Bound with Passion Read online

  Georgie was both seductive and innocent all at once. She was wearing a silk morning dress of the palest pink, made even paler by the gossamer linen overdress that pleated around her bust and then fell in an ethereal cascade from the empire waist that nipped beneath her breasts.

  “Do stop gawking at your fiancée, Lord Mayson.” James was also smiling, but somehow he was able to look confident, almost as if he and Georgie were accomplices. He took her hand from Trevor’s, where he had still been holding it and caressing her knuckles.

  Trevor tried to breathe through the onslaught of emotion, a practice with which he would have to become very familiar over the next few weeks. If Georgie was able to wake up from a night like that looking like this, Trevor might well be catching his breath for the rest of his life.

  “I see you decided to risk wearing another one of my creations.” James was making a slight adjustment to her turban-like hat, which he must have designed just for Georgie in the past day or two. It was made of the same material as her dress, the pale pink silk pleated and folded, then wrapped in on itself in a seemingly disorderly fashion. James had also fashioned three lovely fabric roses that dipped perfectly near Georgie’s left cheekbone.

  “I did, you rascal. If you keep making me things that are comfortable and not entirely ridiculous, perhaps I will change my opinion about English hats after all.”

  James laughed as he made one final push at the fabric, then stood back to admire his handiwork. “I knew it would be perfect for you. Reluctantly feminine. Mrs. Daley has been my accomplice, letting me peek at your wardrobe to make two or three coordinating hats this past week. The pink rose was finished yesterday.”

  “No wonder this was the only dress that didn’t get packed last night,” Georgie said with a grin. “You and Daley will prettify me yet.”

  Trevor wasn’t quite sure how the other two were able to have what seemed like a perfectly civilized conversation, because his heart was pounding so hard and his stomach was in such a flurry of delicate wings, he couldn’t find words to speak.

  “Well, at least give the man a brief kiss,” James said quietly. “As you can see, he is in quite a state of apoplexy upon seeing your gorgeous self.”

  Georgie nodded to James and then turned slowly to look Trevor in the eye. “Did you sleep well, my lord?”

  Still speechless, Trevor merely nodded.

  “And I trust you have had a productive morning?” Georgie asked.

  Again he nodded silently.

  “May I kiss you good day?” she asked.

  His eyes flew up from her bosom to her lips to her sparkling amber gaze. She was not playing with him.

  “I would like that very much,” he said.

  Keeping her eyes fixed on his, she took a step toward him; his breath was short. She leaned in slowly, but did not kiss his lips, which were moist and slightly open as a result of his ardent anticipation. Instead, she dipped her face around his jaw and kissed the sensitive skin just beneath his ear. Then she whispered, hot and close, but loud enough that James could hear in the silent room, “I adored being with you last night.”

  His heart only resumed beating when she punctuated that lovely remark with a feral nip at his earlobe. She pulled away and gave James a quick kiss on the cheek. “And you as well.”

  Then, taking a few steps away, she began pulling on her gloves and said formally, “The carriage is ready and we are expected at my mother’s for lunch. And for once, I am actually looking forward to it. Gentlemen?” She held out both of her arms so that each of them could escort her, one on the right and one on the left.

  After the three of them were settled in the carriage, Trevor was able to collect himself somewhat. They all sat close together on the forward-facing seat, with Georgie in her beautiful finery wedged between their strong thighs. Trevor exhaled through his nose in an attempt to steady his nerves.

  “Is everything all right, Trevor?” Georgie asked as she rested one gloved hand on his thigh. His taut muscles quivered beneath her palm.

  “I think I am all right, for a few minutes at a stretch, but then you speak or touch me or I get a whiff of whatever that maddening scent is coming off your silken skin, and then I don’t think I am all right at all. I think I’m going quite mad.”

  “Oh my sweet boy.” Georgie pressed her palm harder into his thigh, rubbing the length from his crotch to his knee, back and forth with slow, steady pressure. “You’re quite lovely when you are so . . . distracted.”

  “Georgie . . .” Trevor couldn’t get his brain organized enough to say more than that when her fingers came to rest around the silhouette of his hard cock beneath the straining fabric.

  “Yes, my soon-to-be husband?”

  “If you don’t remove your hand at once, I will spend inside my trousers, and I will not be able to attend your mother’s lunch, no matter how much you were looking forward to it.”

  Rather than pulling her hand away, she pressed harder against his straining shaft. “Oh, I don’t believe that for a moment. I think you can hold it and hold it, concealing the hard strength of your desire beneath the flaps of your jacket, and then later beneath the dining room table—where I hope I will be seated next to you—I can rest my hand against the evidence of your passion while I daintily sip my mother’s traditional French madrilène.”

  Trevor wasn’t certain, but through the fog of his desire, he thought he heard James give a low chuckle.

  “Georgie . . . You must know—” Trevor started, unable to repress a renewed declaration of his love.

  “Oh! Here we are!” James cried gaily.

  Georgie pulled her hand away from Trevor’s lap and sat up straight in the seat. A second later, the footman had opened the door of the carriage. James stepped out first, extending an arm to help Georgie step down into the sunny forecourt of Camburton Castle.

  Trevor took a deep breath and followed her and James up the grand stairs.

  James kept walking at a steady pace, Georgie’s hand resting lightly on his forearm, every inch of her Lady Georgiana Camburton. She appeared to be flushed and happy, comfortable in her own skin—her own very ladylike, very feminine, very silky skin, thought James.

  “If you don’t mind me saying, you appear to be much more at ease in your frilly dress today than you were last night at supper,” James lobbed casually. Both of them continued to look straight ahead as the front doors opened and they entered the large hallway.

  “I don’t mind you saying. In fact, I am much more at ease today.” She turned to look at him boldly, letting her glance slip over her shoulder to include Trevor in her mischief. “Your ministrations last night seem to have given me a new peace. I believe I would feel equally happy in breeches or bloomers—something inside me feels reconciled. I thank you for the much-needed rogering.”

  Trevor choked at her crass honesty, and then concealed his surprise with a genteel chuckle.

  She kept walking toward the drawing room as if she’d been speaking of nothing more controversial than the weather. James marveled at how so much could change in such a short time. Just last night, as the three of them had stood outside these very doors, he’d thought the possibility of a future that involved all three of them equally was fading to nothingness. Although it still promised to be quite an uphill climb if Georgie insisted on reducing all of her feelings to animal lust, at least now there was a sliver of hope. Lust would keep her close while they worked on convincing her how much more there could be among the three of them.

  Before opening the door to what promised to be a gaggle of family and friends—the burbling laughter and conversation already reaching them in the hall—Georgie said quietly, “Perhaps if I can be utterly free and raw at night, dressing up during the day in such refinements will be more like a delectable counterpoint.”

  With that, she entered the drawing room and announced herself before the butler had a chance to do so. “Mother! Nora! We’re here!”

  James held Trevor back with a brief touch
on his upper arm, the two of them out of earshot in the hall. “How are you, my love?”

  “I think I finally understand how it feels to have the fulfillment of one’s deepest desires within reach—”

  James smiled. “And?”

  “And forever—tantalizingly—just beyond one’s grasp.” Trevor tore his gaze away from Georgie, where she was already laughing and talking animatedly with Anna and Pia across the room, and looked at James. “Don’t you think she belongs with us?”

  James felt the words like a solid punch in the chest, the kind of pummeling blow that could either stop his heart or start it up again after it had seized. He took a deep breath. “Yes. What you say is true . . . and terrifying. But you mustn’t scare her off with your ardor. Do you understand?”

  Trevor nodded his agreement, never taking his eyes from Georgie.

  Both men entered the room and were quickly drawn into separate conversations. Trevor spoke to Sebastian and Farleigh about where they planned to go for their afternoon ride, and James was immediately asked for his creative opinion about the design of the grand wedding breakfast in Mayfair. They all ate lunch together, and then the afternoon progressed with delightful ease. James stayed at Camburton with Nora, Vanessa, Georgie, and Anna to lay the groundwork for the marriage that was to take place at St. George’s, Hanover Square, in a fortnight.

  As they worked together on the plans, James admired the unique strength of each of the four women. Anna’s wedding had been a small, religious ceremony in a cold chapel in Madrid, with only a dozen or so very close relatives of Sebastian’s. She was thrilled at the prospect of being part of a proper, joyful wedding celebration with her new family. She was also thrilled that the new plan meant her mother Nora would be back in London sooner than they’d thought.

  Nora, who rarely spoke of her life before coming to England with Vanessa and her uncle Fitz, also shared her own wedding memories. “I was an ill-informed sixteen-year-old girl,” she said thoughtfully as she looked out the sunny, sparkling windows of the morning room, where they had decided to set up camp to plan the great event. Nora reached for Anna’s hand as she spoke. “I had none of the fortitude or conviction that you all seem to possess in such abundance.”

  Vanessa immediately tried to contradict that statement. “Oh Nora! You know you’re the most courageous of any of us—”

  “Vanessa, you always see the best in me, no matter what.” Nora shook her head with a sad smile. “But in this you must believe me. I was like a lamb being led to slaughter. I had neither confidence nor freedom.”

  James watched closely to see if Georgie felt the power of those words, and perhaps for once in her life realized that it wasn’t quite so dreadful to have been born Lady Georgiana Cambury, heiress and adventurer.

  She slanted him a look and gave him a sly wink and a tiny nod. Yes, perhaps that little seed of gratitude would take root in Georgie’s heart after all, and she would come to appreciate her true inheritance: confidence and freedom, a legacy she might eventually learn to honor and value, rather than flout.

  “But that’s a terrible memory to revisit now,” said Nora in a more cheerful tone of voice, clearing the air with a swipe of her hand. “I only brought it up so you would see how wonderfully lucky you are, Georgie, to be marrying someone you trust and, I hope, will eventually come to love.”

  “Oh, I do love him already,” Georgie blurted carelessly, turning her attention from James. “I’ve always loved him.” The other four stared at her while she continued to look at some fabric swatches that Vanessa had pulled for Georgie to decide on the tablecloths at the wedding breakfast.

  “Of course you have, darling,” Vanessa said, patting Georgie lightly on the shoulder and then removing her hand.

  “I mean,” Georgie continued airily, paying no attention to the weight of her words, “who doesn’t love Trevor?” But the room had gone quiet, and even Georgie seemed to sense her words held a whiff of insulting negligence, as if loving Trevor were some silly pastime.

  James felt the hot rush of emotion rise up from his cravat and spread across his cheeks. Loving Trevor Mayson was—and always would be—the most meaningful aspect of his life . . . a sacrament.

  Anna glanced quickly from James to Georgie, then pulled her lips into a firm line and looked down at the table, as if she recognized something familiar in Georgie’s cavalier handling of words like love and always. From their dinner conversation last night, James suspected Anna recognized her former self.

  Vanessa stared at James, and he thought she might actually cry. There was a look of such profound unhappiness in her eyes, wordlessly letting him know that she regretted having raised a child who was so utterly insensitive to the feelings of those around her.

  James took a deep breath and smiled, lifting his chin and breaking the spell of sadness. “You’re quite right, Georgie,” he announced with perhaps a touch too much enthusiasm. “Trevor Mayson is indeed one of the most loving and lovable people one could ever hope to meet.”

  Georgie looked up from the various fabrics with a cheery smile, then faltered. Her brow furrowed when she looked at James, as if she didn’t quite understand why it had been the wrong thing to say.

  He smiled at her, feeling sincere empathy at that point, because the truth of the matter was clear: Georgie was either incapable or completely out of practice when it came to recognizing deep emotion, either in herself or in others.

  “Yes,” she agreed softly, still not understanding. “Trevor is the top thing.” She peered around at the other three women, and James watched her look from face to face, as if she were adrift and hoping for somewhere to drop anchor. Her eyes returned to his, a ship to port, and she lifted a pale rose damask, in a very similar shade to the dress she was wearing. “Perhaps we should choose this one for the wedding celebration and table linen, James. I think Trevor thought me quite pretty this morning when I came down in this dress. What do you say?”

  James smiled and nodded. “I think that’s the perfect choice.”

  She smiled tentatively and handed the fabric to her mother. “This is the one then. If you like it?”

  Vanessa took the fabric and rubbed it between her fingers. “It’s perfect, darling. Simply perfect.” She flashed James a look—of gratitude, perhaps—and declarations about love and forever were set aside once more.

  After tea, Georgie was relieved when Trevor and his group returned from their ride. She was curious about what they’d all discussed, and, truth be told, she was jealous. As much as she’d tried to enjoy the choosing of linens and such for the wedding, she’d much rather have been riding around the estate with the others.

  Pia excused herself almost immediately for a late afternoon nap, while Farleigh and Sebastian remained. Georgie watched with keen interest when first one and then the other man kissed Pia on the cheek and bade her farewell as she left the drawing room.

  Trevor came and stood behind Georgie where she was seated on the yellow silk sofa. James was right: Georgie had not felt this comfortable in her own skin—especially while sitting on this yellow sofa in this damnable drawing room—since as far back as she could remember.

  Leaning down and pretending to whisper something in her ear, Trevor gave her a brief, nipping kiss at the edge of her hairline instead. A shiver of delight ran down her spine, and she placed her hand over his where it rested on her shoulder. His thumb traced the bite mark lightly.

  “Did you have a nice ride, my lord?” Georgie asked, feeling like the picture—already—of an adoring spouse. She tried to tell herself it was just a game, a way to pass the next few weeks, playing at being his baroness. She had always thought such conversations were pat, merely words that bored couples used to fill the day. But her heart gave a little squeeze when she realized she genuinely wanted to know if he had, in fact, enjoyed his afternoon.

  He looked down at her with those penetrating green-gold eyes and long, dark lashes. “It was quite enlightening. Farleigh, Sebastian, Pia, and I covered
a lot of ground. I look forward to covering the same terrain with you and James at some point.” He had said it quietly enough so no one else in the room could hear, and even if they had, it was quite likely they would think he meant the horse trails and fields they had traversed. But the slight squeeze at her shoulder let her know that her suspicions were correct: Farleigh, Sebastian, Pia, and Anna were all in one relationship.

  “And how was your afternoon?” Trevor asked.

  “I think we got nearly all the decisions made for the wedding. Are you certain that you have no interest in the decoration or invitations or menu?” she asked with a mischievous smile, for she knew Trevor had about as much interest in which fabrics to use for the serviettes as he did in the latest drawing room gossip in Mayfair.

  “I am at your service if you need me, but I will defer entirely to your mother’s wishes when it comes to these very important and meaningful decisions. The color of a tablecloth can be quite life altering, I have heard. And I would not want to go poking about when these are verdicts of such consequence.”

  Georgie laughed out loud, and God, it felt good to be herself in this room at last.

  She stood up and extended her hand to Trevor. “Let us return to Mayfield, my lord. I am very keen to hear all the details of your afternoon ride and to share the life-altering decisions we made regarding the vellum that will be used for the envelopes.” James had also stood up when Georgie had, and was now waiting next to the two of them.

  “I thought you said you were staying here at Camburton with us,” Vanessa interjected, not quite concealing a hint of worry.

  “Of course I am!” Georgie laughed, having completely forgotten that business. She turned to her mother, “Do you and Nora mind very much if I go check on the horses at Mayfield? I shan’t be more than a few hours.”