I wish I could tell you how she saved me.
Nick squeezed his shoulder awkwardly, in a manner more befitting two strangers. His hand fell back to his side. “I will be kind to her and I’ll encourage mother to be more…welcoming.” The swift surge of relief died at Nick’s next words. “But I need to say this. I don’t trust her, Adam, and I fear that in marrying her, you’ve done something you will only look back on with regret.”
A chill stole along Adam’s spine at Nick’s prophetic words. He shook his head. No, he had a lifetime of regrets, but marrying Georgina would never fall into those ranks.
“Adam?”
“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for being willing to try. I know you’ll find her to be good and kind.”
Nick inclined his head. “I certainly hope so, for your sake.”
Hardly congratulatory words, Adam thought wryly.
He started to turn when Nick held out his hand.
Adam stared down at his brother’s peace offering then placed his hand in Nick’s.
“Congratulations, little brother.” Nick’s voice broke ever so slightly. He cleared his throat in an obvious attempt to cover his show of emotion.
“Thank you,” Adam said, his words gruff to his own ears.
Nick thumped him on the back one more time. “Now go. I’d imagine you have better things to do on your wedding day than stand around talking to me.”
Adam chuckled, appreciating Nick’s willingness to try to restore levity. After the events of these past days, and the hurtful barbs hurled by the both of them, their relationship would require more delicate mending. But Nick’s efforts were certainly a start.
He exited his brother’s office and started toward the foyer.
The doddering butler—who was a good many years older than his late father—blocked his way. “If I may wish you much joy, sir?”
Adam inclined his head. By nature of his tenure with the family, and having known Adam since he’d been born, Winningham was more of a close family member. “Thank you, Winningham. Your words mean a great deal.” And they did. Adam and Georgina had been remarkably lacking where well-wishes were concerned.
The normally staid butler then did something remarkably out of character with his cool reserve. He winked. “They’ll come around, sir. I’ve known each of them long enough to know that.” His face settled back into an implacable mask and stiff formality was restored. “Mr. Anthony is coming around in the Blue Parlor at this very moment.”
Those words rejuvenated Adam’s spirit. He could always count on young, irascible Tony to throw his support behind him. With a jaunty step, Adam hurried toward the Blue Parlor. Even as he approached the doorway, Tony’s booming laugh blended with Georgina’s breathy giggle.
Adam’s steps faltered and his smile slipped as he caught sight of Georgina. His wife sat beside Tony on a too-small sofa, a leather folio open across her lap. She sat so close to Tony that the pale yellow fabric of her skirts had become crushed against his rakish brother’s tan breeches.
Vicious spears of resentment stabbed at his insides and Adam was possessed by an animalistic urge to throw Georgina over his shoulder and carry her away from Tony. It was Adam’s first real taste of jealousy—and it had a bitter flavor.
He folded his arms across his chest, tapping his foot as he waited for them to note his appearance.
Adam might as well have been invisible.
Georgina brushed back a stray brown tendril and turned the page. Tony leaned down and whispered something close to her ear. She laughed, the sound as clear as crystal glasses clinking together.
His scoundrel brother joined in…and then glanced down at Georgina; his gaze focused on the enormous spill of her lush bosom.
Adam narrowed his eyes, as he was besieged by the kind of madness that robbed a man of self-control and reason. Of course, Tony would never betray him. Except…the young rake continued to leer at the swell of her breasts…and the green-eyed monster within Adam roared to life. He’d seen enough. With a snarl, he stalked into the room.
Georgina and Tony’s heads jerked up. Guiltily?
Georgina jumped to her feet. The leather folio containing some of his earliest artwork fell to the floor, lying open on its spine. He paid it no heed.
“Hello, Ad—” A startled squeak escaped her when he took her by the hand and tugged her from the room.
Tony’s knowing laughter trailed in their wake.
She shot a glance over her shoulder then looked back at Adam with wide, blinking eyes. “Is everything all right?”
His attention snapped forward. “Fine, just fine,” he muttered.
“How—”
The fragile thread of control snapped. “Stop asking questions, Georgina.”
She fell silent.
He felt like a bastard who’d kicked a puppy but, goddamn it, he was too blinded by the gut-wrenching, twisting bite of jealousy to apologize. He could not rid his mind of the lecherous stare his brother had affixed to her breasts. By God, she belonged to him. He’d not tolerate her being ogled by any other man—including his own brother. When Adam had discovered through the scandal sheets that Grace had married, he’d felt hurt. Betrayed.
This—the mind-numbing loss of sanity he’d felt on seeing Georgina beside Tony—was something altogether different.
The butler held the door open and Adam swept Georgina through it, down the steps, and into his black carriage. He didn’t wait for his driver to close the door, but saw to it himself. The carriage lurched into motion.
Georgina sat on the seat opposite him, chest moving up and down as she panted. He stared at the low line of her décolletage. There was surely no more magnificent bosom than Georgina’s. And those luscious pale moons of flesh were his. All his.
With a groan, he pulled her across his lap and explored her mouth with a hungering intensity. He slipped his tongue inside and stroked the tip of her tongue. She responded with a feverish wantonness that threatened to drive him wild.
Georgina pressed her breasts against his chest and wrapped her arms around him as if trying to climb into his skin.
He groaned in approval and hoisted her skirts above her thighs, guiding her so that she straddled him. He told himself she was an innocent, that he should show a modicum of constraint, but he’d denied himself this woman for too long. He could no sooner stop the flood of desire than he could stop the moon from rising in the sky.
Her thighs fell open. The heat of her moist center penetrated the thick fabric of his breeches. He wrenched his mouth away from hers. Shoving aside the mass of brown curls that had escaped her chignon, he paid homage to the soft skin of her neck.