He considered her now, her back straight, her eyelashes fluttering like butterflies, wrestling back her hurt and looking for all the world very much alone.
Tom put his hand up to her cheek—a small touch, even as he was desperate to pull her into his arms and make her feel how much he loved her. He’d expected her to push him away. Instead, she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.
“I’m back now,” he said, swallowing back his own emotion. “And I’m no longer the boy I was.”
“I know.”
He brushed a thumb along the gentle curve of her jaw, studying her lips, his body growing taut with an urgent need to kiss her.
“I want to kiss you, Georgie,” he whispered.
She tilted her head up, parting her lips. “I want you to kiss me.”
Drawing her body closer to him, he accepted her invitation, capturing the tender flesh of her mouth. She was eager and warm, and they engaged in a wordless hunger for each that nearly brought his body to heel. Her hands were against his chest, and a good thing too, because if she came any closer, she would feel his body’s sinful demands of her. With every flick ofhis tongue, with every caress, he wanted her to know that, if given the chance, he would never leave her alone again.
Somewhere in amongst the haze of longing and fervent kisses, Tom was vaguely aware of a noise in the background. A tingling sound, perhaps. He was about to discount it when Tom felt Georgie pushing him away, breaking the kiss.
“Tom,” she said, breathless, her lips swollen. She swallowed deeply, looking past him, concern lining her brow.
The sound of bells chiming in the distance broke through the urgency of his desire, registering enough for him to realize it a nearby clock, chiming the hour.
“We have to finish the game,” she said. “We haven’t even found the book yet.”
Tom released her, stung by her concern.
“Are you worried you are going to lose so you won’t have to pick me?”
She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. “Good to see that a good size ego came with your new status in society.”
“It’s not ego,” he said. “I know Miss Morehouse wants me, and she’s quite determined to win.” It had been what they’d both wanted. It had made sense. But with each passing moment, it was making a little less sense.
She pursed her lips, her expression unreadable. “Are you afraid I will win and that you’ll be stuck with me?”
“I wouldn’t be stuck.”
“But you wouldn’t be happy,” she said.
Wouldn’t he be happy? Life with Georgie had been all he’d ever wanted. And when it seemed out of reach, he’d spent the past four years determined never to want it again. Could he reach for it again?
“I need to be married to a woman of good breeding, and I need to be married to her before the end of May,” he said. “It’s the only reason why I am here.”
“You’ve got a title now, and money. You are just as devilishly handsome as ever—”
“You still think I’m handsome?” He couldn’t help it.
She shook her head and rolled her eyes, but he did not miss the way her mouth hitched up in a sly smile before continuing.
“—and I watch how women look at you whenever you enter a room,” she said. “You hardly needed one of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s matches to meet your family’s requirements.”
She was probably right. But he wasn’t about to admit that he, a grown man who’d escaped death more than a handful of times, was terrified of being rejected again.
“Perhaps not,” he said, “but I was motivated by expediency. Nothing else.”
“You deserve to be happy, Tom,” she replied.
“We both do.”
She smiled, but Tom could sense the pain lingering beneath it. Before he could comment further, she turned away from him, resuming her search for the book on her list. It was a stark reminder that Georgie wasn’t looking for happiness. She needed an escape. And if he could do one thing for her now, it was to help her do that.