The Secret Desires of a Governess (17 page)

Jacob set down his tray on a round table close to her, close enough that Abby could serve herself. She twisted around on the seat, intent on helping herself to some food.

Lord Brendall picked up one of the dishes and raised a brow in her direction. For some reason, she didn’t think he planned on serving himself first. Lydia arrived shortly with more food and another dish.

“Is there anything you object to in the setting?” Elliott motioned toward the platters of sweetmeats, cheeses, and bread.

“No, my lord,” Abby responded.

What would Jacob think seeing the lord of the castle waiting hand and foot on her? “Please . . . let me,” she said as he forked a few choice selects of the cheese.

“I insist.” He gave her a pointed look, stalling her from getting to her feet. “You’ll need to get your strength up if we’re to head outdoors.”

“True,” she agreed, since arguing with the man was like arguing with a stone wall.

Jacob stood away from the table, clearly hungry if the gleam in his round eyes was anything to go by.

Elliott must have noticed. He said, “Serve yourself something, Jacob. I’m taking care of Miss Hallaway.”

His tone was gruff, but Jacob was evidently used to it since he didn’t flinch at the demand. He didn’t step forward to help himself until Elliott came toward her, handing her the plate. She doubted she’d be able to eat the amount of food he had served her.

He picked up the cushion that had toppled to the floor and set it up on the bench again.

Expecting him to stop there, she nearly dropped her platter of food to the floor when he lifted her injured leg and swung her back into a position she’d begun to abhor today.

“Lord Brendall,” she admonished, then tempered her voice realizing Jacob watched them closely as he loaded his plate with sandwiches. “Thank you. I’ve been forced to endure this seating arrangement for half a day now. I can manage quite well on my own.” She loathed the fact that he treated her like the damsel in distress, especially in front of others.

“I’ll not take you around the grounds if your ankle swells more because you’ve not done as the doctor directed.”

She’d save her argument that she could take care of herself for when his son wasn’t a spectator.

“Very well. I’ll do my best to keep rested for the next hour or two.” Abby turned to Jacob then and said, “Bring your board over here, so I can show your father what we’ve worked on these past weeks.”

He hesitated only a moment, looking uncomfortable at the prospect of sharing what he’d learned with his father.

Reluctantly, he picked up his chalkboard and handed it to her before taking the chair across from her.

They’d been working on the letter s. A complicated letter when one was learning language. He still inverted the letter. Handing the board to Elliott, she awaited his response. Hopefully he wouldn’t care that the letters were reversed. It was his right, she supposed, to take notice and try to correct the habit in his son. But she hoped he’d take notice to how well his son was doing before lecturing him on how to properly go about writing.

Elliott stared down at the board for a full minute, his brows furrowed. He didn’t look as though he were reading the words, just staring at what his son had done. Was he disappointed? Surely not! Jacob had come far and had exceeded her expectations in so short a while.

Jacob remained silent and had in fact stopped eating as he stared inquisitively at his father.

Without saying a word, he handed the small board back to her, stood from the window bench, and walked over to the table to put down his plate. Jacob’s only reaction was to shove the remainder of his cold meats in his mouth.

Perhaps she acted too hastily in sharing Jacob’s progress. True, it wasn’t what other children his age might be capable of. But it was a step in the right direction. And she’d make Elliott take notice of Jacob’s improvements.

The boy needed the encouragement of his father. Didn’t Elliott see that?

* * *

It had been a long day. Inwardly, he had had to battle his want to stay in her company. But spending the day in her company wasn’t possible. He had his own tasks to accomplish, his own life to

see to. However, in light of everything that had transpired and the subsequent excitement it had put the castle in, he’d declared today a day of rest and minimal work.

Although he hadn’t spent the full day in Abigail’s company, he’d opted to spend a few hours with her and Jacob after lunch. He’d meant to take her for a short walk around the bailey then bring her back into the house to rest her ankle. But she’d convinced him to stay outdoors longer.

Jacob had retrieved an old walking stick for his governess and they had followed her lead outside while she hobbled around the grounds. When her strength had started to wane, he’d given her an arm to lean on. It would have been best to go indoors at that point, but the feel of her next to him, all warm and smelling of flowers, had him eager to stay outdoors.

When she’d completely taxed herself of energy and cited a few expletives away from the ears of Jacob, he’d wrapped his arm around her waist and only let her do half the work in walking.

He’d said nothing during their time together. Instead, he’d listened as Abigail had shouted out complex mathematical equations and his son had prattled off answers in quick succession. So now he knew what they did while outdoors on their morning, and occasionally afternoon, walks.

It eased his heart to know that she worked diligently with Jacob, whether they were in the library or outside.

And Jacob . . . it was obvious the boy had grown close to her in such a short time. Perhaps he saw a mother- like figure in her. Or a friend. More likely the latter since none of the other governesses had tried so hard as Abigail.

While he currently paced the corridor, he knew she rested in the library with a book in hand; at least that was how he’d seen her an hour ago. Martha and the rest of his staff had retired for the evening. So they were quite alone.

It was what he had wanted all day, but now that the time had arrived, he wasn’t sure having her all to himself was a good idea. After their early- morning interlude, he’d no idea how their evening would unfold.

Although he knew how he wanted it to unfold in explicit detail.

He ambled back toward the library. She’d proven well enough this afternoon that she could walk on her own, yet Elliott didn’t plan for her to find her way upstairs alone.

Not to night.

On entering the library, he was surprised to find her sitting primly in a chair, her shoeless foot resting on a few cushions that had been placed on the floor.

“I didn’t think you’d tarry so long this evening.”

He stalled in his steps for only a moment. He hadn’t wasted any time in coming for her. But she would not understand his need to protect what was his. He’d not fail another person in his care. Especially not someone he was growing to care for.

For the first time in all his life, Elliott had clicked over every window and door lock on the main floor of the house.

He was always up before the sun rose, so he’d open up the house for the serving staff before they arrived tomorrow.

But from this point forward he’d take extra precautions where his governess and his boy were concerned.

He made no response until he approached her and gathered her up in his arms.

She made a sound of protest, saying, “You can’t just cart me around as you please, my lord. I did not need your help up to my room.”

“I prefer to carry you. Make a choice: my room or yours.”

She looked him over a long moment. Did she understand the implication of what was left unsaid? Would she refuse him now? Reject him? His palms felt suddenly damp, but he could do nothing about them right now.

“My room,” she finally replied, her hand sliding behind the collar of his shirt, threading through the hair at the back of his head. “Are you always this domineering?”

He chuckled and said, “Yes. A rather unfortunate trait of mine.”

He couldn’t look at her after responding. If he did that, he’d start kissing her, then they wouldn’t make it out of the library for some hours. He had to force himself to go slowly up the stairs, to not take them two at a time as he desperately wanted.

Settling her on her bed, he turned back to the door to lock it behind them. She pushed down the bedding and released the buttons that held a small piece of lace at her wrist.

Unable to take his eyes from her, he watched her loosen the pins in her hair as he placed logs into the fireplace and lit a fire. The room was chilled, but would warm soon enough.

What did she think of him right now? Did she think him a cad, planning on taking advantage of her? Suddenly it dawned on him that that nothing could come of tonight.

She must be tired after everything that had happened today. He certainly was. They’d sleep, but he’d sleep in her room even though the house was locked up and safe for the remainder of the night. And he’d sleep in her bed because he wanted the feel of her body lying next to him.

If he couldn’t spend his days with her, he’d do his damndest in making sure their evenings were spent together.

“You mean to stay?”

He stood now that the fire was well lit and pulled his shirt from his trousers. “I thought I made that clear in the library.”

“What I meant was . . . you intend the spend the whole night sleeping in this bed with me?”

“Yes.” He pulled his shirt over his head and hung it on the chair tucked under the escritoire. She chewed on her bottom lip as she stared back at him.

His trousers would have to remain on. Any less clothing between them and he would be tempted to put them in an entirely different position, one with her legs wrapped around his hips.

“Do you think harm will come to me when I’m sleeping or have you something else in mind?”

“Nothing else in mind. You need your rest.”

Her look was skeptical.

She didn’t believe him. First, he’d locked them in her room so there could be no interruptions. Second, he was very visibly aroused. And she was still fully clothed. What would happen once she undressed for bed? Third, she wanted to reach out and touch the speckling of hair on his beautifully formed chest.

She’d never been overly shy. Even though she’d never undressed for a man before, she didn’t feel nervous. Silly to be nervous after the things they had done with each other. Maidenly reservations simply weren’t part of her makeup. If there was one thing she had learned from her eldest sister, it was that there was nothing to be ashamed about in nudity. The images her sister painted made the female form appear only beautiful. Of course she wouldn’t be completely naked. She’d still have on her unmentionables.

“Are you happy with your son’s progress?” She hadn’t forgotten his silence this afternoon after seeing the chalkboard.

“More than you can imagine.”

“You did not seem pleased when he showed you his board. I understand that his letters are still inverted, but that should correct itself as time goes on. As he practices his writing and reading and gains a better grasp on language in general, it’ll start to disappear.”

At least that was what she hoped. Jacob had proved to be a bright child, so she trusted what her instincts told her on this matter.

“I was well pleased.”

“Then why didn’t you appear so to me?” What was odd was that Jacob hadn’t seemed bothered by

his father’s reaction. Maybe she was making too big a deal about this.

“This is a conversation for another day.”

She pinched her lips together, disappointed that he wouldn’t talk about things of a more personal nature.

Things that would surely shine a light upon the deeper feelings this man held for those he cared about.

As she pulled her bodice off, the material got stuck at her elbow. Elliott knelt on the bed and helped her slide the satiny cloth off. He opened the wardrobe to retrieve a hanger.

On opening the door, he stilled. His jaw clenched as he pulled a hanger down, and shoved the material inside.

“I’m sorry I haven’t moved your wife’s old things from my room. I wasn’t sure where to put them.”

“No need to apologize. It’s Martha who should have had the items removed from here long ago.”

“Haven’t your other governesses said anything about the dresses?”

“They stayed in another room.”

“Oh. Then why didn’t you put me in the room they used?”

He shrugged. “This one was made up. Their accommodations were on the main floor, behind the kitchen. You seemed too delicate to put there. All the past governesses were studier and hardier in nature. At least they always looked that way to me.”

Abby snorted. He obviously didn’t know her well enough yet to make such a bold and false statement. She was no weeping, limp willow.

“Don’t you find it uncanny to share a bed with me in here? One you shared with your wife?”

“This was her spare room. She never slept here.”

“I’ve been all over this house. This is the second nicest room to yours.”

“She slept in my room till Jacob was born.”

“And after?”

“There were rooms above the old church.”

“The church?” Why in heavens would she be put there?

Away from the house, from Elliott, and from her son?

That also meant that the church must have fallen more recently than she’d thought and not during some forgotten battle of centuries past. Should she ask what happened?

Eventually she would find out the truth, but not to night.

Abby slid her skirt from her waist, letting the pleated material fall to the floor. She couldn’t be bothered to pick it up since that would mean standing on her foot. She was just too tired to lift another finger. Elliott was right in that they had both had too much excitement today.

She looked at him quizzically as he picked up the fl ounces of satin and linen and placed it over the chair.

She held out her hand, wanting to feel his warm body tucked along hers. She wondered if this was how married couples acted. If they discussed their lives, their day today, before retiring for the evening. She imagined so.