The Secret Desires of a Governess (13 page)

“Why have you stopped?”

Before she could finish her questions, he yanked at her hand, forcing her to her feet, and brought them both to the sofa.

He didn’t cover himself. Didn’t try to hide the current state she’d put him in. That put a grin on her face.

Goddamn. She’d be the death of him. Elliott sat heavily on the sofa. He’d have that taste of her now. Suck at her juices. Fill her slit and rub at her cleft with his tongue to bring her to a second climax.

At first, he’d been surprised by her actions. This was not something she was skilled in. But it had felt so good and so delightful in some primal way that he hadn’t the sense to tell her they shouldn’t be doing any of this. Where was his will to keep her at a distance? Gone the second she’d stepped through the door.

He was putting her in a bad position— taking her as a lover when she worked for him. Worse, he knew she had not done this before. She’d been so shy and unsure on her knees that the likelihood she’d never been with a man shouldn’t surprise him; it shouldn’t give him a secret thrill that he’d be her first.

Her last.

Good Lord, he needed to put an end to what was about to happen. But how could he? His pants and smalls were ruched down, his cockstand a result of her very presence, and he needed to touch her, to taste her, swirl his tongue around the tips of her breasts and the swell of her clitoris.

Squeeze the rounded globes of her buttocks as he rode them to sweet oblivion over and over again until neither had the strength to move.

She stood before him, no shyness in her outward demeanor. In fact, she stared at the jut of his cock, which throbbed and jerked at her naked regard. He’d have that perfect mouth of hers around his prick another time.

Grabbing her hand, he pulled her closer, going to work on her skirts. The twilled material would only impede what he planned to do.

Maybe after he’d made her come and found his release, he’d stop fantasizing about his governess. Get her out of his system once and for all. The ties now loose on her skirts, he pulled down the heavy layers before she could think to utter a protest.

Not that he thought to hear a protest from her lips after everything they’d done to night. All they would do. It was an inevitable fact that he needed to have her in his bed.

She stood before him, her bodice still in place, her underthings bared to him. He feasted upon the sight. Still too many clothes on her, but he’d be able to do what he wanted. Taste the sweet trea sure between her thighs.

Her small hands rested upon each of his shoulders as he grasped her hips between his hands. He’d known she was small, but once in his clutch she seemed delicate.

More fragile than a porcelain doll. He’d do his damndest to be gentle.

His hands slid around to her rear, forming to the rounded globes like a wet towel on flesh. She swayed forward. Her hands running through his hair, massaging at his scalp.

She pulled him closer, till his forehead pressed against her sternum and her small softly rounded breasts.

When he took a deep inhalation, the gardenia seeped into his nostrils and his body. It was a smell that reminded him of a home filled with love. Filled with everything that was taken away from him the day his mother died and then the day he’d finally lost his wife to madness.

He would not be ruled by his past. Shoving the memories away— hopefully to never be thought on again, though he knew better— he lifted his head and pressed a kiss against her corseted form.

When he looked up to Miss Hallaway, her expression was filled with desire and lust, and something more. More of what he couldn’t even guess at.

Maybe she felt the same loneliness he did. Had the same longing to belong somewhere he could call home.

This heap of rock was his legacy, one his father practically beat him over the head with. Those were thoughts for another time. Another place. Too much misery had filled this house over the years, and he needed just one good thing.

One. And here Miss Hallaway stood.

The slight fl are of her hips between his big rough hands had his cock throbbing. Her innocent scent wrapped around him like the arms of a lover.

Right now all he cared about was having a taste of his sweet governess. Let her make him senseless for the next few hours. Make him forget anything but her lips wrapped around his cock, fucking him with her hot little mouth.

Not wanting to explain himself, knowing she was inexperienced, he moved quickly. Laying her out on the couch, he pressed her legs open so that he could clearly see the slit in her drawers and the thatch of strawberry-colored hair beneath. She squealed out her shock, but made no objections.

He actually groaned at the sight in front of him. It made him want to pull at the hair there, slap at the lips of her sex and heighten her passions to a fever pitch. No, he couldn’t be so rough with her. Slow and gentle, he reminded himself, not the brute he often turned into during sexual congress.

He couldn’t help himself from kissing the linen-covered thatch. Pulling the material aside, he swept his tongue over her wet slit, licking at the juices he knew would be the perfect mix of musk and aroused woman.

He thrust his tongue as deep as he could into her core.

The muscles of her sheath flexed around the welcome intrusion of his tongue.

It wasn’t enough.

He tore at the slit in her drawers, widening the gash, revealing much more of the womanly flesh he would taste.

There was nothing of her body hidden to him now. Her flesh was flushed with desire, her cream slicked her entrance, beckoning him closer.

Rolling his thumb around the juices, he wet the whole of her entrance, spreading the fluid so he could lap it up.

Sliding his thumb into her core slowly, he felt the fl ex of muscles inside her inner walls.

She only stilled for a short while. Maybe he had shocked her. The ministrations of his tongue on her nub had her riding her clitoris against his tongue and mouth with more vigor.

To his delight, she came again with a downpour of her feminine juices.

He pulled his hands away from her, placed a chaste kiss against her wet slit, and stuck his tongue into her core one last time with a groan. Looking up, he watched her watching him.

The only thing he read in her expression was satiation.

But he was far from done with her. She scooted up on the sofa, away from him. Wonderment and shock making her actions hasty.

He wanted to ask her up to his room. To continue where they’d left off. But her expression stopped the words from leaving his mouth.

“This was a mistake,” she said, scrambling to her feet, gathering up her skirts from the floor.

Disappointment didn’t come close to describing what he felt.

Why in hell was she running from him now? “I’d have to disagree.”

“That doesn’t make it right.” She stepped into the material of her skirts and tied it back in place. “I like my position here, Lord Brendall. I don’t want to leave, but if we can’t stop ourselves from doing . . .” She waved her hands angrily, searching for the right words for what they’d just done. He’d made love to her with his mouth, for God’s sake. “Doing things we ought never indulge in, then you’ll be as good as forcing me from the castle.”

“Miss Hallaway.” Elliott sat up and pulled his drawers and trousers back up to his hips. He’d not sit here exposed to her while she rejected him. Not after the pleasures they had shared. How dare she!

Goddamn her. Goddamn him. Goddamn every fucking thing in his life that just didn’t seem to work out for the better in the end.

She didn’t meet his gaze again. She pulled out her remaining hairpins, shook out her long fiery hair, gave him one final long look he didn’t know how to interpret, and left him in the study without another word. He sat heavily on the sofa and rubbed the heel of his palms roughly over his eyes.

Shit.

He’d embarrassed her. Gone too far. Done too much.

What a bleeding idiot he was. He stood and tucked in his shirt, righting the evidence of all he’d done. Though he couldn’t erase the taste of her from his tongue, the lingering softness of her skin beneath his hands.

“My lord,” came Martha’s voice from the door not five minutes later. Elliott looked over to the older woman.

She’d been with his family as far back as he could remember, had cared for him when his mother had died, tended his bruises and cuts after his father’s angry outbursts, helped him through the tough times when his wife would rant and rage nonsensically.

Had she been the one to whisper such hated words to Jacob? Martha had disliked Madeline from her first arrival at the castle. She now had an obvious dislike toward Miss Hallaway. She’d even gone so far as to ask him to have the new governess leave. Martha had insisted she was too young for the position.

“You look troubled. Can I prepare you a drink?”

She’d always been rather perceptive of his moods.

Then he had to wonder if she knew . . . could she know that Elliott had spent the last hour in Miss Hallaway’s company? If she did, would she hate his governess more?

She should have quit from the main house already. Why was she here?

“I’m for bed.”

“Of course, my lord. I’ll see you in the morning.” Head high and shoulders back, she left the room.

The king was not a charitable man and refused the old woman entrance into his domain. Before the king could lock the door, she whispered words so hateful upon his house hold that the king banished her from his kingdom forevermore.

—The Dragon of Brahmors

Abby had hardly slept a wink over the past week. Thoughts of Elliott weighed heavily on her mind. Refusing to lie in bed tired, and yet wide awake, she’d dressed and made her way out of doors.

She doubted anyone was up at this early hour. The sun barely speared across the horizon, shading it a warm orange topaz. Not quite day, not quite night. She leaned against the parapet wall, elbows resting against the back ledge, and let the cool morning air infuse her bones.

She was so sapped of energy, she wanted to let the wind carry her away. Carry her so far off the beaten path that she would be back in the warm comfort of her sisters’ arms.

They would tell her what she should do. Give her the guidance she desperately needed. Because for the life of her, she didn’t know what would come next. How she should act. What she should say or do.

What had she allowed to happen with Lord Brendall?

That had been on her mind for too many days now. What had she been thinking? Clearly, she hadn’t been thinking at all. She’d been incredibly embarrassed when she had finally come to her senses and fled to the privacy of her own bedchamber.

What did Elliott think of her? She hadn’t even been able to face him after everything that they’d done and shared. Had barely been able to look him in the eye.

He’d avoided her since that night, too.

She couldn’t afford the distraction his lordship presented. Couldn’t play this game whose rules she didn’t understand. In fact there were no rules, and she didn’t like that. It meant not having control over what happened.

Turning toward the North Sea, she perched her elbows on the stone ledge in front of her and set her chin on her folded hands.

The sea was rough this morning, the waves high and the water churning angrily. Could the first storm of the season be on its way? Once winter set in, it would be impossible to leave. The roadways were sure to close to travelers.

Did she plan to leave? Walk away from the opportunity of helping a child she’d come to adore in such a short time? Walk away from a man who made it impossible for her to think clearly? The only man who had ever made her feel so much emotion, desire, and passion with a mere look in her direction.

If she stayed at Brendall Castle for the next few months, what would happen between her and Elliott? Resisting the allure of what he offered would be impossible. This was the crux of her conundrum. Stay and become a mistress of sorts to her employer, or leave and reevaluate what it was she wanted in her life. She definitely didn’t want to leave, but maybe it was the right thing to do.

If she left, she’d never know what it was to desire a man so much that she lost her wits whenever he was around.

That was not a state she’d ever found herself in before. Men had always failed to truly interest her, to the point that she had begun to think there was something wrong with her.

That was one reason she’d decided never to marry; the other was that she didn’t want to lose herself once she married. She felt as though she’d sacrifice a small part of herself if she gave a man any control over her life.

She pushed out a heavy sigh. As much as she’d like to stay out here and contemplate her path in life, she couldn’t brood for much longer. Jacob would be in the library in a few hours for his lessons. And while she remained at the castle, she was determined to teach him the basis for reading and writing. She would succeed with him.

She stood and decided on a walk before returning back to the main house. Fresh air would do her good, despite the light drizzle that misted the air. She missed her daily walks with her sisters and she hadn’t been able to cull the habit even though the air was sometimes quite bitter in the early morning. Walking always helped her to think more clearly.

If she did decide to leave, would Lord Brendall continue to go through a string of governesses? If Jacob were her son, she’d do everything in her power to correct the issue as it stood.

When she came to the crumbled wall of the parapet, she held the opposite side and stepped over the fallen stones carefully. It probably wasn’t smart to walk this way. Her only design had been to watch the rhythmic slap of the sea against the shore. It was comforting and mesmerizing. Lulling. Though, she supposed, she could have stuck to the sand dunes on the beach below. Or walked grass on the opposite side of the sea.

Her foot slipped on the loose rocks. She caught herself before she could fall. That was until a great gust of wind and the force of someone pushing her made her stumble toward the unsteady wall. She grappled for a hold, but the wall had met great damage over the years and it collapsed beneath her fingers.

She screamed as she tumbled toward the wide- open space and a far drop in front of her. There was no purchase to be found as she slid from the walk and into the open air.

There was a ledge some ten or fi fteen feet down. She landed hard on her ankle, twisting it painfully as she hit the stone with enough force to send all the air out of her lungs. She bit her lip to keep herself from throwing up from the sharp pain shooting through her leg. The sun still hadn’t lit the sky enough for her to see her surroundings—

not that she could see anything with her eyes filled to the brim with tears.

The pounding of feet grew louder. The shout of a man sounded, but the words could not be made out with the wind picking up around her.

She was whimpering, tears falling down her face as she felt around the ledge she’d fallen to. She wasn’t sure how to get back to the castle, or how to get down from the high perch. As soon as the sun was up, she’d probably find a door that led to some secret passageway in this old castle.

She looked around her carefully, trying to see if someone lurked above.

Why would someone push her? Was it her imagination that someone had done something so cruel? Could it have been the wind pushing her over the ledge? She doubted that. There had definitely been someone there to precipitate the fall.

“Abigail!” someone yelled in the distance.

She swiped the tears away from her cheek with the back of her hand and looked up to the wall.

“Here . . . I’m here,” she called back, voice shaky.

Small pebbles and dust rained down on her as someone settled above on the parapet. She raised her arms above her head to shield her eyes from falling debris.

“I ran up here the moment I saw you go over the edge.”

Lord Brendall. The very man she hadn’t been able to rid her mind of.

“Did you see what happened?” She needed to know if someone had pushed her.

“I saw. Don’t know who was up here with you, but you didn’t fall on your own.”

Not her imagination then that someone had pushed her.

“Can you move?”

“I think so.” She prodded the flesh around her ankle, feeling for broken bones. She hissed in a sharp breath when she hit a sensitive spot and pulled her hand away from the tenderness. “Perhaps not,” she cried. Fresh tears fell from her eyes.

“I’m coming down.” Elliott’s voice was laced with anger.

“Is there a door on this level?” she asked.

“Yes, but it’s too dark for you to find.”

More sand and pebbles rained down around her. She shielded her eyes again. She bloody well would find the door. She didn’t like being helpless. Not in the least. But she couldn’t even get her feet under her and push herself to a standing position.

“I doubt I’m going anywhere,” she mumbled and bit back a sob.

She peeked up at that ledge she’d fallen off only to spy Lord Brendall swinging over the edge. “What in God’s name are you doing, my lord?”

“Coming down to help you.”

“You can’t do that. I’ll wait till you come around to this level. You’re going to hurt yourself. I will not be the cause of your death!”

“Someone could be making their way down to your level to finish what they started. I’ll not leave you alone.”

Abby gasped at the realization that he was right. Someone had wanted to harm her a great deal. Why, though?

She’d been here less than a month. No one knew who she really was, not that that would matter to anyone if they were adamant about taking her away from the land of the living. But had they known who she really was, they might think twice about trying to rid the world of her. She had powerful relations.

Still, none of this made sense.

Elliott swung his legs over the edge and jumped down next to her, landing in a crouch. He dusted his hands off on his trousers, and then cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away some of the tears she was helpless to fight in her pain.

She nuzzled into his palm and felt more tears fall. God, she’d missed his touch. Had craved it while she had been avoiding him this past week. What if Elliott hadn’t seen her fall? Would anyone have come to look for her here? Would her attacker have come back to finish the job?

“We’ll get you back to the house in a minute. I’m just going to check you for any injuries.”

His hands were so warm and sturdy as he checked her arms and her back with a firm, steady touch. She concentrated on the feel of him pressing into every part of her body. Having something else to focus on dulled the pain in her ankle to an incessant throb.

On reaching her palms, he hissed in a breath. She pulled her hands away, curling them up and hiding them in her lap. “They sting, nothing more. They’ll heal well enough.”

“We need to get you washed up and clean these cuts out.” He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped at her tears again. Embarrassed by the fact that she couldn’t stop crying, she took the cloth from him, wiped under her eyes and nose, and tucked the material in the sleeve of her bodice.

“Tell me where else you’re hurt.” The note of worry in his voice made her heart flutter in nervousness.

“Just my ankle pains me. I’ve been able to move it, so I don’t think it’s broken.”

He tossed up the lower portion of her skirts and loosened the laces on her short boots. Her lip trembled as she bit back a cry when he removed it. At the very least, it was sprained.

“We’ll put ice on this when we get back to the house.

I’ll send for a doctor, but it’ll be a couple of hours before he arrives.”

She knew who the doctor was. Had seen him when she’d attended church with Lydia last Sunday. Lydia had been quite smitten with him.

“Why do the townspeople dislike you so much?”

She wished the words back as soon as she’d said them.

Now was not the time to question Lord Brendall. Elliott.

He was Elliott to her now.

“That is a question for another day.” At least he didn’t seem offended by it. “Come, put your arms around my shoulders, I’ll carry you back to the house.”

She didn’t argue. She wanted to hold him close. She’d missed him. Funny how she’d done everything in her power to ignore him; and he, her. Yet she’d missed him with a that had her arms tightening around his broad shoulders.

“Did you see who was on the parapet with me?”

“No. But I will find out.”

He lifted her, one arm under her knees to support the other behind her back. The movement made her nauseous and the throbbing of her ankle more noticeable. Her arms tightened further around Elliott’s shoulders, and she had to place her forehead against his collarbone to take in steady even breaths. She did not want to throw up, but the reality was that she might.

“My head is spinning.”

“I’ll retrieve some laudanum for you. It will dull the pain.”

She shook her head. She didn’t want to take anything that would dull her senses. She needed her wits about her if someone had set out to hurt her intentionally. She also needed her wits about her if she was to be alone for any length of time in Elliott’s company.

To take her mind from the pain, she asked, “Why is this ledge

here? Seems counterproductive in defending the castle from intruders.”

Elliott hefted her higher in his arms as he reached toward the wall, looking for something, the access point she was sure. Seemed even he had difficulty finding it in the dim light. A piece of the rock moved and opened up to a long stone tunnel that was as black as a starless, cloudy night and musky with dampness from the sea.

“It was put in when my family took the castle. Wars have long since ceased in this part of the country. I think this perch was put here when my ancestors were fixing the exterior wall. The castle was in great disrepair when we took it over. Not from neglect but from its final battle.”

The tunnel around them was cool, the air thick with water. She realized then that she’d lost her shawl and snuggled closer to Elliott, wanting to steal as much warmth from him as possible. Was it wrong for her to want to bask in his arms? It felt right to be held like this. And so wrong.

So very wrong that it brought fresh tears to her eyes. This time, she managed to stop them from spilling over the rim of her eyes.

She was overly emotional because she was hurt. She knew that. She laid her cheek in the spot between Elliott’s shoulder and neck and inhaled his masculine scent. He smelled clean, like bay leaf soap. That made her think of baths. And being naked with his lordship. She took a deep breath and tried to mentally shake the thought away. She was becoming delirious as her body adjusted to the pain.

“I feel ill,” she whispered.

“You’ll be fine once I set you down. Then we’ll get your ankle looked after. I will send Thomas for the sawbones.”

“No. I won’t need a doctor. I just need to rest.” She yawned. Too many days of little sleep were catching up with her. “Really tired.”

“Sleep then. I’ll watch after you. The doctor is a friend, so you’ll be in good hands.”

She closed her eyes because she couldn’t keep them open a second longer. The thud of his heart in her ear was soothing. Hypnotizing.