Free To Marry an Heiress by Lorraine Heath Page A

soft. The lines that fanned out from the corners of his mouth and eyes had not been carved by joy. Would he ever know happiness with her? Or would they simply exist side by side, going their separate ways until the need to fulfill a promise brought him to her bed?
    She wondered if he would bed her on their wedding night as dispassionately as he’d proposed. Would he simply lift the hem of her nightgown or would he dare trail that luscious mouth of his over her body? How could she allow a man she barely knew to take such liberties?
    Should she ask for a reprieve, a period of adjustment, during which time they could come to know each other well enough for the awkwardness to fall away?
    What if that moment never came?
    “If I may be beastly bold, Georgina seems a rather harsh name for a woman,” he said, bringing her musing to an abrupt halt. “Although George or Georgie doesn’t seem much of an improvement.”
    “Gina,” she said softly. Only her dearest friends referred to her as such. She’d never expected him to. She’d somehow imagined in this stuffy society they would forever refer to each other in the strictest formal terms.
    He leaned forward slightly, not upsetting the rhythm of his strokes in the least. “Pardon?”
    “Those close to me call me Gina.”
    “Indeed.”
    Was he questioning her statement? “I wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t so.”
    “Of course not. I was simply speculating as to whether or not you were granting me permission to address you…as intimately.”
    His eyes darkened, and his scrutiny made her wonder if she should have accepted Elizabeth’s offer to serve as chaperone. Wouldn’t that be something? To actually have to fend off a man’s advances when all her life she’d expected she might have to lasso and hog-tie a man in order to hold him close?
    “I assume once we’re married, we’ll be intimate—” she began.
    “Indeed we shall be,” he interrupted.
    Her stomach quivered, and she felt her face breaking out in those unsightly blotches that announced to the whole world she was uncomfortable with her current situation. “Therefore calling me Gina is acceptable.”
    “I appreciate the generous consideration.”
    She wondered if when they were old and feeble he’d still speak to her as though they were passing strangers. She found it odd that he’d seemed to test the waters by hinting he wished permission to call her Gina and then retreated by distancing himself with so much politeness she was tempted to rock the boat until he toppled into the water.
    Surely a time would come when she would be able to actually carry on a real conversation with him. Where words weren’t measured, meanings analyzed, and interpretations avoided.
    “I have to admit I’m amazed to see you row with such skill. With the aristocracy’s penchant for servants, I’d assumed you’d have a rowing boy,” she said.
    An incredible, warm smile spread across his face, and his eyes sparkled with amusement. “I would have if I considered this pursuit work, but it’s pleasure. The aristocracy prefers to engage in pleasure at a more intimate level.”
    He’d spoken the words “pleasure” and “intimate” in a low purr that made her think of flickering candles, cool sheets, and warm bodies. She assumed it was her impending marriage and her conversation with Lauren that had these carnal thoughts running through her mind. She had on occasion daydreamedabout lying in bed with a man, but the visions had never taken such firm root that she couldn’t shake them off.
    “If I may be blunt, I don’t understand your aversion to work,” she said.
    “A man of my standing doesn’t engage in laborious acts. It’s simply not done. I assume you have no appreciation for the amount of effort involved in appearing idle. It’s quite tiresome.”
    She laughed with disbelief. “Not as tiresome as hard, honest labor.”
    “I take it you don’t approve of idleness.”
    “I just figure a grown man