Dark Deceptions: A Regency and Medieval Collection of Dark Romances(15)

“What is this?” Her question pulled him back from the bitterness of his captivity and failings.

Adam managed a wry grin. “This is dancing.”

She laughed again, the sound as pure and clear as bells ringing. “It is terribly improper.”

Could there be anything more improper than a man being abducted and strapped to a chair like a filthy beast? He thrust aside those musings, not allowing them to intrude on this. “It is called the waltz. And most respectable hostesses would agree with you.” For this wasn’t about him, but rather Georgina and offering her a small sliver of happiness.

“Where did you learn such a thing?”

Adam stumbled once more, his legs stiff from ill use. “In the ballrooms of Paris.” He squeezed her waist and she picked up his cue.

Georgina resumed her jaunty song and he twirled her in dizzying circles around the room until she was gasping for breath and singing was no longer possible.

God, in this moment, he was—content. With her in his arms, he could forget the horrors of his life—if even for a moment. When had he last known this happiness? His mind churned slowly. Grace. The muscles of his stomach contracted. Not since Grace had professed her love. The memory staggered him. The backs of his knees slammed into the nightstand, the abrupt movement making Georgina trip over his feet.

They crashed down atop the feather-down mattress in a twisted heap of legs and arms. Her frame bounced several times beneath his. Adam braced his arms over her to keep from crushing her. He should move. He should roll to the other side of the mattress. Instead he brushed back a damp tendril from her brow. “If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”

“Go?” Her voice was breathy from their exertions.

“If you could leave this place?”

A simmering heat pulsed in his veins. His body poised so close to hers. The sound of his ragged breathing filled his ears and almost drowned out her quiet response.

Almost.

He wished it had. Wished he hadn’t heard the cynical edge that should never have been part of the lovely Georgina’s words. “Why should I bother, Adam? Dreams aren’t real.”

Her words pressed on his heart. This is what she believed? “You must have dreams.”

“Bah,” she scoffed. “They are for small children.”

No, they weren’t. Dreams represented hope. Even in the direness of his circumstances he clung to something. For to lose hope would mean the end of him. “Wouldn’t you want to see Paris?”

“We’re on the cusp of war with France,” she pointed out. “I hardly think Paris would be my most logical destination.”

He chuckled. Ever practical Georgina. Too practical. He waved his hand. “Fine, Rome then, or Greece? Don’t you want to see the world?”

She lifted her shoulders in a little shrug.

Adam trailed a finger along the satiny smooth skin of her cheek. An almost simultaneous awareness of the intimate nature of their position registered. Adam’s whole body went on alert. His shaft, pressed against the vee of her thighs, hardened. Roll away from her. Set her free. Instead of doing the honorable, gentlemanly thing, he lowered his arms and pressed himself closer to her core.

Her throat bobbed up and down.

Get up. Think of Grace. He’d been too long without a woman. It had been over a year. This all-consuming desire was nothing more than a physical hunger. That was what he told himself.

“Adam?” she whispered.

It was a lie. He wanted her. “Georgina?” That word, her name, emerged as a hoarse groan.

The door flew open and slammed against the wall. In unison, he and Georgina looked toward the entrance of the room.

Adam awkwardly shoved himself to his feet, damning his unsteady legs. “Hunter,” he growled.

Georgina scrambled up to a standing position.

Hunter trained his pistol on Adam, but his enraged eyes were fixed squarely on Georgina.

Adam stiffened as he switched his gaze between his captor and the young maid. It would appear he’d found the bastard’s weakness.

“What are you looking at?” Hunter snapped.

And because it would infuriate the other man, he smiled. A deliberate, knowing smile.

Hunter’s eyes lowered. He murmured, “Leave, Georgina.”

She hesitated.

“Now,” the young traitor roared.

Georgina flinched, but remained rooted to the spot beside Adam.

Adam leaned close to her ear. “Go. I will be fine.”

She chewed her lip. Her soulful, brown eyes clouded with desperation.

Adam gave a small nod.

She turned and marched up to Hunter. “Remember what we agreed upon.”

Hunter frowned, his gaze focused on Georgina as she sailed past him. And Adam was left alone with the beast.

“Did you make love to her?” Hunter’s question gave him pause.

He blinked and stared at the man moving toward him. He stalked Adam, all but springing forward on the balls of his feet to get his hands on him. Never had the name “Hunter” been more apropos. Hunter moved the pistol to his other hand and dealt Adam a swift right hook that would have impressed Gentleman Jackson himself. “I asked you a question.”

Adam flexed his jaw. Christ, that hurt. Still it was an interesting turn of events. As he’d suspected, his captor had feelings for Georgina. Adam shouldn’t have cared but, strangely, he did. Adam assumed a relaxed pose. He walked over to the window and folded his arms across his chest.