The Secret Desires of a Governess (7 page)

The idea that she might feel the same desire he did was far- fetched. Once she better knew him, and understood that his son was not by any means a normal child where his learning was concerned, she’d grow to despise him as all others eventually had— even his dead wife.

The smartest thing he could do, for her, would be to cut her loose. Let her find a more fitting path. She was young and had a long road ahead of her in life. Yet that voice of indecency whispered temptingly: A small hiccup in her path now would not hurt her future employment.

And he did not want to let her go. If she left, his life would follow the same boring path it had for years. Selfishness was what this was. Utter foolishness. Four days with her living here and he couldn’t fathom letting her go.

With a sigh filled with too much longing for his liking, he ran his knuckle down her neck and stopped at the froth of silk tucked into her bosom. Tempted wasn’t a strong enough word for the emotion roaring through him right now. Beguiled or bewitched seemed about right.

Fair would be showing her only the side everyone else saw and assumed about him. Fair was not taking advantage of a woman who had to be at least a decade his junior and under his employ. Fair was scaring her off, because the things he was feeling for her would do neither of them any good in the long run. No, not when the last two women he’d loved had killed themselves for being shackled to a Wright.

He had no desire to drive one woman mad after another as his father had done. Madeline had been a decent woman when he’d married her. Then she’d grown paranoid, claim-ing ill will toward her right up to the time she’d had Jacob.

That was when the madness had completely consumed her mind. She’d not been a fit wife. Nor a fit mother when she’d tried to claim Jacob’s life with her own. His son would never be put in a life- threatening position again.

“Are you playing games with me, Miss Hallaway?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know what arrangement you had with your previous employer, but I can well imagine how you spent your time.”

Because there wasn’t a man sane enough to not notice the finer wares of Miss Hallaway. Elliott could envision exactly how he wanted to spend time with her.

Her mouth dropped open in shock and he groaned to himself. He hadn’t meant to accuse her of any such indecency.

“How dare you! I have done nothing except come into the stable to find your son.”

An idea struck him then. If he angered her, made such a bold accusation against her character . . . she’d go out of her way to avoid him, stop his advances, and disallow him from touching her. Prove to him that he harbored hopeless fantasies. Though he doubted he’d stop thinking about her.

“You haven’t managed a single day of lessons with my son since your arrival. Now that I’ve caught the songbird, one might wonder why she hasn’t tried to fl y the coop.”

She blew at a strand of hair that had fallen over her cheek. She was unsuccessful. He longed to brush it away, but held himself still.

“It’s hard to teach a pupil who is nowhere to be found.

Your assumptions are misaligned, Lord Brendall, I am no nightingale for you to cage.”

A challenge if ever he had heard one.

He didn’t want to cage her. He wanted to shed the constraints that bound her to being a governess, layer by silky layer. And because of that, he must play the beast.

“How much do you really want this post?”

She made no response. Though there was a flash in her eyes of some unspoken emotion he couldn’t quite place his finger on. Dislike? Anger? Surprise?

“You can’t mean to send me off, Lord Brendall.”

He wrapped his hand around the soft creamy white skin of her neck. So much for not touching her. He could cover the whole expanse of her neck with his giant hand. His thumb massaged the pulse beating frantically there; he couldn’t stop touching her. Couldn’t pull away.

She swallowed hard beneath his callused palm. When she didn’t object, he tilted her head to the side to expose the line of her neck, wishing he could taste her there instead of simply studying the smooth perfect arch.

With more difficulty than it should have taken, he dropped his hand from her temptingly soft skin

and took a step back. It was not far enough to douse the need thrumming through the whole of his body like the tension in a rope ready to snap.

“No, I won’t send you off, yet.” He might have no choice if he couldn’t keep his hands off her.

He didn’t miss the spark of relief that flashed across her green eyes with his announcement. Maybe she had nowhere else to go? He couldn’t send her away if that were the case. Damn. She’d do better to find a post elsewhere.

“What exactly is it you wish of me, my lord?”

“Only what I’ve hired you for.”

Only that wasn’t all he wanted.

“You come with excellent recommendations as a governess, so I wouldn’t dare interfere with your teaching my son.”

His earlier actions belied those words. What was done was done. He must learn constraint while in her presence.

Abby almost snorted at his observation of her skills as a teacher. It would remain her secret that the letters of recommendation were forged by her own hand. Not that she doubted her ability to teach a child— she had every confidence in herself.

The fact that Lord Brendall thought she could play some sort of mistress to his whims and teach Jacob put her in an interesting predicament. Why else would he touch her as he just had, if he didn’t want something more intimate between them? And why did a liaison with Lord Brendall hold such great appeal?

She’d always been a bit of a daredevil in the family, so long as she didn’t skirt too much over the lines of respect-ability. As tempting as it was to succumb to the seduction, she would not lower herself to appease her desires.

She stood away from the ladder. He needed to know she’d not be swayed in her decided course of becoming an in de pen dent woman, reliant on no one but herself. She’d not be ruled by a man. Especially him. It was not her fault she couldn’t find Jacob. Not once had anyone offered to help her find the child. No one had offered her any word of encouragement, either.

“I’ve seen you but a handful of times since my arrival, we’ve barely spoken a word, yet you advance like the hound on the fox.”

Let it be known he was not chasing the proverbial rabbit. No, she was no creature so simple and easy to catch as a rabbit; he no better than a hound bent on the chase and nothing else from what she’d witnessed of his actions so far. Perhaps he’d tire of her once she accomplished what she’d been hired on for? Provided she could find her charge.

He did not respond. He did not smile. He did nothing but steady his gaze on the pulse at her neck. He wasn’t much of a talker. No sweet words would come from his lordship’s mouth. Not that she wanted any such thing.

“My first priority is to educate your son,” she reminded him. “As I was hired on to do. I am more than qualified for this position.”

He nodded his agreement.

“I believe you will be pleased with the results as soon as you locate him and bring him to me.” If his lordship wanted to put himself in her path, she might as well make good use of him. “He must attend his lessons daily and without issue.”

His eyes locked with hers. A man shouldn’t have such eerily beautiful eyes. When he stared at her with such intensity, thoughts fled her mind.

He reached toward the lower portion of her throat and ran his hand over the sheer linen scarf tucked into the top of her bodice. She did not stop him. Testament to the fact that she was welcoming his advances. This was a mistake, of course, but she was a slave to sensation right now.

The slide of the scarf over her flesh was erotic and arousing. Her nipples peaked to firm tips

beneath her corset, and her stomach fluttered in anticipation of more. Did he know the effect it had on her?

She could not bring herself to push him away when she wanted to feel such carnal, sensual delights.

That was a mistake.

She didn’t want to stop him but knew she had to.

Placing both her hands to his chest, she pushed him away. Far enough that she could no longer feel his heat warming her already overheated flesh and fogging her brain. Far enough that she was not tempted to rub up against him like a cat in heat.

There was a long moment where they stood and studied each other. Neither of them said a word for some minutes.

Neither moved.

Lord Brendall wore a fierce scowl. His expression was devoid of emotion and intention. Well, not of intention.

She knew perfectly well what it was he wanted, and it just so happened she wanted a piece of that temptation, too.

In her limited experience, men treated women one of two ways: like bone china, liable to break if handled without extreme care, or like a ladybird ready to sing whenever commanded by its own er. Though she was not liable to break, she was not inclined to follow any demands set out by a man.

He gave another glance over her person, one that nearly ate her up and licked a wicked heat over her body. She turned and left him standing there.

“You can find me in the library once you have found your son.”

She grabbed up her shawl and walked back to the main house, her steps brisk. She did not turn around to look at him. She couldn’t. She was angry about her reaction and her own lack of restraint, never mind his. She was out of her depth whenever he was around.

Heartbroken, the wise woman’s daughter shed tears for weeks on end. She did not eat, nor could she sleep. Over time she withered away to a husk of the woman she was until finally she slept never to awake again.

—The Dragon of Brahmors

What in hell was wrong with him? Elliott smacked his hand against the pillar she’d leaned against moments ago.

He wavered from a strong desire to possess her and an equal need to send her away. He didn’t only want her in the basest of ways, either. He wanted to just be in her company.

Watching her pretty green eyes assess him and mea sure his worth.

Why? He’d talked to her thrice since her arrival. But every time, she’d tested her will against his. Had stood up to him. Had told him without hesitation or reservation that he was nothing but a brute. Which there was no arguing.

She was playing havoc on his emotions, his feelings.

He didn’t like losing control. But the more she tested him, pushed him, the more helpless he felt to resist her. He had no right liking her. She was such a free- spirited woman, and crushing that exuberance would tear him asunder.

He’d have to settle for watching her from afar, because he refused to ruin another perfectly good woman. It would do him well to remember that he was a brute. His wife had hated his constant attention and coddling. Had spat hated and cruel words at him on a daily basis.

Miss Hallaway might prove no different if she understood just how simpleminded a man he was. Dumb as the day he was born.

He shook his head, turned away from the stable, and went to retrieve Jacob. He found the boy standing under a tree in the west courtyard, staring at the ground. Could it be the source of Jacob’s morning excitement and agitation?

“Jacob,” he called when his son didn’t raise his eyes from the ground at his approach. “Miss Hallaway is waiting for you up at the house.”

His son turned to him with sad eyes. “I don’t want lessons. What if a bird comes?”

His son had his heart in the right place.

Elliott stared down to the squirrel that held his son’s attention rapt. The animal hadn’t fallen far. There was a hole in the trunk about eight feet up. He knelt down next to Jacob.

“Shall I put it back?”

Jacob’s eyes widened. “Would you?”

Instead of answering, he picked up the little ball of red fur and reached high on the tree to put the critter back in its place. It nipped his finger in the process, but its teeth were new and its bite weak.

Task complete, he wiped his hands on his trousers and turned back to Jacob.

“Now up to the house with you. Miss Hallaway is not to be kept waiting again.”

Jacob wiped his nose on the cuff of his shirt before saying, “Do I have to?”

“Yes.” Elliott turned to walk back to the main house, knowing his son wouldn’t be far behind.

Her need to be behind closed doors and in the relative safety of the main house where Lord Brendall was less likely to catch her off guard and put her in another compromising position was a spur to her flanks.

She was not so lucky to completely escape Lord Brendall. After taking her spot behind the desk, he was minutes behind her and led Jacob into the room. Of course he would know where to find his son, where she had failed, though it was through no fault of her own.

Well, she supposed, it seemed she was well set with the boy attending lessons— at least for today.

Lord Brendall had shown no interest in staying to test her knowledge or the basis of her curriculum, both of which were without fault.

He left shortly after asking his son to sit in a chair and stay put till lessons were over and he was dismissed for the day. Jacob nodded in agreement then focused on her.

Abby did her best to ignore Lord Brendall’s retreating form. She wasn’t very successful until he was completely gone from her sight.

“Good day to you, young master.”

The hostility with which the boy gazed upon her could probably set flame to rock. How like his father he was.

They both seemed so angry at the world. She would uncover the reason for that as time wore on.

For now, her sole focus was Jacob. There was no room for Lord Brendall in her mind. She’d worry about him when she faced him later; they would have to discuss Jacob’s lessons, and the sooner the better.

“Since I’m not sure where your last governess left off, we’ll start with some light arithmetic.”

Jacob crossed his arms over his chest. “Math’s dull.”

“Would you prefer we read something aloud, then?”

She raised one brow in question. It mattered not to her what they worked on first.

With a huff of annoyance, Jacob slid his chair closer to the desk. Paper and pencil were already spread out for him. She’d set this room up on her second day here. It was nice to finally have a student to fill the quietness.

“Can you chart out a multiplication table up to fifteen?”

He nodded and set his pencil to the paper. Abby leaned over him, interested in how fast he worked the numbers into the chart. He didn’t pause to count, or think about what the numbers were, as he went higher.

“How high can you go on the table, Jacob?”

He shrugged and continued writing out the numbers.

He was done in less than two minutes.

She frowned down at the completed chart, wondering how much more advanced a boy child might be with numbers than the girl she thought she was to teach. No use fretting over such a thing. She hadn’t been prepared for his strong show in math on his first day, and with the absence of a steady teacher, so she would have to present him with something more advanced on the morrow.

“Tomorrow we’ll move on to something more challenging for your young mind. I’ll prepare the lessons to-night. Perhaps some geometry would interest you?”

He gave a noncommittal shrug.

Abby slid a chair closer to Jacob and sat next to him.

His hair was mussed up and tangled; she wasn’t sure if it had been brushed today, let alone all week. She wanted to brush her fingers through it to smooth it out, rid it of some of the knots.

Some strange maternal notion had her wanting to wipe the smudge of dirt from his cheek, too. She refrained from doing so. She’d ask the kitchen staff to make sure the boy came to her bathed and dressed as befitting his station tomorrow.

Jacob stared down at his paper, looking over his numbers. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought he was avoiding her scrutiny.

“I found a wonderful book of fairy tales in the library.”

Reaching across the wide desk, her fingers grasped the edge of the leather- bound book to pull it closer. “I read it yesterday. I’ve never read it before, so I guess it’s based on a local legend.”

Jacob kept his head downcast. His fingers fidgeted and tangled together in his lap. Abby screwed her lips tightly together and wondered how best she’d garner his interest. She opened the first page of the book. There was a picture of a young man— a prince— sitting next to his father’s throne. She’d been positive that all little boys would be intrigued by a story featuring a dragon hero.

“It’s about a prince who’s turned into a fire breathing dragon. I thought perhaps we could read it

together.”

Jacob’s eyes wandered away from his lap to the room around them. His feet kicked backward and forward between the legs of the chair.

“If you’ll take the time to read part of the story with me, I’ll let you go till after lunch. How does that sound?”

He turned and faced her. His forehead scrunched up as he frowned. Even his little lips pursed together in anger.

Or was it distrust? Did he not believe her?

“I promise.” For some reason, Abby felt the need to add that last comment.

What else could she do to assure him that she wasn’t some evil crone? She’d thoroughly enjoyed learning everything her father had taught her. Had sat on his lap as a child and absorbed every story, every bit of knowledge he had wanted to share with her impressionable young mind.

Maybe Jacob hated fairy tales. Maybe he hated this story in particular. But the boy had to start somewhere with her. She didn’t know what kind of education he’d had before her arrival at the castle. Though it was obvious his math skills hadn’t lacked.

Pushing the book closer to him, she pointed to the first word. Jacob took a deep breath and pushed it out, and then slumped in his chair. Was he shy?

“I can read along with you, if you like. Repeat after me: In the Kingdom of Brahmors, there was a young prince . . . ”

Abby looked at her charge. He had crossed his arms over his chest, and his feet kicked between the legs of the chair with more vigor than he’d previously shown. How had she angered him? And in less than half an hour.

“Why don’t you read the next line?” she offered.

“No.”

“Let me ask you something, Jacob.” Abby leaned back in her chair and waited for a response from him.

“What?”

“Is it simply the story you dislike?”

His feet stopped kicking, and he finally turned his head toward her, his blue eyes narrowed.

“Or do you just dislike all your governesses?”

“Don’t like learning. Martha says it won’t do me no good.”

Abby had to bite her tongue on that. She’d discuss that inappropriate comment with Lord Brendall later on in the evening.

“Learning, when done with a competent teacher, can be a great deal of fun and very rewarding. Will you at least trust me in that matter? Trust that I can fill our days with fun?”

He looked back to the book, his eyes narrowed as he gave her a reluctant nod. So she hadn’t won him over yet.

She’d work on that as the weeks unfolded. He would come to trust her and maybe even like her.

“I simply wish to assess what level we need to start at in your curriculum. Is there another book you wish to read?”

“No.”

It took a great deal of will not to snap the book closed in frustration and toss the bloody thing across the room.

Abby was beginning to wonder about her sanity in deciding on teaching as her path in life.

“I’m trying to work with you, Jacob. If you dislike the story, we’ll find another.”

He shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “It’s not that.”

“Then, pray tell, what is it?”

“I can’t read the words.”

Abby barely managed to suppress her gasp of surprise.

He couldn’t read? How was such a thing possible? The poor child. And those bastard tutors and awful governesses before her! How dare they not teach him the most important thing there was to learn. He must have been sorely neglected in his studies. For heaven’s sake, she’d been reading by the time she was five. Both her sisters, too.

“Then I will teach you.” There was no questioning that.

He let out a long- suffering sigh. A boy of eight shouldn’t be driven to make such a sound.

“Can I go now?”

Had she been sure he wasn’t embarrassed about the situation, she’d have made him stay. But the child had trusted her with something he obviously didn’t share with everyone. Or perhaps he did, and they’d been too frustrated with Lord Brendall and the boy’s illiteracy to stay on.

Closing the book gently now that all her frustration had dissipated, she replied, “I want you back here after luncheon. That should give me plenty of time to prepare some lessons for you this afternoon. If you don’t come back, I’ll have to get your father to retrieve you again and I don’t think he’ll be happy to know you disobeyed him.”

Jacob looked at her, waiting for her dismissal.

She sighed. “You can leave. But I want to see you back here in one hour.”

He was on his feet and out the door before she could even finish her sentence. Had she been that impetuous as a child? She shook her head with a smile. Yes, she had been.

While Jacob ate, she’d have to look for some lettered cards. If there weren’t any, she supposed she could make them. She wasn’t an artist like her sister, but she’d be able to paint something decent, and even a little fun for Jacob.

It was that exact moment she realized that there was no question of her not staying.

Now that she’d had the opportunity to sit with Jacob, she wanted to help him, especially since it seemed no one else cared for the boy’s welfare. Aside from his father, who had gone to the trouble to hire her and all the governesses in the past.

She wanted to make a small difference to someone in the world.

Added to that, she did not want to leave when she saw more to Lord Brendall than the casual observer might.

There was something in his character that she craved to explore.