The Last Gamble Read online

  Tonight was a different matter altogether. Intent on leaving at sun’s first light so they would avoid unnecessary traffic and arrive in London as soon as possible, he threw back the remaining brandy in his glass and promptly paid for their meal. As they meandered past the front-desk area a clerk hurried forward with a folded note in hand.

  ‘For the lady in room three, Mr Reese.’

  The young worker matched eyes in acknowledgement and presented Georgina with the missive. She tucked it into her reticule unread and without explanation. The entire scene struck him as odd. Did she notify Dursley of their travels? It would be impossible for her to share the information when she knew not where they’d stop for the night. Or was the note from the gentleman she’d spoken to earlier? An acquaintance from London? A lover?

  Until this point he’d kept a restraint on his curiosity and anger, but now struggled with the abject acceptance of the oddities constituting her behaviour. He waited for her explanation, anything to elucidate why she’d received a message here at a coaching inn, but she uttered not a word and the awkward silence expanded until it near suffocated. That same lick of jealousy he worked to extinguish now grew to a conflagration, a raging inferno in his veins incensed by brandy and irrational thinking that knew no boundaries. Still, he clenched his teeth and waited, a tenuous hold on his temper.

  She appeared paler than a moment before. But at her continued silence, he stepped aside and she climbed the stairs to continue down the hallway to their rooms. Both numbers three and four were at the end of the carpeted corridor and the extended walk allowed him time to consider his words despite the gentle sway of her skirts seemed to shake loose every attempt at civility.

  Why must she be composed of contradiction? Prim and proper without a corset in sight. Logical and independent, yet flirtatious and charming. All hidden beauty and sensual awareness. He’d go mad from the long list he’d accumulated, still he held himself in check.

  They arrived at their rooms and, just like in Coventry, she fumbled in her purse for the key, at last sliding it into the brass lock and glancing over her shoulder with a timid smile.

  ‘Thank you for an enjoyable dinner.’ She pressed her reticule against her midsection, the corner of the note poking through the drawstring, and he couldn’t help but wonder what the blasted message revealed.

  ‘Good night, Miss Smith.’

  Her smile fell away, eyes narrowed in notice to his use of her surname. Or what she wanted him to believe was her surname. She began to speak, her lips parted, but he hushed her with a slow nod. He refused to start an argument and risk destroying her trust, destroying the chance to recover Nate, so he didn’t put to voice all the questions poking him in the ribs. He did nothing more than step away to unlock his room, anxious to shut out all he couldn’t ask.

  Georgina paced before the fire, her nerves a-jumble while her brain warred with her heart. The note was unimportant, a polite reiteration by Lord Jamison where he mentioned his pleasure at their fortuitous meeting and his intention to call on her at home. She’d become so nervous with Luke beside her as the note was delivered, she’d frozen with indecision. Why didn’t she mention she’d met a friend in the public sitting room? She knew the answer, uncertain how much Luke would press for details and unpossessed with the ability to spin lies without practice and thought. Her fictitious name and circumstance exhausted her repertoire. The wine at dinner had loosened her tongue considerably.

  They’d enjoyed each other’s company well. So well, she’d begun to lament she couldn’t confess all and share her burden the same way he’d disclosed his past about Josephine’s passing and the honest ongoing struggle to reorder his life and reclaim his son.

  She strode to the bedside table and withdrew the note, angered at her mishandling of the situation, and stood poised to toss the foolscap into the fire when a knock sounded at the door. She startled, stuffed the paper into her skirt pocket and waited, though another powerful knock followed a short exhale later. Whoever stood in the hall had little tolerance, still she did not rush to the panel. Hadn’t Luke advised she avoid answering the door out of safety? She needn’t learn that lesson twice.

  ‘Open the door, Georgina.’

  Luke sounded impatient and testy, his words heavy with annoyance. How could he be upset when he’d instructed her to keep the door closed? Huffing her frustration, she stomped to the door and swung it open.

  Lord, he appeared infuriated, his hair at odd angles as if he’d raked it through with his fingers numerous times, his eyes reminiscent of a wolf, silver-grey and fixed on her like he stalked her every breath.

  ‘Yes?’ Her voice quaked in kind to her confidence.

  ‘Why didn’t you answer when I knocked?’ He stated the words as if he barely kept hold of his temper.

  ‘You told me to keep the door closed.’ Her temper flared. She’d done nothing wrong.

  ‘Not from me.’

  ‘Well, how would I know?’ Her question was a hostile hiss.

  ‘Who else did you expect? The gentleman from the lobby or the man who sent you a note?’

  She drew back, unready for his accusations. ‘You should lower your voice.’

  ‘Should I?’ He raised his tenor another notch and dashed a smug smile. ‘Are you worried someone might notice you? Or perhaps recognize you, Miss Smith?’ His eyes pierced her with intent. ‘Who was the gentleman downstairs?’

  Had he watched her from afar? She moved to close the door. Yes, she’d deceived him and carried the guilt of the purposeful omission on her conscience, but it was unavoidable and necessary. ‘A case of mistaken identity. I don’t know why you’re so angry with me.’

  He stared at her, searching her face thoroughly before he replied. ‘There’s something about you.’ He exhaled and the warmth of his breath teased her face, he leaned that close, his hand braced on the doorframe. ‘I can’t put my finger on it.’ His voice dropped lower and his knuckles tapped the wooden threshold as if he waited for her, ticking the seconds until she would speak. He was a physically imposing man, no doubt all hard muscle and strength, but Georgina would not be intimidated.

  ‘You can’t put your finger on any of it,’ she ground out with a satisfied twist of her lips.

  ‘Is that so?’

  His voice became a low, rumbling growl that caused gooseflesh to dot her skin. She swallowed and slammed the door so hard it rattled in the jamb. So much for keeping their altercation private, though she barely had time to take a breath before his fist pounded on the panel again.

  She pivoted so quickly her skirts wrapped around her ankles, undeterred to put him in his rightful place. She whipped open the door, surprised to find him nose to nose, his arm braced near the lintel, their eyes locked, his full of hellfire. Her gasp brought with it the warm scent of his shaving soap, the heat rolling off him with equal enchantment. At a loss how to react, she stepped back and he stepped forward, his boots gaining every inch of ground she surrendered until she stood in the middle of the room with him in front of her and no path for escape. He didn’t even turn his head as he reached back and slammed the door. All the while her heart skittered like a cornered rabbit.

  And oh, he played the part well. The silver glint in his resolute glare informed he had no plan to withdraw, a wolf with his prey in sight. He circled her, stalked and intimidated, her furtive glances nothing more than a sign she remained helpless.

  The last thing Luke wished to do was scare the lovely governess, but when he’d charged to her door, all tether on control lost, her impertinence served as sparks against tinder and he craved to take the saucy words from her lips until nothing mattered except tasting her mouth. Some far-off reminder screamed were he to alienate her she would return to Coventry instead of accompanying him to London, but the blood had long ago rushed from his brain and settled in his groin to obliterate logical thought.

  Desire, blind and unrelenting, forked through him, demanding he pay heed, and he was all too pleased to oblige. Now he circl
ed her with indecision, where to taste first, her eyes wide with surprise, pulse jumping at the base of her throat. He wanted to taste her there, feel her heartbeat against his lips and soothe her fear with kisses, her beautiful face alive with a dozen emotions illuminated by muted firelight.

  He would never take what she didn’t mean to give and yet, somehow, he knew on a level that transcended conscious thought or wishful thinking, she yearned for this kiss as much as he. He came to a stop in front of her, measuring emotion as he gazed into her brilliant blue eyes.

  Had she ever been kissed? The unlikely question emerged as he canted his head and leaned forward, a spike of triumph and pure male power, anxious to claim the honour. Did she plan to object? It didn’t seem so.

  ‘Georgina.’ All previous bluster and stormy anger fled the room with his husky murmur. Time ceased to exist. Heat, alive and prosperous, demanded attention. He cupped her cheek and a shiver ran through her. ‘Would that I could kiss you.’ He dropped his head lower until his cheek rubbed hers. The prickle of his chin caused an immediate gasp as he angled his mouth to her ear. ‘I don’t bite.’ The undercurrent of seductive tease in his word implied the claim was a lie.

  Still, he withdrew the slightest, didn’t move, a handful of exhales between their mouths despite limitless images flashed through his brain. He breathed in the scent of apricots and waited.

  She tilted her head and leaned forward the exact width needed to touch her mouth to his and, like a key in a lock, it unleashed the pent-up yearning he’d smothered since he first set eyes upon her.

  He slid his hand around her nape while the other threaded through her hair to release its weight, the pins pinging the floorboards in melodic applause as he gathered the silky lengths in his fist. She brushed her lips against his, a sensual pass that tested his endurance, and he failed with heroic distinction.

  Capturing her close, he crushed his mouth down upon hers and deepened her gentle exploration, tracing his tongue along the seam of her lips, corner to corner, that same cupid’s bow he’d coveted since she’d first spoken to him now shooting an arrow straight through his heart. He tasted her, sweeping inside to rub his tongue against hers, reckless and wild, her silky return timid at first but all too soon matched in divine banter. She moaned into him, her body pressed tight, the subtle pointed pressure of her breasts teasing his chest.

  Fantasies, one after another, flashed to mind, every wicked way he’d plundered her while lying alone in bed; her legs wrapped around his waist, his mouth on every inch of tantalizing skin, the taste of her sex, weight of her breasts, the fragrant feminine musk of her climax.

  His fingers laced tight in her hair as the kiss grew deeper, his cock harder, and all the while she clung to his shoulders, the heat of her palms through his shirt an intoxicating reminder she pursued the kiss as much as he. She moaned, low-throated and raspy, and desire pulsed hard through his body.

  He smoothed his hands beneath the curtain of her hair, tracing her spine, the swell of her hips and around and upward until his thumbs swept the underside of her breasts, her tremor of response urging him to continue, but he knew better. Another moment and he would have her stripped bare beneath him, both of them too far gone to realize the consequence of their actions.

  It didn’t mean he didn’t ache from the decision, though.

  He broke the kiss slowly, brushing his mouth across hers before forcing himself to step away.

  Chapter Ten

  Georgina drew a shuddered breath and pressed her fingertips to her lips, the trembled touch matched in her heart. That kiss, his kiss, the inordinate sensation of his tongue against hers, the friction of their desire… he’d ravished her mouth, plundered her defences and beyond to pleasure unimaginable. Each inhale came short and fast, her heart sped, pulse thrummed, every part of her ran a wild chase because of his kiss.

  She pulled away far enough to look into his eyes, glazed from the wicked magic of their embrace but clear and beautiful, the lush grey rimmed with an outline of black. His gaze revealed a telling truth, strong on the outside and yet vulnerable nonetheless. Unexpected questions abound. What did his kiss mean? Were all Luke’s kisses as divine? She placed her hand on his hard chest and the muscle flexed beneath her fingers, the hard pound of his heartbeat beneath her palm. He was affected as she. The wild hammering stirred her soul.

  ‘I won’t apologize.’

  His velvety declaration rang true as it should. His kiss was anything but apologetic and quite possibly intoxicating. The moment she’d touched her lips to his, a new world awakened, drenched with heady sensation. She couldn’t label it, not having enough experience in the realm of passion, but without a doubt she knew it extraordinary.

  A memory reared, its wretched existence threatening to materialize in one distasteful remembrance, a mouth slammed atop hers, harsh fingers fumbling at her neckline, but she blinked hard and forced it away.

  ‘Nor will I.’ She didn’t know if he applied her words to the argument or their demanding kiss, but it mattered little.

  ‘Just as well.’ He seemed more like himself as he adjusted his shoulders and pulled at one sleeve to straighten it. ‘You drive me mad with emotions I don’t want to feel.’

  ‘Is that a good thing?’ Her questions became a thin thread in the quiet.

  ‘No. Yes.’ He blew out a breath of frustration. ‘Good to get it out of the system, that’s all.’

  She did not possess a wealth of experience but still his comment amused. He couldn’t possibly believe he’d brought about the end of something rather than stoke a beginning. No time remained to examine the idea closely, but her curiosity was hardly sated.

  ‘Good night, Georgina.’ He tossed a curt nod in her direction and headed towards the door. She watched him leave, his broad shoulders and lean waist an attractive shadow as he exited.

  Much as she expected, Luke rapped on the door at daylight’s break, anxious to set to the roadways and enter London. She’d reclined in bed the night before, attempting to imagine the helplessness and frustration he’d experienced at Dursley’s thwarting and Luke’s own failure to recover Nate, but found no success in her effort. She would do everything in her power to assist him during the brief extent of her visit and simultaneously avoid any situation where she could be recognized or discovered. She hoped with genuine sincerity Nathaniel did not suffer for belief his father had abandoned him, though the alternative, that the child had been told Luke had perished, proved an equally ugly result. Still, while she had much to lose in this reckless decision, somehow his plea and future happiness overtook her private concerns. It was a peculiar occurrence and uncomfortable truth she wasn’t ready to confront at the moment.

  Tucked into the carriage, her view was limited to the square glass window, though she recognized Lower Street in the outer reaches of London proper. It wouldn’t be long now until they arrived in Manchester Square at the home of Maxwell Sinclair and his wife, Vivienne. Through a detailed prior message, Luke had arranged for Georgina to stay with his friends, thereby avoiding drawing attention to her visit in case Dursley had Luke’s residence at The Albany watched.

  All at once at odds, she fussed with her gloves, removing them to dry her clammy palms as she re-entered the city she’d fled months earlier. Through the first part of the day she’d expected Luke, atop his majestic mount, to sidle next to the coach and share conversation, anything to ease the mounting anxiety alive in her stomach. But as hours of quiet rolled by without his company, she’d settled against the bolster with solemn resignation.

  She didn’t regret their kiss and hoped he would not either. It didn’t signify. Nothing could become of their association. She knew all these things yet a disconcerted feeling refused to desist. Likewise, she wouldn’t mar the memory with remorse.

  The carriage rolled to a stop shortly after and she collected her things from the bench as she collected her composure. Introductions were conducted in the foyer of the spacious home and while Georgina sought to catch
Luke’s eye and seek the smallest bit of reassurance, he merely nodded in her direction before he left with Max in aim of the study.

  ‘I’m sure the men have much to discuss.’ Vivienne Sinclair offered another warm smile. ‘Aside from an update of the nightly activities at The Underworld, Luke probably wishes to keep Max abreast of the situation.’

  ‘Of course.’ Georgina returned Vivienne’s kind regard, her hostess fashionably dressed in a pale-blue gown of sprigged muslin with an empire waist, a design which allowed for her growing belly with style. ‘Thank you again for opening your home to me. I truly hope I can assist Mr Reese in finding Nathaniel.’

  ‘Please, we don’t stand on formality here.’ Vivienne motioned to the hall and they proceeded towards the front drawing room. ‘Luke is brimming with hope your testimony will force Dursley to return Nate. I regret I met the lad without knowing his true identity and situation. All this time has passed since I spoke to him at the Marine Society during a charitable endeavour, never realizing Luke searched for the same child.’ She slowed her steps and a frown marred her features. ‘How I wish it had worked out differently to prevent all this heartache now.’ Her hand dropped to her stomach and she smoothed her palm in a protective gesture.

  Georgina nodded her agreement and they entered the room, decorated in pleasant shades of sunflower and aubergine, where they moved towards twin sofas angled near the fireplace. Refreshments waited on the satinwood table at the centre of the seating area and Vivienne set about pouring as soon as they settled.

  ‘Your home is grand.’ Georgina took in the refined decorations and accepted a cup of tea.

  ‘You are kind, thank you. I imagine you must be famished and fatigued from the long ride. I’ve arranged for nuncheon and asked the staff to prepare rooms. Max and I were surprised at the excellent travel time your carriage made from Oxford, but as we know Luke, he’d not wish to waste a moment now he anticipates progress.’