Page 54 of This Earl of Mine

He took a deep breath and strove for control, then rolled off her and tried to rearrange himself into a more comfortable position—as if that were possible. He wasfiercely glad that he’d been the one to give her this first taste of passion. He wished he’d been able to see every nuance of her expression as she’d reached the peak, but even in the dim light, she’d been beautiful. So sweetly responsive. He’d loved her frown of concentration, the uninhibited trust of her climax.

He tilted his head, listening. No sound came from the warehouse beyond. He sat up awkwardly in the cramped space, taking care not to hit any of the pipes and gauges that protruded from the bulkheads, then hauled himself out of the hatch. He peered down at Georgie and offered his hand with an inner smile at his belated chivalry.

That had been no courtly wooing, no pretty poetic romance. It had been hot and sweaty and glorious. A frenzied blur of passion and limbs in the darkness. He swallowed and tried to slow his racing pulse. This was only the beginning. God, the things he had to teach her.

He wondered if she was embarrassed by what they’d just done, or merely incredulous. He was rather stunned himself.

She accepted his help back up, took a deep lungful of air, and made a big show of trying to right her rumpled clothing. “Well, that was, ah…” She seemed lost for words, which pleased him immensely.

“Exciting?” he provided wryly. “Amazing, Benedict? Positively the best experience I’ve ever had?”

“Something I’ll never forget,” she said finally.

He chuckled at her return to formality, even as he tried to ignore her becomingly flushed cheeks and the fact that her lips were still puffy from his kisses. “It was an honor and a privilege,” he said solemnly.

“Not a duty?” She looked up at him then, and he sent her an easy smile, determined to banish any awkwardness. He wanted her to glory in what they’d done, not be ashamed.

“Never. You have wood shavings in your hair.”

She put her hands up to remedy that, but he batted them away and plucked several stray curls of wood from her rumpled coiffure. He descended the ladder and then braced his arms on either side to steady it for her. When she reached the ground, he didn’t step back, but instead trapped her between his body and hugged her into his chest.

“That was just the beginning, Georgie girl. Lesson one of many. I can’t wait to show you the rest.” He released her and forced himself to step back and return to business. “So. What do you think we should do with this?” He gestured at the submarine. “Disable it? Destroy it?”

“Not it,” she muttered. “Her. All ships are feminine.”

“What shall we do withher, then,” Benedict amended dryly.

She shook her head. “Surely the Admiralty want her back? To destroy her would be a dreadful shame. She’s an amazing feat of engineering.” She patted the unfinished planks. “She isn’t seaworthy yet—she still needs to be tarred to make her waterproof—so you have some time to set a watch and catch this Johnstone fellow in the act.”

Benedict made a quick inspection of the rest of the warehouse and let out a low whistle as he pulled back an oiled sheet and found a neat stack of wooden barrels in one corner.

“What are those?”

He sniffed one to confirm his suspicions. “Gunpowder.” The peppery scent was unmistakable, an old friend. He’d spent years with this smell during the war, could still recall the bitter taste on his tongue from when he’d ripped open the tiny paper twists of powder with his teeth to pour them down the muzzle of his Baker.

“It must be for the floating bombs that Fulton detailed in his plans,” Georgie said.

Benedict searched around until he found a pail full of grey river water, then uncorked the bung on the top of each barrel and trickled a thin stream of liquid into them, soaking the contents. “That scuppers that plan,” he said with satisfaction. “Nothing worse than wet powder.” He replaced the oilskin and nodded toward the window. “Come on, I’ll give you a boost.”

Georgie spent the trip back to Grosvenor Square alternating between amazement, mortification, and shameless anticipation of what was still to come. What Benedict had done to her body inside that submarine had been a revelation. She’d never imagined a man’s touch could affect her in such a way.

She was sensitive in places she’d never even taken note of before, and she felt strangely free and unencumbered. She glanced over at Benedict in the carriage.

He sent her one of those questioning, enigmatic looks, as if she held the answer to something he sought, some riddle he couldn’t solve. Her insides tightened. He’d said there was more, but what more could there possibly be?

She’d never discussed intimate matters with her mother, but having lived in the countryside, she had a fair idea of the basic mechanics of procreation. The idea that the man’s member must surely fit inside the woman, however—as a stallion fitted into a mare when he covered her—was so preposterous that she couldn’t truly imagine it. Clearly, the place where Benedict had put his fingers was the same place he would fit into her body. But judging from the size of the appendage she’d felt through his breeches, such a thing was impossible. Georgie’s cheeks flamed. The very thought made her hot and achy… and slightly apprehensive.

Did a man need to mount behind the woman, like a horse? It seemed unlikely, but she supposed she would find out this evening. Benedict had promised that she would enjoy it, and she trusted him.

When they pulled up at the Tricorn Club, he stepped down and rested his arm on the carriage door. His expression promised all manner of wickedness. He lifted her arm to his lips and kissed the inside of her wrist. “Until later, Mrs. Wylde.”

Chapter 29.

Georgie attended the Evans’ rout that evening with the sole aim of taking her leave as quickly as possible. She’d already mentioned to her mother that she thought she had a headache coming on. And then she caught sight of Benedict, heart stoppingly handsome in dark evening clothes, conversing with his friends on the opposite side of the room. Heat raced over her skin. What was he doing here?

He glanced up as her name was announced and caught her eye. His too-innocent smile made her stomach flutter. What game was he playing now?

She pretended to ignore him and seethed impatiently for a full twenty minutes before he made his leisurely way across the room and bowed low before her mother. His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Mrs. Caversteed.”

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