Pretty Persuasion by Olivia Kingsley Read Free Book Online

shifting from foot to foot, his gaze darting from one corner of the room to the other. He was far too fretful, and so she gave another halfhearted try at calming him. "There's no hurry, Phillip. No one is following us."
    Phillip released a tortured breath, and his cerulean eyes darkened as he seized her hand and raised it to his lips. "Georgiana, dear, if you cared the slightest for my peace of mind, you would not condemn me to another night of this torment. Why dally now that we finally have a lifetime—no, an eternity of happiness within our grasp?"
    She sighed inwardly. He made a habit of lavishing upon her to excess what so easily sounded like empty flattery, pretty words that she almost wished she could believe. But whatever his genuine feelings were, she did believe his intentions were good. And wasn't that what really mattered?
    "I dare not wait any longer." His pleading gaze bore into hers. "Say yes, my dove. Say you'll be mine. Tonight."
    Oh, but he was charming! And sweet and considerate. Smiling, she murmured, "Yes. Yes, of course I will."
    He squeezed her hand. "It may take a while before our priest is ready. I'll arrange for a room so you can refresh yourself."
    THE INNKEEPER'S WIFE showed Georgie upstairs to a clean, comfortably furnished room. Phillip's manservant brought up their bags, and, when left alone, Georgie tore off her bonnet, gloves, and wrap, then took a long look at herself in the cheval mirror next to the toilet table. Countless hours on the road had left her with a creased carriage dress, disheveled hair, and wan complexion.
    Swallowing a sigh, she poured water into the washbasin, wet a facecloth, and scrubbed the color back into her cheeks. She rummaged through one of her valises until she found a comb, then tried to bring her hair to some semblance of order. Without curling irons and the energy to care, she settled on leaving only a few locks framing her face, pinning the rest of her shoulder-length hair into a bun. When done, she still yearned for a bath or, at the very least, a change of underclothes, but Phillip had said half an hour, so she slumped into an upholstered armchair and waited.
    Her eyes fell on the four-poster bed, and she was struck by how pure, how innocent, it looked with its plain white counterpane and curtains, the floral-patterned canopy its only adornment. Checking the room for a connecting door, she found none. A thrill shot through her, excitement tinged with apprehension. They'd spent the past two nights at coaching inns in separate rooms, since Phillip was too gentlemanly to even suggest they share. She had been a bit disappointed by that, but also relieved.
    Tonight, however, they'd be married, and they'd share a bed. That bed. Her eyes were drawn back to the four-poster, and warmth suffused her as she imagined Phillip's hard body pressing her into the mattress, kissing her, loving her—
    Suddenly, she saw Robert and Lady Ferrers, rutting like beasts, panting and moaning—oh, that infernal moaning! Georgie squeezed her eyes shut to make the images go away.
    She willed herself to concentrate on Phillip and their future. Despite her restlessness, fatigue soon got the better of her, and she drifted off to sleep.
    A SHARP BANG shook Georgie awake. She snapped her eyes open, blinking profusely.
    Where was she?
    A large figure flew across the room, heading for the window, and it returned to her in a flash: the elopement.
    "Phillip?" she croaked, then cleared her throat and pushed out of the chair. "What's the matter?"
    "Bad news," he growled as he inched the curtains apart. "Someone came riding in from the south. They're checking other inns, searching for us.
    No. It couldn't be. Georgie hurried to his side. Together, they peered out through the slit in the curtains. She saw no one in the street, only the faint circles of light beneath first floor windows. "They can't be looking for us. Who would it be?"
    Phillip didn't take his eyes off the street as he spat, "It's