“Waste another moment talking about tiresome subjects like wounds when we could be doing other, more tempting things,” he interrupted, still laving his tongue over aching nipples that she wanted to push up hard against his mouth, but didn’t dare for fear of jolting his injuries more.
“You taste so good I don’t think I can stop. I don’t want to ever stop, my Gina.” He kept his mouth sucking, but his hand had worked its way up her gown and between her legs. “I need to feel you. Inside here. I need this with you right now.”
“Ahhh, and the way you touch me.” She rotated her hips in rhythm with his finger’s very pointed rubbing at her core, trying to be mindful of his wounds but unable to be still. When he did this to her, she couldn’t think or do anything but submit to the enslavement of the passion.
“Mmmmm, yesss. It’s all for you right now. Come for me. I want to watch you come. Please, Gina. I want to see it happen,” he begged, pressing a little harder on her clitoris with his thumb and sinking two fingers up inside. “You’re wet and so soft. I love that you’re so wet for me.”
Sweet Christ, the things he says!
His fingers slipped in and out of her slickness, working her into a frenzy of sensation she couldn’t escape. She arched toward his hand. Each thrust into her drenched depths was countered by a pass of his thumb over her pearl.
It wouldn’t be long now. She recognized a clicking sound was the friction of her wetness spilling out around his fingers, and she didn’t care, had no modesty or consciousness other than getting to the glorious end.
He would get her there, as he always had. In this she had complete trust, and her love for him just exploded around her whole body. It pushed the orgasm suddenly up from the depths, boiling over and hurtling her body into ecstasy.
“Look at me, love. Let me see your golden eyes on me when you find heaven.”
She did as he asked and shattered apart, crying out her love and her thankfulness for him. Real tears and true sobs. It was the only thing she could do. The fear of losing him, the relief that he had not died, that they were together now, was too much emotion to hold in for a second longer. The last thing she remembered was crying underneath his hands, his gentle voice soothing her with words of love and security so precious she hoped she could keep the memory of it forever in her soul.
When she woke later, he was staring, his eyes alighting on her with a smile. “You drifted back, sweetheart. Finally.”
Remembering how she’d cried in her climax, embarrassment flooded through her and she lowered her eyes.
“What is wrong? I see that shuttered look in your eyes.”
She shook her head and tried to hold back more tears. How many times would she cry in front of this man? Before he grew utterly sick of her, if he wasn’t already.
“Can you not tell me?” He brushed his right hand under her chin to lift it up, but did it gently. She could smell her essence on his hand, and she blushed at the thought of exactly where his hand had been. “You must know you may always talk to me about anything. Don’t be shy now. I want you to be at ease to tell me whatever you wish.”
“Jeremy…” She croaked out his name, the sound lost, swallowed in her throat. “I nearly got you killed—”
It was true. However their acquaintance had come about, that—that creature, Strawnly, had tried to abduct her. And he almost had done, nearly killing Jeremy in the process. And it was all her fault—her jealousy and the fact she hadn’t trusted him enough.
Georgina could hardly bear to recall the swipe of that knife coming down at Jeremy, stabbing him. Any closer to the vein in his neck and he would have bled to death even faster! Because of her. Because she had walked them both right into it, blindly stupid and careless.
“Hush. Listen to me now!” he spoke firmly. “This is not your fault. He hurt you! He caused this! He dared to touch you! Do not blame yourself. Gina!”
“But I do! I know I risked myself and, in the end, your life, but I still have to understand the reasons. Jeremy, how is it that you know that evil man? Why does he know you?”
He reacted to her question with a frown, and his jaw got hard with a clench.
It scared her, and she knew fear in the pit of her guts, even though she was lying down. What would Jeremy say? She turned fully to her side to face him in the bed. He rolled to his back and was quiet for a time.
Georgina stared at his rugged features, his sandy hair, the sharp nose that marked his profile, thinking he was the most beautiful man in the world.
Finally he sighed, looking up and focusing on the ceiling. “I’m going to tell you all of it even though it will hurt you.” He started slowly, his words guarded, but she sensed that he didn’t hold anything back. He told her how he’d learned of Pellton and Strawnly’s intent, Marguerite’s knowledge, and how he’d come to hear of it, the extortion letter, their bargain, all of it. The telling seemed painful for Jeremy, his voice cracking at times. Maybe harder than anything he could have ever imagined telling her about the man who’d attacked her, just as it was painful for Georgina to hear it—but necessary. It was the beginning to putting the horrid experience away, so both could start on the healing process of freeing themselves of its burdensome weight.
“…And that is why I went to London. Strawnly had to be stopped before you were hurt any more. I did it out of love. You are mine to protect, and I’d do it again in an instant if you were at risk.” His words came out a little harsh. “You are everything to me.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it, sending love into her with his earnest blue eyes looking over warm, moist lips pressed to her skin.
Georgina expelled a breath, realizing she’d been holding it in. “I hardly have any words to say. Not only did you save me, but you love me.” She was truly incredulous. “Why do you?”
“I do not know the why, but only the truth. For me, loving you has been the easiest thing in the world, sweetheart. I most certainly do love you. You have awakened me to life—literally and figuratively. I am never going to let you go. That is my solemn promise.”
Georgina felt her heart pulse deep within her chest, knowing it was absolutely brimming with love for this man. She moved the covers aside and scooted her body down. Finding the hem of his nightshirt, she pushed it up and then lifted her eyes to Jeremy’s handsome face.
The hue of his eyes showed only as a slit of blue for they were half closed already in anticipation.
“What are you up to, my glorious sweetheart?” he asked as she took him into her hand and positioned the tip up against her lips.
The skin on his shaft was so exquisitely soft and fine, but when aroused, like right now, could be burning hard and hot. She licked the tip of him and breathed in his male scent. So beautiful—all of him.
He groaned beneath her mouth, but not from pain this time. Power. Love. Need. So many feelings flooded her. Jeremy evoked things in her she didn’t know existed until he had showed her.
“Exactly what I want to be doing. This time is for you, so lie back, relax, and enjoy, my husband.”
* * * *
Jeremy picked though a week’s worth of correspondence. His wounds were healing to the point that he couldn’t bear staying in bed a moment longer, unless of course Gina was in the bed with him, working her magic.
One missive caught his eye though. He’d been anticipating it and ripped open the seal with vigor. From Luc, it was short and to the point:
Greymont,
He boarded the Excelsior, eleven o’clock. Tanner and Parkins already on. Cast off midnight. Smooth departure out.
Luc
Jeremy breathed a sigh of relief and shuffled over to the fire. He dropped the note into the flames and watched it burn. Done. Simon Strawnly was done. He would never hurt another helpless woman again.
Frisk looked up from his warm place by the hearth and tilted his head at Jeremy in curiosity.
“He deserved it you know. What he got was earned by him. Earned just as much as you deserve a knighti
ng, Sir Frisk,” Jeremy told the dog, stooping to pat him on the head.
Frisk thumped his tail in answer.
What Strawnly had not known was that Jeremy owned the ship, Excelsior, he’d boarded that night. The family business was in shipping freight mostly, and occasional passengers, in and out of England. It was how the bulk of the family income was derived. The added insurance of putting one Mr. Gordon Tanner and a Mr. Joseph Parkins on board was to guarantee that Strawnly wouldn’t walk off the ship when it docked on the continent at Cherbourg. He wouldn’t walk. He wouldn’t breathe.
Mr. Tanner was a successful tradesman in London, and he loved his only daughter, Emma, very much. Mr. Parkins was assistant to Mr. Tanner, and he, too, loved Emma. The young couple was set to marry when the unthinkable happened. She was brutally attacked by two men who hurt her so badly that her hearing was permanently deafened in one ear.
Tanner and Parkins were in the tanning trade in London. The trade was considered base and contemptible by some, but necessary commerce just the same, and a profitable business for one willing to get his hands dirty. And from what Jeremy had heard, Gordon Tanner was acknowledged as the best in the field of his chosen profession of tanning. More specifically, the process of removing hides from carcasses and turning them into leather. Tanner was wickedly skilled with a knife.
And for a man so skilled as Tanner was, with vengeance in his heart toward the beast who had dared to savage his beloved daughter, that degenerate shit, Simon Strawnly, was due a hide-full of hurt before he paid for his sins.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Charity and Mercy. Not unholy names, I hope?
—Charles Dickens, Martin Chuzzlewit (1844)
“You know, I think a Yuletide party would be just the thing, dear. Jeremy is recovering so well, and a party would be perfect for introducing you now that he’s gone and finally married. We’ll invite your family as well.” Lady Bleddington patted Georgina’s hand affectionately. “There were times I despaired he would ever get around to it.” She clucked, pursing her lips in reprimand.
Georgina smiled up at her before focusing back on her book of Keats’s poems, of which she had read and re-read the same page too many times to count.
Jeremy’s grandmother was a sweet old dear, but she liked to talk. Ruminating over their marriage, his attack and near death, and the possibility of an heir provided more excitement than the woman had experienced in decades, and they all had to hear about it. Still, her affection for her grandson was apparent, and she fussed over her and Jeremy both just like, well, a grandmother, so Georgina didn’t really mind.
“What do you think, Georgina dear?” Lady Bleddington repeated, her voice hopeful.
“Of what, Lady Bleddington?” Georgina snapped her book closed, figuring she might as well give up on the poetry for today.
“Oh, I do wish you’d call me Grandmamma. We are family now after all.” She stabbed the yellow rose she was embroidering on the pillow rather fiercely. “I always hoped for a granddaughter, but Clarissa and Henri—there was only Jeremy.” She trailed off and seemed a little sad in her remembrances of her daughter before returning to her stitching.
Georgina reached over and touched Lady Bleddington’s hand. She squeezed gently. “Thank you for welcoming me so kindly. I never knew either of my grandmothers, so you will be my first.” Her voice faltered a bit. “When we were at Hallborough, Jeremy showed me her portrait. His mother, your Clarissa. She was very lovely.”
“Lovely it’s true. A sweet darling, but unwise in her choice of husband. Sadly, she married a man who cared for nothing save her money.” Lady Bleddington covered Georgina’s hand with her other one. “Not like you, dear. Our Jeremy loves you. I can see it in his eyes when he looks at you. I can even tell when he speaks of you. Your choice was a good one, and I’m not just prejudiced because he is my grandson. I reckon anyone could know it if they watched you two together.” She brought her hand up to cup Georgina’s chin. “It makes me happy to see Jeremy so well matched. You ease him and have brought a light into him that’s not been there since he was a boy.”
Georgina nodded, her lip trembling with emotion. “As he does for me. He is my savior, you know. I love him so very much.”
“I know that, too, dear.” She embraced Georgina in an affectionate hug, then pulled back and returned to her embroidery as if they had just been discussing something as mundane as the weather.
A moment of silence stretched out before she spoke up again. “So is that a ‘yes’ to a party, my dear?”
“Yes, Grandmamma, it is.” Georgina cracked a wide grin. “A party shall be just the thing.”
* * * *
Jeremy spooned against her back, his lips at the base of her neck, his hand nestled between her breasts. Cuddled in bed with a warm, clove-scented man, her man, was divine, Georgina thought. Her very much alive man, thank the heavenly angels! But was this near miss the end of their worry from that evil Strawnly? Would there be more from him? More extortions for money? She shifted restlessly in the bed.
“What ’smatter?” Jeremy mumbled sleepily, his fingers wandering to find her breast.
“Just thinking.” She covered his big hand with her own smaller one. “Sorry for disturbing you. Go back to sleep.”
“Thinking ’bout what?” He nestled closer and spoke softly at her ear. She felt his tongue reach out to trace the lobe and shivered into his very hard and prodding erection pressing into her backside.
“Him.”
Jeremy froze against her. He sighed. The sound of it sailed through the room like a flaming arrow and the erection so urgent a moment ago lost every bit of its urgency.
“What if he comes back or wants more money? I can’t bear the thought—” She rolled to face him so she could see his eyes. If she could look into his eyes, she might be able to read his expression.
It was harsh at first but softened quickly. “Hush now,” he said firmly, pulling her close. He stroked her back, kissed her forehead, held her a little tighter. “You are not to worry about him again. I mean it, Gina, don’t.” He pushed back to find her eyes. Despite his gentle touches, his blue eyes showed a lethalness that made her shiver. “He’s not coming back to England.”
“How do you know that?” She couldn’t hold back the question even though she realized he wouldn’t like it—she had to know.
Jeremy shook his head and blew out a frustrated sigh. Gina could tell he hated speaking of the man—of giving him even a jot of recognition. “He cannot come back. There are many who would end him if given the chance, and he knows it.” He closed his eyes as if his head ached.
“You were not the first woman he hurt. I found a father and a husband of another he attacked, and there is also Luc, the man who went to retrieve Marguerite. Strawnly’s time is marked, and has been. He’s as good as dead, I’d wager.” He frowned at her, and his voice got that harsh edge again. “I don’t like you thinking about him—of being afraid.”
She took his face in her hands. “You misunderstand. Don’t be angry. I do not fear him for myself anymore. My only fear is losing you to another fight or attack should he challenge you, for I know you would defend me. That is the truth, Jeremy. You nearly died, and it was more terrifying than anything that ever came before—”
His demanding lips cut her off as they descended on hers, open and warm. It was a possessive kiss. One that told her exactly who she belonged to.
Georgina did not mind as his seeking flesh swept into her mouth and brushed over every surface it could reach. She welcomed the warmth and wet of their tongues mating in a declaration of sorts. An “I love you and you are mine” kind of kiss. One they could both appreciate and recognize.
* * * *
Jeremy shivered, and it wasn’t from the cold of the season. The solarium of Sir Rodney’s London townhouse was quite pleasant actually, and the sun’s valiant efforts were a bonus for December. No, his shivers were involuntary and happened whenever he allowed himself to think of Gina
being groped and terrorized in the paws of that madman, Strawnly. He tried not to fall prey to those horrible images, but the visions popped into his mind at the oddest times—
Jeremy looked up to the sound of the door opening.
“Sir, your scheduled callers are here,” the old butler announced.
“Thank you, Wiggins, show them in please.”
Wiggins shuffled off and returned eventually with two people in tow, one of which to whom Jeremy was deeply indebted.
“Mr. Ned Smith, Coachman, and—” Wiggins paused in his address, giving the unkempt boy a look of fright, as if the boy might bite at him or do something worse, like soil the carpet.
“Danny.” The boy finished the butler’s address for him and bobbed his own head.
Jeremy stood and grinned like a devil. Wiggins backed out of the room and shut them all in together, shaking his head in disbelief the whole way.
“Master Danny, at last! I’ve wanted to thank you, young man! You did us a good turn, helped to rescue my wife, and for that you deserve a reward. What have you to say?” Jeremy asked the boy, thinking he’d send him directly to the kitchens after this interview for a hot meal and a good scrubbing.
“Thank you, Mr. Greymont, sir. It’s a right thing to help a lady when she’s needin’ it. I’m pleased I could help your lady—er…Mrs. Greymont.”
“Again, I am indebted to you for your assistance, Danny.” Jeremy bowed.
Danny bowed back, a look of awe on his thin, dirt-smudged face. He tried to look Jeremy in the eye, but couldn’t help from wandering his gaze around the room, taking in the elegant furnishings, evidence of wealth he couldn’t really imagine when all he’d ever known was the poverty and hunger of life on the harsh London streets.
“Do you have any family that you know of?”
“No, sir. They told me at the work house I’ve no Mum or Dad.”