Dark Deceptions: A Regency and Medieval Collection of Dark Romances(90)

Adam had promised Georgina that there would be no redemption if she were to again betray him. He waited for the murderous rage to consume him. It didn’t come.

Pain lanced him to the core. Georgina might have betrayed him but, damn it, he wanted her—all of her—and he would have rather lopped off his left arm than see her walk out of his life without a backward glance.

He dropped his head into his hands as the truth intruded with an agonizing viciousness.

I did this. I drove her back to Hunter’s arms.

Adam had threatened to have her hauled off to Newgate. He’d not bothered to hide his loathing from her. And he’d taken her like a trollop on a balcony where anyone could have witnessed.

He yanked his head up. Regardless, it was time he had closure. The moment Georgina had walked across that street and into Hunter’s carriage, everything between them had died. It would do Adam little good bemoaning all he could have done differently.

But before he put Georgina from his life, he needed to see her—and Hunter.

*

As Georgina descended from the carriage, she cast a desperate glance around at her surroundings. Carriages littered the streets. Men moved freely along the pavement. If she called out, surely someone would rescue her?

She didn’t want just anyone, however. She wanted her husband.

With the hopeful dreams belonging to a foolish young girl, she imagined Adam striding down the street, blocking Jamie’s path, and plucking her from his clutches.

Jamie led her down the side of the building and a rat scurried across the path before them, a high-pitched squeak escaping the hideous creature.

Georgina took a hasty step backward. She wanted Adam, but right now she would accept aid from the devil himself if he offered.

Jamie took Georgina by the arm, the pads of his fingers biting into the soft flesh as he steered her through what appeared to be an empty warehouse.

She blinked, trying to bring the dark surroundings into focus.

“Come along.” Jamie gave her a nudge, propelling her forward.

The click of his boot-steps and the shuffle of her delicate slippers broke the eerie echoing silence. The swift pace he set for them kicked up dust, and Georgina wrinkled her nose, fighting back a sneeze in vain.

“Achoo!”

Jamie glared down at her, tightening his grip on her upper arm. “Quiet.”

He shoved her through a door.

Georgina stumbled, tripping over her slippers, but caught herself.

Jamie pointed to the lone sofa in the room. “Sit.”

Pride urged her to resist his laconic orders.

The will to survive drove her into the stiff leather seat.

Jamie tapped his finger along his jaw, studying her as if she were a species of insect he’d never seen before. With a growl, he turned away from Georgina and walked over to the heavily curtained window. He didn’t pull back the thick, red velvet, merely stood there in silence, his gaze fixed on the fabric.

Georgina used his distraction to study her surroundings. Perched on the edge of a brown leather sofa, she peered around the spacious office within the factory. There was little doubt this was one of her father’s holdings, though she’d never been inside his warehouses. She’d known he had buildings in Bristol and London but hadn’t put much thought into how he spent his days—she’d just been so very grateful for his absence.

She looked on with no small amount of curiosity. Or awe for the vast wealth demonstrated in the Aubusson carpets or the wall-length shelves of leather books. Instead, her stomach churned at the prospect of facing her father, and she had to quell the urge to look over her shoulder to see if he lurked in the shadows of the room.

Time marched to the tune of the tick-tock, tick-tock of the tarnished silver clock atop the vast, mahogany desk. Jamie did not utter a single word. He stood in the exact same pose, as still as one of Da Vinci’s marble works of art. His biceps tensed so tightly, the muscles strained the expensive sapphire fabric of his coat.

Jamie had never been one to keep his rage in check. Over the years, he’d exercised his anger and frustrations quite freely. This unpredictable figure—rage seething beneath the surface of his immaculate fa?ade—was, oddly, more threatening.

Georgina inched to the edge of her seat, casting surreptitious looks between Jamie’s back and the door, measuring the distance. A good six feet separated them and, with the added obstacle of the desk, she suspected she had another foot or so advantage.

The leather creaked beneath her and she winced.

Jamie spun to face her, his gaze narrowed into near impenetrable slits.

When Georgina had been a small girl, she’d watched the kitchen cat corner a mouse. The fat, white and black spotted creature had pranced and danced about, occasionally hitting the tiny mouse with its paw. Georgina had stared on with a sick fascination as the cat had hunkered down, his intense gaze honed in on the motionless mouse. Then the creature had made one desperate attempt to flee. The cat had taken him between his teeth, shaking him with a frenzy, until the poor thing had gone still.

Georgina now felt a remarkable oneness with that tiny, forgotten mouse. She forced herself to take a breath. She would not lie in wait for Jamie to devour her. “I imagine I’ve done something to displease you. But then that would be nothing new, would it?” She forced her chin up.

Jamie folded his hands in front of him. “It isn’t just me you’ve displeased.”