The Secret Desires of a Governess (8 page)

Distraught at the fate of the woman who filled his heart, the prince vowed never to return to the monarch.

—The Dragon of Brahmors

“I’d like a moment to speak with you about your son, Lord Brendall.”

The demand was clear and firm. Her tone brooked no argument.

He turned his head toward her. Strands of hair covered one side of his brow, shading a clean view of her. He’d been doing nothing more than stare at the dying embers of the fire for the past half hour. Trying desperately to forget their morning run- in. He couldn’t get her out of his head and thoughts.

His tumbler was balanced on the arm of the leather chair he relaxed in. He made no move to stand. He couldn’t get closer to her; if he did, he’d want to touch her.

He looked over the prim, proper woman glowering before him. Her lush lips were pursed. Her eyes narrowed in question. Her stance stiff, immovable. Rather as if she were frozen to the spot. Her gaze focused solely on him with pique.

That look was answer enough for him. She knew. And she most likely blamed him for Jacob’s shortcomings. He supposed he was to blame.

Elliott turned back to the fire, wishing he could dismiss her. But she would not be denied answers, her presence here said that. The soft shush of her leather- covered feet over the carpet inched closer. He spun the crystal glass around on the arm of the chair. It caught flecks of light from the fire and reflected rainbow hues in the dark liquid that swirled in the bottom.

With a motion of his head, he indicated the chair across from him.

“I’ll stand, my lord.”

He did raise his eyes to hers then, glaring for a moment before pushing himself to his feet. She didn’t back down when he towered over her smaller frame. Her breast rose on a stubborn air and she tilted her head in a way that reminded him of his dead wife. A young Madeline— not the personality she had evolved into. But a woman full of fire. A woman who refused to back down from what she wanted. It was a useless venture trying to frighten this governess into submission. Into doing his bidding without question. Had his mood not been black, he’d have smiled at her boldness.

“I’ll not stand here all night, Miss Hallaway. Say your piece and be off.” The words cut through the silence like alcohol tossed on a fire. He hadn’t meant to sound that harsh, but he didn’t know how else to act when she was around. It was seduce her, or try to frighten her off.

And the former was definitely a bad idea.

“Though you may be master and commander in this castle, I’ll not be spoken to as if I were an annoying bug.”

“Interesting metaphor coming from someone who is buzzing around my study, doing nothing more than stir the air.”

He walked over to the sideboard, topped up his glass of whiskey, and tossed another fiery shot down his throat.

To night he wanted sweet oblivion. To forget the nuisance that was Miss Hallaway and the damnable desire he had for her.

He did not want to want her. He simply couldn’t help himself.

“I see you hold the same regard for your son as most men in your position.”

Her observation was incorrect, but he understood how she might come to that conclusion. He cared a great deal about his boy. Why else would she be standing here berating him? Why would he allow it if he didn’t care?

It hadn’t been by design that his son was often wary of him, but it seemed to be the normal course for these things among the men in their family.

Afraid his son would hate him as he hated his father, Elliott only dealt with the child on a minimal

basis. It was probably wrong to let the house hold staff raise the boy.

But he couldn’t help that he feared his son’s hatred as much as he feared his son would turn out just like him: dumb as the day he was born. That term had haunted him daily since the arrival of Miss Hallaway.

At least he was never cruel to Jacob. Not like his father had acted toward him.

“You’re too young to have a great deal of experience with men in my position.”

She folded her arms over her chest. She was small but still, he wanted to peel off her gown and . . .

He rubbed his palms over his face, wishing to banish every image he had of her naked form. He should have walked away on seeing her at her bath. It might have saved him some sleepless nights; every time he closed his eyes he recalled that image with perfect clarity.

“It is obvious, my lord, that your son has lacked a decent education. I can only guess what the reasons are.”

“What is it you expect of me, madam?”

“I wonder how many governesses before me were made aware that your son is illiterate? I thought at first it was neglect on their part, but I worked with him on some letterings this afternoon and he could not make heads nor tails of anything I read.”

He raised one brow and took a drink from his tumbler.

Liquid courage, he told himself. She’d think less of him and his son now that she knew the truth. All the governesses before her had thought his son a simpleton beyond any help and learning they could impart. That alone had been enough of a reason for them to leave.

“You are here to teach him whatever it is he needs to know, Miss Hallaway.”

“Is this why you’ve hired an unassuming governess when tutors are more befitting the child’s station? Perhaps you wish the world to remain unknowing of his inability?

You do him more a disservice than good by remaining silent on the topic. I assume this is some dreadful family secret I’ve unwittingly come into?”

It did not escape his notice that she hadn’t said she was leaving. Nor had she blamed him.

“Not dreadful. Merely blown out of proportion by one vexing governess.”

He ground his teeth together. His tongue was liable to get him in trouble to night. And he could admit that he needed her. His son needed her.

Elliott set his glass down on the sideboard with a heavy clank.

He should have indulged with his lusty widow when he rode into town. Might have starved his interest in the pixie woman who was currently glowering at him as if he were the devil incarnate. But he hadn’t been able to bring himself to see his widow in town when he’d been thinking of an entirely different woman.

He scratched at the back of his head. Why in hell did he want her so badly? She was far from his type with her strawberry- blonde hair, her delicately small features, and her brazen disposition.

“As much as it pains me to admit when you’ve been nothing but a brute . . .” She drummed her fingers along her folded arms impatiently. “I do wish to help Master Jacob. And while you don’t deserve any kindness from me, I wish to make an ally of you.”

“Is that so?”

She nodded. “You must care for your son enough to have hired me, and the long string of governesses in the past. I believe you wish to correct your son’s inability in reading and writing. Whether you admit his underlying incapability or not.”

He did want his son to be normal. And though not one person he’d hired in the past five years had been worth their salt— nor had they been able to help Jacob with his letters— he still held out hope that his son would not turn out like him.

Could there be a chance that this governess would succeed where all the others had failed, simply by sheer determination? She hadn’t castigated the boy and claimed him too stupid to learn as some of

the others had. That had been reason enough to send her predecessors packing.

But would she be worn down and still leave once she realized that Jacob’s grasp on words wasn’t what it should be for a boy his age?

“I also believe that you’re running out of options and will not let me go despite my strong dislike toward you.”

Taken off guard by her unabashed comment, he almost gave her a smile, which surprised him. No one had dared to say such a thing directly to him before. So why did he like that she spoke so fiercely and gave him the truth of her thoughts? How did this pixie woman have such a strong effect on him?

“I believe you to be the right woman for this task. Jacob is my heir, Miss Hallaway. He cannot do this position justice if he’s unable to do such a simple task as read and write.”

How it pained him to admit that truth.

He’d never enjoyed talking about his son’s illiteracy, his failure to learn something that was so easy for any other child. It served as a reminder of his own failure. Maybe if he had been a better father, a more learned father, his son wouldn’t be in his current predicament. It reminded him of times when his own father would soundly cuff him whenever a tutor had berated his stupidity.

Desperate to steer this conversation elsewhere, before he revealed too much about his own character, he turned away and asked, “Are you here solely to lecture me on my son’s education, or lack thereof? Or did you need something else, Miss Hallaway?”

“Nothing for the moment.”

She did not retreat from the room.

Aside from reprimanding his failure in being a good father figure for his child, maybe she desired to see him again after their run- in this afternoon at the stable.

She kept her hands busy by wrapping the tail end of a bow on her dress around her finger. She was nervous.

After telling him she disliked him with so much conviction, how was it that she was nervous now?

“Do you often fidget?” he asked.

Her hands immediately dropped to her side.

“I can’t quite figure you out, Lord Brendall. You are always snappish with me. Or silent and domineering. If I’m to stay on for any great length of time, which I have every intention of doing, we need to come to some sort of agreement that will make our living arrangements more comfortable.”

“Why is that? This will be for the better.”

Though he could admit that she was right: He was a boar’s ass whenever she was around. It was this damnable need he had to loosen the pins in her hair and run his fingers through the silky strands. The want he had in running the back of his hands over the delicate arch in her soft neck and the slight swell of her breast. The ache to press his mouth to hers and see if she would drive him more insane with lust.

A most inconvenient desire.

“It’s no way to live. I’ll not fight with you merely for the sake of fighting.”

“Then you are a better woman than any I’ve ever met.”

Elliott advanced on her, unable to help himself. He liked that she held firm, her chin titled at that stubborn angle as he approached her.

“If it’s your intention to frighten me off, you’ll have to try harder.”

Backing her up against his desk, he placed his fists on the dark stained top and leaned in toward her. She smelled like spring after a light rainfall. Fresh, clean, and new.

“This complicates things,” she said so quietly it was like a whisper against his skin.

“It certainly does.”

He did not step away from her as he bloody well knew he should. This was not the way to scare her off, keep her from his company. She must harbor some kernel of yearning for more, too.

Her eyelids lowered, and her throat bobbed on a swallow. Despite her bravado, it was possible she was slightly uncomfortable in his presence. Good. That made two of them.

“Is this why governesses don’t stay on? Your abuse toward them? Your inappropriate advances?”

“No.”

“So why start now?”

“The matter is simple, Miss Hallaway.” He moved his arms closer to her, his biceps pressed against her linen-covered ribs. “I want you.”

That want was turning to need at a rather drastic rate.

If she said no, he’d not force the issue. But he’d do his damndest to get her out of her pretty silk underthings. The mere thought of running his hands over the soft silk beneath her skirts had his cock swelling in the confies of his trousers.

She shook her head and looked at him through narrowed eyes. “Should I simply submit because you want me?”

No. But that was not something he’d admit. He stared back at her instead, forcing her to arch her back over the desk when he leaned in closer. She did not push him away.

“Your actions tell me there is something to be explored between us.”

Instead of denying his words, she nibbled on her lower lip. What would she do if he nibbled at that lip? Sucked it into his mouth to lave it with his tongue?

Reaching up, he brushed a wisp of hair from the corner of her mouth. Like silk, the soft strands slid smoothly between his fingers. “You are the only complication, Miss Hallaway.”

But his son needed her.

“I’ll not risk my position here, my lord.”

“Then let us think of this as a position with . . . certain benefits.”

Because she still hadn’t demanded he stop, he pulled the scarf from her bosom as he had in the stable. Again, no objection passed her lips. She wanted this. She’d not convince him otherwise if she didn’t stop him. What a fool he was for continuing this game.

“I am at a disadvantage.”

“Not in the least, Miss Hallaway. I am nothing if not discreet. There is no one else in the house to catch us out or gainsay our actions.”

“How many women in your employ have you whispered those words to?”

“None.” And he knew he was a bastard for the advances he’d already made. But damn it, he couldn’t help himself.

“I’ve tried avoiding you.” And had managed to do just that since her first morning here. “Tried focusing on other things. But then I see you again and I want you more.”

Slowly, he pulled the other side of the scarf from her bodice. The sheer white material was of fine silk.

Her breast rose rapidly beneath the light grazing of his knuckles along the edge of her dress. To hell with staying away from her.

Push him away. Push him away. That sound suggestion kept running through her mind. She really ought to say no and be done with it. Be done with him. She’d come here for one reason— to lecture him on his son.

Oh, God, why had she stayed after he’d admitted wanting her so badly? Instead of leaving, as she should, she stood before him, indulging his sense of want and her sense of curiosity.

This seduction was not a respectable path in which to become an in de pen dent woman. Not the way to prove her worth in the working world. This was not the way to start her future.