by Julia Kelly
“I fear that Miss Cassandra may have another day or two until she’s out of danger,” he said. “I’ll make her up another tonic.”
He wished there were more he could do than suggest brewing willow bark tea and foul-tasting medicines, but a fever must break on its own. There was very little he could do to intervene except make the girl as comfortable as possible and try to keep her body cool.
As he mixed the tonic, he glanced over at Miss Porter. Dark circles rimmed her eyes, and her hair was scraped in a simple knot worn low on the back of her neck. Her movements were slow and heavy. He had no doubt she was on the brink of collapsing from exhaustion.
He handed the tonic to Miss Porter, who slowly spooned it into Miss Cassandra’s mouth. When the half-awake girl finally finished the brew, she handed him the glass again.
“Let her sleep,” he told her. “It is the best thing she can do right now.”
Miss Porter nodded and got to her feet with a heavy sigh. She swayed slightly, brushing her shoulder against his arm. The skirts of her dress swept around his legs, and he suddenly couldn’t escape the awareness of her. She was everywhere in this room. The book she’d been reading to Miss Norton lay open on a small nightstand, an abandoned shawl draped across the back of the rocking chair.
“Miss Porter,” he said, wrapping an arm around her waist. “You’re exhausted.”
She put a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. “I’m just a little light-headed. I’ll be fine in a moment.”
“You’re dead on your feet. What good will it do the young ladies if you’re so tired you fall ill too?”
That made her pause just as she opened her mouth to protest. “I’ll sleep a few hours tonight. I promise.”
“You’ll rest now,” he said more firmly as he led her out the door. It wouldn’t do them any good to argue in front of Miss Norton or Miss Cassandra, but he was determined to put this woman to bed even if it meant dragging her there.
Not that he would mind dragging her to bed . . .
No. Immediately he switched his brain over to something safe. Something that didn’t make him associate this lady with anything remotely horizontal.
The three major bones of the arm are the humerus, ulna, and radius. Show some self-control!
The problem was that now Edward was staring straight at Miss Porter’s arms. Long and graceful in slim sleeves that hugged her all the way up to her shoulder. He wanted to put his hands where her nipped bodice flared at the waist and turn her to him so that he could taste her once again.
She’d been so sweet, and their kiss all those many weeks ago had been far too short. He’d dreamed of it over and over—her grabbing him with the sort of aggression that made her passion clearly known. That sort of display may not have suited some men, but Edward was perfectly happy to be the willing plaything of a woman who knew exactly what she wanted.
“Will you return tomorrow?” she asked him, slipping out of his grasp when they reached the door to her room.
His arms hung loose and useless at his sides. He wanted to touch her again, but she was so exhausted.
“Of course, at the same time,” he said.
A small smile tugged at her lips. “You’re always so reliable.”
No man wanted the woman he desired to think “reliable” when they were standing alone in a darkened room, tension snapping between them sharper than a whip. He might have grasped her by the shoulders and kissed her hard until she submitted. But he didn’t, because that wasn’t the man he was, and he didn’t know how to be anyone else.
“Well, I’ll bid you good night, then,” she said. “I appreciate everything you’ve done.”
He almost turned to go, but something shadowed in her eyes made him stop. “Will you actually retire to bed when I leave?”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, a woman caught trying to decide whether or not to tell a white lie. “It’s just nine o’clock.”
His hand found her elbow. Although he knew it was inappropriate, he couldn’t seem to stop touching her. “It’s time you get a full night’s sleep. I’m a doctor. Aren’t you supposed to do what I say?”
Her eyes flicked up to him. The confusion there only partially masked the passion he saw smoldering beneath the surface. He swallowed hard as all the blood in his body rushed south. The longer he drank in her verbena-laced scent, the harder it was to think rationally. He’d touched her waist and her elbow that night. That should be enough, but it wasn’t. Nothing was ever going to be enough.
The humerus, ulna, radi—hell.
With a swift tug at her arm, Edward pulled her against him, captured her cheek in his hand, and kissed her. Maybe he was that man after all.
Sense, reason, and propriety ebbed from him when their lips touched. All he could process was the little gasp of shock that gave him greater access to her mouth. He slid his tongue along the softness of her lower lip and moaned his approval.
All at once, her hands were in his hair and she was tugging at his lip with her teeth. She pressed her body fully against him and, even through all the layers of clothes and her damned crinoline, she burned him. It would be nothing to lift her in his arms, lay her down on the bed, and finally sink into her.
He couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t do that. He wasn’t such a cad as to take advantage of a woman who had hardly slept in four days.
“Miss Porter,” he murmured between kisses. She was working at the lapels of his jacket now, running her hands underneath them to feel the cloth of his waistcoat and shirt. “Miss Porter,” he tried again.
She pulled away, a little wild. Her hair was askew as it threatened to spill from its knot. Her lips were swollen. Her chest rose and fell as she tried to catch her breath. She was more beautiful than he’d ever seen her, and he wanted to tell her, but then she spoke.
“If you call me Miss Porter one more time, I’ll scream.”
A laugh bubbled to his lips. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, and all of a sudden she was laughing too. Her weight collapsed against him, but he was strong enough to hold them both.
His fingers twined in her hair to rub along the back of her neck. The long strands felt just as silky as he’d imagined. “What would you rather I call you?” he murmured in her ear as her laughter fell away.
She sighed with pleasure. “Elizabeth will do.”
“I can do that.” He brushed a light kiss to the side of her mouth. “But only if you promise to call me Edward.”
She wrapped her fingers around the lapels of his jacket. “Edward, a very wicked part of me had hoped that you didn’t regret my kissing you in the kitchen.”
He traced a line along the scooped neck of her dress, relishing the feeling of soft, uncovered skin. “I regret that I didn’t do it first. You were the braver of the two of us.”
She trembled as his finger dipped below her collar. “I’m not so very brave.”
“You’re in an empty room with a man who just kissed you. Don’t you think that daring?”
She fixed her eyes on his chest. “Now that you mention it, I do. I should tell you to leave.”
His heart sank. He finally had her in his arms, but she was right. He shouldn’t be there. He shouldn’t be standing so close—tasting her, touching her. He needed to back away and walk straight out of that room and never come back. He was going to leave London soon, and she deserved better than a few memories and a farewell.
She smoothed his neck cloth, her fingers toying with the fabric. “I should tell you to leave, but I don’t want to.”
“Elizabeth.” His voice nearly cracked with the effort of restraining himself.
One of her hands slipped down his chest, touching the buttons of his waistcoat. “I should tell you to let me go and leave my room.”
He watched with parted lips as she flicked the bottom button open.
“I sh
ould make you walk out that door with a promise that you’ll never tell my employer what we did here.”
Another button popped open as the richness of her voice washed over him. He wanted this woman. He couldn’t remember wanting anything more.
“I should make you promise to be a gentleman and never pay me any mind again.” She went up on her tiptoes and pressed a brazen kiss to his mouth. “Now, don’t you think you should close the door?”
Elizabeth was worn-out, but the way Edward had looked at her with such concern as he walked her out of the girls’ room triggered something raw and primal in her. She spent all of her time minding and educating and disciplining. She was always proper, always without reproach. She was so tired of it. Just once she wanted to do something forbidden with a man who looked at her like she was more than a piece of furniture.
She knew exactly the risks she took by having him in her room. If they were caught, he’d suffer no consequences. She would shoulder all the blame because she was a woman—even worse, a governess—and that supposedly made her weak. That was what was written in her silly little governess guide, just as it was explicit in the sharp, suspicious looks Mrs. Norton shot her. And yet she found that she really didn’t care. The Nortons had abandoned their daughters. With no master or mistress to serve, all the servants would have retired early, thankful for the blissfully early hour. Even Crane would be in his room with a tumbler of liquor in hand.
No one needed to know that the governess was being very, very wicked.
She watched as Edward crossed the little gap between them and the door and closed it with a soft click. When he turned to face her, her eyes raked over him. His desire for her was very evident, thanks to the hard ridge that ran along the line of his trousers. With those rich hazel eyes and the sweep of dark hair slightly tousled from her grasping fingers, he took her breath away.
“The door’s shut,” he said without moving. He inclined his head as though inviting her to continue telling him what she wanted him to do. There were so many things, she could hardly count.
“Take your jacket off, Edward.”
A grin spread over his face. “I thought you might want that to come off with the way you were tugging at it.”
Her cheeks flushed, but she kept her chin up. “It’s in the way.”
He pulled his arms out of the sleeves and dropped the garment to the floor. “I couldn’t agree more.”
The man she’d dreamed about for years looked at her expectantly. “Now your waistcoat.”
His fingers moved to the remaining buttons. “It’s already half undone. It seems a shame to leave it on.”
The waistcoat hit the floor, and she was presented with an expanse of white linen shirt. Taking a step toward him, she began slowly to undo the knot of his neckcloth.
“I’ve thought about doing this quite a few times,” she said quietly, “but I never really believed I’d get the chance.”
“What else have you thought of doing to me?” he asked, his voice showing the strain it took to let her take the lead.
She blushed. “Nothing that a lady should think about a gentleman who is not her husband.”
A low growl rumbled in his throat. “Tell me.”
She slapped him lightly on the shoulder. “I thought I was the one giving the orders.”
He huffed out a breath. “You’re doing it very well. I’m in awe of governesses now.”
She pulled his neckcloth free and slipped her hand into the gap in the top of his shirt. His skin burned hot, and she wanted very much to lick a path from his neck to the tip of his earlobe.
“I’ve thought about you late at night, Edward.”
He shuddered at her words. She wanted to elicit that reaction again, so she drew that line with her tongue. He sagged forward just a fraction, and she could feel the weight of his powerful body lean on her just a bit. Pressing a kiss to his heated skin, she pulled back just enough to say, “I’ve thought about you while I’ve touched myself in a way a lady isn’t supposed to. Do you think that very wrong?”
“No.” He gasped out a breath. “I think it very right. And I think you should tell me about it with as much detail as you like. Purely for scientific reasons, of course.”
She laughed, the warm glow of pleasure spreading through her. “Of course. Now take off your shirt.”
He took a half step back, and for a moment she thought she had gone too far. But then he reached up, fisted the material, and whipped the linen over his head. Her knees went a little weak at the sight of him. A dusting of hair colored his chest, and her fingers itched to smooth over his flat stomach. She grabbed for him, but he stepped back again.
“That is all I’m taking off, Elizabeth,” he warned. Her spirits sank, but then he added, “There are ways of ensuring that you don’t end up with child, but I don’t have the right things with me tonight. However, there are other things we can do.”
She’d heard of those other things when the men under her father’s command hadn’t known she was spying on them. As a girl, she would climb up into the stables or sneak behind the mess hall curtains and listen to them trade stories of what they’d done to the ladies of their acquaintance. It was boastful, bold, and probably not entirely true, but it was instructive.
“You’ll teach me these other things I can do to bring you pleasure?” she asked as he wrapped his arms around her waist once again.
“Not tonight. Tonight I want you to do nothing more than enjoy yourself.”
He flipped her around suddenly, her skirts swinging out and settling around their legs. His nimble fingers made quick work of the hidden hooks down the back of her dress. The garment gaped open, and she felt his hands slide up and under the light wool to span over her corset and chemise. Carefully he pulled her sleeves off and then leaned down to gather up the skirt of her dress. In one swift push, it was over her head. He laid it down on the small chair in the corner of her room so that it wouldn’t wrinkle. It touched her to know he’d ensured her plain, serviceable dress wouldn’t be crushed on the floor.
He didn’t give her much time to contemplate his thoughtfulness, for his hands were at her crinoline laces next. He helped her step out of the steel-cage garment so that she stood in her drawers and chemise with her heavy ivory corset cinching it all in.
“I’ve imagined unwrapping you piece by piece before,” he murmured as his fingers skimmed the boning that sculpted her waist. “I’ve also dreamed of tearing off your clothes, but why hurry this?”
His arms wrapped around her back to loosen her laces before he unhooked her corset. It fell to the floor. Slowly he pushed her chemise off her shoulders until it pooled at her feet. The cold air puckered her nipples, and she tried to keep from panting in anticipation. When he helped her out of her drawers and stockings, she finally stood naked in her room with the half-dressed physician.
This was the extent of her knowledge. She would follow his lead from now on, for she trusted him with her body.
Edward kissed her and blindly walked her backward until her calves hit the edge of her bed. It was barely large enough to fit her. She had no idea how it would accommodate him too, but he didn’t seem concerned.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered as he laid her down. Her head hit the pillow while his hand trailed down between her breasts and over the gentle swell of her stomach. “Every time I see you I wonder how anyone can keep you locked away in a house like this. You should be cherished.”
“I care for the girls,” she said, her words halting as he dropped a kiss to her hip bone.
He looked up her body and caught her eyes. The passion that burned there took her breath away. “Let me care for you.”
Half on the bed, half kneeling on the floor, he shifted until his mouth was on her. She sucked in a breath, her hips rocking up to meet his lips when he kissed her between her folds. The sensation flooding her took
over her mind, rending her incapable of all thought except to focus on the pleasure the man between her thighs gave her. He sucked at her and she sighed with satisfaction. When his tongue flicked over her clitoris, she was gone.
Elizabeth arched back into the bed, urging him with little pants and moans as he continued to love her with his mouth. That sly, beautiful mouth she’d come to love over the last three years. The one that had nothing but respectful words for her until tonight, when he finally told her the things she’d really wanted to hear.
She could feel the slow burn of an orgasm building. She’d brought herself to her climax before, but this was different. Never before had it been urged along by the very clever mouth of a man who admired her.
Edward shifted on his elbow, and suddenly she felt the pressure of his finger against her slit. When he slid it inside, her heels dug into the mattress and she gasped. “Please.”
He drew it out and she was about to protest when he slid a second inside, stretching her. Suddenly that heat inside her exploded, and she gritted her teeth to keep from crying out. Waves of fiercely concentrated pleasure washed over her as she rode his mouth while he worked his fingers in and out of her.
Finally her hips began to slow and she settled back onto the bed. Edward unwound his arms from around her thighs where they’d held her in place and covered her body with his. She stroked a hand down his back. It was slightly slick with a sheen of sweat.
“Thank you,” she whispered as her breathing slowed.
He chuckled and raised his head to kiss her. “I should be the one thanking you.”
“I haven’t done anything,” she said with a frown. “That can hardly be fair.”
“You’ve given me more than you know.”
He kissed her again, this one deepening into something longer and more lingering. The way his tongue moved across hers stoked the fire again.
Finally he broke away. “I don’t think I can be on this bed with you much longer and not take advantage of the situation.”