He listened, but she said no more, and, after a while, her breath evened out into sleep. But Harry stayed awake long into the night, staring at the dark and holding his lady.
Chapter Twelve
Lady Georgina’s rump, smooth and soft, nestled against his morning bone-on. Harry opened his eyes. She’d spent the night again. Her shoulder was a dim outline in front of him. His arm was draped over her hip, and he curved his hand, cupping her belly.
She didn’t move, her soft breathing slow in sleep.
He tilted his head forward so that her hair tickled his nose. He could smell that exotic scent she wore, and his cock throbbed, like a trained dog sitting up at his master’s signal. He searched through her hair until he found the back of her neck, warm and damp with sleep. He opened his mouth to taste her.
She mumbled and hunched her shoulder.
He smiled and inched his hand down, slowly, slyly, until he felt her bush tangling about his fingers. He touched her pearl. That bit of female flesh had been his greatest discovery as a young man. The revelation that women held such secrets in their bodies had been heady. He didn’t even recall the face of his first lover, but he could remember his awe at the way women were made.
He flicked his lady’s pearl now. Not hard, barely a feather touch, really. She didn’t move, so he grew bolder and pressed down gently. Sort of petted. Her hips twitched. Harry licked the back of her neck and could almost taste what he’d licked last night—the place where his fingers played. She had liked that, his lady, when he’d kissed and licked and sucked her there. She’d arched her back and moaned so loudly he’d wanted to laugh out loud. Now he slowly stroked, playing with her sleek, soft folds, and felt her wetness build. His cock was almost aching, as hard as he could ever remember it. He lifted her upper leg and draped it over his hip. Her breathing hitched, and he felt a smile break his face.
Harry took his prick in hand and guided it to that warm, wet place. He flexed his arse and slid in, so tight, so smooth, he wanted to groan in pain and in pleasure. He shoved again, gently but steadily, and slid farther in. One more time, and the hair around his cock met her bum. She was panting. He lowered her leg and finally had to groan aloud. So perfect. Harry reached around and found her pearl again. He pressed. Christ, he could feel her squeezing around him. Instead of thrusting, he ground against her, pressing that part of her until she squeezed again.
“Harry,” she moaned.
“Shh,” he whispered, kissing the back of her neck.
She was pushing back against him. So impatient. He grinned and ground some more.
“Harry.”
“Dearling.”
“Tup me, Harry.”
And he thrust hard, in surprise and in pure lust. Good God, he never thought she’d know that word, let alone say it.
“Ohhh, yes,” she breathed.
He was humping now, nearly out of control, and her moans were so erotic. Each time was better than before, and he thought uneasily that it was possible he could never get enough of her. That he’d always want her this much. But then he felt her spasm around him as he gripped her hips and that thought fled. It was so agonizingly good that he nearly forgot; he was almost too late. But in the end, he pulled his cock out of her in time and spent, shuddering, in the sheets next to her.
He stroked her hip and tried to calm his breathing. “Good morning, my lady.”
“Mmm.” She turned to face him. Her face was flushed and sleepy and satisfied. “Good morning, Harry.” Lady Georgina pulled his face to hers and kissed him.
It was a light, gentle touch, but it made something in his chest contract. Harry knew suddenly that he would do anything for her, his lady. Lie. Steal. Kill.
Relinquish his pride.
Was this how Da had felt? He sat up and grabbed his trousers.
“Are you always this active in the morning?” she asked behind him. “Because I must tell you that some do not consider it a virtue.”
He stood up and pulled on his shirt. “I’m sorry, my lady.” He finally turned to face her.
She was propped on one elbow, the bed linens about her waist. Her orange hair cascaded around her white shoulders, tangled and wanton. Her nipples were pale rose-brown, darker pink at the tips. He’d never seen a more beautiful woman in his life.
He turned away.
“I’m not exactly disappointed. More like tired,” Lady Georgina said. “I don’t suppose you ever just lay around in bed in the morning?”
“No.” He finished buttoning his shirt.
He started into the other room and heard a faint scrape. He stopped.
It came again.
He looked back at her. “I thought your brother didn’t mind.”
Lady Georgina looked as indignant as a naked woman could. “He wouldn’t dare.”
Harry merely raised an eyebrow and closed the door to the bedroom. He crossed to the cottage door and opened it. On the step huddled a small bundle of rags. What…? The mop of hair raised its head, and Harry stared into the face of the boy he’d seen at the Pollard cottage.
“She went drinking and didn’t come back.” The boy said it flatly, as if he’d been expecting to be abandoned someday.
“You’d best come in,” Harry replied.
The boy hesitated, then stood and ducked inside.
Lady Georgina poked her head around the corner of the bedroom door. “Who is it, Harry?” She caught sight of the small shape. “Oh.”
Boy and lady stared at each other.
Harry put the kettle on for tea.
She recovered first. “I’m Lady Georgina Maitland from the manor. What’s your name?”
The boy merely stared.
“Best to nod when a lady talks to you, lad,” Harry said.
She frowned. “I hardly think that’s necessary.”