prove Colin’s point, Hinchcliffe cried out from the entranceway from which they’d come, “There they are.”
“Do you want to go back now?” Colin asked, once again towing her along.
“No,” she muttered reluctantly, mourning the loss of Mrs. Taft’s beautiful shoe. At least, she told herself, she still had one of them.
They went across another street and down another alley. When Georgie thought she couldn’t run another step, he suddenly came up short, plunging her straight into his back.
It was like hitting a wall of muscle.
“In here,” he whispered, pulling her into a darkened doorway.
He gathered the blanket around them, hiding them in the shadows, while their pursuers passed by.
Georgie’s hand lay on his chest to steady herself, her trembling legs threatening to give out. As she leaned closer to him, let his body envelop hers, she suddenly understood Lady Finch’s warnings about rakish young men.
For standing in this darkened doorway, pressed against Colin’s all-too-masculine body, Georgie sympathized wholeheartedly with the young ladies who let themselves be led astray.
Right now, she wanted nothing more than to sink into his arms, lay her head on his chest. To feel him pull her hairpins free and whisper tempting offers into her ear while he continued to undress her.
In a blinding flash, the temptation of passions unknown blazed a path from her heart to her quaking knees, and Georgie knew she would never be the same again.
Even after Hinchcliffe and his partners were gone, Colin remained poised and ready, his body protectively covering hers.
She certainly wasn’t going to stray from his shielding warmth. Certainly not from the man who seemed destined to be her savior—in more ways than one, if she had any say in the matter.
Hazarding a glance up at him, she found him staring at her.
Georgie didn’t know what she had expected to find there, but it wasn’t this . . . this mischievous, fiery light glowing in his eyes . . . a devil-may-care smile on his lips . . . his body tense and ready, alight in a fierce energy.
Why, he was enjoying himself! And as much as she shouldn’t admit it, so was she—from the heat of his body enveloping hers, to his arm wound protectively around her. Even the reckless tattoo of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips hammered away as if to awaken some wild creature inside her.
Her rake. Her dangerous, tempting rake.
“I think we’ve eluded them,” she whispered, her mouth suddenly gone dry.
He nodded, his gaze locked on her lips.
Ruin me, she wanted to urge him. Take me back to your rooms and make me a fallen woman.
His mouth moved closer to hers, his head tipped slightly, his gaze dark and penetrating. Georgie thought all her prayers were about to be answered.
She closed her eyes and parted her lips, just as she’d seen in an old painting, and waited.
And waited. And waited.
Her lashes fluttered open. What the devil was wrong with him now?
There on his face passed an odd look. Georgie knew it was a harbinger of bad news, and it was, for he stepped away from her abruptly, leaving her shivering in the cold draft of his wake.
“Come along,” he muttered, turning on one heel and stalking up to the end of the alley.
Disappointed and cursing her continued bad luck with this man, Georgie trailed after him, the cool night air chilling her fevered skin. Whatever was wrong with her?
He had wanted to kiss her—of that she was positive. So why hadn’t he done it?
Damn his moral fortitude, she thought. He’s probably still of an opinion that he is taking me home.
Not if she had anything to say about it.
She caught up with Colin at the corner, where he was cautiously surveying the street beyond.
What she needed was a way to breach his noble intentions, to undermine his solid principles.
For she’d seen that spark of rakish delight in his eyes and knew that the thread of ruination was at hand.
It only needed a little unraveling.
Suddenly
“Do you want to go back now?” Colin asked, once again towing her along.
“No,” she muttered reluctantly, mourning the loss of Mrs. Taft’s beautiful shoe. At least, she told herself, she still had one of them.
They went across another street and down another alley. When Georgie thought she couldn’t run another step, he suddenly came up short, plunging her straight into his back.
It was like hitting a wall of muscle.
“In here,” he whispered, pulling her into a darkened doorway.
He gathered the blanket around them, hiding them in the shadows, while their pursuers passed by.
Georgie’s hand lay on his chest to steady herself, her trembling legs threatening to give out. As she leaned closer to him, let his body envelop hers, she suddenly understood Lady Finch’s warnings about rakish young men.
For standing in this darkened doorway, pressed against Colin’s all-too-masculine body, Georgie sympathized wholeheartedly with the young ladies who let themselves be led astray.
Right now, she wanted nothing more than to sink into his arms, lay her head on his chest. To feel him pull her hairpins free and whisper tempting offers into her ear while he continued to undress her.
In a blinding flash, the temptation of passions unknown blazed a path from her heart to her quaking knees, and Georgie knew she would never be the same again.
Even after Hinchcliffe and his partners were gone, Colin remained poised and ready, his body protectively covering hers.
She certainly wasn’t going to stray from his shielding warmth. Certainly not from the man who seemed destined to be her savior—in more ways than one, if she had any say in the matter.
Hazarding a glance up at him, she found him staring at her.
Georgie didn’t know what she had expected to find there, but it wasn’t this . . . this mischievous, fiery light glowing in his eyes . . . a devil-may-care smile on his lips . . . his body tense and ready, alight in a fierce energy.
Why, he was enjoying himself! And as much as she shouldn’t admit it, so was she—from the heat of his body enveloping hers, to his arm wound protectively around her. Even the reckless tattoo of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips hammered away as if to awaken some wild creature inside her.
Her rake. Her dangerous, tempting rake.
“I think we’ve eluded them,” she whispered, her mouth suddenly gone dry.
He nodded, his gaze locked on her lips.
Ruin me, she wanted to urge him. Take me back to your rooms and make me a fallen woman.
His mouth moved closer to hers, his head tipped slightly, his gaze dark and penetrating. Georgie thought all her prayers were about to be answered.
She closed her eyes and parted her lips, just as she’d seen in an old painting, and waited.
And waited. And waited.
Her lashes fluttered open. What the devil was wrong with him now?
There on his face passed an odd look. Georgie knew it was a harbinger of bad news, and it was, for he stepped away from her abruptly, leaving her shivering in the cold draft of his wake.
“Come along,” he muttered, turning on one heel and stalking up to the end of the alley.
Disappointed and cursing her continued bad luck with this man, Georgie trailed after him, the cool night air chilling her fevered skin. Whatever was wrong with her?
He had wanted to kiss her—of that she was positive. So why hadn’t he done it?
Damn his moral fortitude, she thought. He’s probably still of an opinion that he is taking me home.
Not if she had anything to say about it.
She caught up with Colin at the corner, where he was cautiously surveying the street beyond.
What she needed was a way to breach his noble intentions, to undermine his solid principles.
For she’d seen that spark of rakish delight in his eyes and knew that the thread of ruination was at hand.
It only needed a little unraveling.
Suddenly
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