He stumbled backward, landing against a locked stall, his hands floating at his sides, unsure what to do—as they wished to grab her tight against him or, as he knew best, set her aside and lock his arms behind his back like bars of steel, chains of iron.
His arms didn’t matter because she clutched him, popping up onto tiptoes to meld their lips, their bodies, together in an embrace that should have no audience. An embrace with one clear message.
And one inevitable outcome.
Then just as quickly as she’d claimed him, Georgiana stepped away and turned to Miss Darlington. “As you see. Mr. Evans is not on the market.” She sent one sizzling gaze over her shoulder at him, then strode out of the stable with a defiant sway in her hips that made his already hard body throb. He trapped a groan inside his chest.
What had she done?
Miss Darlington cleared her throat. “Ah. I see. That does clarify things.”
For her perhaps. For him, everything had turned mud.
“Excuse me, Miss Darlington. I must…” He had no excuse close to hand, so he bowed and left.
Georgiana all but ran toward the house, her skirts pulled high, and he chased after her. He didn’t run. No need to. He’d catch her, eventually.
Through the door, up the stairs, right to her bedchamber door. He heard it slam shut before he even reached the top of the stairs, and still he pressed on until he stood right before it. Knocked. Perhaps banged would be a better descriptor.
“Open up, Georgiana. Now.”
“No.” So calm. So damn calm, he wanted to spit.
“I’ll break the door down.”
“You won’t!”
“Ha. You do not know me if you truly think that.”
“The noise will bring the entire house to the hallway.” Her hissing voice was closer now, right behind the door.
“And Miss Darlington’s prattling will do the same.” He slammed a shoulder against the door so hard the frame shook. “Open it.” A growl, a demand.
He reared back and lifted a leg. He’d kick the damn thing down.
It swung open, and the glare that met him dropped his booted foot with a thud to the floor. She stood golden and cold, chin high, spine straight, arms crossed beneath her plump breasts. He stormed into the room and slammed the door behind him.
“You’re a beast.” She spat the words. “Break your own door, and for what reason?”
He prowled closer. “What reason? You kissed me. How’s that for a reason?”
“I saved you from the matrimonial machinations of Miss Darlington. Isn’t that what you wished me to do?”
“She’ll tell everyone.” The words ripped out of him in a rush of panic, accompanied by a host of words that didn’t make it past his lips—caught, trapped, failed.
Her eyes widened, and she rocked back on her heels. “You’re screaming will tell everyone.”
He turned, thrusting his fingers through his hair. “Ican’tmarry you.”
“Of course not.”
He turned back to face her, quick as a star shooting across the night sky. “Then why the hell kiss me in front of her?”
She shrugged. “I have never intended to marry either. I fail to see how it matters.”
“I’m a gentleman,” he ground out. “And I’ve more or less compromised you now.”
“I’vecompromisedyou. You’re overreacting, Josiah. Neither of us intend to marry, and—”
