The Earl and the Governess: An Erotic Romance (12 page)

And when the
boys had been roused and the carriage drew to a halt, Rafe did not
hesitate to escort Madam De Mornay out into the rain, leaping from
the carriage in a chivalrous manner and giving her his arm as he
carefully held the umbrella over her. The boys cheerfully followed
and Charlotte was left sitting alone and totally forgotten,
listening to the rain drumming on the roof and feeling a cavern of
emptiness open up inside her.

But then he was
back, bursting into the carriage in a blast of cold air and
rainwater, his wet hands enveloping her face, his hot lips pressing
over hers, breathing life and fire into her as he kissed her so
ardently her head fell back and hit the back of the seat, a shock
which made her finally register what was happening and she pressed
her hands against his chest and managed to push him away from her.
“Rafe! What in God’s name are you doing?”

“I am doing
what I have been thinking of doing all the way from London.”

He still wanted
her! The joy threatened to show on her face, but Charlotte held on
to the last threads of her pride. Another woman’s hand had been
caressing him only half an hour ago. He had not spoken to her since
that day in the library when she had told him to forget her.

“Don’t you dare
do this when I have had to witness your mistress groping you right
in front of me!” she said more calmly than she ever thought she
could.

He stared at
her and said in an equally calm voice, “I’ve had enough of
politeness and courtesy. I want you and I shall have you.”

And God help
her but his words were lighting a fire in her, a blazing inferno of
desire that would be impossible to douse. Her head was swimming and
her limbs were weak and she probably would not protest if he chose
to take her right now, here in the carriage in front of her
employer’s front door.

She gasped his
name as his hand left her face and thrust roughly under her skirts,
his aim deft and sure and her legs opened instinctively to allow
his confident fingers to push inside her, her muscles yielding to
his sure touch.

“I could fuck
you right now. God knows I’m hard enough,” he growled against her
lips and she could feel a gush of wetness flood over his hand. “I
could fuck you right now where anyone could find us. I don’t care!”
and she gripped his strong biceps as he twisted inside her.
“There’s not a damn thing you could do about it. I could get my
hard cock out and hammer it into your tight little pussy.”
Charlotte gasped at the filthy words he was growling in a low, deep
voice and as his thumb pressed over her throbbing clitoris a scream
of pleasure threatened to escape from her, her whole body trembling
around his insistent thrusts.

Then he said
suddenly soft and tender, “Open your eyes Charlotte. I want you to
be looking at me when you come.” And it was too much. She did as he
said and was greeted with his indigo eyes, almost black with
arousal staring straight at her and then his lips descended on hers
as his thumb pressed down hard and an orgasm took hold of her and
threw her into a whirling torrent of sensation.

She was left
shaking in his arms, paralyzed with wonder and he had to peel her
from the seat and almost carry her from the carriage, the sudden
shock of cold rain helping her to partially return back to earth.
He held her hand tightly all the way up the steps, only letting go
as they reached the door. Then she stood in the entrance hall, her
legs barely keeping her up, surrounded by the business of arrival,
taking nothing in. All she could see was Rafe’s wet hair curling
over the collar of his coat and then she felt his breath against
her cheek and heard him murmur “Tonight” and he was gone.

She spent the
rest of the evening in a daze, unpacking her meagre belongings,
discarding her rain drenched clothes, washing herself in luke warm
water, pulling her simple nightgown over her head, getting into
bed, holding her book in her hands and staring at her closed door.
Would he come as he promised? Her heart raced and her skin felt
tight and sensitive. The candle by her bed flickered.

Had he
forgotten her? Was he, right now in the de Mornay woman’s room,
peeling her red dress away from her slender body, covering her
porcelain skin with his hot kisses?

Then the door
opened and he was in her room, pressing his back against the closed
door, staring at her with haunted eyes. Charlotte gripped her book
and took him in, hardly able to believe that he had come. She could
hear his laboured breathing; see the paleness of his brow. She had
never seen him like this before. He looked almost vulnerable. He
was trembling.

At last he
spoke. “Are the boys asleep?”

She nodded her
head slowly and watched his brows furrow with tension as he
stammered, “I … I had to see you Charlotte.”

The way he said
her name made her nipples tighten into hard knots of need but she
had to find out something before they went any further. “And that
woman? Where is that woman?” she asked.

“I don’t know.
And I don’t care.”

He said it with
such force, she was tempted to end the conversation at that but she
could not help asking, “What is she to you? Do you love her?”

The word ‘love’
seemed to hover in the air, as he said, “No. She’s nothing
Charlotte…” his voice trailing off as he visibly swallowed his
words, and sank further against the door, his palms pressed onto
the wood.

Charlotte
suddenly had an overwhelming urge to laugh. He looked scared out of
his wits, clinging to that door as if he could not trust himself to
speak or move. It seemed it was her who would have to take control
or they would spend the entire night staring at each other across a
chasm.

She put her
book down on the chair next to her bed and pushing the covers back,
stepped onto the cold floorboards. Rafe watched her intently as she
walked towards him, his gaze heating her skin.

“You are
uncommonly quiet, my Lord,” she said. “Are you sleepwalking
perhaps?”

“No,” he choked
as she reached him, “but I feel like I am.”

Her nightgown
brushed his boots but he still did not move. Her lips hovered over
his. “Touch me, Rafe,” she said.

And then his
hands were at last on her and his mouth open under hers, and her
arms were around his neck and their bodies pressed together in a
frenzy of need, and she had absolutely no intention of stopping.
This was a meeting of equals. Their desire was the same, equally
matched, equally giving. And when they tumbled onto the bed and he
took her with his mouth she knew she had never given herself to a
man so completely. And then he entered her and filled her and
pulsed inside her until they were crying out each other’s names and
his deep thrusts drove her higher, pounding her into mindless
oblivion, her hips rocking upwards to meet his, her release ripping
through her body as he moaned above her and with wild abandon he
let himself go, flooding her with his hot seed until he was wrung
out and shaking and slumped in her arms.

And Charlotte
held him close, cradled his dark head against her chest, no
thoughts in her head except one single, terrifying word - love.

Chapter
20

The Governess Regrets

In which the
governess is left to ponder her night of passion.

The Earl of
Langham and the governess lay entwined on her bed, in that dead
hour before dawn. His breeches and boots lay discarded on the
floor, her nightgown was pulled down somewhat belatedly to cover
her modesty and they listened to the heavy quiet beyond the room
and the sounds of their hearts beating in their chests.

Charlotte had
actually slept with Rafe’s head still cradled against her chest,
but he had thrashed out in his sleep and woken them both and
finding his boots still on, he had removed them and then his
breeches, and then discovering he was half erect he had evidently
decided to make the most of it by relighting the lamp and then
stroking himself to full arousal while staring at the nest of curls
between her legs. He had nudged Charlotte’s thighs apart to get a
better view and she had covered her face with her arms in
embarrassment. He made her feel like an inexperienced girl even
though she was most definitely not. The intensity with which he
stared at her and the shameless way he touched himself made
Charlotte blush.

He did not say
a word to her. He just pulled her knees upwards, lifted her hips
and kneeling on the bed pushed his rigid prick inside her. She
wished he would take his shirt off so she could see his muscular
chest but sleep had made her relaxed and passive and she just
watched his focussed expression as his short thrusts increased in
speed, the slap of his balls against her the only sound in the
room. Then with a whispered curse he thrust in deep, her cunt
encasing his cock and pulsing around him as he gripped her hips
tight and shuddered out his release.

He had come
inside her twice now and she had not thought to stop him. In fact,
it only now occurred to her what a mistake this might be. It was
true, in all her couplings with Randall she had never become
pregnant, and since he already had a child she had presumed it was
her who could not conceive. But there was a possibility that she
might be wrong. No matter, she did not want to face that now, not
when Rafe was looking down at her with such sated, almost gentle
warmth. Did it not concern him that they might have started on a
disastrous track?

He pulled her
nightgown back over her thighs and then lay beside her, his indigo
eyes staring into hers, no words on his lips, just his relaxed
breath fluttering over her cheek.

“I must go,” he
eventually said, his voice jolting her into reality.

Charlotte
thought he had meant he must leave her room, but when she struggled
from her bed only a few hours later, and joined Sophie and the boys
for breakfast, she discovered that he had in fact left the house.
He had departed for London, Sophie informed her. And where was
Madam de Mornay? No one seemed to know. She must have gone with his
lordship, Sophie whispered to Charlotte, clearly scandalised by her
cousin’s flagrant disregard for propriety.

Charlotte
should have known. He had gotten what he wanted and left. At least
she felt some relief when she discovered that the teasing Eddie
Johnson was also no longer in the house. Now, she could return to
her earlier resolve and have nothing more to do with handsome men
who turned her legs to jelly. But she spent the rest of the day
with an increasingly heavy heart and tears constantly threatening
to spill from her eyes.

Weeks went by
and at first Charlotte managed to find some happy peace in the
men’s absence. William and Arthur thrived under her patient
tutelage, and an equal time was spent in the schoolroom and out of
doors. Sophie was proving to be a pleasant companion as well as a
kind employer, and Charlotte was making other friends in the
household. The head groom, Thomas, was especially kind and
Charlotte would often find herself in the stables feeding the
horses apples from the orchard as he went about his business. It
was true, he was a handsome man and maybe it was not wise to spend
so much time in his presence, but he had told her all about a girl
in his village whom he was clearly in love with, although he did
not seem aware of that fact himself.

Sometimes when
Charlotte watched Thomas roll the sleeves of his shirt up to his
biceps and bend to shovel hay she felt the unmistakable stirrings
of arousal; her nipples tightened and her breath came faster and
there was a heavy ache in her groin. She imagined standing next to
him so she could smell his fresh sweat and lay her hand on his
broad damp back. She would run it downwards until she felt the
tight muscles of his backside flexing, and then turn him round so
she could see how his cock swelled in his breeches. His lips would
clamp over one of her nipples through the thin lawn of her summer
dress, and he would nip and suck while her hands ran over his tight
arse.

But Thomas was
no Eddie Johnson. He was a simple man who carried out his duties
with efficiency and would no more ravish a governess in a stable
than he would mistreat one of the horses. Charlotte had to swallow
a pang of disappointment at this thought and then remind herself
once again of the promises she had made.

Nevertheless
she could not help moving closer to him as he propped the pitchfork
against the wall and wiped the sweat from his brow with a large
handkerchief. He grinned at her, a friendly guileless smile that
told her he had no idea of the thoughts that were writhing in her
head. If he knew he would most likely turn heel and run!

“Are you well
Miss Kemp?” he asked. “You look pale.”

Her eyes could
not seem to move from where the open collar of his shirt revealed
curls of blonde hair and sweat-slicked skin. She licked her
lips.

“I’m fine
Thomas, it’s just so hot today isn’t it?”

He smiled again
but as she moved closer the smile faded and he shuffled his
feet.

“Um…maybe you
could go for a ride?” he muttered, while his gaze seemed to
involuntarily sweep over her body and settle on her breasts.

“Maybe,” she
said softly as she almost reached him. She had no idea what on
earth had come over her. Teasing Thomas was a cruel and foolish
thing to do, but she could not seem to help herself.

Thomas visibly
gulped, his hand still gripping the shaft of the pitchfork. As if
in a trance, Charlotte raised her hand and ran a finger slowly down
the front of his damp shirt. Maybe she could persuade him to take
it off?

Then there was
the sound of footsteps and she pulled her hand away. The Earl of
Langham was standing in the doorway, long legs encased in tight
breeches, broad shoulders pulled back, his fingers curling into
fists at his side. His steely eyes flicked from her to Thomas and
back again and he said in a haughty voice, “You are wanted in the
house, Miss Kemp,” then abruptly turned and left.