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He knew he shouldn’t and wanted to cut out his tongue the instant the question left his lips, but out it came anyway. “What do you remember?”
Her hand stilled on his head just slightly, but he felt the pause clearly before she recovered and continued on with the soft fingering through his hair.
“Dear God, Gina, please forgive me for asking you—I don’t know what came over me. I apologize—”
She interrupted, her voice steady and smooth. “I remember he wore a red coat, and he was drunk. I could smell it on him. I remember his voice was cruel and he spoke nasty things that terrified me. I thought that he enjoyed my fear and that I fought him. But mostly all I remember is the fear. It’s just a black wall of fear right in front of me, and when I turn to avoid it, the wall moves to stand before me again.”
“I am so sorry, Gina.”
“The worst part is that my father is ashamed of me for what happened.”
“That is an offensive notion to me. You were the victim in all of it. Surely your father knows that. And if he does not, then perhaps I should tell him!” Jeremy’s chest hurt. Listening to his sweet Georgina speak with such dignity about someone so evil made him nearly snap in two, he was so tense. He wanted that fucking piece of shit, Strawnly, in front of him, and he with a sharp knife—a large one—so he could slice and peel off his skin, slowly, inch by agonizing inch. He’d start with the bastard’s defiling cock.
She shook her head before she spoke. “But you are helping me to forget, my dearest lover. Each day that passes with you loving me so sweetly, I feel it less.” She smiled down at him.
Her kind words killed the tension in him, just like that. “Well then, I shall have to be an even sweeter lover to you than I have been thus far,” he declared and popped up off her lap. “Starting right now!” He put his lips to hers—
—and nearly had an apoplexy! Loud barking thundered in his ears, the smell of wet dog met his nose, and the spray of sand hit him in the back.
“What the hell?” He jerked his head around to meet the very large, very shaggy, and very enthusiastic greeting of Brutus, the wolfhound.
“You have a friend I have not met, Jeremy!”
“Indeed,” he muttered. He helped her to her feet and did the introductions. “Gina, may I introduce my neighbor, Brutus. Brutus, my bride, Georgina.” He wagged his finger at the hound. “That’s Mrs. Greymont to you, and no jumping, or salivating, or any other ungentlemanly conduct out of you, young man!”
The great beast sat promptly and whined, cocking his head.
“Oh, Jeremy, he’s magnificent!” She reached out to stroke the giant dog. “Who does he belong to?”
“The Rourkes, my neighbors.” He scanned the beach. “Ah, here they come now. They must be out for a stroll like us.”
* * * *
Georgina looked to the couple walking toward them. Another wolfhound accompanied the pair, keeping sedately to their side. The woman was stunning with her dark hair and perfect skin. The man was also darkly handsome and tall, with noble features, sharply edged and serious.
“Brutus! Come!” the man commanded. “Sorry for the intrusion. He is an utter scallywag!” He called to Jeremy and Georgina as they crossed the distance on the hard sand.
“He is that, Rourke, but my wife seems to be taken with him regardless,” Jeremy countered.
The woman’s face alighted in a beaming smile and so did the man’s. “Greymont, did you just say, ‘your wife’? We’ve only just arrived back to the country and must’ve missed hearing the pronouncement. Congratulations are in order, my friend, if that is the case!”
“Indeed I did,” Jeremy returned, smiling at Georgina and again providing introductions for the second time in just as many minutes.
Georgina found Darius and Marianne Rourke a charming pair. She liked their dogs, too. The rascally Brutus and the elegant Cleo were gorgeous, and huge, Irish wolfhounds. The Rourkes insisted on having them to dinner at Stonewell Court, seemingly thrilled to meet the woman who had ended Jeremy’s stint as a bachelor. And Georgina looked forward to knowing them as well. It would be a good thing to socialize as a married couple for the first time.
* * * *
“I would love to accompany you, Georgina. The best modiste is Madame Trulier, and she has excellent taste. She can fit you out with everything you need.” Marianne smiled kindly.
“A French modiste?” Georgina remarked. “Are her designs very scandalous?” She blushed at her new friend.
“Yes!” Marianne told her with a giggle. “But your husband will love them. Darius certainly enjoys her efforts!”
They laughed together, and Marianne put her hands protectively over her belly. Georgina realized she was pregnant. “Congratulations,” she offered, directing her eyes at Marianne’s small swell.
“Thank you. By April, the wait will be over. So you see, I have a valid reason for visiting Madame Trulier myself. Nothing much is fitting me anymore,” she said ruefully.
“Jeremy told me you were recently wed.”
