. No man marries his mistress. No man falls in love with his mistress.”
Georgiana could not have moved if the ceiling fell. She was mesmerised—by his voice, by his eyes, by him. Drawing a shuddering breath, she waited for what was to come, knowing she could not prevent him from saying the words, knowing that, once said, they would bind her, no matter how hard she struggled, tying her to him, not by his love, but by hers.
Dominic continued to devour her with his eyes, following her reactions. He waited until full awareness returned to her, then said, “What I feel for you is far removed from mere lust. I can hardly den
y I know what that is and can readily define it. What I feel for you is not that. I fell in love with you the first moment I saw you, asleep in my armchair by the drawing-room hearth at Candlewick. You belong there.” He paused, knowing that his next move was chancy, but, confident he had gauged her responses, and her temperament, accurately, he smoothly continued, “Regardless of what you may say, regardless of how many times you deny it, I know you love me in exactly the same way I love you.”
His words, delivered in a low, deliberate, slightly husky tone, sent shivers up and down Georgiana’s spine. He was right, of course, at least in defining her love. Oh, what temptation he posed! Still trapped in his gaze, she knew immediately his attention shifted. His eyes were now fixed on a golden ringlet hanging beside her face. One long finger came up to caress the soft curl, then moved on with tantalising slowness to outline the curve of one brow, then the length of her pert nose, and then traced, oh, so lightly, the full bow of her lips. The roaming finger slipped under her chin and tilted her face upwards. Georgiana’s eyelids drooped. His lips touched hers in the gentlest of kisses.
When he drew back, she could barely cope with the sense of loss, could barely restrain herself from throwing her arms about his neck and behaving like a wanton. Again, she blushed rosily, not at his actions but at her thoughts.
Entirely satisfied with progress thus far, Dominic sat back and waited patiently until her breathing slowed, watching her through half-closed lids. When she had recovered sufficiently to glance at him once more, he took up his dissertation. “As you’ve realised, the rest of the ton are now au fait with my intentions. Our affairs are thus public knowledge, and should, given your age, proceed with all due circumspection.”
He smiled, his eyes lighting with a certain devilment that awoke an answering spark in Georgiana. She found herself smiling back in genuine empathy.