The Secret Desires of a Governess (11 page)

Pulling his shirt from his trousers, she ran her hand along the corded muscles of his stomach that flexed under her tickling touch. Her fingers danced over the taut flesh with a mixture of hesitation and anticipation. He groaned into her mouth when she pressed the fl at of her hand against his pectoral and grazed her nail unintentionally around his nipple as she slid her hands over him.

He wanted to tear her clothes away and feel her flesh beneath his as she arched up to meet his body. He wanted to turn her around, bend her over and take her from behind.

Goddamn it. What was wrong with him? He could not do this.

Elliott forced his hands away from her body. Forced himself to unfuse their mouths. Arms now at his side, he took a step away from her and looked over his thoroughly disheveled governess.

Lips red and swollen, bonnet askew, and dress wrinkled and nowhere near set to rights, Abigail looked like a woman entrapped by lust. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly as she attempted to gain control of her breathing.

Maybe she had expected— had wanted— him to take her against the wall. His cock jerked in the confines of his trousers with that thought. Those cat- like green eyes of hers stared warily back at him then at the ground. She pressed the tips of her fingers to her parted mouth. Was it possible he’d rendered her speechless? Had she shocked herself by that kiss?

“Go back to the house, Miss Hallaway.” Her eyes went wide at his gruff demand. When she made no move to fix her dress and leave, he added, “Go. Before I take you here in the middle of a churchyard.” This was no place for a dalliance.

Her nose pinched up and her eyes narrowed. She glared at him as she shook her skirts out and smoothed her hair back into place, hiding it away under her ugly straw bonnet with steady hands.

Brave woman that she was, she didn’t take her eyes from him as she righted herself. When she stormed past him, her shoulder knocked into his arm.

He’d put a fire under her bonnet now. And he couldn’t regret doing so.

Maybe now she would focus on the fact that she had found Madeline’s grave, buried where no one would find her. She should hate him for doing that.

After the misery Madeline had put him through, she deserved to be forgotten. Sometimes he wished he’d never dug her body out from the rubble of the burned- down church. Couldn’t be changed now, though. Couldn’t be changed.

The king did not worry of his son’s journey into the world, for he set guards on the prince to ensure that he would live and return to the Kingdom of Brahmors.

—The Dragon of Brahmors

Abby was such a bloody, bloody fool. Following the incidents in the library and in the churchyard, as she liked to refer to them, she’d managed to avoid spending any more time alone with Lord Brendall.

She couldn’t trust herself when in his company— she had a tendency to throw caution out the window.

Jacob had left her for the evening— some hours ago now. His recognition of the alphabet was sorely lacking, so she’d busied herself painting out some cue cards to use as a teaching aid. She wanting nothing more than for him to succeed.

A light tapping at the door had her raising her eyes, hand clenched around the small detail brush she was using to paint a rhinoceros to depict the letter r. She wondered if it would be Lord Brendall and almost gave an un- lady- like curse when her heart began to pound.

Instead it was Martha who poked her head around the door. Even though the house keeper had not warmed to her, Martha was both a welcome and disappointing sight.

“You’re still in here. Thought you’d be in your room for the night.”

The cherub ormolu clock chimed the half nine hour.

Abby wiped her wet brush on a rag and set it on the desk.

“I wanted to finish painting these cards before I retired.

It’s rather late for you, too.”

“Aye, we stay late in the main house on Thursdays to get all the laundry done and away.” Martha stepped into the room, a stack of linens piled up in a wicker basket perched on her hip. “What’s that you’re working on, child?”

Another reminder that she thought Abby too young for the posting.

Cleaning her hands off on the apron she’d put on to protect her dress, Abby picked up the edge of the card and turned it to show the Martha the simple painting. Martha didn’t usually make an effort to talk to her, so she was thankful for the opportunity to befriend the older woman.

Maybe the painted cards would show her dedication to help Jacob. Show Martha that she had no intention of leaving anytime soon and that she was more than capable in doing the job she’d been hired on for.

“They’re alphabet cards to help the young master remember his letters.”

Martha placed the basket on the leather chair near the fireplace and took the card from her to inspect it closer.

“You’ve a fine hand at painting.”

“Not nearly as good as my sister, I assure you. I thought I’d choose exotic animals, incorporate some lessons on the geographic wonders of the world.”

Martha nodded her head in what Abby assumed was agreement as she placed the card back on the desk and turned to retrieve her basket.

Should she say something about the manner in which Martha treated the boy? How she’d told the boy he wouldn’t be able to learn. But the words stuck in her throat. She’d not let the woman know that the boy spoke candidly with her. She wouldn’t betray his secrets at the risk of him being treated poorer. She’d have to bring her concerns to Lord Brendall. Which meant she couldn’t avoid him for much longer.

“See you bright and early tomorrow morning, then.”

Without further ado, Martha left.

Abby frowned at her retreating form. Was the house-keeper only checking on Abby’s whereabouts

this evening?

Martha had never bothered to search her out in the evening before. Had Martha been suspicious that something had happened between Abby and Lord Brendall when she’d interrupted them in the study?

No, that couldn’t be it. The house keeper was probably trying to befriend her. It must not come easy to the staff to befriend the hired governesses when they didn’t stay on very long. Well, Abby planned to outlast all the previous teachers. She liked it here. Liked her charge, liked the place, liked being on her own and not dependent upon her sisters for once in her adult life.

Besides, Abby’s behavior had been above reproach since the incidents.

However, one night away from him had not put distance in her desires. If it were possible, she wanted to spend time with him even more now that she’d gone out of her way to avoid him.

Painting accoutrements set aside, Abby stood from the desk and decided that it was time for bed. It was safer if her fantasies remained in the realm of her dreams and not acted out in the presence of Lord Brendall.

His son was up well past his bedtime. Elliott was loath to send him to bed when they were thoroughly enjoying game of chess. But it was going on half nine and even Elliott was growing tired after his long day working outside again with Thomas. Winter was coming quick, and the work needed to be completed before first snow because it would hinder their progress. He and Thomas had worked longer, done more today than they had in the last two days.

Jacob had regaled him with stories of Miss Hallaway’s most unusual teaching styles between plays. Jacob said that he taught her about the castle half the time they were in lessons, and the rest of the time she tested his skill mostly in math since she didn’t have letter cards to teach him to read yet.

He wasn’t sure what lettered cards were. He’d neither heard the term nor seen them before. Not that he remembered, anyway.

Elliott had never seen his son so happy and animated with any governess before.

He leaned back in the leather chair with a yawn. “You need to head up to bed, Jacob.”

Jacob got up from his chair with a heavy sigh and a slight slump in his shoulders. The boy would never learn that pouting didn’t work on him. Elliott hid a smile behind his hand and gave another yawn to cover his amusement.

Jacob turned back to him before exiting through the study door. “Father?”

Elliott looked at him expectantly, waiting for his question.

“She won’t leave, too, will she?”

“You like her, and you’ve only been in her company for a few days.”

“She’s not like the other teachers. She’s nice to me.

She doesn’t say mean things when I don’t know how to do something.”

No, she’d been steadfast and dependable even with the revelation of his son’s illiteracy.

It had been Elliott’s own fault that the teachers previous to her had treated his son with a firm hand. He remembered with perfect clarity when he’d become actively involved in his child’s life— Jacob had been six and had already been through two tutors and four governesses.

It had been after Miss Paisley and her penchant for caning. She’d packed her things immediately after their confrontation, which included him snapping her damn cane right in front of her in a fit of rage. One never raised a hand to a child. Especially his child. It was uncalled for and unacceptable in his house hold. His son would never suffer as he had. Never.

“I promise to do my best to keep her on as your governess. I do believe she wants to stay.” She seemed to like Brendall Castle, a surprise to him because the land and weather this far north were unforgiving to those not acclimated to life here.

Jacob chewed on his bottom lip and seemed to think on his words a moment. “You have to be nice to her. I don’t want her to leave.”

So his son hadn’t been oblivious to his dislike toward previous governesses and tutors. Miss Hallaway was different, though. He’d do his damndest to keep her on. So long as he could control his lusts when she was around, they’d get on amicably. He was sure of it. But damn if he didn’t want her back in his arms, feeling her slight form flush to his larger body.

“I don’t want her to go, either. I, too, like Miss Hallaway.” And not in purely inappropriate ways: She’d not stand idly around and be told what to do, she would push back when he pushed too far, put him in his place if the need arose. He liked and respected all those character traits in her. “Miss Hallaway is going nowhere for the time being. Now go on up to bed, the hour is late.”

“Good night, Father.”

“Sleep well.”

He sat there in his chair, happy for the first time in a long while that his son had taken a liking to someone who was here to teach him and make him a better person than Elliott would ever amount to.

His thoughts ceased with the soft tread of feet outside his study door. He sat forward in his chair, head cocked to the side to better hear. The steps stopped and a soft curse sounded, amusing him to no end. Where had she learned to curse like that?

Should he call out to her or let her come in on her own?

He had the succinct feeling that she’d been avoiding him all day. He assumed because of their foray in the churchyard yesterday.

He’d gone too far. But he couldn’t regret his actions.

Had thanked the heaven’s she’d felt the same need he did.

Had wished he’d been in another time and another place to fulfill both their desires. But the truth of the matter was she was under his employ, she was here for a different purpose entirely than to appease this need he suddenly had for companionship. Her companionship.

If she came to see him, he’d have to do his best to keep from pulling her into his arms and continuing where they’d left off yesterday. From showing her again how much he wanted his hands all over her tiny form. If she walked on by his study, then it was never meant to be between them.

As though his thoughts summoned her, her pixie form filled the open door. Her nose was scrunched up, strands of hair falling from her chignon, and paint stained along the side of her left hand.

He stood from the chair he’d been reposing in and walked to the edge of his desk where he perched himself so he could be closer to her.

Elliott stared at her a long moment. It took everything in him to keep himself balanced on the edge of the desk— away from her, but not too distant. She walked into the room and stood not two feet from him. Restraint was not his forte when in her presence.

He could reach out and pull her into his arms. Run the back of his knuckles down her soft neck, place his lips there and taste her skin. He crossed his arms over his chest instead.

He took a deep inhalation of the fl oral scent she used in her hair. Gardenias. That was the smell. No wonder it had been familiar. It was a scent his mother had used; he’d smelled it often enough as a boy that it was firmly imprinted on his mind.

“How may I be of service, Miss Hallaway?”

“I wanted to talk to you about something that has come to my attention.”

What could it be now? She knew Jacob’s every fl aw—

hopefully there was never a day when she learned of his own inabilities, then she’d definitely think less of him.

“Miss Hallaway,” he prompted.

“I’ve been privy to information I cannot remain quiet on. Your son, who proves to be rather tenacious now that he knows I’ll not judge him for the wrongs of his past teachers, has been unnecessarily spoken down to by some of the staff. I only bring this matter to your attention because he is but a child and children are easily disheartened when those they are supposed to trust offer nothing

but discouragement.”

“What exactly are you asking of me? Everyone living here has been involved with my son’s upbringing.” It was a wild accusation. Who in the house would dare do such a thing?

“The information is now yours to do with as you please, my lord.” She only stared at him through the long fringes of flaxen lashes that fanned her round eyes. Those cat- green eyes of hers beckoned him closer. He barely managed to stay put. “I thought you should know,” she whispered.

“Who,” he asked, needing to know. Needing someone to focus his rage on. Rage he hadn’t felt since the days his father had been alive and last raised his hand against Elliott.

“I cannot betray your son’s trust in revealing the source.

But I would recommend speaking to him on the topic.”

Elliott never discussed lessons with his son. It was too sore a spot for him. But this was something that could not be left alone. He had trusted every member of the house hold with his life— his son’s life. This felt like the worst kind of betrayal. Would Miss Hallaway have any reason to lie to him? He didn’t think so.

He clenched his jaw and gave her a nod. “Thank you,”

was all he could say as his fists clenched and his body filled with tension.

She stepped closer to him. “I would not have brought this to your attention if I thought it unimportant.”

Her closeness made his body tense for an entirely different reason than previously. He looked to the open door behind them then back to her. It was late, but that didn’t mean his son couldn’t wander back downstairs.

“Miss Hallaway?”

Dare he hope she had the same thing on her mind as he?

Where was his will to avoid temptation? Her mouth parted, her tongue flicked out and moistened the bottom lip.

That was his undoing.

He could resist her no longer. Standing from the desk, he cupped her face between his hands and leaned in close to press his lips to hers, licking at the seam, then nipping as he sucked the soft, plump flesh of her lower lip into his mouth.

He backed them up so far as the door so he could close and lock it behind her. She did not protest. In fact, she took his mouth with as much enthusiasm as she had in the churchyard.

Breaking their kiss, he pressed his forehead to hers, his hand caressing her hip as he fought for some degree of control.

He had to take this slower even if it killed him with desire to be inside her with an immediacy that bordered on madness. They were both panting hard from a mere kiss.

“I can’t help myself,” he said.

“Neither can I.”

Well, damn. How could he stop himself?

If she had no intention of stopping his advances then he’d take what he could. He didn’t know the last time he’d hungered for the companionship of a woman. There was something about Miss Hallaway that made him forget common decency.

But that wasn’t what this was about. He knew there could be something more between them. What the more was couldn’t be defined if he didn’t take a chance on her.

She on him.