His Wicked Embrace (11 page)

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Authors: Adrienne Basso

BOOK: His Wicked Embrace
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“Yes, it is amazing.” Isabella bit her lip nervously before uttering her next remark. “However, I think this peculiar behavior only illustrates how deeply the children, especially Catherine, crave the attention and love of their father.”
The expression on the earl's handsome face was guarded. “I may not be, in your opinion, the most attentive parent on earth, but I can assure you, Isabella, I cherish my son and daughter.”
The remoteness in the earl's eyes betrayed his inner feelings, and Isabella realized suddenly that she had wounded him. It surprised and disturbed her, for it had not been her intention.
“I did not mean to offend you, Damien,” she insisted contritely. “I have merely observed that Catherine and Ian miss their father. They have seen very little of you this past week.”
“This is an exceedingly busy season at The Grange,” Damien said abruptly, obviously still feeling the sting of her remarks. “I have numerous responsibilities on the estate that cannot be ignored.”
“You also have a responsibility to your children, sir,” Isabella replied quietly. “They have not spoken with you in days.”
The earl turned his back on Isabella in annoyance. Her words rankled him, yet he knew in his heart that she spoke the truth. He had allowed his duties on the estate to monopolize his time, and apparently Catherine and Ian were suffering because of it. There was no excuse for neglecting his children, no matter how busy he was. And it was even more annoying to have a new governess point out his shortcomings to him.
Damien strode to the door and swung it open, but paused for a moment before leaving. “I shall return to the castle today for tea. I expect you and the children to join me in the drawing room at the appropriate time.” The door closed quietly behind him.
Isabella collapsed in the chair after he left, a feeling of exhaustion overwhelming her. She could barely believe she had the nerve to call the earl to task on his parental obligations. And he had listened to her. But she had truly believed Catherine's odd behavior was caused by the absence of her father's love and attention, and she had no intention of letting that disgraceful condition continue as long as the children were under her care.
 
 
Thwack! Thwack!
The sound rang rhythmically through the quiet woods as the earl raised his ax and swung hard at the thick tree stump.
“She wants me to spend more time with my children,” Damien muttered as he brought the ax up for another swing. “She thinks I neglect them, and because I have been such a poor parent, Catherine has developed this strange obsession with soldiers and battles and death.”
“Miss Browning said you are neglecting the children?” Jenkins asked in amazement. The valet sat up, abandoning his relaxed pose against a giant elm, as the earl hacked away at the stump. “She actually called you a poor father?”
“In so many words,” Damien replied, making contact again with the thick tree stump. Small chips of bark flew in all directions, but the earl did not seem to notice. “Then in the next breath she was berating me for being too strict with Catherine and Ian. She told me that by demanding perfect behavior from them, I was suppressing their natural curiosity and stunting their growth, or some such nonsense.”
The valet winced at the earl's annoyed tone and shook his head regretfully. “So you have dismissed Miss Browning,” Jenkins stated slowly, his voice tinged with disappointment. “I must confess Damien, I shall miss her. I have grown rather fond of her.”
“In one short week?” the earl questioned sarcastically, not wanting to admit to himself that he was also developing a fondness for the pretty young governess. Taking one final swing at the now split tree stump, the earl grinned at his valet.
“There is no need to look so downhearted, Jenkins,” Damien told his servant. “I did not fire Miss Browning. Although I certainly had grounds.” Damien dropped the heavy ax and wiped the sweat off his brow with his shirt sleeve. His muscular body felt strained and tired from the intense physical exertion, but his mind was still tense. “I always thought governesses were timid creatures, Jenkins, the sort of employee one would barely notice. They have always struck me as gray, drab women who glide unobtrusively through the household, often disappearing into the background entirely.”
“Miss Browning is not a typical governess,” Jenkins replied, clearly pleased that his employer had not sent Isabella packing. “If she were, she would not have lasted more than one night at The Grange.”
The earl chuckled at that remark. “No, I don't suppose an ordinary governess would feel comfortable in our household.” Over the years, the oddness of his staff had become an eccentric point of amusement for the earl. “Did you know she thought I was responsible for the housemaids being pregnant?”
“All four of them?” Jenkins uttered a short laugh and passed a wooden bucket of water to the earl. Damien dipped a ladle into the bucket and took a long swallow. Then he poured the remainder over his head, enjoying the feel of the cool water on his heated skin.
“Isabella might have misunderstood about the maids, but she is right about my neglecting Catherine and Ian,” the earl admitted. Damien picked up his ax and started walking towards the clearing where the rest of the work crew was eating their lunch. Jenkins quickly fell in step with him. “I suppose I should be grateful that she cares enough about the children to call me to task on it.”
“You spend more time with Catherine and Ian than most parents of your class,” Jenkins was quick to defend the earl.
“That is not a very good comparison, Jenkins,” the earl retorted. “In my experience, most members of the ton are too frivolous and preoccupied with social events to spare much time or thought for their offspring.”
“Good Lord, Damien, you have been occupied with countless estate matters this past week, not a round of social obligations. The children understand your many responsibilities. And so should Miss Browning.”
“I don't think it particularly matters to my children or Miss Browning how I spend my time. The point is that I have not been with Catherine and Ian.”
Jenkins eyed the earl curiously as they reached the clearing. “How do you propose to remedy the situation?”
“I am going back to The Grange this afternoon to have tea with my children and their governess,” Damien replied smoothly, his eyes twinkling with amusement at the stunned expression on Jenkins's face. It gave the earl a certain sense of satisfaction to know that after all their years together, he still possessed the ability to surprise his valet.
Chapter Ten
Afternoon tea was a disaster. The quiet, demure children Isabella had previously voiced her concerns about were boisterous, loud, and rude from the moment their father entered the drawing room. Catherine and Ian bickered passionately with each other over who would sit next to the earl while tea was served, and both grumbled noisily over the compromise of allowing him to sit between the two. They continually interrupted each other's sentences and unabashedly tried to outmaneuver each other for their father's undivided attention.
Damien remained perfectly calm amidst the chaos of his undisciplined children, listening with avid curiosity to their stories and making appropriate comments when necessary. He made no move, however, to correct their appalling behavior, even as Catherine threatened to hurl her teacup at her younger brother when Ian attempted to eat the last remaining strawberry tart.
“You already ate two pastries, Catherine,” Ian insisted, in a sharp tone Isabella never before heard the young boy use. “This one is mine.”
“Oh, no, it is not,” Catherine retorted, raising her empty china teacup. “I want the tart, Ian. And if you do not hand it over to me this minute, I'm going to cosh you over the head.” Catherine swung her arm higher in the air to emphasize her resolve.
“Catherine!” Isabella exclaimed in a voice filled with indignation. “Put that tea cup down this instant!”
Catherine opened her mouth as if to protest Isabella's command but remained silent when she caught a glimpse of the earl's stern features. Reluctantly, Catherine lowered her arm, although she continued to glare challengingly at her younger brother.
Isabella let out the breath she had been holding as Catherine resumed her seat. The momentary calm was shattered as Ian and Catherine both made a sudden, simultaneous grab for the pastry. Isabella saw their intent and somehow managed to be quicker than either of them. Impulsively, she snatched the offending pastry off the tray, and in a final desperate attempt to prevent the children from coming to physical blows, stuffed the strawberry tart into her mouth.
Her completely unexpected action stunned the children into silence. Catherine, Ian, and the earl stared openly as Isabella struggled to keep from choking while she chewed and then tried to swallow the large, dry tart.
Isabella refused to allow the embarrassment she felt to show. Boldly, she returned the shocking stares she received from the earl and his children, her jaw moving ferociously as she chewed the tart, her deep violet eyes sparkling with anger, daring any one of them to make a comment. When at last her throat was clear, Isabella announced in her sternest, most proper governess's voice, “Children, tea is over. However, before you take your leave of this room, you will apologize to your father for your rude behavior and unmannerly display this afternoon.”
Isabella braced herself for a tirade of protest, intending to stand firm, but one stern look from Damien and the children begrudgingly complied with Isabella's request.
The welcoming silence that descended on the drawing room after Catherine and Ian departed helped sooth Isabella's ragged nerves. She had spent the past two hours correcting, admonishing, and outright threatening her charges in an effort to make them behave in a civilized manner. In the end her efforts met with very little success. She felt drained and agitated and was certain these emotions were plainly written on her face.
Isabella glanced speculatively at the bottle of brandy on the sideboard as she poured herself a cup of lukewarm tea. Even though she rarely consummed them, the idea of strong spirits to calm her ragged nerves held definite appeal. Yet she would never be so bold as to pour herself a glass, especially in front of the earl.
Isabella was, in fact, afraid to look at Damien, not wishing to see the disapproval and reproach he must certainly be feeling reflected in his eyes. What must he think of her! Was she so poor a governess that she could not keep two young children under control long enough to have a civil cup of tea with their father?
The earl rose from the brocade settee and stretched his long legs. He walked carefully toward the sideboard and poured two generous portions of brandy. Wordlessly, he crossed the room and held out a glass to Isabella. She looked up, startled, as he pressed the goblet into her hand, but offered no protest.
“You look as though you could use this, Isabella,” Damien said with a distinct twinkle in his eye. “I know I certainly need lit.”
Isabella did not miss the amusement on his handsome face. “I can see you find this entire situation humorous, sir,” she said dryly, “though for the life of me I cannot imagine why.”
“Come now, Isabella, I thought you would be pleased,” Damien replied with a teasing smile. “Catherine and Ian were acting like their mischievous little selves again. Wasn't it just this morning you were saying how concerned you were because the children were not exercising their . . . um . . . how exactly did you phrase it? Oh, I remember . . . their 'natural curiosity.' ”
Isabella stifled a groan at the earl's remark. For a brief moment she wondered if Damien had put his children up to this afternoon's antics but she quickly ruled out the possibility. No father in his right mind would willingly encourage such appalling, obnoxious behavior.
“Encouraging a child's natural curiosity is one thing, sir,” Isabella insisted, as she took a small sip of the brandy. “Tolerating their unruly and rude behavior is an entirely different matter.”
“They weren't all that bad today,” Damien said in a conversational tone. He drained his glass and refilled it before reclaiming his seat. “If I remember correctly, the last time my children fought over a pastry, Catherine lost a clump of her hair.”
“Ian pulled out Catherine's hair?”
“Only a small amount,” Damien clarified calmly. “Of course, he was provoked. Catherine bit him on the arm. Twice, I believe.”
“Hair pulling and arm biting over Mrs. Amberly's dry strawberry tarts,” Isabella said, shaking her head in amazement. “I shudder to think what would occur if Catherine and Ian sampled a competent pastry chef's wares.”
“It could very well mean war.”
Isabella could not prevent the small laugh that rose to her lips. She took another sip of her drink. “Yes, I can picture it clearly. Teacups being thrown, hair being lost, numerous body parts being bitten.”
The earl indulged in a low chuckle and Isabella felt her heart lurch at the rich, intimate sound. Why did she find him so incredibly appealing? Deliberately focusing her attention away from the restless churning in her stomach, she cleared her throat loudly and said in a serious voice, “I don't intend to treat this lightly. It was amply demonstrated this afternoon that I need to exercise greater control over my charges. Yet, I feel strongly that the reason for the children's appalling behavior is their quest for your attention, sir.”
“I believe you are making far too much of all this,” Damien insisted, trying not to concentrate on her delicate face. Her cheeks were flushed from the brandy, and a wisp of chestnut hair grazed her temple. Damien thought she looked lovely, disturbingly so. “My children are merely high-spirited, Isabella.”
“I prefer them disciplined. Are you going to support me in my efforts?”
“Yes,” Damien whispered softly.
“Good,” Isabella replied with a satisfied nod. She lifted her chin defiantly and gazed directly into Damien's bold gray eyes, determined to conquer the strange emotions he inspired.
It was a mistake. Damien met her direct stare with an intense, powerful look that sent chills up and down her spine. His eyes held a challenge she did not fully understand, yet she admitted honestly to herself that she was intrigued. Though they were separated by several feet, Isabella swore she could feel the heat of his powerful body.
They would have sat there indefinitely, if not suddenly interrupted by Jenkins's voice.
“Are you going to ride out and inspect the work on the south fence before darkness, my lord?”
“Certainly, Jenkins,” Damien replied, tearing his eyes away from Isabella to answer his valet. “Miss Browning and I have a few matters to settle first. I will ride out shortly.”
Freed from the hypnotic power of the earl's glance, Isabella rose from her chair and stepped to the far side of the drawing room. Fearing to look at the earl again, she deliberately turned her back to him, starring unseeingly out the window.
Damien remained quiet for a long time. Each time he was alone with Isabella, she had a decidedly unsettling effect on him. Somehow she managed to stir up smoldering emotions and passions that he had almost forgotten he possessed. With just a few innocent glances, Isabella had shown him just how close to the surface these feelings lay, and how quickly she could bring them to life.
Yet Damien was determined to resist her, no matter how appealing he found her. He would keep his feelings firmly in check and remain immune to her charms. He fought for and regained his self-control.
“How do you propose to reconcile this problem of my children's need for attention and my obligation to run this estate?”
Isabella shivered visibly at the sound of his voice. She swallowed several times before answering. “Is it possible for Catherine and Ian to accompany you when you attend to certain estate matters? Perhaps they can ride with you when you visit your tenants?”
Damien thought a few moments before answering. “Generally, I leave the house very early in the morning and am often miles away before Catherine and Ian even awaken. And I only visit my tenants if there is a problem.”
“I don't suppose you could return for afternoon tea each day?”
“So I can referee the fights over strawberry tarts?”
Damien's lighthearted remark eased the tension within Isabella, and she summoned the courage to turn around and face him.
“Well, sir, if I promise to do my best to prevent the fights, will you promise to come to tea?”
“I will be here at least twice each week,” the earl declared. “Perhaps Catherine and Ian can join me for dinner Saturday evening?”
Isabella rolled her eyes at the notion. Visions of mashed potatoes and peas being flung across the dining room table filled her head. “The children are a bit young to be eating dinner so late in the evening,” Isabella hedged. “It might be better to wait until Sunday. I am sure you can find some free time after we return from Sunday services.”
The earl stiffened at her remark. “I do not attend church services, Isabella,” Damien said tersely. “And neither do my children.” He held her gaze for a chilling instant, allowing no emotion to cross his face. “Is that clearly understood?”
Isabella blinked uncertainly. “You have made your point, sir.” Isabella was astonished by his vehement declaration and very curious. Too curious to resist asking, “Is it merely church you object to, sir, or do you have something against God?”
“Not personally,” Damien replied with a note of temper in his voice. “It is my opinion that the majority of individuals who attend services in this community act as though spending an hour in pious prayer absolves them of a week of sinning. I'd like to think I'm not quite so hypocritical.”
Isabella raised her eyebrows questioningly. “Surely that cannot be the only reason you do not attend Sunday services?”
Damien gave a harsh laugh. “You are very aware of the ugly gossip that surrounds my name, Isabella. I refuse to bring my children into the village and expose them to all those malicious lies.”
“I would think the people of this village could find a more worthy subject of conversation,” Isabella said lightly. “And I highly doubt anyone would have the audacity, or the courage, to insult you or your children directly. If you faced the gossips head on, Damien, they might just move on to more juicier scandals.”
The earl was not convinced. “I will not subject Catherine and Ian to any scrutiny,” Damien declared in a firm voice.
“Do you object to my attending services?”
Damien frowned slightly. “Your presence will certainly cause comments.” When Isabella did not respond, the earl concluded impatiently, “Ultimately, it is your decision to make, Isabella. As long as you do not involve my children, I have no right to object. In fact, I insist you take my carriage.”
“Thank you,” Isabella replied, inclining her head with icy politeness. “I should be honored.”
“Fine,” Damien replied, slightly annoyed because she appeared determined to follow a course he felt certain would cause her discomfort. “I wish to have supper with Catherine and Ian on Saturday evening. I shall instruct Mrs. Amberly to serve the meal promptly at seven o'clock.” He cast her a sly look. “Naturally, I expect you to be in attendance.”
“Naturally,” Isabella repeated faintly, her heart fluttering anew at the thought of spending an evening in the earl's company.
Damien walked to the door. “If you will excuse me, I should like to see about those fences before darkness falls.” The earl hesitated, but departed the room without another word.

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