“My lord?” the woman said again, concern coating her words.
And then she slapped him.
His gaze shot to hers, and his mouth popped open. “Did you just slap me?”
Well, would you look at that, Fitzy. You found some words!
A breath exploded from her, and her body slumped. Egads, now her breasts dangled tantalizingly close to his face. He gulped. Audibly. Which only had him inhaling her cinnamon-sweet scent. Sodding hell. Shewouldsmell like the very essence of Christmas.
His gaze darted between her all-too pouty pink lips and her all-too perky pink nipples. Did she taste like Christmas, too…
“Oh, thank goodness,” she was saying, blessedly interruptingthattrain of thought. “I feared you had done irreparable damage or some such when you seemed unable to speak.”
He frowned. Was the woman unaware that her bosom was exposed? She was leaning over him, chattering away about—well, he wasn’t actually certain. The combination of diddies in his face and knocks to the dome had made him deaf and dumb.
“Would you cover yourself?” he finally managed tersely. Before he did something outrageous. Like lick a stranger’s nipples.
She tensed, and he winced. That had come out a touch boorish. But damnation, the woman seemed to have no compunction about waggling her wobblers in his face.
“I beg your pardon, my lord,” she said stiffly. “How terribly thoughtless of me to come rushing to your aid and not cover myself beforehand. I hope I have not offended your delicate sensibilities.”
Sweat trickled down the nape of his neck. He was botching this. If that was even possible. If something started out botched, was there even room for further botching?
Fitz botched it even further.
“Urrrgung…”
Lovely, Fitz.What in the bloody hell was that supposed to be?
She cocked her head. “Pardon?” She blinked down at him through thick, blonde lashes. Blonde lashes that framed vibrant green irises currently clouded in confusion. “Maybe I should ring for help.” She drew out the words. “I fear you diddamage your brain.”
No, he really hadn’t. This was actually quite normal for Fitz.
Unfortunately.
2
Georgiana
Thiswasn’tnormal.
Miss Georgiana Hartley peered down at the amber-haired, red-faced, perspiring man beneath her. He wasn’t even forming words. It wasn’t typical for men to sweat that much, was it? Or turn the exact shade of cooked lobster. Come to think of it, with the sweating…he did somewhat resemble a buttered lobster.
“Maybe I should ring for help,” she said slowly. “I fear you diddamage your brain.”
He shook his head vigorously, her body shaking atop him. The adamant gesture would have reassured her if the man hadn’t immediately frozen, his wide-eyed gaze falling to her chest. A choked noise left him before his gaze began playing a rigorous game of shuttlecock around the room.
She blew out a sigh and glanced around the chamber that would have been just right for her attempted assignation: cozy and intimate, with its dark-wood walls and earth-toned furnishings. Itfeltseductive. Perfect. Or so she had thought.
She had been so excited to find an empty room; the first few she’d tested out had been occupied. One of which had been Lord Wessex with a woman who was very muchnothis fiancé. His fiancé…whose family was currently hosting this ball. Goodness, the nerve of the man, sleeping with other women in Lady Felicity’s own home. She grimaced—both at that thought and the wheeze that just came from the man beneath her. Perhaps if she gave the startled clam a moment, he’d collect himself.
Georgiana soothingly rubbed his chest—his surprisinglyhardchest. And not because of bones, which one would expect from the tall, thin, bespectacled stranger who had been buried in a book when he’d entered the room. No, that smooth, solid feeling beneath her fingertips was flesh,muscle. Who could he be? She definitely hadn’t seen him in the ballroom.
But her soothing strokes, which had possibly, potentially—fine, definitely—turned exploratory, had the opposite effect she was hoping for. More wheezing. Disappointment settled heavily in her belly. Her fingers twitched with desire to discover. But this was undoubtedly not the man to do that with. If she tried to fondle him, he would probably have an apoplexy. What a waste.
Goodness, this had gone completely arse-backwards. Tits-sideways. She had been fishing for a savage shark and ended up with a crimson crustacean.
Georgiana had been positioning herself for optimal seduction as she awaited the Duke of Ironcrest. To be honest, she hadn’t been certain the Duke would accept the invitation she’d murmured to him, but he rarely attended these events, and she wasn’t going to give up on a chance toexperience. Unfortunately, Georgiana’s mother had a horrible habit of throwing Georgiana—quite literally—into the path of unmarried gentlemen. So the Duke had probably thought this a scheme to trap him into marriage. It wasn’t, though.
