Page 10 of Lyon of Least Resistance

He closed his eyes, and the image of his Dahlia filled his mind—the gentleness of her voice when they entered into an easy, relaxed conversation, the delicate touch of her slender fingers as they interlocked with his…

…and a new memory, the shape of the mole on her inner thigh that he’d kissed and worshipped, and the glorious sensations as her body had welcomed him, rippling around his manhood while he came to the most exquisite pleasure…

“I knew it!”

He startled at the voice and opened his eyes.

“You’ve found someone, haven’t you?” Margaret said. “Have you asked her to marry you?”

He shook his head.

“Does she have a fortune?” Georgiana said.

“Will you ask her?” Margaret said, giving Georgiana a push.

“Margaret.” Georgiana frowned. “You really oughtn’t—”

“Oh, poo!” Margaret cried. “You only want James to marry someone rich so he can give you enough money to buy a husband. Well, I hope she’s richer than the regent himself. Then you can find a husband quickly and you’ll not be here to order me about anymore.”

“I’ll be glad of it,” Georgiana said. “Then the new Lady Bedford can endure your behavior instead.”

“Sisters, please!” James said. “There’s nothing to be gained from speaking of my wife until she is in being.”

“But there is someone, isn’t there?” Georgiana said. “Have you danced with her? Is she pretty?”

“Who cares about that!” Margaret scoffed, folding her arms. “Do you love her?”

James caught his breath as a voice whispered in his mind.

Yes. I love her.

The return of Heslop saved him the necessity of responding.

“Here you go, Miss Georgiana. I picked the best ones for you. Careful of them thorns, now. I’ve removed them from the base of the stem, so hold them just there.”

Georgiana extended a gloved hand and took the blooms. She lifted them to her nose and inhaled. Her lips curved in a smile, illuminating her eyes.

“Thank you, Heslop.”

She was a beautiful creature. Such beauty might reduce the need for a large dowry. Any duke would be proud to have her on his arm.

“Georgiana, I promise I’ll take you to a ball as soon as I’m married,” James said. “I shall buy you a new gown, and perhaps a necklace.”

Her smile broadened and she placed a kiss on his cheek.

“Bleurgh,” Margaret said, wrinkling her nose.

“You’re the best of brothers,” Georgiana said, ignoring her younger sister. “Now, I’d best get these roses in a vase. I wouldn’t want them wilting, for who can bear a withered flower?”

She turned and set off toward the house.

She can. My Dahlia.

But there was little merit in dwelling on what could never be.

A hand tugged at James’s sleeve and he turned to see his younger sister staring up at him.

“Will you make me a promise, brother?”