The Governess Club: Sara (22 page)

“Close your mouth now,” he instructed in a matter of fact voice.

“Wha—”

Nathan fell backward and submerged both of them, the water cutting off Sara’s shriek. He held firm to the squirming body in his arms, her feet kicking out of instinct while her arms tightened around his neck, threatening to break it. Her red hair swirled around his face, obscuring his vision in a decadent floating swirl. The cold water was invigorating and if he had been alone, he would have stayed under longer. Planting his feet on the sandy bottom, he dug his heels in and pushed them once more above the surface.

Sara took a gulp of air, choking on the water that had been in her mouth. She coughed, trying to clear her lungs. Her body calmed from the shock, the June sun kissing her skin and warming it. She brushed her wet, tangled hair off from her face.

“You are a horrid man,” she accused, her teeth chattering.

Nathan chuckled. “I believe that fact was already well established.”

“I could have drowned.”

“There was not even a remote possibility. I had you the whole time. Do you honestly think I would put you into danger?”

Sara didn’t answer, knowing that he was right. She pushed more hair off her face.

“I’m going to put you down now,” he said. “You will be able to touch the bottom; it is not a deep lake.”

“What will the bottom feel like?” she asked, apprehensive.

He smiled. “It is manmade lake. Nothing to be squeamish about.”

She nodded, the conversation forgotten as she stared at his naked chest. She had seen it before, of course she had. And she had admired it before, the defined muscles under the golden, coarse hair providing a more-comfortable-than-expected pillow. Looking at it now, water glistening on his skin as it traveled down his body in rivulets, accenting those small ridges between his muscles, had Sara’s mouth aching to lick the water off him. It mesmerized her, beckoning her, and she shivered with desire this time.

Nathan pulled her close and Sara rested her cheek against his chest, closing her eyes and inhaling his clean scent. He rubbed his arms along her back and arms, warming her. She became acutely aware of her shift plastered to her body, hiding nothing from his eyes. Her nipples, erect from the cold and desire, poked into him.

She was just about to turn her head to lick his chest when he pulled away. He smiled down at her, the corners of his mouth tilting in just that way to make her stomach flutter. “Feeling better?”

She nodded, her throat dry with disappointment. She didn’t understand how her mind and body could want such different things. It unsettled her to realize how much she was listening to one more than the other.

“Good. The first thing you should learn is how to float. If you know how, you can do anything in the water. Even knowing only this, it will keep you safe. If a boat you are in capsizes, float until you are rescued.”

“If I do ever get into a boat.”

He gave her a sardonic look. “I thought we discussed this. Adventure, Nymph.”

“Why do you call me that?”

“Do you dislike it?”

“I am merely curious.”

Nathan was silent for a moment before he shrugged. “That day in the blasted forest maze. When I saw you sitting against the tree, I thought you looked like a nymph. The moniker stuck.”

“But I am nothing like a nymph,” she countered. “They are lithe and graceful. Calling me ‘sweetheart’ or ‘darling’ or ‘my dear’ is far more acceptable.”

“And far more clichéd. Have you ever seen a nymph?”

“Of course not; they are mythical.”

“Then how do you know what one actually looks like? If they are mythical, can I not have my own perception of how they should look?”

She considered that. “I suppose,” she allowed with hesitation. “But why would you want to think one looks like me?”

Nathan’s chest burned with hatred for her mother and every man she encountered who did not think she was worthy of notice. Keeping his voice steady, he said, “Every man has his preference. You happen to be mine. I like that you are more than a cliché.”

He watched as her skin, pale with cold, flushed a bright red. She avoided his gaze, her eyes dropping down to his chest.

He cleared his throat. “Right, time to float. Lie back and don’t worry, I will help you. I will keep my hands under you until you are ready.”

Sara took a deep breath, bring her eyes back up to his. She licked her lips and nodded.

“Right.” He placed his hands along her back. “Lie down.”

Sara lay stiffly against his hands, her eyes wide. Looking down at her, her hair swirling around her head, Nathan felt one corner of his mouth tug up. “Relax, Nymph.”

She lifted her head. “What?” She flailed, losing her balance.

Nathan caught her easily, helping her right herself. “There you are.”

“What did you say? I didn’t hear you.”

“I told you to relax. Buoyancy does not work if you are too stiff.”

“Oh. I couldn’t hear you. Everything was all muffled.”

“The water acts with the air in your ears to create a cushion. You will be able to hear things that occur underwater that make sound, but no sound created above it.”

“Truly?”

He nodded. “Back down, Nymph. This time relax. Trust me and yourself.”

His hands back in position, Sara leaned back down. She lifted her feet off the bottom, feeling his hands support her beneath her back. The water surrounded her head again and muffled her hearing as it had before. She saw his mouth move and recalled his directive. Taking a deep breath, she considered her body, realizing how stiff she was holding herself, right down to her fingertips. Another deep breath and she closed her eyes, trying to relax.

She focused on her different limbs, willing them to ease. As they did, she felt a small bubble rise up underneath her, giving her body a slight lift off his hands. They followed her, still supporting her, but she felt him move them away, bringing them back for short intervals until she realized that at one point he hadn’t moved them back at all.

Her eyes flew open. He was standing above her, his arms folded in front of him. That stomach-fluttering grin was on his face. “Oh good heavens!” Her body flailed again and she sunk below the surface.

His hands were on her in an instant, pulling her up as she righted herself. Sara regained her balance, wiping the water off her face. She sputtered, “Why did you let me go?”

Nathan shrugged. “You didn’t need me. You were floating.”

“I was floating!” Sara squealed in disbelief. She clapped her hands and squealed again, jumping in one place. He chuckled with her, adding to her delight. She jumped again, this time toward him. Nathan opened his arms, catching her and hugging her to him.

“Oh Nathan, thank you,” she said, cupping her hands around his face. She pulled him down and kissed him, pressing her open lips to his. He responded, but her excitement kept the kiss brief and she broke it. “I want to do it again.”

Nathan obliged her, his hands guiding her down again and she floated on her own easily. She looked up at him, smiling indulgently at her, his ice blue eyes reflecting the water in hue but not in temperature. His eyes were warm, full of something that she didn’t recognize but responded to out of instinct. She smiled back, the thought that she would like to see him look at her like that for the rest of her life entering her mind.

The shock of that thought stiffened her body and right away she sunk. As before, his hands caught her and helped her steady herself. She remained floating this time, her eyes opening to look into his. The warmth was still there, with concern now added to them. The concern drifted away when he saw she was fine and his hands left her.

Oh good heavens, I am in love with him.

She supposed it made sense. She trusted him, opened up to him as she had to no one else, not even Claire, Louisa, or Bonnie. She even trusted him to the extent of this arrangement, going to him in her moment of distress. Even then, she knew that he would be honorable about whatever they did. He would deny it, but she knew it to be true.

Nathan Grant treated her as no one ever did. He actually
saw
her, saw that there was more to her than a meek, biddable, easily manipulated female. He spoke to her as a sentient being, never shielding her from the truth. He helped her realize her dreams, even something as simple as breakfast in bed or learning how to float. He desired her,
preferred
her, he had said.

Oh yes, she was in love with him.

And it ruined everything.

N
athan frowned. Something was wrong. Something had been wrong for a few days now, but he couldn’t place his finger on what it was.

Oh, she had smiled at him, accepted his bantering, freely gave of her affections. She had improved in her swimming as well as her seat on a horse. They had succeeded in crossing off the majority of her adventure list.

But something was wrong.

In everything they had done, he had the feeling that something was . . . off. Different. But he could not determine what.

His gaze raked over her, taking in her gray traveling outfit, and his lip curled. Her outfit was old and worn, out of fashion, and exactly what an impoverished governess would wear. What Sara would wear.

He didn’t like it. She ought to be dressed in the fine fashions of London ladies.

“You are angry?” Her voice was quiet. Timid, even. It stuck in his throat how intimidated she became at the thought of anger and conflict.

He made sure his voice was even. “Why do you think that?”

“You are glaring at me.”

“I am not glaring.”

“I believe you were.”

“If I gave that impression, it was not my intent. I was glaring at your outfit, not you.”

She glanced down. “What is wrong with my outfit? It is serviceable.”

“That is what is wrong with it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You should not have to wear
serviceable
dresses.”

“I cannot afford anything else.”

“Your husband should be able to afford more for you. Ensure that he does.”

A small blush crossed her cheeks. “A vicar’s wife does not wear fancy clothing, Nathan. There are higher priorities. Vanity is one of the Deadly Sins, so even if there were money for such things, it would not be appropriate.”

“I thought you had moved beyond thinking about what was appropriate or not.” His voice had taken on an edge.

“Please, can we not argue?” she whispered. “There is so little time left.”

Nathan sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking out the coach window. She was correct. They would be nearing the town in which she was to join the mail coach.

He looked back at her. “Let me take you to Ridgestone,” he blurted.

Her eyebrows rose. “I beg your pardon?”

He swallowed to keep the desperation from his voice. The urge to prolong his time with her grew. “Let me take you to Ridgestone. We can say that I was passing through and saw you. It is only the act of a gentleman to offer a lady of his acquaintance transportation. I could not in good faith leave you to suffer the ills of the mail coach.”

A giggle escaped her. “The ills?”

“Yes. You never know what might transpire. A passenger may become ill, an unruly child may cause you to become deaf. Your portmanteau may be improperly secured and fly off at any moment. I should not wish to suffer such tragedies.”

She smiled at him, but her words did not ease his desperation. “That is very kind of you, but it is likely best for us to follow the original plan. We went through all this trouble to ensure discretion. I would not want to ruin that.”

Of course she wouldn’t. Not when it might ruin her chances with the Goddamn Bloody Vicar. Nathan felt his lips flatten into a hard line. So be it. He would let her go. He had known that his time with her was limited; there was little sense in trying to negotiate for more. It was clear that she ready for this charade of an affair to be over.

But not before he was ready. There was still at least thirty minutes before their destination and he intended to make the most of it.

He reached over and grasped her waist. Her mouth opened into an “O” but she did not have time to react before he pulled her over to his side of the coach and onto his lap.

“Nathan—”

“Be quiet,” he ordered and pulled off her bonnet. The woman had imprisoned her glorious red curls in a tight bun, but he managed to get his fingers into it, pins falling to the floor.

“Nathan—” she tried again.

“I said be quiet.” This time he added his kiss to the command.

His lips roved over hers, pressing his tongue into her mouth. She opened eagerly, her fingers stroking the back of his neck. He delved into her warmth, drawing in into his body as much as possible. Now fully familiar with his kiss, her tongue parried his, creating a dance that set his blood to boiling. Her arms moved to wrap around his neck, pressing her body closer to his.

Nathan could feel her round breasts against his chest, despite the layers that separated them. He reached down and cupped one, trying to massage it.
Christ, too many layers,
Primordial Nathan whispered in his ear. Without hesitation, Nathan unlaced her dress until it sagged open and he could gain access to her flesh.

Sara pulled back from the kiss and he took the opportunity to plant kisses under her jaw and down her neck. His goal was clear. “Nathan.”

He heard her acceptance in her sigh. His hand pulled her dress down, exposing her shift. He made short work of that and within moments he had her nipple in his mouth. Her head fell back and he found he had to support her with his arm to keep her breasts where he wanted them: close by for his attention.

Little moans and sighs escaped her as his tongue circled her nipple, the rough texture teasing it into tightness. The mound tightened against his face, swelling and pushing up, offering itself to him.

Nathan switched to her other breast and gave it the same adulation as the first. Sara’s fingers wove through his hair, holding him right where he wanted to be. His free hand pushed up her skirts, freeing her legs and guiding her to straddle his lap.