The Secret Desires of a Governess (19 page)

When he sat back down next to her, he didn’t make so much as a grumble for having to read. Not like their first day together. She was making great improvements with him. She was a little proud of herself for doing so. Never had she thought to be important in someone’s life. But that was how she felt when she worked with Jacob.

She’d still make a point of discussing Jacob’s past governesses with Elliott. He should know what they’d said about his son. Maybe even talk to Jacob about it, assure him that they were sorely

incorrect.

The thought of Elliott had her thinking ahead to her evening. Would he come to her chamber again? She’d never imagined him to be the playful type, but he’d enjoyed teasing her this morning.

Something had changed yesterday between them to bring on that playfulness, or at least last night. After a night in his arms, she could easily forget that what she was doing was wrong. How could anything she shared with Elliott ever be wrong, though?

She’d always insisted on remaining unmarried. Seemed she would get her wish. It shouldn’t matter that she was enjoying intimacies with a man in an unsanctified union.

She’d not regret it. Not when it felt so right.

She hadn’t any room for Elliott in her thoughts right now. Her sole focus should be Jacob. Opening the book on the desk, she pointed to the first word and asked him which letter it was.

The prince had screamed the sound of death, the noise so splitting that the war ceased and had to end. Where the prince had stood proud and bearing, a dragon festered from the air of despairing.

—The Dragon of Brahmors

Elliott watched Miss Hallaway— Abigail—from the library entrance. Her head was bent over a book, her mind solely focused there. He doubted she realized he stood there, which was fine with him; he enjoyed watching her.

He had made a point of coming up to the house to see her and Jacob at least once a day. In the last week, he’d lunched with them thrice and taken supper with his son nightly.

He had stopped outside her bedchamber on a nightly basis, had often come close to tapping his knuckles on the door to see if she’d allow him entrance, but had stopped himself short. He was desperate to have her. Had hardly slept in want of her company, when he remembered the feel of her soft, small body draped over him in sleep. He craved a repeat of that night.

His resolve to leave her be had diminished significantly. At some point this week, he’d talked himself into ignoring decency. She’d shown no outward signs of madness. Though it had taken Madeline some months to become the creature she’d become, he had a feeling Abigail was made of much sterner stuff.

He doubted his ability to walk away from her tonight.

After inspecting the whole house, making sure it was locked for the evening and double checking that they were quite alone, he’d headed in her direction. He couldn’t guess what the evening would bring, but he would spend at least part of it with the governess.

They’d built a comfortable friendship of sorts. She told him about his son’s accomplishments daily and didn’t pester him with any more questions about his past.

He listened to everything she said, his heart full in knowing his son was in good hands with Abigail. She’d not let his boy falter, and if Jacob had any troubles he knew without doubt she’d be there to catch him before he could really stumble.

The top buttons of her dress were loosened, but folded over in a way that he couldn’t get a glimpse of her creamy skin beneath. What would it feel like to dip his fingers behind the material, run the back of his knuckles over the top swell of her breasts? Whisk her up into his arms and carry her to her room?

The last time they’d found themselves in each other’s arms was three nights ago. The heated kiss had had him hard and aching for release for the remainder of the night.

Their embrace had been cut short when they’d heard someone approaching the library and he’d stepped out of view so no one would see him in her company. They’d not been discovered, but it had been a reminder that they should think twice before they acted impulsively.

He didn’t want to avoid her any longer. There was no denying that there was something burning in her gaze, something that told him she wanted more as well. If their want was mutual, then why shy away from it? Why deny it? He was done running from it. He wanted more of her.

More time, more gazes, more touches, just more.

Where was his resolve to save her from him now?

As he approached her, he cleared his throat to draw her attention to his presence.

She stood and shut the book she’d been engrossed in.

“I hadn’t realized it was so late.”

She placed the book back on the shelf, sticking out so she’d no doubt find it easily the next time she wanted to read it. He wished he knew what she read. What kinds of stories or poetry she liked.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.”

She busied herself by righting her desk. Didn’t take a genius to figure out that she was ner vous. Was it because it was late, and they were all alone? There was no one to interrupt them, no son, no

staff. Just them.

“How were lessons today,” he asked, hoping to draw her attention to him and not inanimate objects.

“Your son’s skills in math are extraordinary. Did you know?”

He well knew that because it was the only thing he could teach Jacob. He scratched his jaw to hide his amusement at her compliment.

“He’s a bright boy.”

“I still don’t understand why all the past governesses lasted so short a time. Did none show your son compassion?”

He shook his head. He might have had something to do with them leaving; he hadn’t liked any of them. They’d been stodgy and uptight, harsh with his son, tight- lipped and temperamental with him. Jacob hadn’t liked any one of them . . . until Miss Hallaway.

“The whims of a woman are oft hard to explain.”

“Have you just insulted me?” There was no displeasure in her question. She smiled and walked toward the sitting area in the library. “I know you take a glass of whiskey in the evening, but the library is not stocked so I cannot offer you a nightcap.”

“We could retire to my study.”

Though his purpose in suggesting such had nothing to do with wanting to sip on whiskey, more likely her mouth, her neck, perhaps he could lick droplets of the fiery liquid from her heated flesh in the throes of passion. His eyes dipped to where the buttons had been loosened on her bodice. The slightest hint of pale skin could be made out beneath.

Should she reject his offer, he’d walk away. He hoped he could temper any disappointment, too.

“And what is in it for me, my lord?”

His eyes met hers again. There was a spark of mischief in hers.

“Does the lady wish a nightcap for herself?”

Her chin jutted up, and one eyebrow rose. “I suppose I would.”

Before she could come to him, he was on her, hands tangled at the back of her hair, their mouths crushed together so he could taste what he’d craved most. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her back arched over his other arm. God, a mere look from her and he was hard and raring to go.

Her fingers were tight at his scalp, massaging him there.

Holding him in place. He forced himself to slow down, to work the pins loose from her scalp and pull free from her hair. His mouth lightened upon hers, sipping instead of drinking deeply from them.

He said, “I’ve not been able to get you out of my head for days. Have dreamed of doing this.”

She gasped in surprise, fingers sliding away from his scalp to hold on to his shoulders. Did she think he wouldn’t have her on his mind constantly?

She nibbled at her lower lip before saying, “Spend the night with me again, Elliott.”

How could he deny himself any longer? How could he say no? He knelt to clasp her under the knees and swung her up into his arms.

There’ll be no going back after this, he thought. There was no stopping it from happening, either.

Abby hadn’t expected him to sweep her up into his arms like some errant knight stealing away a lady. Fingers tracing the hard lines of his face, she felt the firmness in his clenched jaw, the stubble that roughened his face, the dip in his chin that she wanted to lick.

For a week, they’d danced around each other like nothing extraordinary was happening between them. Like they hadn’t slept in the same bed overnight and indulged in intimacies that should be shared only between husband and wife. Like they didn’t have growing feelings for each other.

She was falling in love with him. There was no denying that fact. Whether he felt the same she couldn’t guess.

She’d not ask him outright, either.

He’d teased and cajoled her this past week. Had shown a tender side to his character with his sudden presence in his son’s daily lessons. He was a good man, despite what he might think of himself and his past.

He was the man she was going to give her heart and her body to. Only she’d not tell him of the former; something held her back from giving that much of herself away. She didn’t know what, but until she figured it out she’d say nothing. She’d just enjoy her time with Elliott.

Once in her room, he slowly released his hold on her legs and let her slide down the front of his body. He searched for the ties holding her skirts in place, and yanked them loose.

Plastered to his front like she was, the stubborn material stayed put. Her hands pressed to his pectorals, the feel of the muscle beneath made her breath rush in and out of her lungs. His back was to the door. He made no move to urge her toward the bed. In fact, he did nothing more than trace his thumb over her cheek and then her lips.

“I’ve never wanted anything so bad as I have wanted this,” he said.

She had no words to respond with. He had as good as admitted the depth of his feelings for her— hadn’t he? Did this mean he was falling in love with her, too? She’d never been so afraid in all her life as to admit how she felt. Instead of responding, she stepped away from him and pushed her skirts down, working the ties beneath loose and working her bodice free so she was left standing in nothing but her unmentionables.

He didn’t move forward, but savored every reveal; she saw that in the way his eyes grew hooded with sexual intent.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. She wanted to be wholly his. To be claimed by one man and only one. Him. She needed him, she realized. She didn’t want to continue on without knowing this man intimately. There was no backing down, or pulling away. She wanted this as much as she wanted her in de pendence. Once her mind was made up, she went forward with the determination of a bull with its sights charging on red.

She’d let him remove her underclothes when the time came, but first she wanted nothing more than to explore the hard planes of his body under her hands, against her body, around her body.

She pushed his suspenders from his shoulders and hiked his shirt out of his trousers, brushing her fingers over the firmness of his stomach and torso. He helped her remove the garment, letting it drop to the floor when it was finally over his head.

She studied his chest, the strong lines, felt the muscles of his pectorals, the coarse hair trailing between them and downward. As she brushed her finger over one tight nipple, he let out a harsh groan before muttering, “My turn.”

His hands came firm around her. His fingers stretched proprietarily over her lower back, his hand like a hot iron burning through the remaining layers she wore.

She leaned against him, close enough that her breasts crushed tight to his chest and she could feel the beat of both their hearts. While his fingers worked the laces of her corset loose, she pressed her lips to his dark brown circles of his areola and nipple.

His hands stopped for a moment, his breath hitching when her tongue flicked out to lick at the hardened tip; then he was moving at double the speed to release her from the bindings. The slight burn of the heavy laces being loosened too quickly had her arching her back, thrusting her breasts forward to crest the top edge of the heavy cotton as he worked it free from her body. His urgency made her shiver in anticipation.

He broke away long enough to separate the clasp at the busk of her corset and slide it from between them to toss it to the floor. One less barrier between them.

Gathering up the material of her chemise, Elliott inched it up her body. She raised her hands above her head to aid him in removing it quickly. When the material was high enough to clasp onto with

her fingers, she made haste in ridding herself of it. The slip of linen was tossed to the floor with her corset.

Feeling bold and unashamed of what they were about to do, she reached forward and released the ties on his trousers. They fell to below his hips and he pushed them the rest of the way down, stepping out of the material.

The firm ridge of his cock stood thick and needy against the material of his drawers.

“Into the bed with you.”

He didn’t give her the opportunity to make her way there on her own: He picked her up again and set her down on one side. Then he joined her on the other side so they were face- to- face.

She reached around him to explore the line of his spine and down to the firm roundness of his buttocks.

His hand came down on her rear, squeezed the cheeks as he tilted her pelvis forward, pressing their groans together.

She moaned into his mouth and hitched her thigh over his hip, wanting so desperately to feel his flesh rubbing against hers.

Elliott rolled her onto her back, settling himself above her. His smalls were between them. She couldn’t reach far enough below his waist to slide the material down and release the jut of his cock. She wanted all of him around her. Inside her.

Before she could remove the impinging material, he grasped her by the waist and pushed her farther up the bed so he could nibble the top swell of her breast. Then the tip of her breast was being sucked into his mouth, in-flaming her desire tenfold.

Abby curled one hand into the soft waves of his hair on a silent gasp. The other she clasped tightly to his side to hold him close as she settled for rubbing herself against the flexed ridges of his stomach. She did so with his encouragement and the guidance of his hand at her hip.

She didn’t dissuade him. She couldn’t, not only because they’d done stranger things, but because it felt so good.

And right.

“Elliott,” she whispered, groaned, moaned— she couldn’t tell which. Didn’t care how desperate she sounded, either. She was desperate. Needy. Frantic for more, for everything.

All she could feel and comprehend was his mouth and tongue against her skin. His gentle suckling at her breast had her pelvis undulating harder against him, sliding in her own juices against his now slick stomach. Her fingers tightened at his scalp, and she tried to get closer.

Elliott’s arms braced on either side of her shoulders as the thrusts of her pelvis grew more frantic. He didn’t say anything, only looked at her with those pale blue eyes of his and a small grin turning up one side of his lip as she rode herself to completion.

As he poised above her spread thighs, there wasn’t anything that could be said. She knew they would finally con-summate their union. Not that of husband and wife— which would be a great disappointment to her sisters when they found out just how far she and Elliott had gone— but that of lovers.

She could never be ashamed of what they shared. This was just her and Elliott. The rest of the world didn’t matter beyond her room, the castle, the land and sea surrounding them.