My Brown-Eyed Earl Page 8

  And yet, here they were.

  His mouth slanted across her lips, still parted in a soft smile. His hand cradled her cheek, pulling her closer and claiming her as his—at least for the moment. He growled and deepened the kiss, thrilling her with the knowledge that he wanted her. Desired her.

  She wouldn’t have believed it possible a few short hours ago, but there, on the earl’s staircase in the evening’s waning light, she could imagine that she was not a governess in a dowdy dress.

  At that moment she was, as he’d said, a comet, bursting across the heavens in a shimmer of light.

  A delicious shiver shot through her limbs as their faces bumped lightly, retreated, and came together again. He speared his fingers through her hair, cursing at the blockade presented by her tight bun. Changing course, he trailed his fingers lightly around her ear and down her neck, where the barrier of her modest neckline renewed his ire.

  Unwilling to surrender, he teased the seam of her lips apart with his tongue, daring her to open to him. She did.

  Never before had she been kissed like this—like it was meant to lead to something more.

  Though her head was muddled with equal parts shock and bliss, she was certain of one thing: the earl could teach her all she needed to know about kissing. And other things as well, no doubt.

  Yes, she was in excellent hands. And since the magical evening couldn’t last forever, she might as well enjoy it while she could.

  Tentatively, she curled a hand around his neck, lightly tugging the soft curls at his nape. When he groaned, she gave herself over to the kiss—and him.

  The earth beneath her gave way, and she was floating, anchored only by his hand on her hip and his mouth on hers. She thought of nothing but the taste and feel of him, the pressure and heat of his body next to hers. Her breath came in short gasps and her skin heated. When the wall of his chest brushed against the front of her gown, her nipples tingled and hardened to tight, aching buds. As though he knew, he reached between them and caressed her breast, teasing its peak through the layers of lawn and wool, sending waves of pleasure through her body.

  She cried out softly, but he swallowed the sound and murmured against her mouth. “I always knew.”

  Reluctantly, she broke off the kiss and pressed her forehead to his. “What did you know?”

  His heavy-lidded eyes gleamed, reflecting her own desire. “That you were a magnificent, passionate creature.”

  In other circumstances, she might have been insulted, but since he clearly meant it as a compliment, she decided to accept it as such. “Thank you.”

  “I told you the day wasn’t all bad. We managed to salvage the end.”

  He pressed a kiss to her palm and held her hand in his lap for a minute, giving her pulse a chance to return to normal. With each beat of her heart, she felt the spell between them slowly breaking, and the stark reality of their situation intruding once more.

  She had everything to lose. Her virtue, her pride, her job.… her heart.

  Suddenly self-conscious, she pulled her hand away and smoothed a tendril of hair behind her ear. She required time and space to think about what had just happened and to figure out what, if anything, it had meant. “This day did have some things to recommend it. However, I think that now I shall truly retire for the evening.”

  When she reached for the balustrade to pull herself up, he immediately stood and offered his hand, lifting her to her feet. With his hair disheveled and cravat askew he looked vaguely lost. Almost vulnerable. “Until tomorrow,” he said, his words holding the hint of a question.

  “Of course.” However, she wasn’t really sure of anything. Not while her lips were still swollen and her mind was still reeling from his kiss. “Tomorrow.”

  He walked beside her as she made her way to her bedchamber, crossing his arms as though he didn’t quite trust his hands to be free. As she opened the door, he stepped aside but lingered.

  Perhaps he wanted to say something, like I shouldn’t have kissed you. Or ask her a question, like Could we pretend this interlude never happened?

  Or maybe he wanted to kiss her again.

  Her skin tingled at the thought.

  He leaned his long frame against the doorjamb, reached for the curl resting on her shoulder, and twirled it around his finger as though mesmerized. His gaze drifted to her mouth, and she knew. He was going to kiss her again.

  But instead of coming closer, he dropped the curl and backed away solemnly. “Good night, Meg.”

  She closed the door to her room and rushed to the mirror above her washstand to check her reflection. She wanted to see if her face looked as flushed and her lips appeared as swollen as they felt. In short, she wanted to see if she had the look of a woman who’d been ravished.

  But no. The change, it seemed, was primarily on the inside.

  It was only after she’d washed, changed into her night rail, and slipped beneath the covers of her sumptuous bed that she realized the irony of the evening she’d spent with Will.

  She’d gone to see him intending to turn in her resignation, but had ended up kissing him.

  Even worse, she’d begun to think of him not as the earl or Lord Castleton, but as Will.

  Clear signs she had begun the steady and inexorable descent into madness.

  Chapter TEN

  Despite the warm breeze wafting through an open window, the room reeked of stale sweat and blood. Will eyed his opponent, Alec, who lightly bounced from foot to foot, his boxing gloves raised in front of his torso. Their weekly match at Jackson’s Saloon was a welcome diversion from the mental flogging Will had been giving himself since kissing Meg—his governess for God’s sake—the night before last. It complicated everything, and complications were precisely what he did not need.

  But Alec was no novice at the sport, and if Will wanted to preserve his month-long winning streak, not to mention his straight nose, he had to focus on the basics—footwork, jabs, and blocks. Damned difficult, since Alec had the highly annoying habit of initiating conversation while they sparred.

  “I saw Marina at the opera last night,” he gasped.

  Will dodged a punch intended for his jaw. “That’s nice.” It had only been a week since Will had broken things off with his mistress but seemed more like a year.

  “She asked about you.” Alec swiped a forearm across his brow. “Said she misses you. I’d wager she’s willing to take you back.”

  Will deflected a blow with his left glove and landed a punch to Alec’s abdomen with his right. “Lucky me.”

  Alec grunted and stumbled back a few steps before sticking out his chest and clapping his gloves together. “You could go back to your old arrangement. I thought you’d want to know.”

  “Don’t care.” A week ago, Will might have. But seven days without Marina had made him realize that he was better off without her—and there was no doubt that she was better off without him.

  “Well, well, well,” Alec drawled, “isn’t that interesting?” He wore a grin that begged Will to knock his teeth out. “One of the most beautiful women in London invites you into her bed”—he feinted to his left, just out of Will’s reach—“and you don’t care?”

  “None of your concern.” Will wiped a trickle of sweat from his temple with his forearm and shot his friend a warning look.

  “Would this sudden disinterest in your former mistress—by all accounts a skilled seductress—have anything to do with your new governess?”

  A lightning quick burst of power surged through Will’s arm as he swung and connected with Alec’s cheek. He felt the satisfying smack of leather against skin, and—

  Bam.

  Alec hit the ground like a felled tree.

  Shit. Will dropped to his knees beside his friend, who was out cold. “Somebody bring water,” he yelled to the half dozen men who’d been watching, “and smelling salts.” Then to Alec, “Can you hear me? Say something, you blazing idiot.”

  Alec groaned, pushed away the salts being wave
d under his nose, and blinked. “Jesus, Will. You almost took off my head.”

  Relief flooded his veins as he helped Alec to his feet. “I should have. Next time, don’t ask so many damned questions. We’re in a boxing club, not a bloody ballroom.”

  Alec rubbed his face and winced. “Thanks for clarifying.”

  “You know, you might be a decent fighter if you could manage to keep your mouth shut.”

  Alec tugged off a glove, sipped from a ladle of water, and poured the rest over his head. “But then I’d never know what was going on in that mind of yours.”

  Will snorted. “Careful what you wish for.”

  They moved to the side of the room, where Alec slung a towel around his neck. “I struck a nerve when I mentioned Miss Lacey. Or is it Meg now?”

  Will gave his shoulder a shove, backed him against the wall, and glared. “Tread lightly, Torrington. Tread very, very lightly.”

  Alec raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fine. But I happen to have some experience in this area—navigating a relationship with one’s governess. You know where to find me if you want my advice.”

  Will blinked then laughed out loud. “The day I seek relationship advice from you, my friend, will be a cold, cold day in hell.”

  Alec started to laugh, too, but quickly stopped and cupped his cheek. “Damn, that hurts.”

  “I’ll buy you dinner at the club later—if you vow not to speak of governesses.”

  “Fine,” Alec said sullenly.

  But as Will toweled off and dressed, he was thinking of Meg. Of how she’d responded when he’d kissed her and how he’d looked for her around every corner for the past two days. She seemed to spend all her time teaching the twins in the nursery or planning their lessons in her room.

  He could hardly be cross about that—it’s what he was paying her for, after all.

  But he couldn’t help wondering if she was avoiding him. If she regretted the whole evening. After all, she’d soundly rejected him once. Her infamous refusal of his proposal may have been eight years ago, but in his experience, people didn’t change much, not at their center. And she’d obviously found him abhorrent then.

  Regardless of whether her opinion of him had changed, the real problem was him. He’d crossed a line with the kiss. Granted, for that evening they’d shrugged off their roles as employer and governess. But as much as he’d enjoyed their interlude, he knew in his gut that they had no choice but to return to their assigned roles.

  Meg had gone back to being Miss Lacey, dedicated teacher of unruly twins and steadfast wearer of ugly dresses. Will had gone back to being the Earl of Castleton, carefree bachelor of considerable means and consistent shunner of weighty responsibility.

  He should be used to the playing the part. Hell, it wasn’t even a part, it was simply him.

  And if the role wasn’t as satisfying as it once had been, if it left him feeling vaguely empty and lost, maybe it was a sign that, God help him, his mother was right.

  Being an earl—at least a good one—meant doing his duty. He wouldn’t repeat the mistakes his father had made—taking both his title and fortune for granted.

  When his father died, Will had inherited more than an earldom; he’d inherited a mess of the first order. The entire estate was in a shambles, and the family’s coffers were depleted. Every outstanding debt, ill-considered contract, and excessive expenditure had landed squarely in his lap.

  Once he’d recovered from the shock, Will had rolled up his shirtsleeves. He’d dedicated the last five years of his life to restoring order where he could, making his land profitable, and generally cleaning up the remnants of his father’s carelessness.

  To be fair, he’d only worked twelve hours a day, which left plenty of hours to indulge in the sorts of activities bachelors normally enjoyed. Such as a highly pleasurable dalliance with one’s fetching governess.

  But when it came to being a truly fine earl, business acumen and hard work were only half of the equation. The other half was being honorable and, damn it all … doing one’s duty.

  It was time for him to stop keeping mistresses and seducing governesses and move on with his life.

  It was time for him to find himself a proper countess.

  * * *

  “We have time for one more.” Meg wrote 8-3 =? on a small slate and showed it to Diana. “Try this.”

  She closed her eyes, moved her lips, and took a deep breath. “Six?”

  “Close,” said Valerie.

  “Seven?” Diana guessed.

  “Not quite.” Meg patted Diana’s knee. “But don’t be discouraged.”

  “You almost had it,” said Valerie.

  Diana clenched her fists and let out an impressive growl. “It doesn’t make sense. I started with eight and counted back three times. Eight, seven, six. The answer should be six.”

  “Ah, I think I understand the problem,” said Meg. “You’re starting with eight, when you should start with seven.”

  “No,” said Diana, pointing her stubby finger to the problem on the slate. “We’re starting with eight. It says so right here.”

  Heavens, it was rather confusing. Meg looked around the neat but sparsely furnished nursery for small objects she could use to demonstrate. “Have you any marbles?”

  Diana rolled her eyes. “We did, but Gibson took them away. He said that, in our hands, they were a hazard.”

  “He’s probably right about that.” Meg tapped her chin. “I know. Tomorrow we’ll go for a walk and collect some small stones.”

  “Stones are going to help me with arithmetic?” Diana asked, clearly skeptical.

  “Maybe they’re good luck,” Valerie offered.

  Meg smiled at her charges. “Perhaps they will bring us good fortune, but mostly they’re for demonstrating equations. You’ll see.”

  “Why can’t we go now?” asked Diana.

  “She has the afternoon off.” Valerie sighed.

  “Off from what?”

  Valerie sighed again. “From us.”

  Smiling, Meg erased the slate and returned it to the bookcase. “I’m going to spend a few hours with my sisters.”

  Diana pouted. “What are we going to do?”

  Meg had wondered the same thing. She’d debated staying with the girls, but Mrs. Lundy had insisted she could manage them while Meg was gone. It was only a few hours, after all.

  “You are going to have your lunch and take a nap.”

  “I detest naps,” announced Diana.

  “Then you may read instead,” Meg said smoothly. “And Mrs. Lundy said that if you behave yourselves, you may go down to the kitchen and help Cook prepare a cake before dinner. Won’t that be fun?”

  “Grand,” Diana intoned.

  “I shall return this evening in plenty of time to tuck you into your beds.”

  “Do you miss your sisters?” Valerie asked soberly.

  “Very much.” It had only been six days, but Meg had never been apart from them for so long.

  Valerie shuffled closer and wrapped her arms around Meg in a hip-high hug. “Enjoy the afternoon with your sisters,” she mumbled into the skirt of Meg’s gown, “but please, please be sure to come back.”

  “Oh, Val.” Meg knelt, pulled her into a proper hug, and patted her golden curls. “I will. I promise.”

  But Diana sat on the edge of her bed with her arms crossed, brooding, and Meg could see the doubt in her eyes.

  “In fact,” Meg said to Valerie, “I would consider it a great favor if you could hold onto my locket for me while I’m gone—just until I return this evening.” She took off the locket, dropped it into Valerie’s palm, and curled her little fingers around it.

  The girl’s face split into a smile. “I’ll take good care of it for you.”

  “What about me?” Diana marched over. “What shall I keep for you?”

  “I don’t suppose you could help Valerie with the locket?”

  “No. I want to look after something on my own.”


  “Very well then.” Meg had no other jewelry, but even if she had she would have thought twice before entrusting it to Diana. She pulled the lavender ribbon from her hair and gave it to Diana. “Why don’t you hold onto this for me?”

  “Yes, Miss Lacey,” she said seriously.

  “Wonderful. I feel much better now that that’s settled. Mind Mrs. Lundy today, and I shall see you both this evening.”

  As she made her way to her bedchamber to change and gather a few things, she realized how desperately she needed a little time away. She didn’t require a respite from teaching so much as from the earl. She’d done her best to avoid him over the past two days, but it was rather draining, trying to plan one’s schedule with the sole purpose of minimizing the chances of random encounters.

  Of course, if the earl had truly wanted to see her, he would have found a way.

  But he hadn’t.

  In the two days since the kiss, Meg had done a considerable amount of thinking and had arrived at two conclusions. First, the impressive charm that the earl had employed that evening had no doubt been for the sole purpose of retaining her services as governess. He must have known she was on the verge of resigning and did not wish to be bothered with hiring another, so he’d shrewdly sought to distract her with pretty words and scorching kisses. And distract her, they had.

  Second, these sorts of flirtations—replete with all manner of gazing, kissing, and caressing—had meant nothing to the earl. For her, their romantic interlude atop the staircase had been a glorious, magical, enlightening introduction to pleasure.

  For him, it had merely been Friday evening.

  Meg would not give him the satisfaction of knowing how much the kiss had affected her—how she’d lain awake at night remembering the sweet pressure of his lips on her neck and the thrilling feel of his hands on her body. Better to carry on as though it had been a perfectly ordinary Friday evening for her as well.

  She peered into her satchel to ensure she had her first week’s pay—more money than she’d ever held at one time. Mrs. Lundy had handed the note to her that morning and said it was well earned. If the dear housekeeper only knew.