My Brown-Eyed Earl Read online

  It seemed the power had shifted to her, if only for a short time. She sought to prolong the heady feeling.

  “How so, my lord? Are you not my employer and I your governess? How can I possibly exert power over you?”

  “At this moment, madam, I am your servant,” he murmured, his husky voice promising all manner of wicked delights.

  “My servant?” She boldly placed her palm on his impossibly hard chest and heard his sharp intake of breath. “And what, precisely, are your duties?”

  “To please you.” As he leaned in, his lips a mere hair’s breadth from hers, his eyes fairly burned with intensity. “Let me. Say the word.”

  Meg swallowed. She wanted to resent the earl, truly she did. But in spite of his carefully cultivated reputation as an incurable rake, he’d shown glimmers of decency and goodness. He’d honored a promise to his cousin and taken in two little girls with nowhere else to go.

  Worse, he had the sort of dangerously handsome face and athletic physique that might well bring a woman to her knees.

  The heat in his stare left no doubt he wanted her … and yet, he’d handed her the reins. All she had to do was say …

  “Yes.”

  The word wasn’t even out of her mouth before he hauled her against him. Their bodies bumped together, thrilling her senses and igniting her desire.

  Everything else slipped away. Her earlier desperation to find Diana, her worry about Uncle Alistair’s ball—even the shame she’d felt about kissing the earl. None of it mattered, or if it did, it was all eclipsed by the glorious sensations of his lips pressed to her neck and his hands cupping her bottom.

  It was both liberating and exhilarating, living only in the moment. She was neither mired down by her past nor limited by her future. Surrounded by the vine-covered arbor and fragrant blooms, they were in their own small Garden of Eden.

  In this paradise, there were no repercussions to sliding her hand beneath the earl’s waistcoat and caressing the deliciously taut muscles under his shirt.

  There was no one to frown upon her wantonness as she deliberately pressed her belly against the front of his trousers, reveling in the stark evidence of his desire.

  Like Eve, she’d surely regret her brash behavior come dawn, but tonight she would surrender the need to control every maddening aspect of her life, from her family’s pitiful financial state to her uncle’s eccentric reputation.

  Tonight she would willingly abandon the rules of polite society and simply feel … alive.

  With a sigh, she speared her fingers through the hair at Will’s nape and tilted his head toward her.

  For this was what she needed. His hot, wet kisses trailing down her shoulder. His deft fingers waging war with her neckline. The slight stubble on his jaw abrading her skin in the most delightful way.

  He was what she needed, and this once, she would not deny herself. Brazenly, she twisted in his arms, presenting her back to him. “Loosen my laces?”

  He growled, making short work of them. But when she would have turned around to face him, he placed his warm hands on her now-bare shoulders and stilled her. “Wait.”

  He swept aside the tendrils of hair that tickled her back and tugged her gown lower, exposing her skin to a sultry night breeze. “Slip off your sleeves,” he murmured in her ear. “I need to see more of you. I must touch you.”

  Her nipples tightened in response to his wicked words, and though she did as he asked, she held the front of her gown tightly against her breasts.

  “Much better,” he whispered approvingly. “But there is the small matter of your chemise.” He reached around her, plucked the tie at her neckline, and pulled it free. “It must go as well.”

  He did not beg permission this time, but shoved the thin lawn garment down her arms so it was no longer a barrier between them.

  And then he moaned. “Jesus, Meg.” Though he was clearly exasperated, she rather thought he was pleased at the same time. And that pleased her.

  He rested his chin on her shoulder and slipped his hands under the coarse wool of her dress, gliding his hands around her sides, up her belly, and beneath her swollen breasts. “So beautiful,” he said. “So perfect.”

  The gown slipped through her fingers and bunched wantonly at her waist. She leaned back against him, unsure if her own legs would support her and grateful for the hard solid wall of his body behind her.

  He cupped her breasts easily, taking their weight in his hands as he kissed the sensitive spot behind her ear.

  Oh God. This was more than a stolen kiss, far beyond the realm of allowing him a few liberties. And that knowledge thrilled her all the more.

  She whimpered as he caressed her with whisper-soft strokes. Cried out when he lightly tweaked the tight buds. She’d never imagined that he could induce such bliss with a simple touch, but a delightful heat pulsed between her legs and echoed throughout her body. Every nerve ending seemed connected and on fire—for him.

  Somehow, he understood what she wanted before she did.

  “Come here,” he said, guiding her to the bench. “Sit.”

  When she did, he knelt before her, letting his gaze rove over her bare skin. She would have covered herself with her hands, but he pinned them to the bench beneath his own. “Don’t hide yourself from me. Ever.”

  “I don’t belong to you, and I am not yours to command.”

  “Perhaps not. It’s one of the reasons you intrigue me so. But one day soon, Meg, you will be mine.” With that, he bowed his head to her breast and drew the tip into his mouth, his tongue tasting and teasing.

  She sucked in her breath, dizzy from the sheer ecstasy of it. “Do not stop,” she begged.

  As he left one breast to lavish attention on the other he shot her a lazy, seductive smile. “I am yours to command,” he said, throwing her words back at her. “Especially in this.”

  Any retort she might have made died on her lips, and her head fell back.

  He slid his hand beneath the hem of her gown and stroked her leg, just behind the knee. “I want to make you feel even better. Let me.”

  “What, precisely, do you propose to do?” she asked breathlessly.

  “I could tell you, if you like.” He nibbled at her ear lobe. “Or I could show you. Trust me?”

  He looked impossibly handsome and vulnerable at the same time. An irresistible combination.

  “I trust you,” she said.

  A feral gleam lit his eyes as he lifted her dress, glided a hand up the inside of her leg, and gently spread her thighs. Her skin glowed pale in the moonlight, and the warm evening air kissed her … everywhere. When she would have squeezed her knees together, he leaned in to capture her mouth in a kiss.

  With one hand he traced decadent spirals on her bare breast; with the other he found the sensitive folds at her entrance and stroked her, reacting to her every moan, responding to her every need. He circled the most sensitive spot until she was on the edge of something big, panting with desire and nearly incapable of coherent thought.

  “I’ve dreamed of touching you like this, Meg. Of making you moan with pleasure and watching as you come undone.”

  “Why?” she gasped, leaning her head on his solid shoulder. “Why must you always push me to give up control?”

  “Because you fight so hard to keep it.” He slid a finger into her, and instinctively, she thrust against his hand. “And because I know that when you finally do relinquish control, it’s going to be … exquisite.”

  “Help me,” she begged. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “It’s very simple.” He chuckled softly. “And you are closer than you think. But you might try thinking wicked thoughts.”

  “More wicked than being half undressed in your garden?” His finger moved inside her even as his thumb caressed her outside, setting up a hypnotic rhythm.

  “More wicked than that,” he confirmed.

  “I am at a loss.” Suddenly shy, she bit her lower lip. “But I’ve a feeling you could assist me.”r />
  “Wicked thoughts happen to be my area of expertise,” he said smugly. “Just do as I say.”

  She was so tightly coiled, so ripe for release, that she didn’t consider balking at his command. “Very well.”

  He plucked a petal from the bloom in her hair and held it before her face. “Imagine that this is ice cream.”

  “Ice cream,” she repeated with some skepticism, even as she savored the pressure of his touch beneath her skirt.

  “Mmm. Pineapple flavored. I’m dripping it here”—he swept the petal through the valley between her breasts—“and here”—he said, tracing a path to her navel. “Cold and sweet, it trickles down your sides, but I dutifully lick every drop off your skin.” To demonstrate, he lapped an imaginary droplet from the swell of her breast.

  “Ooh.” The image of his dark head bent over her body and intent on pleasuring her filled her head. The pulsing in her core grew stronger, more insistent. “What else?”

  “Close your eyes.” She did. “Feel me touching you”—he stroked her entrance, teasing mercilessly—“here.”

  “Yes.” Heaven help her, she was scarcely aware of anything else.

  “Now imagine I’m caressing you here, not with my fingers … but with my mouth. Tasting and exploring to my heart’s content. Driving you mad with every wicked stroke of my tongue.”

  Dear God. A thousand pinpricks of light gathered in her core and smoldered for an eternity. She whimpered, fearing they might never ignite, but then he grabbed a fistful of her hair, drew her head down, and breathed in her ear. “Come for me, Meg.”

  And she burst into flames. Fierce and beautiful, the fire roared through her, sparing not an inch of her body or soul. Her skin tingled, her heart pounded, and her toes curled. And all the while, Will stayed close, holding her and watching her with something akin to wonder.

  Slowly, the world sharpened back into focus. A light breeze blew, the fountain gurgled, a toad croaked.

  And Meg knew she’d never be the same again.

  When at last the embers of her pleasure subsided, he pulled the skirt of her gown over her legs and sat beside her on the stone bench. “You’re an excellent pupil,” he murmured, brushing his lips against her temple.

  Suddenly embarrassed, she’d swallowed and slipped her arms back into her sleeves. She’d surrendered to Will, and it was madness. Pure madness.

  Clearly, the earl had not found the same sort of satisfaction she had, and yet, he did not urge her to venture any further down the lane of impropriety. Perhaps he was aware that she’d already strolled much further down that path than she’d intended.

  “Allow me to help you with your laces.”

  Wordlessly, she turned and let him secure her dress while she attempted to repair the damage to her hair. A minute later, she could have almost passed for respectable.

  But she knew very well that she was not—and what she must now do.

  It was going to break her heart.

  Chapter FIFTEEN

  “After what just transpired,” Meg said soberly, “I do not think it possible for me to remain in your employ.”

  Jesus. Will was still hard as a rock, drunk on the scent of her, and reeling from the raw power of her release. “Let’s not be hasty.” He nuzzled her neck, wishing he could take her to his bed and pleasure her a dozen different ways before morning. “There’s no reason for you to leave. I will admit that this complicates things a bit—”

  “It’s more than a complication,” she said. “It changes everything. A stolen kiss was one thing, but this … we cannot go back to the way it was before—at least, I cannot.”

  “Running away will accomplish nothing. You must give me time.”

  “Time for what?”

  An excellent question—and one he wasn’t quite prepared to answer. “To sort things out. To show you … that I care for you.” God help him, he did.

  She straightened her spine. “I harbor no illusions about the future.”

  “Maybe you should raise your expectations.” The words had tumbled out of his mouth, unbidden—and yet, they rang true.

  “So that I may ultimately be disappointed?”

  Damn it, he was in no position to make promises. Meg was nothing like the type of woman he’d envisioned as his future countess. He needed someone born to the role—someone who could move about society with ease, visiting genteel drawing rooms during the day and hosting lavish dinner parties at night. Someone whose dowdy gowns wouldn’t raise eyebrows in ballrooms or spark gossip amongst the town’s elite. Someone who would give him an heir but not demand too much of his time or heart. That wasn’t Meg.

  But he sure as hell wasn’t ready to let her go. Not after she’d just come apart in his arms.

  Maybe he could slightly alter the vision of his future countess in his head. Perhaps Meg could change a little, too, and they could find some middle ground.

  Of course, her stubborn streak was a mile wide, so the odds of reaching a compromise were not in his favor. He only knew he had to try.

  He blew out a long breath. “Give me the chance to prove to you that my feelings are true.”

  She blinked at him, her heavy-lidded gaze innocently seductive. “Couldn’t that be accomplished while I was at my uncle’s?”

  Undoubtedly. But the distance would also make it infinitely more difficult for him to crack her armor. “Selfishly, I want you here, under my roof. But you need not fear for your reputation. While we are in the company of others, I promise to be the model of propriety.”

  “That in itself is sure to raise suspicion,” she teased.

  “And though it will kill me to refrain from touching you all day,” he murmured, “I will. I’ll see you, and I’ll remember the feel of your satin skin beneath my hands … the decadent taste of your lips … and the glorious sight of you coming undone.”

  He lifted her chin and gave her a tender kiss—both a promise and a plea. “The choice is yours, Meg. You may stay or you may go. But by God, I want you to stay.”

  She arched a brow, regarding him thoughtfully. “And you need a governess.”

  “There is that. But right now”—he slid his hand up her side and cupped her breast—“I swear I’m thinking only of you. Of us.”

  Her eyes fluttered shut and she sighed softly. “I’m quite certain that I’ve lost my mind.”

  “As have I.”

  “But I do need the money. I will stay. For now.”

  He ignored the stab he felt at her mention of money and brushed his thumb over her nipple, pleased to find it taut and straining against the fabric of her dress. “Good,” he growled.

  “You must understand, though. I cannot risk a scandal.”

  “I’ll protect you,” he vowed.

  She shook her head as if he failed to understand the gravity of the situation. “I cannot bring shame upon my family or sully my sisters’ reputations. I won’t jeopardize their chance to make a good match. If it seems we are in danger of being discovered, I shall be forced to leave at once and sever our connection.”

  “I won’t let that happen.”

  “Some things are out of our control, Will. Isn’t that what you keep telling me?”

  “I had no idea you were actually listening.”

  Smiling ruefully, she stood and shook out her skirt. “I must go. The girls and I have much to accomplish tomorrow.”

  He reached for her hand and pressed his lips to the back. “Perhaps you’ll save time in your schedule for me?”

  “That all depends,” she said vaguely.

  “On what?”

  “On the success of naptime.” She pulled away, and he reluctantly released her fingertips.

  “I am a staunch supporter of naps,” he said, watching her glide toward the house.

  “As am I, my lord,” she said over her shoulder. “As am I.”

  * * *

  “Valerie has nine ribbons.” Meg counted out nine pebbles and placed them in front of Diana. She and the girls had pushed t
he desks and chairs toward the walls of the nursery, opting to sit on the worn but comfortable rug in the center. “Then she gives four of them away.”

  Diana slid four of the pebbles to the side.

  Meg nodded approvingly. “How many ribbons has Valerie now?”

  “No one knows,” Diana said cheekily, “because her dresser is such a mess.”

  “Not as bad as yours,” Valerie retorted. “At least I don’t collect weeds in my drawer.”

  “They’re flowers!”

  “They might have been once. Now they’re just dead.”

  “Girls,” Meg said smoothly, while making a mental note to help Diana tidy her drawer later, “let’s finish our lesson, shall we?”

  Diana considered the pebbles once more, her lips moving silently as she counted. Raising her head, she said, “The problem is nine minus four, and the answer is five.”

  “Well done!” Meg exclaimed.

  “Bravo!” cried Valerie. “You’ve got it.”

  “Yes, I think I do,” Diana said, preening. “Now it’s Valerie’s turn. I shall make up a problem for her. Let’s see. Diana has six turtles.”

  “Pardon me, ladies.”

  Meg looked up to find the earl standing in the doorway, leaning casually against the jamb and wearing a midnight blue jacket that might have been molded to fit his broad shoulders and trim waist. “Miss Lacey, might I have a word?”

  “We’re in the middle of a lesson, my lord.” Heat rose up her neck and flooded her cheeks.

  “I only require a moment of your time,” he said firmly, inducing the same sinking feeling as a summons to the headmistress’s office.

  “Very well.” She pushed herself off the floor as gracefully as possible, which was to say not very gracefully at all, and addressed the twins. “Take turns making problems for each other, and write the equations on your chalkboards so that I may see them when I return. I shan’t be gone for more than a few minutes.”

  The girls nodded mutely, staring at the earl with saucer eyes.