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“Are we friends, Leo?”
“Why is that so important to you, Georgie?”
Because she wanted to matter to him. To not be just another female he’d wanted to bed. And because he meant quite a lot to her. Leo was the anchor she’d clung to since coming to London. As safe to her as Beechwood Court.
“Because it is,” she whispered.
His hand folded over her cheek, bringing their foreheads together. “You shouldn’t be friends with a gambling hell owner.” Leo’s mouth grazed hers. “Do you want to be escorted out of London?”
“I see you very differently, Leo.”
The sapphire of his eyes deepened. “Don’t.” His mouth fell on hers, sufficiently ending their conversation. The kiss was deep and possessive. Intimate. A slow gentle burn which dug deep into her bones, searing her soul. An eternity passed; their lips melded together, long enough for Georgina’s mind to lose sight of anything else but Leo. The movement of his hands over her skin left her heart racing, his beautiful fingers adoring every inch of her. His mouth and tongue followed, blazing a trail across her body, worshipping Georgina until she moaned beneath him.
Exquisitewas too dull a word for the experience.
When finally he settled between her thighs, whispering beautiful, sensual nonsense into her neck and hair, Leo entered her carefully, never once looking away. Lacing their fingers together above her head, the hard lines of his body sank into the cushion of hers, hips rocking in a dance more beautiful than any Georgina had ever experienced. A lazy roll of pleasure rippled up her body as she climaxed beneath him, sobbing out his name, her heart stopping. Leo groaned before withdrawing once more, spilling himself across her skin.
If she were given to swooning, now would have been the time. There had been so much more than the physical pleasure in that joining. Georgina’s eyes fluttered closed, afraid Leo would see the truth of her feelings. “That was...lovely.”
“Hmm.” His lips moved against the nape of her neck, smiling as he once more rose from the settee. He returned to the door set into the wall, producing yet another damp cloth.
“Where are the warm water and endless supply of clean towels coming from, Leo?”
A tangle of dark hair fell over his forehead as he returned to her. The thick locks curled about his ears and cheek in disarray. “There’s another door on the other side. One of the maids brings up warm water and fresh towels every hour or so without disturbing me.”
Georgina’s mood soured. The water and towels were a reminder that Leo must require such services with regularity if he entertained women in his office. “How convenient.”
Tawdry is the word I believe you’re looking for, Georgina.
“It is, under the circumstances.” The warmth of the cloth wiped at her stomach. “I can’t spend myself inside you, not if I’m trying to prevent a child. There are other methods.” He frowned. “I’m usually better prepared.” He gave her a sideways glance. “You knew withdrawing is—”
“Yes, of course,” she interrupted, not wanting to show her ignorance. Georgina had surmised as much because itdidmake sense given the entire seed analogy. Her mother hadn’t been very forthcoming with any facts about the marriage bed before Georgina wed Masterson. She assumed Georgina’s brief relationship with Winbow had relieved her of such a duty. She’d tried to tell both her parents that nothing had happened with the riverboat gambler aside from a stolen kiss or two. And some touching, though she hadn’t admitted to that.
It would be best if you stay in London for a time. Your father thinks it best, Georgina.
“So, if you wanted a child—” She put the pieces together in her mind.
“I don’t.” Ice shards flew from his mouth.
Well, that wasn’t exactly what she’d been asking, her curiosity had been less personal in nature. She thought his response unwarranted. “Yes, but what if your method proved faulty? Surely under such circumstances, your child—”
“Would still be unwelcome. I have no desire to father a succession of bastards.”
Her brow wrinkled as she tried to understand his vehemence. “If you were wed, the child wouldn’t be a bastard.”
“No children. Bastards or otherwise. Marriage is out of the question, lest you have aspirations in that direction. I’m a bloody gambling hell owner. What would I do with a wife?”
“I wasn’t referring to myself, Leo,” she snapped back at him, allowing that small bit of hope in her chest to wither. “I was speaking in general. I’m already married.”
He turned away from her. “If something occurs after tonight, send a note to Peckham. He’ll arrange for you to visit an apothecary who specializes in helping women who find themselves in unfortunate situations. There are potions a woman can take to rid herself of a child.”
“I see.” She wished she didn’t.
His chin jerked back in her direction. “Any child of mine would carry the taint of my own birth, one made worse by Marcus Barrington, who insisted on claiming me.” The sculpted lines of his face grew cold and accusatory. “You’ve no idea, so don’t pretend to tell me I’m wrong.”
“I won’t.” He wouldn’t listen to her even if she did so. Leo’s dislike of his father had many layers, she could see that. She thought he would have been just as furious, perhaps even more bitter, if the dukehadn’tclaimed him. “But you really wouldn’t wish me to tell you if I became with child?”
“No. Send a note to Peckham.” His mouth lowered to her breasts, tongue flicking against the taut peak of one nipple. “And I tire of this conversation, Georgina. My night with you is not yet over.”
