Page 29 of The Mistletoe Dare

“God in heaven, you’ll drive me insane, you ridiculous creature.”

“I am not ridiculous!”

“You’re bloody absurd if you can’t see how much I bloody want you, you little nitwit!”

Before she could understand the meaning of his words, he’d pushed her up against the wall, his hands pressing her wrists above her head. Georgie gasped, staring up at him in shock. Her heart thudded unevenly. In a distant—very distant—part of her brain, she registered that, as a well-behaved young lady, she ought to be anxious about this. He was far bigger and stronger, and she was alone in his room, but all she felt was desperate excitement uncoiling and an insistent if unnerving throb between her thighs. His grip on her wrists was firm but gentle, his thumb caressing the place where her pulse beat an erratic tattoo until she shivered. She knew he would release her if she struggled or told him to let her go. Why wasn’t she struggling? Why wasn’t she demanding he let her go? Georgie tried to consider the question, but her rational mind—what remained of it—had turned to pudding. Must result from too much trifle.

Rochford was staring down at her, his grey eyes intent, his massive chest rising and falling too fast.

“You shouldn’t have come,” he groaned, the words low and breathless.

“I know,” she admitted, wondering what he intended. She could only describe his expression as hungry. Perhaps he should have eaten the blasted trifle, she thought wildly. Anticipation was fizzing beneath her skin like champagne flowed in her veins, and her nerves were all on end. Was he going to kiss her?

Kiss me.

Don’t kiss me.

Kiss me!

A panicked voice in her head kept repeating the same two phrases over again, but one was certainly louder than the other. Yet, he made no move, just stared down at her with that ravenous look in his eyes.

“You should go,” he said, gritting the words out as if it hurt to speak them.

Georgie nodded automatically before thinking better of it. “No.”

“You nodded. You mean yes,” he said irritably.

“No. I mean no.”

“But you nodded.”

“I know. I was confused.”

He rolled his eyes to the heavens. “You are deranged.”

“Yes, that too. It’s your fault, you know. You make me act like a madwoman.”

“You make me act like a blasted lunatic.”

“We should stay away from each other,” they said in unison.

Georgie laughed.

He sighed and released his hold on her, but did not move away. “You should go,” he said again, softer this time.

“Should I?” she asked, staring at him.

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, before he gave a resolute nod. “My valet will be back soon. You mustn’t be seen here.”

“Ah yes. Ruination followed by marriage. A fate worse than death,” she said, unable to tear her gaze from him.

“Exactly. A fate worse than death indeed.” There was humour in his eyes, and something else. Was that regret? She hoped so.

“For you or for me?” she asked, trying to recapture some of her earlier good humour.

“Perhaps both of us, but certainly for you, love,” he said, before stepping away and walking to the door. He opened it, checked the corridor was empty, and gestured for her to leave.

“Good night, Rochford.”