"Just relax," he repeated. "The difficult part is over."

He flexed, pushing in, then pulling out, pushing in again, but he couldn't prevent the conclusion from sweeping over him so it only lasted a minute or two. His seed rushed to the tip, and he shoved in very far and, with an almost negligent sort of feral joy, spilled himself against her womb.

He could have withdrawn and averted potential calamity, but he hadn't. The possibility that he'd left her with child would guarantee she had to remain by his side, at least until they learned if a babe had been created, and he decided he'd give it numerous reckless attempts in order to be certain he got what he craved.

Long after every drop was spent, he continued to flex. He simply couldn't accept that it was over, and he was desperate to begin again immediately. He was that titillated by her, his cock already growing hard.

Why would it? How did she exert such a peculiar influence?

Eventually he slid away and snuggled himself to her. She rolled too so they were facing each other, nose to nose.

"I'm not a virgin anymore, am I?" she asked.

"No."

"It was different than I imagined."

"That's why I didn't describe it. You'd have thought I was mad."

"Probably. What now?"

"Now we rest a bit, and then we do it again."

"We can do it more than once?"

"We can do it as often as we like, and if you keep looking at me like that, I'm sure I'll never stop."

"How am I looking at you? And with it being so dark in here, how can you see me?"

"You're smiling at me as if I walk on water."

"Vain beast. I would never gaze at you in such a fawning manner. Your ego knows no bounds, and I wouldn't inflate it further."

"Heaven forbid that my ego be inflated."

He smiled too, feeling more content than he could ever recall feeling. He shifted onto his back and dragged her over him so she was draped across his chest.

"You're mine now," she murmured.

"You poor thing."

"You'll be a fine husband, Damian."

"I have no idea why you'd think so."

"I'll work on you. I'll turn you into the man I need."

He chuckled. "Good luck with that, Georgina."

"You're awfully stubborn, but so am I. I'll have you wrapped around my little finger in no time at all."

He sighed with delight, and for a moment he pretended he could be altered into the man she required, but it was a vision that wouldn't gel. He was too wounded, too damaged. Frequently he wondered why he hadn't been locked away in an asylum so he couldn't roam among decent people. He definitely should have been.

Her respirations were slowing, her chatter waning, and he asked, "Are you falling asleep on me?"

"Yes. I'm exhausted."

"Sexual play has that effect on a person."

"Don't doze off with me," she warned.

"I won't," he said, though he couldn't deduce how it mattered. She was ruined, and the sooner gossip leaked out, the better it would be for him.

"When will we tell everyone?"

"About what?" he inquired, at first not understanding.

"About our betrothal. What did you suppose I meant?"

"Oh. We'll announce it tomorrow." There were a dozen other deceits begging to spill out, but he tamped them down, refusing to behave more reprehensibly than he already had.

"We'll discuss Augusta and Sophia then too?"

"Yes."

"Everything will be all right, won't it?"

"Of course."

"I'll make you so happy. I promise."

"I know you will."

He was always shocked by how devious and cruel he could be.

Easing her into slumber, he massaged her back, eager to sneak out like the cur he was. She drifted off rapidly, and he dawdled, cherishing the peaceful interlude, but he swiftly found himself drifting off too so he slipped away and stood.

He grabbed a blanket and drew it over her, then he picked up his shirt and turned to depart. He thought he was being very quiet, but she roused anyway.

"Damian?" She rose up on an elbow. "Are you going?"

"Yes, I'm very tired." He bent down and stole a kiss. "I'll see you in the morning. Come over to the manor and join me for breakfast."

"I'll miss you until then," she said.

"I'll miss you too."

He spun away, anxious to flee before he completely humiliated himself. There was a strange intimacy in the air, almost as if they were...were...in love or something ridiculous like that. Yet he didn't believe in love, and it wasn't a sentiment he could ever imagine suffering.

He'd started for the door when suddenly someone knocked. Before he could react, it was opened. A shriveled, elderly woman, dressed in her nightclothes, was holding a candle, the wick burning sufficiently to illuminate her features, indicating it was Augusta Marshall.

He was thrilled to note that she hadn't aged well. Her face was deeply lined, her hair sparse and patchy, and she was thin as a rail, as if guilt had been eating her alive.

"Georgina? Are you all right? I heard a noise." She noticed him and gasped. "Who are you, sir? Georgina! What is the meaning of this?"

"I am Damian Drummond," he blithely said.

"Drummond!" Her malicious gaze raked over him as if searching for a hint of the boy he'd been, but that child was dead and buried.

"I've been visiting your niece." He grinned. "I heartily enjoyed myself too."

"Georgina!" Augusta snapped, and she stamped her foot.

Damian glanced at Georgina, and she appeared horrified. She was partially concealed by the blanket, a bare shoulder visible, so there was no hiding that she was naked under the covers.

"Aunt Augusta!" Georgina hurriedly said. "I can explain."

Damian scoffed. "Don't bother, Georgina. You're no longer any of this witch's business."

"What have you been doing?" Augusta demanded of Damian.

"Precisely what you think." He glanced at Georgina again. "I'll see you at breakfast."

"Well..."

"I insist, Georgina, and if this shrew"-he cast an angry thumb at Augusta-"gives you any grief, head over to the manor and spend the night with me. In fact, come with me now."

She hemmed and hawed, gaped and dithered. She gawked at her aunt, at him, at her aunt again. She gulped with dismay and tears filled her eyes. "Damian, I can't possibly."

"Why not?"

"I'm...I'm...ah...I should talk to my aunt."

"Fine. Talk if you must, but it's pointless to deal with her."

"I have to," she replied, looking miserable.

He left without another word, and while he probably should have stayed and protected her, should have shooed Augusta out and ordered her to sod off, it was clear Georgina was anxious to fight her own battle. And he was happy to let her.

If she didn't want his help, he certainly wouldn't force her to receive it.

He kept on, and it dawned on him that when he'd told her he'd miss her, he hadn't been lying for once. He missed her. He really did.

Fancy that.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

Well? You claimed you could explain yourself."

"I can, Aunt Augusta."

"I will be down in the decrepit parlor that passes for a dining room in this wretched abode. I suggest you join me immediately."

Augusta whipped away and marched down the hall, but not too quickly.

She wanted to be sure Mr. Drummond had exited the house, and it would be too awkward to bump into him at the bottom of the stairs.

She proceeded to the dining room and lit a few candles. She seated herself, but didn't have to tarry long before Georgina stumbled in. She'd dressed in a hurry, not bothering with corset or shoes, and her hair was tied back with a ribbon.

Though Augusta would never admit it, she wished the blasted girl had taken her time arriving. Augusta was very disturbed and needed to arrange her thoughts.

Once she'd learned of Drummond's fascination with Georgina, she'd advised her to initiate an affair, but she hadn't actually imagined Georgina could pull it off. She'd behaved precisely as Augusta had commanded her to behave, but Augusta had never witnessed such a sordid sight. She was struggling to find the words to congratulate Georgina, yet how could any sane woman condone such dissipation?

"I'm sorry, Augusta," Georgina said as she slid into a chair. "I'm so sorry."

"Why are you sorry? I told you to ruin yourself. It appears you have."

"It's all right though."

"Has he offered to keep you? If so, what boons will he extend? I hope you were shrewd enough to drive a hard bargain."

"I didn't bargain."

"What? If you haven't obtained what we need, I swear I'll beat you with a stick."

"It's turned out much better than I could ever have planned."

"Since I saw Mr. Drummond strutting out of your bedchamber like a smug peacock, I suppose you have to say that."

"He wasn't smug. He was...happy, I think."

"Drummond, happy? You're mad if you assume so. Men of his ilk are rarely pleased by innocent females. If he seemed happy, I'm certain it's because he's taken the only item of value you possessed."

Georgina blushed furiously. "He didn't take anything from me. I gave it freely."

"You're just like your mother then-as I always suspected."

"Don't disparage her. I'm not in the mood to listen to your insults."

"Fine, we won't drag your mother into it. We'll simply accept that you're a very immoral person for no reason at all. You've finally been shown what all women are forced to discover sooner or later. What is your opinion? Was it the grandest event ever?"