ladies and gentleman of all rank and richness could act out their deepest fantasies.
He was not surprised to find the door to the purple salon open and waiting for him. He entered and looked toward the table beside the bed for a list of changes to be made, but the sound of the door closing behind him made him turn.
Leaning against the door was Georgina.
He blinked a few times, hoping to clear this addlepated dream from his line of vision. He wanted her so much he had conjured a hallucination of her here—that was the only explanation. God, how he hoped it was.
Except that she didn’t disappear as he had anticipated would happen. She just stood there, watching him, her hands shaking at her sides.
“Damn Marcus,” he muttered. “I should have known he would repay me for Annabelle at some point.”
Her eyes went wide. “Are you referring to their courtship here?”
He frowned. “Told you about it, did they? Well, I’d hardly call it a courtship, though it did lead them to be wed.” He blinked, and still she remained. “What are you doing here, Georgina—Miss Hickson?”
She flinched at his correction to the formality between them. Formality he never should have allowed to fall since he obviously had no control over himself when it came to this woman. Even now, looking at her from across a room, all he could see was how beautiful she was in a dark blue gown that matched her eyes.
God how he wanted to kiss her again. To touch her again. To claim her this time as he hadn’t at the wax exhibit. He shook his head.
“I came here because I wanted to see you,” she said, her voice shaking but without hesitation. “Paul, all I have thought about since that night at Madame Tussaud’s is you.”
He squeezed his eyes shut at her confession. How tempting she was, without even trying to be. But he had to resist for both their sakes. “This is not a proper place for you.”
“If you are here, it is the most proper place for me,” she insisted. “Look at me, Paul.”
He slowly opened his eyes and did as she asked. It was a torture.
“Paul, I am in love with you,” she whispered. “I have been forever. I cannot pretend it away anymore.”
Her words crashed into him like a wave on a rocky shore and he nearly toppled over in shock and joy that she had said them. Georgina loved him, just as he loved her. But reality followed on the heels of fantasy and everything that would keep them apart ripped his happiness to pieces.
“You must pretend,” he insisted as he moved on her. “For we cannot be together, and you know why. Now let me take you out of here before you—”
He cut himself off as his hand closed around her upper arm. She gazed up at him, blue eyes hazy with desire and love. Touching her had been a wicked mistake and now he was snared by her siren’s call.
“Georgina,” he whispered, both a plea and a warning. Why wouldn’t she step away when he couldn’t?
“Paul,” she whispered in return, and reached up to stroke the back of her bare hand across his cheek.
He couldn’t maintain a handle on control any longer. He dipped his head and kissed her, wrapping his arms around her, drawing her to him, molding her against him as tightly as he could without stripping her bare and joining their bodies. It wasn’t enough. And it was too much.
She lifted into his kiss and returned it with fervor and fever. Her heated tongue lapping at his closed lips stripped away the last vestiges of gentlemanly behavior and he made a strangled curse as he backed her toward the bed in the middle of the room. They fell across it and he cupped her breast as she arched beneath him, their mouths still desperately mating.
“Georgina,” he managed to rasp as he broke the kiss. “Please. I can’t stop this, so you must. For your own good.”
She stared up at him, and he held his breath as he waited for her to ask him to get off her. She had to come to her senses, after all. It was their only hope.
But instead,
He was not surprised to find the door to the purple salon open and waiting for him. He entered and looked toward the table beside the bed for a list of changes to be made, but the sound of the door closing behind him made him turn.
Leaning against the door was Georgina.
He blinked a few times, hoping to clear this addlepated dream from his line of vision. He wanted her so much he had conjured a hallucination of her here—that was the only explanation. God, how he hoped it was.
Except that she didn’t disappear as he had anticipated would happen. She just stood there, watching him, her hands shaking at her sides.
“Damn Marcus,” he muttered. “I should have known he would repay me for Annabelle at some point.”
Her eyes went wide. “Are you referring to their courtship here?”
He frowned. “Told you about it, did they? Well, I’d hardly call it a courtship, though it did lead them to be wed.” He blinked, and still she remained. “What are you doing here, Georgina—Miss Hickson?”
She flinched at his correction to the formality between them. Formality he never should have allowed to fall since he obviously had no control over himself when it came to this woman. Even now, looking at her from across a room, all he could see was how beautiful she was in a dark blue gown that matched her eyes.
God how he wanted to kiss her again. To touch her again. To claim her this time as he hadn’t at the wax exhibit. He shook his head.
“I came here because I wanted to see you,” she said, her voice shaking but without hesitation. “Paul, all I have thought about since that night at Madame Tussaud’s is you.”
He squeezed his eyes shut at her confession. How tempting she was, without even trying to be. But he had to resist for both their sakes. “This is not a proper place for you.”
“If you are here, it is the most proper place for me,” she insisted. “Look at me, Paul.”
He slowly opened his eyes and did as she asked. It was a torture.
“Paul, I am in love with you,” she whispered. “I have been forever. I cannot pretend it away anymore.”
Her words crashed into him like a wave on a rocky shore and he nearly toppled over in shock and joy that she had said them. Georgina loved him, just as he loved her. But reality followed on the heels of fantasy and everything that would keep them apart ripped his happiness to pieces.
“You must pretend,” he insisted as he moved on her. “For we cannot be together, and you know why. Now let me take you out of here before you—”
He cut himself off as his hand closed around her upper arm. She gazed up at him, blue eyes hazy with desire and love. Touching her had been a wicked mistake and now he was snared by her siren’s call.
“Georgina,” he whispered, both a plea and a warning. Why wouldn’t she step away when he couldn’t?
“Paul,” she whispered in return, and reached up to stroke the back of her bare hand across his cheek.
He couldn’t maintain a handle on control any longer. He dipped his head and kissed her, wrapping his arms around her, drawing her to him, molding her against him as tightly as he could without stripping her bare and joining their bodies. It wasn’t enough. And it was too much.
She lifted into his kiss and returned it with fervor and fever. Her heated tongue lapping at his closed lips stripped away the last vestiges of gentlemanly behavior and he made a strangled curse as he backed her toward the bed in the middle of the room. They fell across it and he cupped her breast as she arched beneath him, their mouths still desperately mating.
“Georgina,” he managed to rasp as he broke the kiss. “Please. I can’t stop this, so you must. For your own good.”
She stared up at him, and he held his breath as he waited for her to ask him to get off her. She had to come to her senses, after all. It was their only hope.
But instead,
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