Gift-Wrapped Governess (16 page)

Her cheeks heating, Honeysuckle inched to the corner diagonally opposite.

‘That kiss…' He sighed. ‘I can see you remember it, too. Was it your first kiss? Oh, please tell me that it was. For I never want any other man to taste those lips. To discover that you can kiss like that…'

‘H-how dare you! If you were a gentleman, you w-would not remind me of…that…lapse of good conduct.'

‘Well, that's exactly why you ought to marry me, sweet Honeysuckle. You can remind me every day of how I ought to behave. You can reform me.' He darted suddenly round the desk, making a grab for her, which she was only just nimble enough to evade.

‘Hah!' she panted. ‘That attempt to manhandle me just proves that you are beyond redemption.'

‘I am quite sure,' he said, stalking her slowly round the desk while she kept on steadily retreating, ‘that your vicar would argue that nobody is beyond redemption. I am sure he preaches that every sinner who repents may enter the gates of paradise.'

‘Exactly! You would have to repent and you never do!'

‘Now that's not true. You have challenged me and made me question my behaviour in a way nobody else has ever done before. I'm not saying that you won't have your work cut out, reforming me. But if only I had you around to point out where I am going wrong,
all
the time…'

‘That's not the kind of wife I would ever want to be,' she protested, stung at his description of the way he perceived her. ‘Always nagging at you…'

‘Oh, I am quite sure you would never have to nag. I expect you have already learned in your career so far that, when handling naughty boys, a threat to withhold some treat,' he said, eyeing her mouth provocatively, ‘is a sure-fire way to get him to do your bidding.'

‘I don't have much experience with naughty boys. And anyway, you're not a boy. You are a fully grown man.'

‘I always seem to grow even fuller around you,' he said
suggestively. ‘I dare say you couldn't help noticing that for yourself last night when you twined yourself round me like your namesake.'

‘I'm sure I don't know what you mean,' she protested. ‘And you ought not to be speaking of such things in the vicar's study, of all places.'

He clucked his tongue. ‘And here was I, thinking you prided yourself on always being honest.'

Her cheeks felt hot. Her words had just proved she had understood his allusion completely. But worse, his mock-reproof had struck deeply at her own conscience. Last night, as he'd pointed out, when she
had
been clinging to him like a vine, she had not only been aware of his aroused state, but had been thrilled to think that it was
her
kisses that had achieved such a dramatic effect upon his body.

He stabbed a finger at her as he made his next point. ‘Admit it. I could have an improving effect upon you, too. You have longings and passions, for which you have never had an outlet before. You are all…buttoned up. As your husband, I shall have the right to unbutton you. The
pleasure
of unbuttoning you,' he said, his gaze straying to the front of her gown.

In her head, she could see his hand reaching across the desk and unbuttoning her bodice right now. Slipping those long, elegant fingers inside her clothing and caressing…

‘Stop it!' She pressed her hand to her chest, inside which her heart was hammering wildly. ‘This kind of talk is unseemly.' And unsettling. Not only was her heart pounding, but she was breathing harder. And there were sharp twinges of excitement in her tummy and her legs were turning to the consistency of jelly.

‘Nothing is unseemly between a man and his wife.'

‘I'm not your wife!'

‘But you will be. You want to be. You will enjoy taking me in hand…'

He made a motion towards the front of his breeches. In
spite of gasping with outrage, she could not help following the motion of his hand with her eyes. Nor noticing that he was, once again, um…
fully grown.

‘See how much influence you've had over me already. Mending my manners, planning on marrying and settling down, getting me all hot and bothered just from talking about kissing you…'

‘You did not
plan
to marry and settle down,' she said, sidestepping his remark about getting hot and bothered, since she was so very hot and bothered herself. ‘You never plan anything! A thought just pops into your head, and you go along with it. B-but I concede,' she said, darting round the desk suddenly, as she realised he had been inching his way closer whilst she had been temporarily fascinated by the impressive ridge that was pushing out the front of his breeches, ‘that you are attempting to make amends for crossing the line last night. But please don't insult my intelligence by making it sound as though you were out looking for a wife and that you deliberately chose me when I know it was no such thing.'

‘You are right. I never do plan anything. But now I have thought of it, I cannot think of anything I'd rather do than marry you. And I'm quite sure you would like being married to me.'

She had to make yet another strategic withdrawal when he attempted to inch closer. ‘That is beside the point.'

‘So you admit it—you do want me?' He took two large paces towards her. With a little yelp, she darted away, maintaining her distance. Her physical distance. But, oh, how hard it was getting not to let him seduce her with his words.

‘Perhaps it is time I was completely honest with you,' she said, summoning all her courage. ‘But don't blame me if you don't like what you are going to hear. I cannot, dare not, believe you are in earnest. P-perhaps you truly do believe, at this minute, you want to marry me. You have just admitted you have got carried along on one of those surges of enthusi
asm you are always getting. But after a very brief time, it will wear off, and then where will that leave me? I…' She took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘I want you, yes. I have always wanted you. Right from the first moment I saw you, when I was scarce old enough to recognise what that kind of wanting was.'

For a moment, they both stood stock-still, gazing at each other hungrily. She didn't think either one of them was breathing.

‘What woman with eyes in her head would not want you? You are…' she waved her hand up and down, outlining his figure across the desk ‘…just gorgeous.'

He stood up straighter, grinning smugly.

‘Except,' she said acidly, ‘for your inability to give a rap about anything but your own pleasure.'

That wiped the self-satisfied smile from his face.

‘What do you think it will be like for me, being hopelessly in love with a husband who is constitutionally unable to remain faithful? I will be miserable. No, worse than that, broken! Can't you see, it will be much better for me to remain single?'

‘No. I cannot see that. You are condemning me without giving me a fair hearing. Give me a chance, sweetheart—'

‘Don't you sweetheart me! You have already caused me to lose my job and my reputation. And what do you think it felt like, having to leave with the few belongings I could carry? And not even what I would have chosen to pack! How far did you think I would get with what few shillings I have in my purse?'

‘You'd be surprised how far you can get with hardly any coin at all, actually. I had a bet once, with a few fellows, to see who could travel the farthest on only two guineas and Wilbraham…'

It was the last straw. Could he take nothing seriously? She
had opened her heart to him, and all he could do by way of response was to relate some tale about some bet he had made.

With a howl of rage, she reached for the nearest solid object that came to hand and shied it at him across the desk.

He ducked. It was only when the missile smashed against one of the shelves, spraying black liquid all over the books she'd just spent ages tidying, that she realised it had been the Reverend Colleyhurst's inkwell.

She clapped her hands to her cheeks in horror.

‘Oh, look what you've made me do, you provoking man! I've probably ruined all those valuable books. And your coat,' she wailed. ‘Your beautiful coat!'

A good deal of ink had spattered Lord Chepstow's shoulder and the side of his face, and was dripping in great fat globs down his shirt front.

She knew, from the times she'd stayed in his home as a girl, how often Lord Chepstow visited his tailor and how large were the bills the man sent to him. The cost of replacing what she had just ruined would wipe out any earnings she might have made, had she remained a governess, for years and years.

She stared at him in horror. Not only at her inability to pay for the damage she'd done, but at her loss of control. She
never
lost control. At least, she never had, until the advent of Lord Chepstow into her life this last time.

It felt as though an abyss was yawning at her feet. She had comprehensively insulted Lord Chepstow. Turned down his marriage proposal in the most unflattering terms. And, as if that was not enough, had ruined a whole set of his expensive clothing.

In short, she must have persuaded him that marrying her would be a fatal mistake. He would leave now. And she would never see him again.

She was the biggest idiot alive. Against all the odds, he'd pursued her with the notion of making amends by offering to marry her. And what had she done?

Oh, what had she done?

Lord Chepstow was looking down the front of his coat, an expression of complete shock on his face. And then he raised his eyes to hers.

She buried her face in her hands. She could not bear to see those laughing eyes of his turn upon her in coldness. But what else could she expect? She had said such unforgivable things, even before she'd thrown the inkwell at his head.

But being Lord Chepstow, he did the very last thing anyone could have expected.

He burst out laughing.

She gave a little sob of relief and dared to look at him then. Wasn't that just like him—to see the funny side of a situation that most men would have found infuriating?

Her heart turned over in her chest. He might be the most impulsive, self-indulgent creature in existence, but there was not a mean bone in his body.

‘Do you know, before I came here I vowed I would take whatever you chose to throw at me. But I never d-dreamed…' he chortled ‘…that it would be an inkwell.'

‘You aren't cross?'

‘How can I be cross?' He rounded the desk, seized her hands and tugged her towards him. ‘You just admitted you want to marry me.'

‘Did you not hear a word I said?'

‘I heard you say you were hopelessly in love with me,' he said, pulling her so close that when a drop of ink fell from his fringe it dripped on to her spectacles.

‘But I'm so afraid you will get bored with me. You will take up with your opera dancers again and it will break my heart…'

He removed her spectacles with a rueful smile.

‘How could I possibly ever grow bored with you?'

‘B-because I am so dull and…'

‘Dull? You? Not a bit of it.' He reached into his pocket
and drew out a handkerchief. ‘Every time I stepped into your schoolroom something new and unexpected about you took me completely by surprise. I have only just started to discover the woman you are, underneath all that governessy starch you hide behind. It will take at least the rest of my life to understand you completely.'

‘There is nothing to understand. I love routine and order. And you,' she said despairingly, ‘you crave adventure.'

‘No,' he said thoughtfully as he wiped the lens clean. ‘I don't crave it. This is how it is, sweetheart,' he said, sliding the spectacles back onto her nose and putting his arms round her. ‘When my parents died so unexpectedly, the shock of it made me see what a precarious business life is. And then, you know, I was left in sole charge of an immense fortune. I could not see any point in being frugal with it, or living carefully, not when death could snatch it all away from me without a moment's notice. I just wanted to live life to the full, squeeze every last drop of sensation from each and every hour, so that, if it did all come to an abrupt end, I would never regret not having got the most out of it. But I have never taken my pleasure at the expense of another's happiness. What makes you think I would be unkind enough to take up with another woman, if I was lucky enough to have you to wife?'

‘I am sure you would never
mean
to be unkind, but…'

She gazed up into his eyes and saw nothing but complete sincerity. She felt a little bubble of hope rising. After all, he was claiming those jumbled words he'd uttered about marriage last night had really been his idea of a proposal—a genuine proposal—when she had been assuming all day that he would have laughed the whole thing off in the same way he'd laughed off the hurting of the inkwell. And he hadn't noticed Lady Springfield, so he hadn't talked about marriage because he'd felt coerced. Could he be in earnest?

Dare she believe in him?

But still… ‘The thought of living as you do scares me,' she
admitted. ‘I don't want adventure or experience. I just want to feel…'

‘Secure,' he said, nodding. ‘When you lost your parents, it had the opposite effect upon you, didn't it, to what it had on me? Because along with your parents, you lost your security. And you have been desperately searching for it ever since. You try to make yourself feel safe by constantly warning yourself not to rely on anyone else. You don't ever let anyone get close enough to hurt you.'

‘Th-that is…exactly what I do,' she said in astonishment. ‘But how could you know that? How do you understand it, when I have never told anyone…?'

‘Because I'm not an idiot. I might behave in what you think is an idiotish manner at times, but I have a brain in my head. And when I choose to use it, I make some damned good choices. An idiot would have run through his fortune entirely, having it handed over to him the way I did, at such a young age and with no serious checks in place. But I didn't. Oh, yes, I know you think I am an extravagant creature, but I have never…well, actually, I did outrun the constable just once or twice, at the very first,' he admitted with a frown.