The Governess Club: Sara (14 page)

Until he had asked them, citing necessity in order to prevent conception—and to ensure optimal pleasure.

Never had she met a man so blunt in his speech, especially regarding delicate subjects. Her father and brother had never openly discussed such things, Jacob did not, and certainly Mr. Pomeroy would never consider asking her such things.

Her life was quickly becoming unrecognizable. She did not even understand how she had been able to convince her friends she was off to visit a previously unmentioned aunt. Was lying so natural to her or were her friends too naïve or trusting where she was concerned?

Even now, instead of meditating too deeply on her current situation, she was worrying about how he had not kissed her since that day in his library. Not even in the forest maze where they had been entirely alone had he taken advantage and kissed her as he did in her dreams. She glanced at him again, wondering just how she could initiate such a thing.

“For the love of God, Sara.” His growl broke the silence, the unexpected sound making her jump. “Stop looking at me like I am going to ravish you where you sit. I am not that sort of man and a coach is not my preferred location for such an activity.”

Did people actually—she didn’t know what to call it—in coaches? Heavens. She felt her face catch fire. How would that even be possible? She could see how kissing would be feasible, for that could be done sitting or standing. Of course, it would require both of them to be sitting on the same bench. Would Mr. Grant ever do that? What if she moved to the same bench as he? Would he kiss her then or think her too forward? She bit her bottom lip, willing it to stop aching for his kiss.

His voice gentled. “You do realize you have not said a word since I picked you up an hour ago?” To avoid people noticing, he had arranged for her to take the mail coach and he met her several towns later with his own.

Sara blinked and took a deep breath. “I have actually not spoken since leaving Taft.” Her voice was little more than a whisper, but it was all she could manage. She banished the images of him kissing her in the coach from her mind.

Mr. Gra—Nathan cocked an eyebrow. “This distresses you so much?”

She shook her head. “Not so much distresses as is new. This has all happened so quickly—it has been less than a week since we first discussed it.”

He cleared his throat. “If you would prefer, we can return to Taft.”

Sara stared at him. “We could?” Did he want to? Had he changed his mind? Or had he realized that he did not desire her after all? Were his dreams of her preferable to reality?”

He pressed his lips together into a thin line. “As I said, I am not the sort of man to force a woman. If you so desired, I would order the coach to return to Taft and we would never speak of this. I have better things to do than spend my time with an inconsistent female who does not wish to be with me.”

Sara furrowed her brow in confusion as she watched Nathan lower his head and begin to read, not waiting for her response. It was odd; his words were simultaneously insulting and considerate. She had no doubt that if she asked it of him, he would order the coach around. But his dismissive tone made it seem as though he were indulging a spoiled child.

Yet for some reason, Sara knew if she were to call off their arrangement, he would be hurt. Oh, she knew that he would hide it, that he would pretend that it was of no consequence to him and likely disparage her character even more, but it would be a lie.

She looked out the window again to hide her small smile. He may be unpleasant, he may be off-putting and harsh, but all that concealed an inherent consideration and respect for others; one merely had to expend some effort to find it. This knowledge calmed and infused her with confidence. He may not wish to marry her, but she knew he would treat her well and protect her.

Sara had chosen well for her adventure.

N
athan stared at the book, wondering if she noticed he had yet to turn a page. He doubted it, as her attention remained fixated on whatever was so fascinating outside the coach window. As each moment passed with her silence, he let his body relax once more.

He had not lied. She had only to utter the word and they would return to Taft. Yet even as he had spoken, his primordial side howled its displeasure.

It had been a constant debate since that rainy afternoon. Half a dozen times he had almost called upon her at Ridgestone to cancel; even as he had waited for her in the blasted forest maze, he had not known whether he was going to call the whole thing off or tell her of his success with the arrangements. But as soon as she came into view, wearing an unfashionably out of date yellow dress along with a bonnet that stretched from shoulder to shoulder and spouted feathers, clutching her basket before her so tightly her knuckles had turned white, that primitive side of him had taken control of his mind and mouth. The next thing he knew, it had all been settled.

It had been that way the day she had visited him, her pale blue dress plastered to her body, leaving so little to his imagination. He could not claim ignorance—he knew exactly what had been running through his mind and it involved clothes flying through the air and a ruckus that would have cleared away all the birds living in his attic. His hands had shaken with the need to touch her.

He had been proud of his initial resistance. But then she had stated what she wanted and called him a coward. Primordial Nathan had taken over at that point and now here they were, on their way to Cloverfields.

He and Primordial Nathan could hardly wait.

S
ara took his offered hand and stepped out of the coach, looking at the manor house before her. Far from being the depraved brothel she had imagined, the building was a perfect square, three stories tall of red brick with climbing ivy covering the front façade. Flat windows gleamed in the setting sun and the large front door stood open invitingly. Her shoes landed on well-tended gravel and her eyes scanned the groomed lawn, the green glistening as the sunlight kissed it goodnight. Gentle hills rose in the distance, peeking out over clusters of trees.

This house was cared for; this house was a home.

“What is this place?” she asked, looking at Nathan. His eyes were on her, blue and unreadable.

“Cloverfields,” he replied.

“You know the owner?”

He nodded. “We will not be disturbed.”

She turned her gaze back to the house, impressed by its understated elegance and welcoming ambiance.

“What do you think?” His question was odd. They were still standing next to the coach, her hand in his.

Sara smiled, not looking at him. “I admit it is not what I had in mind.”

“You were expecting a bawdy house, perhaps? With red silk drapery and gold carpeting, plush pillows and mattresses that envelop you, and erotic statues everywhere?”

She blushed, dropping her head. He took a step toward her and his heat spread along her arm, which was now held against his chest. Nathan lowered his head to her ear, his low chuckle caressing the sensitive skin. “Men and women make love everywhere, Nymph, not just in bawdy houses.”

Her face was now on fire and he pulled away, still chuckling. He tugged on her hand and they moved toward the manor house, his cane in his other hand supporting his leg. They hadn’t gotten far when pounding footsteps came from around one corner of the house. A lanky teenage boy with short hair and square head appeared at a run, his face red from his exertion.

He halted in front of them, his breath coming in short gasps. “Sorry, Mr. Grant. Da said you’d be comin’ in the morning. Mum’s got the room ready still.”

“Never mind, Liam, just help Sawyer with the horses and trunks.”

“Aye, sir.” The eager lad jerked his head in a nod and made to do as ordered.

“Liam.” Nathan stopped him and gestured to Sara. “My wife, Mrs. Grant. My dear, Liam Taggert, boy of all jobs. His parents are the caretakers.”

Her throat immediately was flooded with ants, so Sara simply smiled and nodded at the boy. He grinned back, his red cheeks ballooning on his face. “Welcome to Cloverfields, Mrs. Grant. Anythin’ you need, just give us a shout.”

When she continued to just smile, Nathan squeezed her hand and spoke. “Bring our trunks to our room.” He dismissed Liam with a nod and resumed their walk to the door.

A middle-aged couple stepped out, the man short and thin accompanied by a woman of matching stature. Both smiled and moved out of the entrance, bowing and curtseying appropriately.

Nathan released his hold on Sara and offered his hand to the man. “Taggert, it is good to see you again.”

“Mr. Grant, welcome to Cloverfields.” The man shook his hand. He spoke with an Irish cadence.

“Thank you. Liam also extended greetings. Mrs. Taggert,” Nathan turned to the woman, “I understand we are earlier than expected. Please forgive the inconvenience.”

“Oh, it is no bother, sir,” Mrs. Taggert said. Her lilt echoed her husband’s. “The room is all done up.” She looked at Sara expectantly.

Nathan gestured at her. “Allow me to present my wife, Mrs. Grant.” He smiled at Sara’s reaction. “Hearing that still makes her blush,” he said conspiratorially to the Taggerts. They beamed in response.

“Mrs. Grant,” Mrs. Taggert said. “If you have not eaten, we can quickly have something laid in the dining room. It may not be fancy, but you will not be disappointed.”

Sara opened her mouth, but the ants still would not allow her voice to work. She merely smiled again and nodded. Nathan settled his hand on her back. “Why don’t we have it in our room? Mrs. Taggert, show her where it is while I have a word with your husband.”

Sara was led away by the chatty housekeeper, who had no trouble maintaining a one-sided conversation; Sara smiled and nodded where appropriate. The woman led her into the house, made bright by windows and wall sconces already lit in anticipation of the evening. The dark wood trim and pale yellow walls were pleasing and Sara made a mental note to examine the paintings in more detail on the morrow. The wide stairs, also of dark wood, hugged the walls up to the higher levels. Sara ran her hand along the bannister, appreciating the smooth gleam.

Moments later Mrs. Taggert stopped at the end of the hall and opened the door, gesturing for Sara to precede her. “This is the master suite, Mrs. Grant. I hope you find it suitable.”

Sara stepped into a room much larger than she had expected. Taking up the space of two normal-sized rooms, there was a sitting area situated around the large hearth, a generous fire taking off the chill of the evening. Two large leather armchairs sat in front of the fire, angled toward the heat and each other; a low table separated the two. The lower portion of the wall with the door sported bookshelves, already stocked, and on top of them were sentimental memorabilia. At one end was a nicely laid out set of decanters with crystal tumblers winking in the firelight.

The other side of the room was dominated by the four-poster bed. Sara was certain that if she combined all the beds she had slept in during her lifetime into one, it would be roughly the size of this one. Stretching far beyond her length and likely three times her width, the deep gold bedspread and matching plush pillows and bed curtains beckoned, a bedroom siren promising deep sleep and pleasant dreams.

The bed faced two sets of windows, stretching nearly from floor to ceiling, and made up the corner facing south and east. Two sofas faced either side of the window corner with a polished round table in front of them, creating a sitting area with a view of the park. Sara imagined herself sitting there in the early hours, reading as she had some morning tea.

Two doors flanked either side of the bed and Mrs. Taggert led her to one of them, opening the door. “This is the mistress’ dressing room,” she said, taking Sara into a room grander than any she had occupied while a governess. A large wardrobe stood at angle in one corner with a full-length rounded mirror close by. A delicate white vanity with gold trim and a cushioned chair sat opposite, next to another door. The top third of the wall was glass, allowing in light from the main room. Dazzled, Sara felt a moment of eagerness to sit at the vanity on a bright morning to see how these windows flooded the room.

Mrs. Taggert opened the second door in the room, which led into a bathing area. The glass wall continued in there, casting light onto the bright tiled mosaic that lined the washing area. Two basins sat beside each other on a high table, a long mirror on the wall encompassing them both. A giant porcelain bathing tub—the largest Sara had ever seen—with brass claws held a place of prominence beside a small fireplace. A privacy chamber was in the corner, discreetly closed.

Fully in awe of her surroundings, Sara forgot all about the ants in her throat. “It is all so breathtaking,” she murmured.

A deep chuckle caught her attention and she turned to another door opposite of the one she had used. Nathan was standing there, leaning against the jamb as he watched her. “I am glad you approve,” he said.

It finally occurred to Sara why there were two doors to the room and two basins and shelves with copious amounts of towels. Of course the master’s dressing room would be opposite the mistress’, but never had she expected to share the bathing room. How embarrassing would it be if he were to walk in while she was in the tub—a tub, she belatedly realized, that was large enough to hold two.

Her face was on fire, she was certain.

Mrs. Taggert murmured quietly, “Dinner will be but a few minutes.” She left the room.

Nathan remained at the door, his smile remaining as he watched her shift uncomfortably. He had seen the instant comprehension overtake her and it had amused him even more. He was glad of her reaction to Cloverfields, for he wanted this to be an enjoyable experience for her—as much as she declared she was willing, he knew she would need to be comfortable and coaxed into her adventure.

He straightened and held out his hand to her. “Come.” She hesitated only a moment before moving to him and taking his hand. Linking their fingers together, he brought her back out to the main room and led her to the window sitting area as Liam brought in Sara’s trunk and deposited it in her dressing room. Sawyer followed with Nathan’s, doing the same.