‘Zachary!’
‘Georgianna,’ he chided gently as he released the second button and revealed the top of the silky smooth skin above the swell of her breasts.
‘I cannot… This is not—’ She broke off abruptly as Zachary claimed her mouth with his and silenced her protest.
She tasted as delicious as she smelt, of honey and roses, and everything that was so sweetly, temptingly Georgianna.
Zachary groaned low in his throat as he deepened the kiss, his hands sliding down the length of her spine to cup the sweet curve of her bottom and pull her closer against him, the length of his arousal nestling into the heated welcome of her abdomen.
Georgianna could not think, could only continue to cling to the strength of Zachary’s shoulders as the firmness of his mouth now claimed, devoured, her own.
She felt dizzy, light-headed, as her body burned, a heated dampness moistening between her thighs as Zachary cupped the rounded globes of her bottom and held her firmly into and against him. Her breasts were crushed to the hardness of Zachary’s muscled chest, the length of his erection pounding, pulsing, to the same rhythm as his heart beating so erratically against hers as his hands now roamed restlessly up the length of her spine.
A need, a want, a desire Georgianna became totally lost in. Until she felt the warmth of one of Zachary’s hands against the bare skin at her throat and then lower still as he cupped the bareness of her breast beneath the material of her gown.
Her emotions immediately turned to one of panic as she realised that Zachary must have unfastened all the buttons down the front of her gown as they kissed, the material now gaping wide and revealing everything.
She wrenched her mouth from beneath his, both her hands moving up to push him aside as she pulled the sides of her gaping gown back over her chest, before glaring up at him accusingly. ‘You will stop this immediately!’
His eyes narrowed to silver slits, that flush still to his cheeks and his hair dishevelled on his brow. ‘Why?’
‘Because I cannot allow this. It is…’ Georgianna gave a shake of her head, feeling as if she were floundering, much like a fish newly hooked on the line and brought to shore. A fact Zachary was wholly aware of, if the mocking challenge in those silver eyes was any indication. And she had no doubt that it was. ‘Because I do not want you,’ she spat out determinedly as she hastily refastened the buttons on her gown.
‘All evidence to the contrary, my dear Georgianna.’ Zachary’s insolent gaze moved slowly over her flushed face, slightly swollen lips, and then down the length of her throat and chest to where her nipples still pushed against the fabric of her gown.
Geogianna’s lips firmed as she determinedly refused to follow the direction of that insolent gaze. ‘That is purely a physical reaction to a man’s touch. Any man’s touch,’ she added defiantly as he appeared satisfied at the admission. ‘I assure you, my intellect tells me something else completely.’
‘Intellect has very little to do with physical arousal,’ he allowed disgustedly, all humour now gone. ‘If it did, then I should not find myself in the least aroused by you, either.’
Georgianna flinched inwardly at the deliberate insult. ‘Then we are in agreement on the subject, because my head tells me I should not allow a man such as you to take liberties.’
‘A man such as me?’
She met his gaze defiantly. ‘A libertine who is not to be trusted.
’
Humour lit Zachary’s eyes as he stepped back to regard her through narrowed lids. Admiration, too, because Georgianna Lancaster was, without a doubt, now a woman he could admire. Oh, not for her political beliefs, if indeed she should turn out to be a Trojan Horse for Rousseau’s cause, but most definitely for the courage she had shown in the face of her present dilemma.
She was a woman who believed herself disgraced in English society. A woman who had nevertheless returned to England, only to now find herself a prisoner of the very gentleman she had once been betrothed to. Her suggestion earlier that it might have been deliberate on her part was, Zachary was sure, completely untrue; Georgianna had been far too genuinely shocked and outraged at finding herself incarcerated in his home for it to have been her intention all along.
And this, taking advantage of Georgianna, making love to her, when she was a prisoner in his home, was not a gentlemanly thing for him to do.
Georgianna’s past behaviour might render her undeserving of such consideration on his part, but that did not mean he had to lose all honour.
Most especially when he still had no idea, as yet, as to whether or not Georgianna was merely Rousseau’s minion, sent to England, to Zachary, at the other man’s bidding.
The fact that she was now repelling his advances was, perhaps, a mark in her favour; a devious and manipulative woman would surely have used his obvious attraction to her own advantage?
Georgianna Lancaster was more than just a fully mature woman now, Zachary acknowledged, she was also an intriguing one. One who appealed to him on several levels. In her character. Intellectually. And certainly physically.
Which was all the more reason for him to keep his distance, at least until after he had confirmed, one way or the other, as to whether or not she was telling him the truth.
And if her information should prove correct, then he might no longer be given a choice about keeping his distance, because Georgianna would want nothing more to do with him after the way he had treated her whilst holding her prisoner.
His mouth twisted mockingly. ‘It takes one to know one, my dear Georgianna.’
Georgianna gasped, her face paling at what she knew to be another deliberately delivered insult and a direct reference to her scandalous behaviour the previous year. ‘I believe I will go back upstairs to my room now.’