Page 1 of Two Secrets to Surrender (Blackwood Legacy #2)

L ady Georgiana Flora Aileen Harrington—“Gigi” to friends—skipped through the autumn-kissed woods. Beneath her feet, the mossy floor was plusher than an Aubusson, and sunlight dappled through the leaves like a natural chandelier. She breathed in the scents of the forest, feeling more at home here than in the ballrooms of London. From the moment she’d arrived at Chudleigh Bottoms, she had experienced a sense of belonging. Her brother Ethan had taken up residence in one of the local manors, and while many viewed “Chuddums” as being downtrodden—local lore even claimed it was cursed —Gigi had instantly fallen in love with the village and its people.

She’d become great friends with Miss Leticia Caldecott, a lovely spinster who owned Chudleigh Bottoms’s World Famous Roman Bath. Contrary to its name, the spa had been fading into obscurity, and Gigi had suggested refurbishing the place. Miss Letty had embraced the idea, and today the pair had cleaned out a room that generations of Caldecotts had used for storage space. Afterward, seeing that her maid had fallen asleep on one of the spa’s benches, Gigi had decided to slip away to the nearby stream. She inhaled the forest scents as she passed by curious squirrels and scurrying partridges. In the distance, a woodpecker tapped out an enigmatic message. For a little while, freedom was hers.

Arriving at her destination, Gigi took in the scene with delight. The stream was clear, diamonds sparkling on its surface. Along its banks, wildflowers had lost their bloom, but the grass remained stubbornly verdant. An ancient yew tree, its gnarled trunk swirling with the secrets of time, stood like a sentinel. Boulders dotted the water’s edge, some of them large enough to lay upon while one basked in the sun.

The beauty and warmth of the day was too splendid to ignore. Gigi adored swimming, and moreover—she gave herself a discreet sniff—a wash was not entirely optional. Glimpsing her reflection in the water, she smiled. Letty had loaned her a stained and threadbare frock to wear while cleaning, and with her raven hair plaited and covered by an old kerchief, Gigi looked more like a country maid than the daughter of a marquess. It reminded her of the carefree summers spent at the family estate, where she’d grown up swimming and climbing trees with her three older brothers.

She followed the brook to a secluded pool surrounded by large rocks. There, the water had a sudden drop, resulting in a small but delightful waterfall…perfect for rinsing off. She was untying her kerchief when a splash startled her. Her gaze flew to the liquid curtain of water, behind which a dark shape suddenly lurked. It was massive… monster-like .

Instinctively, she took refuge behind the nearest boulder. Her heart pounding, she counted to ten before daring to peer around it. The shape had disappeared. Had she imagined it? The form suddenly broke the surface of the pool, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her gasp. Then she realized how fanciful she’d been.

Why, it is not a monster. It— he— is just a man.

Although only the fellow’s head was above the water, the refined savagery of his features caused her heart to thump against her ribs. His broad, slashing cheekbones and light, piercing eyes belonged on a Viking crusader. His nose was bold and arrogant, his jaw hewn with an unyielding edge. With a rough gesture, he swiped back the dark-blond hair plastered to his brow before diving under again.

Her pulse racing, she watched his shadow glide below the water. Suddenly, he surged upward, standing below the waterfall and giving her a view of his profile. Her heart broke into a gallop as, through the rushing curtain of water, she glimpsed a naked male for the first time.

Oh my stars.

He was exceedingly tall, and his taut, grooved derriere—just thinking the word made her blush—was visible above the pool’s surface. Even though she knew she should look away, she didn’t. She couldn’t . His blatant virility was like a magnet to her curiosity. He was lean and muscular, with the kind of honed strength that did not require bulk. As he rinsed himself, cascading water sluiced off his broad shoulders, giving her peekaboo views of his contoured back.

He turned, facing her, and her lungs emptied in a dizzying whoosh.

Oh my stars and garters.

Her eyes widened at the sight of his manhood…because, of course, that was where her gaze went. Ogling a naked stranger was beyond improper, yet curiosity and fascination kept her gaze riveted. She’d seen the male anatomy depicted in classical paintings and sculpture and always thought this part of a man looked, well, a bit silly. Like a worm curled upon a wrinkly plum. Yet there was nothing silly at all about this fellow, and his thingamajig wasn’t a worm but more of a…a snake. Thick and long, it swayed sinuously between his muscular thighs.

In truth, this part of him matched his outsized masculinity. Chiseled blocks covered his chest and narrowed into tight bands upon his torso. His hips were topped with a vee of sinew. Whorls of hair adorned his chest, narrowing into a trail down his abdomen that pointed straight at his… At that instant, he wrapped his hand around his thingamabob. It leapt within his fist, rearing up, its crimson head burgeoning beyond the reach of his grip. When he gave it a rough jerk, she squeaked in surprise.

He whipped his head in her direction. “Who’s there?”

Like the crack of a rifle, his voice chased birds into the skies. Gigi ducked behind the rock. She held completely still; it helped that panic paralyzed her. Her thoughts, however, kicked up turf like the horses at the Royal Ascot.

Did he see me? Should I run? Hide?

Being a lady of action, she made a run for it. Staying low and hopefully hidden by the boulders, she moved as quickly as she could. The mud along the bank sucked at her shoes, making squelching noises that she prayed wouldn’t give her away. Nearly at the yew tree, she risked a glance behind her. No sign of the man in the pool. Had he gone beneath the water again?

I’ll take refuge behind the tree and decide my next steps.

Just as she reached the tree, the Viking materialized in front of her. She skidded to a halt, barely avoiding a collision with his dripping form. How on earth had such a large fellow moved with such stealth?

Not that it mattered: she was well and truly caught.

The realization quivered through her, and she trembled, pressing back against the yew’s bark. The stranger faced her, his large bare feet planted in an aggressive stance, his hands braced on his hips. He’d tied a towel around his waist, but it hung rather low and drew attention to the girdle of muscle over his hips. He seemed unconcerned that he was mostly naked and wet, and she wished she could be as indifferent. Up close, she saw his eyes were a riveting sea green. His resemblance to a legendary Norseman was even more evident: he was all twisting sinew and rough edges, battle scars marking his chest and knuckles.

“I thought I heard something,” he said.

His voice was husky and deep, less booming than it had been moments before. This relieved her. She had a talent for reading people, and he didn’t seem angry, which he would have every right to be, considering that she had been spying on him like some Peeping Tom…or Thomasina, rather. Since she didn’t recognize him from the village, she guessed he was passing by: a sailor, most likely, whose ship was temporarily anchored at the Chuddums docks. Yet his polished accent didn’t sound quite like that of a typical seaman…perhaps he was a captain? That would explain his aura of command. Her papa had been a lieutenant-colonel during the war against Boney, and he evinced that same innate authority.

Speaking of Papa, he and Mama are going to murder me if they find out about this.

“What is your name?” the stranger asked.

Apprehension seized Gigi. Everything about the situation spelled “RUINATION” in capital letters. She had to get away as quickly as possible, without this fellow discovering that the only daughter of the Marquess and Marchioness of Blackwood had shamelessly spied upon him while he bathed.

Think of a plan, Gigi. You’re good at plans.

He cocked his head. “Don’t you talk?”

At that instant, the solution came to her. Thanks to her outfit, she looked like a country maid who’d spent the day doing chores. The only thing that would foil her disguise was her accent.

The best way to protect my identity is to remain silent—to let nothing slip.

Widening her eyes, she shook her head.

He drew his brows together. “You cannot speak?”

She shook her head again.

He studied her. “But you do understand me?”

After a moment, she nodded.

“Well, I don’t mind silence.” A corner of his mouth tipped up lazily. “Truth be told, I could use more of it in my life.”

Oh no.

He came closer. Every instinct screamed “ Retreat! ”, yet she had nowhere to run. She was caught between the tree and his equally unyielding form. He leaned a big hand on the trunk by her shoulder. His proximity set off a chain of foreign sensations. Her blood rushed beneath her skin, and her bones felt oddly liquid. Even when waltzing, she’d never been this close to a man…never mind one with a bare, rippling chest. A rash of heat spread over her insides.

Her breath unsteady, she contemplated her next move. Screaming would be useless; there was no one to hear her. However, she was no wilting violet and had three older brothers who’d imbued her with useful knowledge. Owen, the closest to her in age, had given the simplest advice: If some bounder tries to compromise you, poppet, you knee him where it hurts and make a run for it.

She snuck a peek at the Viking’s you-know-what.

Merciful heavens, is that a bulge beneath his towel? Did his male member grow ?

On the bright side, the size of her target guaranteed that she would not miss. She tensed and prepared to execute the defensive maneuver.

“You’re not scared, are you?” the stranger murmured. “Upon my honor, I’ve never forced a woman and never will.”

Upon my honor. The phrase stayed the upward motion of her knee. When her brothers or papa uttered those words, it meant something because they were gentlemen, and honor was important to them. Was it possible that this fellow also had integrity? His uncouth behavior would argue against it…yet that would be a case of the pot calling the kettle black, wouldn’t it? Being a fair-minded person, she knew her own impropriety had contributed to the present fiasco.

Should I trust in this man’s honor?

“In exchange for giving you a show, all I ask for is a boon in return.”

She squirmed against the tree. She wasn’t certain which was more mortifying: that she’d ogled a naked fellow or that she’d been caught doing it. But she wasn’t about to add insult to injury by getting herself compromised.

“I am not asking for anything excessive,” he said easily. “Just tit for tat.”

Tit for tat? He must be mad. If he thinks I am going to remove my clothes ? —

As if gleaning her thoughts, he laughed. “I’m not expecting a show, sweetheart. Not that I’m averse if you would like to give me one.”

She hoped her narrow-eyed look conveyed her reaction to his suggestion and his cheap endearment.

“No show, then.” He held up his hands, looking as innocent as a mostly naked, sopping wet Viking could look. “How about a kiss, then? After that, we part ways, no debts between us. You have my word.”

Chewing her lip, she considered his proposal. A kiss was a small price to pay to escape the situation and, at two-and-twenty, she wasn’t inexperienced. She’d allowed a few suitors to kiss her, and the experiences had been pleasant, if not particularly memorable. She’d wondered why her friends had giggled and blushed as they’d talked about kissing…wondered if she had missed out on something.

Will the Viking’s kiss be any different?

Hastily, she tamped down the thought. Obviously, she wasn’t interested in kissing this stranger. She was only doing it for expediency’s sake.

She held up her index finger to emphasize the terms of their bargain.

“One kiss,” he confirmed.

A kiss, then I’m off. What could be easier?

She angled her chin up, closed her eyes, and pursed her lips.

She was prepared for the pressure of his mouth on hers. Instead, she felt his hand slide into her hair, his palm cradling the back of her head. Startled, she opened her eyes and saw the gleam in his as he lowered his head. She’d expected his kiss to match his exterior—to be rough and uncivilized—yet he subverted her expectations again.

His lips hovered over hers. While their mouths did not touch, the warm pulse of his breath made her lips tingle. Tension burgeoned between them, her heart hammering.

What is he waiting for?

His warm, masculine scent entered her nostrils and caused her to swallow reflexively. He smelled clean, with a hint of salt and musk, a welcome change from the pungent colognes preferred by most gentlemen. She was acutely aware of his hold on her and his looming strength. He could overpower her so easily. While she ought to have panicked at the realization, instead she felt a strange thrill. Her instincts told her he would not hurt her. He could, but he would not, and the recognition allowed her to melt into the moment.

She swayed, steadying herself with a hand against his chest. Beneath the steely bulge of his pectoral muscle, his heart was a fierce beat beneath her palm. The primal rhythm made her aware of the places where she was throbbing…the tips of her breasts and low in her belly. Startled, she jerked her hand back, her thumb accidentally grazing the flat nub of his nipple. His low growl made her tremble. She parted her lips to draw a breath, and in that instant, he claimed her mouth.

Claimed was the apt word, for she felt owned by this marauder’s kiss. While he wasn’t forceful, he was persuasive, his mouth learning the contours of hers with a confidence that blurred her thoughts. His kiss was hard yet tender, everything she hadn’t known a kiss could be. His firm lips explored her while his grip in her hair held her in place. When he swept his tongue inside her mouth, she stopped thinking entirely.

The bold penetration set off a fusillade of pleasure. Sparks scattered over her skin, heat rushed in her veins, and her limbs shook as he enjoyed her mouth with masterful intention. His flavor saturated her senses—smoky and male, with a hint of unexpected sweetness…cinnamon. He was the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted, and she wanted more. Tentatively, she touched her tongue to his.

His growl reverberated down her throat, setting her insides aquiver. He deepened the kiss, demanding her participation. He licked inside her mouth, and it was so slick and hot and wonderful that she slid her tongue against his with growing confidence. Her senses whirled as he led the carnal dance. Never had she felt this alive, her entire being buzzing with desire…

“Christ, you make me hard.”

At his husky words, her eyes popped open. Awareness crashed through her. She was wrapped around the stranger like ivy: her arms were flung around his neck, her breasts squashed against the hard wall of his chest. He had one hand knotted in her hair, and the other was cupping her bottom . He gripped her derriere, pulling her tightly against him. Through her skirts, she felt a hard object jutting into her…

Heavens, that’s his ? —

“My cock is harder than a pike for you,” he confirmed without a trace of embarrassment. “If we don’t stop soon, I’m going to have you—right here, against this bloody tree.”

His boldness plopped her back into reality. Horrified, she let go of his neck, shoving at his chest. She wasn’t strong enough to move him, which meant she was putting his honor to the test. If he failed to uphold his end of the bargain…

Frantic resolve filled her. If necessary, I’ll revert to my earlier plan ?—

“Too much, too soon, sweetheart?”

He released her and stepped back, holding his hands up. Unbelievably, he winked at her. He was amused by her discombobulation.

She narrowed her eyes.

Well, pardon me for being unaccustomed to kissing a stranger in the woods.

He, on the other hand, was utterly at ease. Perhaps seducing unsuspecting females was a hobby of his. He stood with his feet planted apart, his hands on his hips, and he made no effort to hide the prominent ridge in his towel. Was he always this supremely confident and, some might say, arrogant ? The smug curve of his lips suggested that he was used to things going his way.

Come to think of it, he’d lulled her into complacency with his proposal of a kiss. He hadn’t mentioned anything about the involvement of tongues, which surely put what they’d done in a different category than mere kissing. She didn’t think normal people kissed this way; certainly, none of her admirers had. And the way he’d gripped her bottom, grinding himself against her…

Her face burned as she thought of what she’d permitted.

Of what the Viking had tricked her into allowing.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t even give him a proper set-down since she was pretending she couldn’t talk. She had to settle for an annoyed huff. His sea-green eyes crinkled at the corners as if he found her fuming entertaining.

Get away, Gigi. Before more damage is done.

Her head held high, she walked past him. When he made no move to stop her, she told herself she was relieved. She’d almost made it to the woods when he called out to her.

“I’m sorry we didn’t have more time. Things were starting to get interesting.”

Pivoting, she risked a glance back. The man hadn’t moved, although his amusement had faded, replaced by a look of genuine regret…and something else. Something dark and feral. Something hungry .

She felt an answering flutter in her belly. Fear—that had to be it. Shivering, she shook off his snare and fled into the safety of the trees.