The Regency Season: Dangerous Dukes: Marcus Wilding: Duke of Pleasure / Zachary Black: Duke of Debauchery

Her brows rose. ‘And now?’

Zachary gave a slow and appreciative smile. ‘Now I believe this added fire makes you more appealing than I might otherwise have expected.’

Georgianna shuddered, keeping a watchful eye on Hawksmere as she instinctively took a step back from him. She was wary of the way in which his eyes now glittered down at her so intently, almost as if a white light had been ignited in those silver depths. Georgianna was unsure of precisely what that flame might mean, but she did know that she no longer wished to stand quite so close to him.

Hawksmere took that same step forward before raising his hand to gently cup one side of her face, the soft pad of his thumb moving in a soft caress across her parted lips. ‘There is nowhere you would be able to run this time, Georgianna, that I would not find you.’

Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest: at Hawksmere’s threats, his proximity, and the effects of that caressing thumb against her lips. A sensuous caress, much as Georgianna might wish it otherwise, which caused a heat to course through her whole body, leaving her skin feeling flushed and tight and her breasts swelling uncomfortably beneath her gown.

Because, as Hawksmere had claimed earlier, she was aroused by his touch?

How could that possibly be, when she disliked this man, when she had run from him, from the very idea of becoming his wife, less than a year ago?

Perhaps it was just that she had been alone, and lonely, for so very long? Too long without the gentle touch of another? Since she had been held by another? Looked at with warmth, if not affection?

Except the warmth in Hawksmere’s gaze was so clearly predatory rather than affectionate.

Georgianna pulled back sharply from the mesmerising effect of that silver gaze. ‘I have no intentions of running anywhere,’ she assured him decisively. At least, not until this matter of Napoleon’s liberation was settled. ‘Did you go to your superior this morning and report my information?’

Zachary continued to look down at Georgianna for several long moments more. His response to her was undeniable. To her beauty, her proximity, to having touched and caressed those soft and pouting lips. Totally undeniable, when his erection pressed so insistently against the front of his breeches.

‘And what business is it of yours whether I did or I did not?’ He arched a challenging brow.

‘But...’ she blinked her bewilderment ‘...I am the one responsible for giving you that information.’

He nodded abruptly. ‘All the more reason for it to be mistrusted, surely? What did you expect, Georgianna?’ he taunted as she looked pained. ‘Did you think that by returning to England, by twittering about some ridiculous plot of how Napoleon intends to leave Elba before the end of the month, that all would be forgiven? That you would be a heroine, and could then return to your family, to society?’ he prompted cruelly.

Those striking eyes became misty with unshed tears. ‘I am well aware there can be no forgiveness, in any quarter, for the way I have behaved,’ she spoke so softly Zachary could barely hear her, as her tears fell unchecked down the paleness of her cheeks.

Zachary felt instant regret for his deliberate cruelty. Whatever this woman might have done to him personally in the past, there was an undeniable vulnerability about her now, an aloneness, that Zachary knew he could relate to.

He breathed deeply through his nose. ‘Perhaps that situation is not quite so bleak as you think it is.’

She tilted her head curiously. ‘What do you mean?’

He owed this woman nothing except his contempt and distrust, Zachary reminded himself impatiently. Certainly not absolution for her deeds of ten months ago.

And yet...

He was not a deliberately cruel man, no matter what others might say or think to the contrary. He considered their past association.

Could Georgianna really be blamed for what had happened in their past? She was a young girl of only nineteen who’d feared, to the extent of running away from marriage to a man who had not even troubled himself in getting to know her before offering for her. He’d been a man who had not even spoken to her before making that offer. And once made, she’d had that offer accepted by her father without knowing a thing about it—or him.