Dark Deceptions: A Regency and Medieval Collection of Dark Romances(14)

Hunter had touched Georgina. What else did he do to her? The silken whisper slithered around his brain, eating at his insides like a cancer. The idea of Hunter claiming Georgina—his lips on hers, his hands cupping her full breasts—ravaged him. “Did he hurt you?” Adam’s voice emerged raw and gruff with emotion.

Georgina’s chest heaved. “No,” she said quickly—too quickly.

The color on her cheeks and the manner in which she darted her gaze about hinted at the lie.

Adam tried to quell the surging sense of panic. “Georgina?” This time his voice seemed to penetrate whatever horror held her in its grip.

She shook her head slowly then touched her lip, drawing Adam’s attention to the bruised, swollen flesh.

And he knew. Before she even said it, he knew.

“He kissed me.”

Rage warred with jealousy in his chest. It robbed him of speech. Hit him like a physical blow. He couldn’t understand it. With his feelings for Grace, it shouldn’t matter who Georgina kissed. Yet it did.

There was a wild, hunted look to Georgina, and she remained rooted to the floor.

His heart climbed up into his throat. “Did he do anything else?”

Her chest continued to rise and fall rapidly. “He touched me,” she said quietly. She started to touch her chest and then her hand fluttered back to her side.

A loud humming filled his ears as imagined scenes flashed behind his eyes: Georgina with her skirts thrown above her waist; Georgina held down, defenseless while Hunter plowed between her legs. Adam’s body jerked.

He forced words out past numb lips. “Did he…?” He couldn’t finish the thought. God help Hunter; when Adam secured his freedom, he’d rip the bastard’s entrails through his throat.

She seemed to follow his unfinished question. “No,” she said quickly.

The empty hopelessness in her brown eyes ate at him. Hunter may not have violated her, but he’d still left an indelible mark. Adam could not bear seeing her like this; as if her inner light had been extinguished by his assault. A woman with her courage and strength deserved to live in a world of happiness and hope, untouched by the ugliness visited upon the world by greedy, manipulative men. When he spoke, he kept his tone calm and even. “Come here, Georgina.”

For all that had happened between her and that monster, she didn’t hesitate. She hovered uncertainly at his side.

“I want to kiss you,” he said quietly.

Her eyes formed wide moons. “Why?” She wet her lips.

Because he didn’t want her to believe a kiss was vile and ugly. Because she deserved to know gentleness in an ugly, cruel world. “Will you allow it?”

Georgina remained silent so long he thought she might not answer. The tick of the clock punctuated the quiet. She gave a tight nod.

“Lean close to me. I will not hurt you,” he whispered as though speaking to a skittish mare.

She nodded and took a step toward him. Then another. And another. She froze when nothing but the span of a hand separated them. Her breath, a blend of honeysuckle and tea, caressed his skin.

With infinite gentleness, he claimed her lips. The kiss lasted no longer than three heartbeats, perhaps.

Adam pulled away and placed a lingering kiss on her brow. “Run away from this place. You do not belong here.”

Her lids fluttered open and she placed a hand against his chest.

His heart flipped over at her gentle touch. God, he wanted her lips again. He could no more stop the yearning than he could halt a runaway phaeton with his bare hands.

“Untie me.”

Georgina hesitated and cast a backward glance toward the doorway. She turned back to him with a nod. Her tongue darted out to trace the seam of her lips; the only telltale gesture of her nervousness.

Adam studied her long fingers as she freed his bindings. “Will you sing to me?”

She paused and tilted her head ever so slightly. “Sing?”

“Yes, you know? You put music to words and—”

Georgina giggled, sounding for the first time since he’d known her, like a carefree young miss. She slipped the remainder of the ropes off his wrists. “What are you doing?” she squeaked as he stood up and settled his hand around her waist. Blood rushed through his legs and he gritted his teeth at the weakness months in captivity had wrought.

“Are you all right?”

“Fine,” he lied. He twined his free hand with hers and found strength in her touch. “Go on then,” he urged.

She started to sing and Adam nearly lost his footing. It was probably the inactivity that made him careless. He had to remind himself to count steps but Georgina Wilcox possessed a voice that would have made choirs of angels weep with envy. She closed her eyes, as if she’d drifted off on the soaring notes.

This is how he would remember her. If he died tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that, or even if he was freed, he’d think back on this moment. Christ, he wanted her…

Her lashes fluttered open. A pale pink colored her cheeks and she dropped her gaze to his shirtfront as if embarrassed by the joyous interlude they’d both stolen.

All the while, he stumbled through the waltz, guiding her through the motions of the scandalous dance still not practiced in fashionable ballrooms in England, until Georgina laughed with breathless abandon. At one time he’d moved with grace, but his captors had stolen even that from him.