Page 51

She heard the clink of glassware, and the sound of someone moving behind the dining room wall, and she walked into the hallway on silent feet.

Rafferty was in the butler’s pantry, a narrow closet with cupboards on three sides and sideboards to rest the food.

He was standing in the back of the long room, polishing their wineglasses, but he looked up when she filled the doorway.

He had no way of escaping, or he probably would have run her over in an effort to get away from her, she thought miserably. His face was grave, impassive as he looked at her, and he set the glass down, tossing the rag beside it.

“Did you want me for something, Miss Georgiana?”

“Do you?”

He momentarily looked confused, and she heard a sound overhead, her brother and Martina in a laughing conversation in the upstairs hallway. She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.

“I’m working,” he said reprovingly, and she knew the truth, but she had to ask him anyway.

“You don’t care a fig for me, do you?”

He didn’t blink. “You’re my mistress and my patron. I’m very grateful for the chance you gave me.”

“But that’s all,” she persisted, dreading his answer.

“What do you want me to say?”

That you love me! That you can’t live without me . But she said nothing.

He sighed and leaned back against the counter at the end of the small room. “Georgie,” he began, and she wanted to cry. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“It’s my fault,” she said. “I forced myself on you when you didn’t want anything to do with me. I was childish and stupid and you’re desperate to get away from me....”

“I’m not desperate to get away from you. And you’re not childish and stupid, you simply have a crush on me. It will vanish the moment I’m gone,” he said gently.

“Did you ever want me?” she asked, her voice tight with strain and unshed tears. “Or did I force you. Dear God, did I r…r…rape you?”

He laughed then. “Dear girl, I want you as much as a man can want a woman. But I’m no good for you, and you’ll realize that in time.”

The tears were inching down her cheeks now. “You’re really going?”

“I have to.”

“And I’ll never see you again? You’ll never touch me again?”

A dark, unreadable expression crossed his face. “Georgie,” he said, and his own voice was hoarse. “Leave while you still can.”

“Or what?” she said through her tears, defiant in her misery.

“Or lock the door.”

The pantry was wide enough for two people, but he brushed against her as he moved past, and she watched in silence as he turned the key in the lock.

His eyes met hers, and she could see the heat in them, as he came back to her, sliding his arms around her and lifting her in the air as he kissed her.

If he wanted her he’d be hard, and she reached down to touch him, braver than she thought she could be. The feel of him was overwhelming, and she let out a little sob of relief as his hands moved up her legs, pulling her voluminous skirts out of the way as he lifted them.

“This changes nothing,” he said in a gritty voice. “I’m leaving tomorrow. Are you sure you want this?”

“I want everything you’ll give me,” she said in a choked voice, and his mouth came down on hers once more.

He set her on the counter, pushing her skirts out of the way, his hands deft and merciless as they touched her, aroused her, readied her, and before she knew it he was pushing inside her, fast, hard and deep.

Her arms were around his neck, and she buried her face against his shoulder, holding on as he held her there, balanced against the cupboard, surging into her.

She was crying, knowing this was the last time, but heat was building inside her, strong and sure, and her fingers dug into his arms, clutching tightly, refusing to let him go.

He pulled her away from the counter, holding her up as he slammed into her, and this was darker, faster than before, a conflagration of desire that even he could no longer deny.

He thrust into her, holding still as he filled her, groaning, and she shattered at the feel of him inside her, the feel of his seed inside her.

He shuddered against her, and she held him tight, fighting back her tears. She was shaken, weak, but he pulled out of her, setting her down on the floor, and her legs could barely hold her.

“Oh, God,” he said bitterly. “I’m an idiot. Why did I do that?”

It felt like a slap across the face. She pulled back, staring up at him in hurt and disbelief. “Because you love me?” she said.

“I don’t love you! How many times must I tell you that? I want you—who wouldn’t? But it doesn’t change a thing. I’m leaving tomorrow, and nothing is going to change that. Not even this.”

“This” was said in a tone of disgust, and it was the last straw. The warm glow that had filled her body had now vanished, and she felt small and wretched. Turning her back on him, she went toward the door and turned the key, hearing the lock click open.

“Georgie...” he said, and there was regret in his voice. But she had had enough of his regret, and she ran out into the hallway, heading for the safety of her bedroom.