An Improper Governess: An Improper Liaisons Novella, Book 2 (7 page)

“Really? You would do that?” How strange to think a rakehell like Sir Nicholas should have a sudden attack of conscience. Or that he was willing to overlook her shocking transgression.

“Really.” Sir Nicholas smiled a little and took a step closer to her. His musky, sandalwood scent stirred her blood almost as much as his next words. “On the other hand, and you can correct me if I’m wrong, I suspect a spirited soul like you finds being a governess rather mundane. A safe but entirely drudging existence. I think you crave excitement and passion just like I do.”

Abigail swallowed.
Dear Lord, how easily he reads me.

Reaching out, Sir Nicholas brushed an errant tendril of her hair away from her rain-damp cheek and tucked it behind her ear. Such a simple gesture, yet Abigail shivered with awareness. “I think you and I will suit each other very well. But I only want you to enter into this proposed arrangement if you are sure it is something you want too.” And then his hand fell away. And he waited.

The sound of drumming rain filled the silence between them for one long moment. A moment taut with expectation as Abigail considered her options.

And then she drew in a fortifying breath and stepped over the precipice of no return. “There is something you could do that might help me make a decision. One way or the other.”

Amusement sparked in Sir Nicholas’s eyes. “I’m open to any reasonable suggestion. What do you have in mind?”

“I’d like you to kiss me.”

The corner of Sir Nicholas’s mobile mouth curled into a smile. “Well, I’m more than happy to oblige, Miss Adams.”

Her body thrumming with anticipation, Abigail’s breath caught as Sir Nicholas’s hand slid to her waist, drawing her closer; even that light touch seemed to sear her through her clothes. Lifting her chin with gentle fingers, his gaze traced over her face before focusing on her mouth.

Dear God, even the way he looked at her made her burn. Made her pulse dance a wild rhythm. What would it be like when his lips touched hers? Impatience made her restless. Curling her fingers into the lapels of his coat, she grumbled, “Why do you delay, sir? Is there something wrong?”

Another seductive smile. “This is our first kiss, Miss Adams. I’m savoring the moment.”

“Is that what you call it? It feels more like torture.”

“Hush.” Sir Nicholas’s thumb brushed across her bottom lip, effortlessly fanning the flames of her desire. And then at long last, he framed her face with his large hands and lowered his mouth to hers.

And Abigail melted.

Yes.
Lips, firm and warm, moved over hers with consummate skill. Coaxing and arousing. Setting her entire body alight with a need she could no longer ignore. With a moan she yielded to the hot flicker of his tongue across the seam of her lips. Let him in, let him taste and explore her with a thoroughness that made her head spin.

It had been so, so long since she’d been held like this. Touched like this.
Ravished like this.
Her memories of being kissed were but insubstantial shadows compared to the blazing reality of this wonderfully erotic encounter. Spearing her fingers into the short, silky hair at Sir Nicholas’s nape, she dragged him closer and tasted him back, relishing the velvet rasp of his tongue against hers, his rich taste. His heat. His hard, masculine strength.

His lust.

As soon as one incendiary kiss ended, another began. When Abigail nipped at Sir Nicholas’s lower lip, he growled in appreciation and backed her into the oak-paneled wall beside the window. Pressed against the long, powerful length of him, Abigail could feel every hard contour of his body. His burgeoning erection...

The clear evidence of Sir Nicholas’s desire set her blood singing. To know that this man’s hunger was as strong as her own was beyond thrilling. He devoured her like a man starved for kisses. Like he couldn’t get enough of her. His hands slid in a long, gliding caress over her neck, across her shoulders and down her back, raising delicious tremors wherever he touched. Cupping her bottom, he pulled her firmly against him and there was no mistaking his arousal; his iron-hard shaft jutted into her belly. Her sex tightened with longing and she squirmed to ease the pressure.

And that’s when she knew Sir Nicholas’s kisses wouldn’t be enough for her either.

Panting, she pulled her mouth away to at last confess her need but Sir Nicholas spoke first.

“This is what you do to me,” he groaned, as he gently thrust his hips against her again. “This is why I want you so badly.” He brushed his lips across her jaw and tugged lightly on her earlobe with his teeth before adding in a hot, ragged whisper, “I’ve felt this way from the moment we met and I’m not ashamed to admit I was thinking about you at the lake. But,” he raised his head, locking his smoldering gaze with hers, “the question still is, have you decided what
you
want, Miss Adams? Have you made up your mind? Will you accept my wicked and thoroughly indecent proposition? Or not...?”

Abigail laid a hand on Sir Nicholas’s wide chest and through the layers of silk and cambric she felt him draw in a deep breath. Felt the thunder of his heart. “Yes, I accept. I will be your mistress.” She dared to place her other hand against his lean jaw. “I want you too.”

“
I
want you too
.”

Nicholas turned his head and kissed Miss Adams’s—Abigail’s—palm. After the incident at the lake, he’d set out to seduce this beautiful woman—had ruthlessly taken advantage of her vulnerability—and he’d succeeded in getting what he wanted. But as she’d touched his jaw, her fingers had trembled and an uncharacteristic surge of tenderness had washed over him. Despite his triumph—and despite the fact she was ruled by her desires just as much as he was—he couldn’t help but feel like a satyr despoiling a maiden.

He’d never deliberately ruined a woman before, but without a doubt, that’s what he was doing by persuading Abigail to give up her safe, respectable existence and become his mistress. A better man would resist his carnal urges and wouldn’t have propositioned her the way he’d just done. But he wasn’t that man.

He brushed a finger down her flushed cheek. “I’m delighted to hear you say yes. And that you want me too, Miss Adams. Or may I call you Abigail?”

The smile she gifted him was delightfully shy. “Of course.”

Nicholas couldn’t resist kissing her again. And she kissed him back with a desire that matched his own. As he’d long suspected, she definitely wasn’t an innocent. She would be able to feel his raging erection and she clearly wasn’t perturbed. Far from it. The hand she’d pushed inside his coat earlier had worked its way south and her fingers were now curled into the waistband of his buckskin breeches. Fire seared through him straight to his groin at the thought she might stroke his cock. God, he had to have her, sooner rather than later... Right now.

He was just about to palm one of her breasts when she broke their kiss yet again. “If you don’t mind my asking, how will things proceed?” she asked in a deliciously husky voice. “I imagine it will take a little while to make the arrangements you suggested. In London. I could come to your room tonight... Or you could come to mine...”

“Or we could lock the drawing room door.” He dropped an open-mouthed kiss upon her neck, inhaling her delicious scent —was that lily-of-the-valley he detected?—before he brushed his lips along her jaw. “No one will disturb us.”

She stiffened a little and as he drew back he caught a shadow of uncertainty crossing her face.

“You’re concerned about your reputation,” he said softly. It suddenly occurred to him that it was Abigail’s paradoxical qualities that had him so enthralled; that beneath Miss Adams’s very proper governess’s exterior lurked a passionate woman. A veritable siren.

He couldn’t wait to get to know that side of her. But in the meantime, he would do what he could to allay her concerns.

“I know it sounds ridiculous,” she said with a small sigh as she fiddled with his lapel. “You’d think my reputation shouldn’t matter to me considering the fact I will be leaving here. Most of the staff probably suspect something already. Especially Mrs. Graham.” She grimaced and transferred her attentions to the top button of his silk waistcoat. “Colin is probably waiting for me in the library right now.”

The bloody footman. Surely she didn’t have a
tendre
for the presumptuous upstart. “I knew this interview might take a while so I had Lawson reassign him. I’m sorry if I’ve made things awkward for you.”

A mischievous smile lit her eyes. “No you’re not.”

“You’re right. I don’t give a jot about what the staff think, including Mrs. Graham. Or my sister-in-law for that matter. No one has a claim on your time except me, sweetheart. And I’m definitely not sorry about that.” He trailed a finger along the neckline of her plain green gown. Her pulse leapt in her throat and he smiled. He would dress her in the finest satins and silks and velvets. Or better still, nothing at all. Leaning in, his lips brushed her shell-like ear as he whispered, “I’ll take care of you, Abigail.”

Her breath caught and she splayed her hands over his chest. “All right. We’ll lock the door.”

“Excellent.”

* * *

A
s Sir Nicholas
secured the double oak doors, Abigail placed her hands over her hot cheeks. Dear God. She’s just agreed to have sexual relations with her employer—or perhaps she should now think of him as her protector—in the middle of the afternoon in the drawing room of Hartfield Hall. The notion was both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. She moved away from the window toward the center of the room and hovered near a red brocade settee, unsure how to behave. Thoughts of what they were about to do filled her head and she gripped her hands together to stop them from shaking. The sound of teeming rain filled the otherwise silent room. That and the mad drumming of her heart.

As Sir Nicholas prowled across the carpeted floor, his blazing blue gaze focused solely on her face, he shrugged off his charcoal-grey coat and threw it carelessly over the back of a wingback chair. When he stopped directly before her, she exhaled a shaky breath and a frown creased his brow.

“You seem nervous,” he observed, a note of concern in his voice.

Abigail licked dry lips before attempting a smile. “Yes.” There wasn’t much point in denying it. She supposed most mistresses were self-assured seductresses. Whilst she had some experience, and she’d imagined doing all kinds of things with Sir Nicholas, now that the moment was upon her, self-doubt gnawed at her confidence. He wanted her, but would she be enough for him? She wanted to please him, but would she remember what to do?

Sir Nicholas rubbed his jaw as he contemplated her. “Forgive me for speaking plainly but perhaps it was wrong of me to assume that I wouldn’t be your first...” He raised an eyebrow in query.

She shook her head. “No. You’re not wrong. But it was several years ago that I... He was in service too. A footman. I liked him well enough but we were both young.” She shrugged a shoulder. “And then he moved on to another position.”

“Ah, I see.” Sir Nicholas held out his hand and smiled. “Come.”

Abigail placed her hand in his and he threaded their fingers together in such a way that her heart flipped over. These unexpected displays of tenderness were difficult to deal with. Telling herself that Sir Nicholas felt nothing but lust for her, she allowed him to draw her down onto the settee so that she was practically draped across his lap. One of his arms held her lightly about the waist whilst his other hand continued to hold hers.

“We will take things slowly, my lovely Abigail,” he murmured. His thumb scuffed over her palm and a pleasurable warmth rippled through her. “And we won’t do anything you don’t want to do. Is that clear?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Sir Nicholas placed a gentle kiss beside the corner of her mouth. “So...” Another light buss landed on the other corner and then he feathered another one across her jaw. “I take it kisses still meet with your approval?”

“Yes.”

“May I kiss you here?” He rained a trail of light kisses across her cheek, up to her temple. “And here?” His lips brushed her ear lobe before his tongue swirled around a sensitive hollow, making her tremble.

“Yes.” Abigail closed her eyes and gripped his dark blue silk waistcoat with her free hand.

“And what about here?” Sir Nicholas nibbled a path down her neck. When his teeth grazed a particularly sensitive point near her shoulder, she gasped as molten desire blasted through her, quelling the last of her anxiety. She felt a gust of warm breath as he chuckled against her skin. “I’ll take that as a yes, too.”

“Yes,” she whispered again. He was playing games with her but she decided she liked it.

“Hmm. I’m beginning to think there aren’t many places you won’t let me kiss.” His hot mouth drifted across her collarbone. And then the tip of his tongue traced along the top of one breast at the edge of her neckline.

Her nipples tightened. “You didn’t ask me about licking.”

“That is true.” He slipped a finger beneath her bodice and traced another path along the top of her other breast and her nipples grew even harder. “Would you like me to stop?”

“No.” She opened her eyes and gripped his upper arm. Through the sleeve of his cambric shirt, she felt his bicep flex and she almost moaned aloud. “Don’t you dare.”

Blue fire flickered in his eyes. “Your wish is my command, Miss Adams.”

Abigail decided then and there that she quite liked the idea of having power over Sir Nicholas—even if it was only for a little while. Actually, the idea was quite intoxicating. Her desire made her bold. “Take off your shirt.”

His mouth kicked into a smile. “I thought you’d never ask.” Abigail slid to the side of the settee and Sir Nicholas rose to his feet in one fluid movement. His eyes never leaving hers, he loosened his cravat and dropped it on the floor before he made short work of the buttons of his waistcoat. It landed on the Turkish carpet, and then he tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it away with the same careless disregard.

Abigail swallowed.
Oh, my goodness
. She had seen Sir Nicholas from behind, but that hardly signified. The sight of his naked, heavily muscled chest and ridged torso, only an arms-length away, was something else entirely. Lust pulsed hot and heavy through her blood and moisture welled between her thighs.

She reached out and ran her fingertips through the light dusting of black hair covering Sir Nicholas’s pectorals. His bronze-colored nipples contracted and her mouth lifted into a small smile. She swept her fingers lower, tracing a path over his defined abdominal muscles, the sharp outline of a hipbone. When she placed her palm over the sizeable bulge in his breeches, he sucked in a breath.

“You’re magnificent.” She lifted her gaze to Sir Nicholas’s face. His eyes, almost black with arousal, glittered beneath the sweep of his dark lashes. “I want to see all of you.”

Without a word, he unbuttoned the fall front of his breeches and his member sprang free. His long, thick, thoroughly impressive member. It rose proudly from a storm of black curls and Abigail licked her lips.
Oh, my.

She grasped his shaft at the base then squeezing gently, slid her hand upwards. Then down and up again. Teasing him and testing the glorious feel of him at the same time. To her delight, Sir Nicholas groaned, “Sweet Jesus that feels good, Abigail.”

Emboldened by his words, Abigail repeated the action. His shaft was hot and hard and silky and the musky scent of his arousal flooded her senses. Her mouth watered. She had dreamed of this. Wanted to do this. For him. And for her own pleasure.

As she stroked him, a pearl of his seed appeared atop the deep rose colored head of his cock. Unable to resist tasting him, she lapped it up with a gentle swirl of her tongue. Another swirl followed, over and around the sensitive rim and then she suckled him like she was savoring a delicate summer strawberry.

That’s when Sir Nicholas released a sharp hiss. “Sweetheart,” he gritted out, spearing his fingers into her hair. “You’re a wicked, wicked woman. Keep going. Please keep going, my lovely Abigail.”

Her blood humming with dark delight, Abigail engulfed the whole head of his cock and took as much of him into her mouth as she could. Continuing to stroke him, she pleasured him with her lips and tongue, sucking and sliding up and down, up and down, over and over again until Sir Nicholas was shuddering. His guttural groans and gasped words of encouragement fueled her own desire; her nipples ached and her lower belly pulsed with unfulfilled need; the folds of her quim felt slick and heavy. Rocking back and forward on the low settee in a perfect counterpoint to Sir Nicholas’s increasingly frantic thrusts into her mouth, she attempted to relieve the almost unbearable tension inside her. But it was to no avail; all she could do was squeeze her thighs together and moan in frustration.

Determined to destroy Sir Nicholas’s control and send him over the edge, Abigail rolled his heavy balls between her fingers and hollowed her cheeks, sucking as hard as she could. Within the space of a heartbeat, he clutched the back of her head and cried out. “Christ... Forgive me, sweetheart... I’m going to spend...”

A hot, salty rush of semen immediately flooded Abigail’s mouth, but she swallowed down everything Sir Nicholas gave her. He tasted like passion and satisfied male and bright triumph flared to life inside her. Despite her initial fears and doubts, she’d succeeded in pleasing him. And that was deeply satisfying in and of itself.

She released Sir Nicholas from her grasp and after licking and wiping the remains of his seed from her lips, she placed a gentle kiss on his taut abdomen. To her surprise, he lifted her chin with shaking fingers.

“My God, Abigail. You astound me,” he said in voice hoarse with lust and another emotion she couldn’t quite name. “I never expected you to... I mean, I’d
hoped
that you might...” He raked a hand through his already tousled hair. “Jesus, I sound like an idiot. What I mean to say is thank you, Abigail. You are quite remarkable.”

He bent down and dropped a light kiss on the top of her head then began to fasten his breeches.

Abigail gripped the edge of the chair and stared at the floor, suddenly at a loss to know what to do or say. Was she dismissed? Was that all? Yes, she’d received high praise for her efforts but her body still ached with the need for her own release.