The Governess Club: Sara (15 page)

He continued to hold her hand, standing before her. “Is this location satisfactory?” he asked quietly. “The Taggerts are discreet and we are far enough away from Taft that none should come upon us.”

Sara nodded and looked at the window wall again, her eyes wide. “I just . . . I never expected . . .”

“What?”

She looked at him, her gray eyes glowing with a wonder that hit him in the solar plexus. “I never knew ordinary people lived in places like this. Kings and queens, of course, but someone like me? Never.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Surely as a governess you would have lived in grand houses.”

She shook her head. “The Perkinses were merchants; they had money but were also frugal. Even if they weren’t, governesses are relegated to the schoolroom and servant quarters. Even Claire only saw the main rooms of Aldgate Hall when she or the children were summoned, which was rare.”

“And is Ridgestone not like this?”

Her gaze traveled the length and width of the windows again as she spoke. “The master suite may have some luxuries that I do not know of, but there are no windows such as these. It is our own little Versailles, is it not?”

Nathan released her hand. “Watch this.” He moved and pulled on a cord next to one of the windows. Heavy red curtains rose from behind the low, thick windowsill until they covered the bottom half of the windows. He moved to the other set and repeated the process, a thrill jumping in his stomach at her mouth open with amazement.

When he finished, he resisted the urge to present the curtains with a flourish of his hands by putting his free hand behind his back, the one other gripping the head of his cane tightly. “This way we can still benefit from the light in the mornings but retain our privacy.” He couldn’t stop one side of his mouth lifting in a smile. “Also at night.”

Nathan enjoyed seeing the red overcome her face; it nearly matched that of her hair. He wondered how much deeper he could make that red.

The knock on the door prevented him from finding out. It opened, admitting Mrs. Taggert, who was carrying a tray. Nathan indicated the sitting area by the hearth and she placed the tray on the table before disappearing into the mistress’ dressing room.

Nathan offered Sara his hand and she took it, allowing him to lead her to the other sitting area, leaving his cane by the windows. It struck him, just as it had at their arrival, how soft her hand was in his. As he helped her to one of the chairs, he realized how reluctant he was to let that hand go.

She settled her skirts, her gaze landing on the dressing room door. “Mrs. Taggert does not have to unpack my trunk. I am used to doing it for myself.”

Nathan sat in the chair opposite and took one of the plates from the tray. He began to fill it with cheeses, meats, bread and fruit. When it was full, he handed it to her and she took it. “You are not a servant here, Sara. You are Mrs. Grant.”

“Yet we both know I am not.”

He poured two glasses of wine and then filled his own plate. “It doesn’t matter what you and I know; what matters is what everyone else thinks. And they all think you’re Mrs. Grant.”

She swallowed a grape. “Whose place is this?”

“Do you really want to know?”

She looked down. “I suppose it is best I do not.”

He popped some bread and cheese into his mouth and washed it down with some wine. He sat back in his chair and regarded her. “Rule number four: Don’t let me do that.”

Sara looked at him, confusion in her eyes. “Do what?”

“Allow me to subjugate you.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“How?”

He drank some more wine. “As soon as I offered you some sort of challenge, you backed down. This is your adventure. You came to my house and stood up to me then; if you had not, we would not be here. If this is going to work, you must be able to stand up to me. If you do not, it is no longer your adventure.”

Nathan watched as she picked at her food. She did drink some wine, but little food passed her lips. He disliked how she did this, how she retreated into her silences; it made him uncomfortable. One of his strengths as a politician had been his ability to read other people.

She looked up and seemed about to speak, but Mrs. Taggert chose that moment to exit the dressing room. She walked as unobtrusively as possible out of the room and Nathan looked at his companion expectantly.

Sara took a bite of bread with cheese and ham, staring into the fire, not saying anything.

Nathan felt disappointment fill his chest. Once again she retreated into herself, once again showing hesitancy at their bargain. Nearly every moment of silence since he had picked her up earlier that day radiated reluctance and he was growing weary of it.

Frustration replaced the disappointment. He had meant what he had said earlier in the coach; he had no wish to be with a woman who did not want to be with him. He never had made it a habit to force women and he was not about to start now.

She had been the one to come to him; in retrospect, she had experienced a moment of insanity and he knew it—he knew it and Primordial Nathan knew it, but they both had been so blinded by the prospect of laying claim to the dream Nymph that they had disregarded that tiny, miniscule, pertinent fact.

Of course Sara Collins would not want him. She was an innocent, a governess, a pure soul who forgave men for sins against her. Why would she ever want to be with a man who treated her as he did? He never should have agreed to her ludicrous proposition; she deserved better, and by agreeing to it, he once again proved to himself just how unworthy of her he was.

But, he rationalized, it was not his fault they were in this situation. She was the one who had propositioned him. He was not the one showing a decided lack of enthusiasm. He had done everything he had promised thus far, had even gone out of his way to show her consideration by selecting Cloverfields, and this was how she repaid him.

No, she was the one who was reneging on their bargain and he should feel no guilt whatsoever for his part. They would not be here if it weren’t for her. He might have flirted with her in Taft, stolen a few kisses, but he never would have taken the step to ruining her if she had not instigated it.

“Fine,” he bit out, making no effort to keep the anger from his voice. She blinked out of her trance and looked at him. “I’ll tell Mrs. Taggert to repack your things. We will return to Taft in the morning. I will spend the night in the stable.”

She blinked her large gray eyes at him, confusion clearly identifiable in them. “Excuse me?”

Nathan rose. “I have no wish to damage your reputation any further. If we return in the morning, we can likely find some way to explain your absence.”

“I—”

He started to move toward his dressing room. “I suggest in the future that you tell the gentleman you are with that you have changed your mind. You could have contacted me at any time to do so. Leading me on to this extent when you so clearly do not want to be here is the far less honorable thing.”

Inside the dressing room, he grabbed a few things and stalked out into the main room, intent on leaving without another word to her. She was little more than a tease, and if she had been a gentleman, he would have called her out for treating him in such a dishonorable manner. To have promised something and then reneged—it made no difference to him what she had promised. It was the same moral as if she had taken money from him, promising to invest it in something, only to be revealed as a confidence trickster—and that was considered criminal.

Nathan retrieved his cane and risked one last glance at her, some part of him wanting to see her reaction: Would it be disappointment or relief? He didn’t know which one he was hoping for.

But he received neither. Instead, Nathan saw her hand pressed to her heaving chest, her pale face tingeing blue as no oxygen entered her lungs. He stared in surprise, never having expected to see such a thing happen to her. Her mouth worked and the panic in her eyes screamed at him to help.

It was the panic that snapped him into action. Dropping what was in his hands, he closed the distance between them in seconds, cursing his limp for slowing him down. “Sara, what is the matter?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm and steady. No sense in causing her more distress. “You can’t breathe?” At her head shake, he asked, “What can I do to help?”

She shook her head and with her free hand showed four fingers. She ticked off one at a time, trying to inhale as she did so.

He frowned and pulled her up from the chair. She continued to tick off her fingers, struggling to breathe. As she did so, he loosened her dress, releasing the garment and pushing it off her shoulders to pool at her feet.

How she managed to shriek when she had no air, he had no idea.

With her dress around her ankles, shift and stockings exposed, fingers ticking off, Nathan rubbed her back, hoping to relax her. He heard some air enter her lungs and whatever she was mouthing became slightly audible. “In two three four, out two three four.”

He joined in this mantra, continuing to rub her back. Slowly he felt her body relax and the color returned to her face. Her eyes turned grateful the more air reached her lungs.

“I’m sorry,” she wheezed. “I did not mean for this to happen.”

A small part of his mind recognized that he wanted to keep making those small circles on her back. “What exactly happened?”

A weak smile pulled at her lips. “I was not able to breathe.”

His right eyebrow twitched. “I surmised as much. I am more concerned with why. Were you choking?”

She shook her head and wouldn’t meet his eyes, her face pinkening with embarrassment. An unfamiliar urge overtook him, one that had him closing the small distance separating them and sliding his arms around her to hold her close to his body, offering comfort. She stood stiffly in his arms for a moment before he felt her body sigh and she pressed her cheek against his chest. Her arms moved and he felt her small hands settle on his back, hugging him in return.

“I do not want to return to Taft.” Her voice was muffled against his shirt. “Not yet. But if you do, I will return with you.”

“I don’t want to return either.” His palm traced the length of her spine and back, his stomach easing with relief.

“Then why did you say we would?”

“Because I am a fool.”

She made to move away from him, but he held her firm against his chest. “I don’t understand.”

Nathan sighed. “It’s not important.”

They stood in silence, his hand continuing its journey up and down her back and his chest warming where her breath touched his shirt. It didn’t surprise him when his body became more aware of hers pressed against him, her breasts soft against his harder planes. Her fingers were tracing small lines on his back and awareness shafted down his spine, settling in his groin and causing the familiar increase in weight to begin. His cock started to swell.

Nathan lowered his nose to her head, inhaling the scent of her hair. Oddly, he wanted this moment to last longer, for them to remain in this moment of comfort.

He knew the minute she noticed something. Those tantalizing lines along his back trailed to a stop and she shifted against his body, adding an additional sensation that had him biting back a groan. She pulled away and this time he let her, dropping his arms.

He watched as Sara crouched down and gathered her dress in her hands, giving him a splendid view down her shift. Straightening, she pulled the garment back up and clutched it to her chest. He could see her trembling, though she lifted her chin with bravado and met his eyes. Her eyes revealed her inner war, her new-found adventurous side fighting with her conservative nature. Knowing he needed to restrain himself, he mentally put Primordial Nathan in a cage with thick iron bars.

“Sara,” Nathan said, his tone gentle, “All I intend to do tonight is hold you. Nothing more.

“You have had a long day of traveling. A woman’s first time can be uncomfortable enough under ordinary circumstances. I have no wish to add to your discomfort. We can wait until you are more at ease.”

Primordial Nathan howled his displeasure in his ear, but the look of relief on Sara’s face was worth it.

“Nothing more?” she asked, her voice soft.

“Nothing more,” he confirmed, just as much for himself as for her. “You can sleep in your shift and I will keep my smalls on, so you can be assured I will do no more than sleep next to you.”

She swallowed and looked into the fire. If possible, her voice was heavy with disappointment. “I was hoping at the very least you would kiss me with your tongue again. I have been waiting all day for you to do so.”

W
ell. That certainly put a funny look on his face. Sara barely stopped the nervous giggle from escaping and she clutched her dress to her chest more closely.

It was a startling revelation to know that there were some moments when she didn’t recognize herself. How did she ever come to say such things?

Her mother would insist on lengthy, penitent prayer. For the first time since her mother’s death, Sara was glad the older woman was not here to dictate to her.

Especially as the look on Nathan’s face was so amusing that it was endearing. And she wanted to see it on him again.

“Release your dress.”

And just like that, his low, hoarse voice had her retreating again. “I—I—”

“I’ve already seen your undergarments, Sara. There is little reason to hide now.”

He was right. And the way he was looking at her, those blue eyes of his burning as hot springs, told her that he had liked what he had seen. Her dress fell to her ankles in a whisper of fabric.

The hot springs flared and roamed over her body, heating her as though she were submerged in the water. They settled on her chest and he spoke to them, rather than look at her face. “Get into bed.”

Her mouth went dry. Stepping out of her fallen dress, she crouched again to pick up the garment.

“Leave it.”

“But I need—”

“Mrs. Taggert will take care of it in the morning.”