“Perfectly right.” She grinned. “Well then, teach me.”
Why did those words, from her lips, sound so erotic? Like cake, they were. And cake was decidedly not good for the constitution.
He crept cautiously out onto the ice and pulled her with him. She wobbled, lips pressed thin, hands gripping his tightly, but she found her balance and leaned into him for guidance. He skated backward slowly, her two hands in his, her gaze flying between her feet and his face, flying between panic and delight.
“Skating is freedom, Lady Gee. It’s exhilarating and daring. And I know you like daring.”
She nodded, apparently unable to talk while skating.
He lightened his grip on her hands. “Try on your own?”
Another nod, and he let go entirely, and she wobbled, eyes growing into huge moons, arms flailing.
“Stand tall,” he said. “Reaching for me will pull you over. Stay calm, too. Move after you find your balance.”
She did everything he said until she stood on her own without flailing. “Not so bad. Now what?”
“Move.” He skated backward away from her. “To me.”
She glared at his skates, then raised her chin high and pushed one foot forward. Then another and another until with jerky, halting strides, she reached him, grasping his hands once more. She did not smile when she looked at him, but her face beamed with happiness, nonetheless.
“If I built a house out here, the suitors could not get to me, and I would no longer need your help.”
“What if they learned to skate?”
“They haven’t the brains for it, I’m quite sure.” She was moving more comfortably now, lengthening her strides, getting closer as he moved farther away.
He held out his arms and slid forward as her gaze caught in his. Until her body jerked. Then her mouth fell open, her eyes flew wide, and she fell forward. Right into his arms. His balance erupted into chaos and the world spun, but he could not straighten his arms out to the side to right his balance because then he’d drop her. So, he clutched her tight. And fell.
The hard ice slammed into his back, and the breath left him in one solid gust of air. Birds cawed, wheeled off branches, and soared into the gray sky, and fingers fluttered like feathers about his face. Georgiana’s face appeared in his swimming vision, breath fogging from between parted lips, eyes overflowing with more emotion than he’d ever seen from her.
“Are you hurt?” she demanded, her voice high and sharp. “You mustnotbe hurt. I’m sorry. I truly am.” She slapped his chest. “You’re not to be hurt, do you understand?”
He found his breath with a laugh. “Not. Hurt.” He groaned. “Much.”
She collapsed on top of him, her hands making fists in the heavy folds of his greatcoat, her face hidden in his chest, for several heavy seconds in which he regained his breath. Then she lifted her face, pressed her lips to his, and stole his breath all over again.
When they’d fallen, the sky and ground had flipped, the world became uneven and unstable, topsy-turvy inside and out but for one thing. Her. Solid in his arms.
And now she kissed him, upending his world once more. If the mere mention of kissing Georgiana had unleashed a flood of images he could not tame, actually kissing her unleashed a flood of sensations that scalded him, turned him to ash, despite the freezing lake beneath him and the gray sky above. Damn, she knew how to kiss, slanting her mouth across his with fervor and skill, using her hands on his cheeks to draw them closer to one another. And since his arms were still around her, he tightened them, allowed himself to register, then enjoy the press of her breasts against his chest.
Then he kissed her back.
Or tried to.
She jerked away from him as he lifted his head from the ice to meet her lips with harder passion, and she slapped her hands to ice, lifted her chest from his, eyes wide with… what? Shock? Disgust? She rolled off him, yelping when she hit the hard surface.
“How do I get up?” she asked, her voice as sharp as the blades on her feet.
“Wait a moment.” He shook the lust from his bones—tried to, at least—and rolled over to his hands and knees. He put one foot then the other to the ice and stood slowly, carefully, then bent at the knees and held a hand out to her. “Take hold.”
She rolled up to sitting and took his hand, locking her fingers about his wrist. He did the same to her and tugged. Eyes wide, hands clenching for life, she found her feet and fell into his arms once more, but this time he was ready and kept them both upright.
Then she pushed him away so that he coasted backward in a slow slide away from her. She straightened her skirts, fluttered her eyes, and tamed her breath. When she finally met his gaze again, there she was—thin-lipped and icy-eyed, the Lady Gee who used her sharp tongue to wound, not to kiss.
Oh, but he knew better now. What the hell was he supposed to do with such information?
Forget it.
