Benedict glanced at the clock on the mantel. There were still a few hours until dawn, and God knew, he would gladly spend the rest of them making love to her, but she was right. There was no sense in risking a scandal. Everything she’d done up to this point had been to avoid such a thing. Her coming here had been risky, but he wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

With the greatest reluctance, he drew away from her and left the bed. He slipped on his breeches to spare her maidenly blushes, then scooped up her simple cotton shift. “Come on, sleepyhead,” he said, tugging on her arm until she sat up, grumbling. “Let’s get you dressed.” He threw the garment over her head, then went out into the sitting room to retrieve her dress and give her some privacy.

It struck him that Georgie was the first woman he’d ever brought here, to his rooms. Despite the rumors about his profligacy, he’d only had two lovers since he’d returned from France, both discreet widows, and each affair had lasted only a few weeks. He’d visited both ladies at their own residences and had always left to spend the night in his own bed. He’d had no desire to linger.

He wished Georgie could stay. He wanted to drift off to sleep with her in his arms, to wake her slowly with a kiss and make love to her again, lazily, as dawn broke over the rooftops.

Impossible.

She was sitting cross-legged on the bed when he returned, a rumpled goddess amidst the messy sheets. His heart thudded to a stop. She looked so damned tempting there in his bed that he clenched his fists in her dress to stop himself pushing her back and kissing her breathless all over again. His cock throbbed in silent encouragement.

She was like one of those sirens that lured sailors to their doom with just a smile. He felt a sudden kinship with poor, mythical Odysseus, tied to the mast of his ship, valiantly trying to resist the promise in a glance, the temptation of a song. Her skin was flushed, her lips delightfully puffy, and he experienced a surge of deep satisfaction that he’d been the one to put the pink in her cheeks, that twinkle in her eye.

Georgie sucked in an admiring breath as Benedict reappeared shirtless in the doorway. The man was impossibly handsome. His skin glowed with health, and his breeches rested low on his narrow hips.

She’d barely seen him during the frenzied blur of their earlier lovemaking, but now she looked her fill. The soft glow of the oil lamp on the nightstand caressed his body in the same way her fingers itched to do, and her pulse galloped as she studied the intriguing ridges of his sculpted stomach and chest.