Ethan: Lord of Scandals (9 page)

“You are a terrible person,” Ethan assured her gently. “An awful sister and a disgrace of a governess. You should be banned by royal decree. Children should see you held up as a bad example, except my children, of course, and your name should replace Beelzebub’s as the imp of Satan. New sins should be named after you…”

He felt her shoulders twitch, and then she was aiming a soft, damp smile at him.

“Thank you.” When she should have stepped back, she bundled back in against his shoulder. “I’m all right until I see them, Ben or Vim, and then I go completely to pieces, but I miss them too.”

“I cried when I saw Nick for the first time in years.” He could say this to comfort her, and because she couldn’t see his face. “He cried too.”

“Of course.” Alice nodded against his chest. “When I saw Avie, I cried.”

There had been nothing
of
course
about it, not until Alice pronounced it so. Ethan would consider that later. “What is wrong with this sister of yours, that she makes you cry only every five years?”

“She doesn’t leave Blessings and its surrounds,” Alice said, and she did step back—alas. Ethan proffered his handkerchief for her use. “She clings to the place. I can’t stand the thought of it.”

“I love Belle Maison,” Ethan said, missing the feel of her plastered against him. He linked his arm through hers by way of consolation and began a progress toward the battlefield. “Going back there made me recall the painful years of not being allowed to go home. It tainted the good memories.”

She sniffed at his handkerchief before using it to blot her eyes. “You need more good memories. You’ll bring the boys back for another visit, maybe at the holidays. You’ll pop out to check on Nick and Leah, and your sisters. I think they worry about you, by the way.”

“My sisters? We used to call them the Furies when they were little, so passionate were they in their loves and hates. I cannot wait to see what manner of gentleman takes each of them on.”

“Do you suppose they were curious as to which lady you wed?”

“A bastard approaches marriage differently,” Ethan said as they heard the first childish shrieks of glee. “Did honor not compel me, I would not have offered for Barbara, and I do not intend to find myself offering for anybody else.”

Alice peered up at him. “Why not? A woman loses everything by marrying. She becomes property, her children are chattel, and she has no money of her own, no authority over her own life. What could marriage cost a man that’s any worse than that?”

“Interesting perspective.” Ethan resisted the urge to pat her hand on his arm. She’d perceive the gesture as avuncular, and deserved his cooperation in her attempts to restore her dignity. “From my end of the trade, I give up the right to choose any other woman as the mother of my children, I provide for her every need, and all I can do is hope she’s faithful, or at least discreet, and kind to my children.”

Alice smoothed her fingers over his knuckles. “You did make an unfortunate choice.”

“We fought bitterly,” Ethan said, pausing out of sight of the warring armies. “And loudly, and often, but it pleased her somehow. I wasn’t raised with antipathy between the earl and his wives. I’m sure they had spats, but not before the children, and not so… viciously.”

He could reveal this much and have it be a relief, not a humiliation, or not much of one.

“My brother claims a mean woman will outstrip a mean man any day,” Alice said. “I’m sorry, Ethan, that all you knew of marriage was unhappy. You deserved better.”

He was, to his astonishment, coming to think he had too. “We patched things up somewhat when Barbara fell ill. Even before, I realized it didn’t matter to Barbara what we fought about, as long as she could get me to lose my composure. The last thing I wanted was to ally myself with a cruel intimate.”

“Well said,” Alice murmured. “Cruelty finds us often enough we needn’t seek it out.”

He wanted to hold her again, to press her soft, feminine body along the length of him and give and receive the comfort of simple touch.

And he wanted to toss her over his shoulder, cease this useless talking, and plunder her charms until her legs were locked around his naked flanks and she was whispering his name—a thought not nearly as astonishing as it should be.

He settled for a kiss.

***

The Baroness Collins put aside her letter, though correspondence was usually a welcome respite from the solitary monotony of penurious rustication. As a widow, she had peace, though, and peace was no small treasure.

Hart did not have peace, and never had. He’d gone from spoiled boy to rotten young man, making trouble with the help, and then with the neighbors. His mischief had gotten him all but banished to the Continent, where English coin went further toward procuring the lifestyle Hart believed was his due.

His current hostess was pleased to have a baron among her guests, but also tacitly complained about Hart’s treatment of the maids. Maids bore an unfortunate lot in life, but the smarter ones knew how to work that to their advantage. The baroness could not spare much concern for the maids.

Her concern was not even for her son, but rather, for the younger Portmaine girl, said to be governessing in Surrey. The letter cheerily informed the baroness that Hart’s next destination lay in Surrey, and that was not a good thing.

Not a good thing at all.

***

Ethan Grey’s company was seductive, and not just in the erotic sense. Alice was coming to think she could tell him anything—tell him
everything
—and he’d absorb all her terrible sorrows and secrets without thinking any less of her.

And yet, there was a carnal attraction, too, all the more appealing for the way he could receive or bestow a difficult confidence without flinching. The notion of genuine intimacy with him, intimacy of the body, mind, and heart, beckoned irresistibly.

His kiss was a surprise, though Alice recovered quickly. A soft, careful touch of his lips to hers was enough to inspire Alice to twine her arms around Ethan’s neck. She sighed against his mouth, in relief and satisfaction. She had not imagined their mutual appeal, not conjured it from loneliness and fancy.

He pressed his mouth more firmly to hers and let his hands slide down to her hips, an embrace that anchored her even as it transgressed beyond a stolen kiss. Alice wiggled a little with the pleasure of it, and brushed her thumbs over his cheeks, a slow, learning caress that both satisfied and stirred the peculiar ache in her middle.

And then she should have eased back, because a pleasant kiss was ricocheting around in her body, becoming a demanding, intensifying, stubbornly focused prelude to all manner of mischief. Instead, Alice sank more snugly into him, letting her breasts press against his chest. Lest he abandon her for her forwardness, she took his bottom lip between her teeth.

He muttered something,
God
in
heaven
maybe, and against her belly, Alice felt unmistakable evidence of male arousal.

Ethan slipped his tongue along her lips, and she went up on her toes, hungry for him. She met him, shyly at first, but he went slowly, always asking, never demanding, and she was soon exploring him as carefully as he was her. Her tongue rubbed along his; her hands traveled over his shoulders to his back, through his hair, and along his arms; and her body leaned into his embrace.

“Alice…” The dratted, enchanting man tried again to ease away. “The boys are just through the trees.”

“Boys?” She was kissing his
neck
, tasting the salt and cedar of his skin, wanting to rip off his shirt and kiss him everywhere.

“Joshua and Jeremiah,” he reminded her, his arms still wrapped around her. “My sons.”

“We should stop?” Whyever…? She kept one hand resting on his shoulder for balance. With the other she petted his chest through the fine tailoring of his shirt and waistcoat.

“Yes, love.” Ethan’s breathing was ragged. The chest she’d like to learn intimately was heaving. “We should stop.” He tucked her closer, so Alice could feel his heart thudding along beneath her cheek. “Just let me hold you.”

She wanted to kiss him some more, endlessly, wickedly. She could not lift her face from his shoulder though, because his hand cradled the back of her head.

He was, however gently, defending himself from her advances. “Oh, dear.”

“None of that, love. I kissed you first.”

She stood in his embrace, her hands linked around his waist, and cast around for something to say. An apology came to mind, even a tender of resignation, but then she felt Ethan’s arousal, a rigid presence against her belly. She eased her body away from his, though she didn’t take a step back.

“I am afraid to look at you,” she said, nose still buried at his throat. “I am mortified.” Men could not help their responses, not even a man as self-possessed as Ethan Grey.

“You are lovely,” Ethan corrected her. “We merely got a little carried away on the basis of confidences exchanged. I gather it’s been a while for you?”

He sounded hopeful, not embarrassed. She did pull back enough then to see his face. “A very long while. You?”

“Years.” He tucked her back against him, out of kissing range. “Long, long years.”

“You don’t seem to be out of practice,” Alice remarked on a sigh.

“Oh, shame on you.” Ethan nuzzled her crown with his chin. “I am inspired by present company and trust the same is true for you.”

This was not mere gallantry. He sounded as flustered as she felt—which was no end of reassuring, though it did not change their circumstances. She mustered a smile and slipped her arms from his waist. “I did not expect this to happen.”

His eyes shuttered, suggesting her observation was not what he wanted to hear. “You did not expect it to happen, or you wish it had not happened? I can manufacture an apology if you absolutely insist.”

“I did not expect it.” Alice managed a few steps of distance and turned her body so she would not see him and his blue eyes and his broad shoulders, much less any evidence of their kiss. “If we are honest, we will admit neither one of us wants a complication.”

“A single kiss does not a complication make.” Bless the man, he was going to see reason, though he didn’t sound happy about it.

“It doesn’t.” Alice’s smile felt bleak. “But you are my employer, and neither of us wants marriage, so we must deal with the question of intentions.”

“Must we deal with it
now
?”

His voice told her he’d come closer. If he touched her again…

“I was crying, and then I plastered myself all over you, and I know men are prone to… well, no, we need not parse this quite yet.”

“Good. I really would not want to cause you hurt, Alice. If you’re offended, you must tell me, and I will take myself off to Town or go sea bathing or something until we can pretend this kiss did not happen.”

That he could pretend any such thing was lowering in the extreme. Alice reached for pride but found only rueful humor. “I don’t think a single unexpected kiss merits anything so drastic as sea bathing.”

She risked a glance at him to find he was smiling crookedly.

“No sea bathing then. Will you come inspect the battle with me?”

“I think not.” Alice tugged her floppy straw hat up from her back to her head. “Today is Friday, so we will have the children to join us at dinner. I will spend the afternoon writing out next week’s lesson plans, though, and hope we can proceed with a bit more structure starting Monday.”

“A little more,” Ethan said. “I don’t think the boys have had a real break here at home for at least a year, when I hired Harold’s predecessor.”

“They had a nanny before that?”

He looked pained, which was fine. Alice was pained, to be kissing him one minute and then find he was happy to discuss his children the next. While she wanted to… to
climb
him, to knock him flat on his back and kiss him for the rest of the summer.

“They had nannies.” He lifted a hand and traced his finger along her hairline. “You’ll be all right?”

Maybe he wasn’t so happy to discuss his children.

“I will be fine,” Alice said, going up on her toes to brush her lips against his. “Just fine.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything more. Alice turned and made her way up to the house and left Waterloo for Ethan to deal with.

***

Where did a governess learn to kiss like that?

Was this raging, pounding need what had driven Nick from one bed to the next with any willing female?

What if the boys had seen them?

What
had he been thinking?

And
when
could he get his hands on her again?

Ethan did not turn directly for the stream, but took a circuitous path that kept to the shade of the home wood and took him farther from his children’s shouts and battle cries. He came to a clearing, one graced with a little gazebo, and sat himself down on the steps to consider the developments of the past hour.

What he wanted—besides the freedom to plunder his governess’s charms without any consequences—was to talk to his brother. Nick wouldn’t laugh, and he would understand, and if there were answers to be had from greater experience of women and intimacies with them, Nick would share the answers.

But Nick was far away, and Ethan had imposed on him enough for one summer.

God in heaven, what a lovely, lovely kiss.

Ethan’s steps took him to the Tydings stable, where he busied himself saddling one of his spare mounts. Waltzer was a big, muscular dark bay, with the personality of a puppy dog.

“He’ll be fresh,” Miller said. “Mind you walk him out in this heat, guv.”

“I’ll be careful,” Ethan replied, securing the girth. “I’m not out for any great feats of athleticism, but it’s been a trying day.”

“You didn’t let Thatcher go,” Miller said as he handed Ethan the bridle.

“I should have.” Ethan took off the headstall, and had to smile as the horse obligingly dipped his big Roman nose, trying to find the bit. “I shall, if you see him so much as forgetting to scrub a bucket.”

“Ponies are tough.”