Free To Marry an Heiress by Lorraine Heath

past him and placed her hand on her father’s shoulder. “Oh, Papa, you’re giving Lord Huntingdon a tongue-lashing for nothing. What woman wouldn’t be pleased that her suitor wished to marry her as soon as possible?”
    What woman indeed? She’d neither referred to herself nor confirmed that she was pleased. She’dspoken the truth, but not necessarily a truth that applied to her. He wondered if she merely wished to put her father’s doubts at ease while keeping her own counsel regarding her true feelings on the matter.
    If Pierce’s diminishing agitation was any indication, she had succeeded. Pierce settled his gaze on his daughter. The depth of love in his eyes caused Devon to regret he didn’t have time to court her properly, to make her feel as though she was indeed fortunate he had selected her.
    Pierce patted her hand. “Thought I was prepared for giving you over to another man. Reckon I’m still adjusting to the thought.”
    Georgina kissed his leathery cheek. “I’ll always be your little girl. Now, if you’ll excuse us, it’s my understanding that Lord Huntingdon is taking me boating.”
     
    Georgina tried to enjoy the scenery, the sight of the other boats floating along the river, but her attention kept returning to Huntingdon and the powerful bunching of his muscles as he rowed. He’d removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves past his elbows. She was surprised by the hard, knotted look of his forearms, the veins that stood out in sharp relief beneath his bronzed skin.
    Her gaze continually darted between his broad shoulders, his wide chest, his flat stomach, his hips, and then it would dip lower, and she would feel her face scald with the heat of speculation. What would it be like to kiss every inch of that remarkable torso…and then some?
    “Is everything all right, Georgina?” he asked in that deep rumble that caused little chill bumps to erupt over her flesh.
    Or perhaps it was his informality that elicited the delicious shivers.
    “Shouldn’t you address me as Miss Pierce?” she asked, preferring the distance such formality evoked.
    “Once engaged, it is acceptable for a couple to address each other using first names,” he explained. “Therefore you may call me Devon.”
    “Oh.” She didn’t know why it flustered her to think of calling him by his first name. She’d addressed boys in that manner for as long as she could remember.
    Only he wasn’t a boy, and each moment brought her closer to an intimacy with him for which she wasn’t prepared.
    Elizabeth had wanted to come with them and act as chaperone, but Georgina had refused the offer. It seemed absolutely silly that a woman couldn’t trust the man she planned to marry. Besides, with chaperones around, how in the world did these people get to know each other? A person couldn’t talk about personal things with someone near enough to hang onto every word.
    “You didn’t answer my question, Georgina.”
    His question, asked long ago, had slipped her mind completely. “Yes, everything is fine.”
    “You look warm.”
    Only on the inside. She could certainly use a fanright now, a Texas fan that was good at cooling, not communicating.
    “I’m fine,” she rushed to assure him.
    She wondered how she would manage to survive her wedding night with any amount of decorum when he had the uncanny ability to set her heart to thumping against her ribs with nothing more than his presence. She couldn’t claim he gave her longing looks, the kind she read about in the romance novels she enjoyed.
    Yet neither was he ignoring her. Rather she had a feeling he was taking measure of her, just as she was of him. These moments should have been shared before they’d ever broached the subject of marriage. If he looked too closely, he might change his mind. If she looked too intently, so might she.
    Lauren was right. Huntingdon was devilishly handsome. He had a generous mouth, his lower lip the only portion of his face that appeared to be