Page 96 of The Virgin Who Humbled Lord Haslemere
Benedict groaned, his neck arching as his head fell back against the pillow. “You’re so perfect, Georgiana.” His hips jerked helplessly against hers, nudging his cock deeper. “Ride me, sweetheart.”
Georgiana could deny him nothing. She did as he commanded, whimpering when he reached between her thighs to rub a tormenting finger against her aching nub as he thrust up into her. She let the pleasure seize her, suck her into the vortex until everything blurred around her, and she knew only Benedict, his big, warm hands clutching her hips, his hoarse cries as he nudged hercloser, closer…
She cried out when the pleasure rolled over her. She braced her hands on his chest and threw her head back, her thighs trembling, tears she wouldn’t let fall swimming in her eyes. Her name was on Benedict’s lips and his hands tangled in her hair as he took her with him, over the edgeand into bliss.
* * * *
The room was quiet, the only sound the faint hiss of the fire as it burned lowin the grate.
They’d have to leave soon. London was waiting.
Georgiana was sprawled across Benedict’s chest, her hair wild and her skin damp. He’d gathered her against him as their breathing calmed, and she’d drifted into a doze.
He pressed a tender kiss to her temple, twining one of her curls around his finger. He’d opened his mouth more than a dozen times to beg her to come to North America with him, but closed it a dozen more without utteringa single word.
She had a life here—a home, friends, and a purpose that gave meaning to that life. What did he have to offer her that could compete with that? A treacherous ocean journey, and an uncertain future. There wasn’t even time for him to marry her before he sailed forNorth America.
He’d be asking her to risk everything for him, and he couldn’t even promise he’d be able to make her happy. No. He might not be as selfless a man as he should be, but there was no way he’d ever ask her to give up everything for him.
But there was one thing he could give her, something that would make her happy. Once he was gone, thousands of miles away, if he could think of her as happy, he might be able to grab and hold onto just a tiny bit of happiness for himself without her.
“Tell me about your plans for the Mill Street building. What are your hopes for the next Clifford School?” She’d been dreaming of her school for years now, putting all of her energy into it, and he couldn’t imagine a better way to spend the little time they had left than to hear hertalk about it.
She woke from her doze, and let her head roll against his chest with a sigh. “I didn’t find Clara Beauchamp, Benedict. I didn’t help Jane. I didn’t fulfill my promise, and I can’t accept the Mill Street—”
“Don’t, Georgiana.” Benedict’s arms tightened around her to hush her. “Youcantake it, and you will. If you don’t, it will sit there empty, of no use to anyone. I trust you to use it wisely. Don’t deprive me of the chance to do something worthwhile.”
She remained quiet for a time, drawing patterns over the backs of his hands with her fingertips. “If you truly wish for it, I’lldo as you ask.”
Benedict pressed a soft kiss to her temple.“I do wish it.”
Silence fell between them, but Georgiana broke it before it became too heavy by laying a tentative hand on his chest. “What of you, Benedict? Your home here, your servants, all your things. Will you just leaveit all behind?”
“Yes. Darlington will look after my interests here, and I have trustworthy servants. They’ll take care of things until I…” He’d been about to sayuntil I return, but he broke off without speaking the words. The truth was, he’d likely never return to England, and it was best if he didn’t hold out any hope this journey would be temporary. He and Jane and Freddy needed to build a new life, and there was no way he could do that if he was constantly longingto return home.
To return to Georgiana.
“I suppose they don’t matter, do they?” Georgiana’s voice wasn’t quite steady. “Clothing, carriages, horses—I used to think you cared about those things, but I was wrong.”
“Georgiana Harley,wrong?” Benedict attempted a teasing tone, but his throat was too tight for mirth, and it was a dismal failure. “What do I care about, then?”
“People.” Georgiana’s voice was quiet. “Your sister and nephew, your friends. They all mean more to you thananything else.”
You mean more to me, Georgiana. You mean everything.
He wanted to say the words aloud, to tell her it was killing him to leave her—tell her that he loved her. Holding it back was tearing his heart to shreds, but he couldn’t speak to her of love when he’d be gone by thistime tomorrow.
So he said nothing, just lay quietly with her cradled in his arms, burying his face in her hair and breathing in her scent so he might recall it, and lose himself in the memory of her once he was gone.
Georgiana was quiet as well, but she stirred when he dropped a kiss on her forehead. “It won’t end here.”
Benedict couldn’t have said why, but her softly spoken words made him stiffen. “What do you mean? What won’t end here?”
“My pursuit of Kenilworth.” She looked up at him, surprise crossing her face at his expression. “Surely, you didn’t think Lady Clifford and I would just drop it, and let Kenilworth get away with what he’s done?”
That was precisely what Benedict had thought, fool that he was. He should have known better. “Georgiana—”
She struggled upright and pulled free of his arms. “He had Lord Dravenattacked, Benedict. He hurt Clara Beauchamp, and Jane and Freddy—”
