More than a Governess (Regency Historical Romance)

by Jerrica Knight-Catania

  Before she could even think, her feet were moving, practically running the minuscule distance between them. Stephen welcomed her into his arms and held onto her as if he had been waiting for that moment for years. A sigh escaped him and he whispered gruffly against Becky’s ear as his hand reached up to cup the back of her head.

  “Becky,” he moaned. “Becky, we need to talk.”

  Becky went still in his arms before pulling back slightly to look at him. “What is it?” she asked, terrified of the answer. His eyes were dark and serious, but she could glean nothing from his expression.

  Stephen led her to the small sitting area and pulled her onto his lap. They were almost at eye level the way they were situated and it took all of Becky's strength not to kiss him, not to lean into him and beg him to take her right then. But he clearly had things to say first, so she held back and waited, curious.

  “I made a grave mistake,” he began, “when I asked you to be my mistress.”

  Becky opened her mouth to speak, but he put a single finger to her mouth to indicate that it was still his turn.

  “I want you to know how sorry I am for even posing such a question and that I don’t—I never have—thought of you in that way.”

  Becky blinked away the moisture from her eyes as she listened to his apology.

  “But I could think of no other solution, no other way to be with you short of keeping you privately, away from the children and from Hastings House.” He paused to caress her cheek. She leaned against his hand and closed her eyes. “I know now that I was the greatest of fools to ever think that turning you into my mistress was an appropriate solution.”

  Becky knew what was coming. She could feel it in her bones, in the sinking feeling in her stomach. He was going to tell her that after this, after what they were about to do, their affair would have to come to an end. That marriage was not an option, and the risk of carrying on with the children so near would be fatuous. Her heart twisted violently at the thought of never being with him again, but she knew there was nothing she could do to change his mind. That sometimes the stars simply did not align. And besides, staying meant that Shaw knew where she was, and it was probably only a matter of time before he brought her father there to retrieve her.

  Stephen opened his mouth to speak, but Becky’s mind was elsewhere and so she missed what he said. Though it sounded strangely like...

  She gaped at him. “What did you say?”

  Stephen laughed and pulled her head down to kiss her forehead. “Becky, I want to marry you.”

  Understanding dawned like the brightest morning sun. She searched the blue depths of Stephen’s gaze and wondered if she were dreaming.

  “Are you sure?” was all she could manage in the moment, causing Stephen to erupt into laughter again.

  “Of course I’m sure,” he said. “I’ve never wanted anything so badly in all my life. Be my wife, Becky, and I’ll be the happiest man to ever walk this earth.”

  Becky’s smile spread across her face as tears spilled down her cheeks. She could have sworn that even her toes felt happy. Her heart swelled with gratitude and she reached out to take Stephen’s face between her hands.

  “Yes,” she said, nodding and smiling through happy tears. “Yes!”

  Unable to hold off any longer, Stephen grabbed her tightly about the waist and drew her closer. He kissed her, starved for the taste of her just as she was for him. He grew hard beneath her bottom and she flinched in surprise.

  Suppressing a chuckle, he said, “Don’t worry, darling. That is supposed to happen.”

  Relief settled on her features. “Oh, thank heavens,” she moaned and then replaced her lips to their rightful place—meshed against his.

  Very aware, although somewhat inexperienced with what it meant to bed a virgin, Stephen tried to slow his pace. It wouldn’t do to go rushing into this. If he didn’t do things properly, he might scare her from his bed permanently.

  Adjusting his arms around her, Stephen stood from the armchair and carried her the short distance to the bed. Her skin was flushed, her breathing shallow. It would take everything in him to keep himself in check and bring her all the pleasure she deserved before finding his own.

  He laid her down carefully and then climbed into the bed beside her, drawing her close to his rigid body. She was hungry, eager, practically chomping at the bit to learn what it was she’d never had the opportunity to experience. Stephen tightened his hold of her, trying to keep her from rubbing and gyrating him to completion.

  Years of solitude meant that he was quite near his breaking point already.

  “Becky,” he said finally, the desperation clear in his voice. “You mustn’t do that.”

  “Do what?” came her innocent reply.

  He rolled her onto her back, pinning her to the bed, his body hovering above her with playful domination. “I will give you what you need...everything you never even knew you wanted, my darling. But you must try to be still—just this once—and let me do the work.”

  Becky’s eyes were questioning, but she remained silent, trying to steady her breathing and calm the raging current within her. It wasn’t easy, but Stephen’s tone was intent and she knew little about the fire with which she was playing now.

  After a brief pause, Stephen leaned down and took her mouth once more, slowly, languorously, driving away her apprehension. His tongue teased and taunted and lulled her into a state of heightened awareness that had nothing to do with the outside world. Her only thoughts were of him, of his firm tongue darting in and out of her mouth. Of his hard body and the heat of it, warming her from the inside.

  With fettered reins, Stephen’s hands moved to her face, his fingers massaging beneath her blonde curls, and then unhurriedly traveling to her slender neck. His mouth soon followed, leaving searing kisses in the cool wake of his fingers, following the line of her shoulders and down her arms as he slid her gown from them.

  She gave a tantalizing shiver as the cool air rushed over her exposed skin.

  “Are you cold?”

  She nodded, her face innocent and expectant, eager to be warmed by his heavy weight. Stephen maneuvered the rest of her dress from her body and then pulled the covers over her before divesting of his own clothing. Before he rejoined her, he caught sight of her face, the green eyes wide with shock, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. Obviously, the poor dear had never seen a naked man before.

  “Does that go...?”

  He climbed back into the bed and nestled under the covers with her safely and seductively in his arms. “Don’t worry, my love. It will fit.”

  Her naked body was soft and womanly, a perfect fit against his own, and he had to feel it. He wanted to know and understand every inch of her. He wanted to taste her sweet nectar, help her comprehend the infinite pleasures that awaited her in their future.

  His finger found the triangle of hair that guarded her innocence. Although they had traveled this road once before, it did not stop her from gasping at the contact. He toyed with the curls, giving her a moment to adjust, and then continued on, deeper and deeper, until he found her opening. She was dripping, ready for him, pulsing feverishly around his finger.

  Stephen stifled her moan with a kiss as he slid another long finger into her slickness, stretching her, preparing her for what was to come. She writhed against him and whimpered with delight.

  “Oh, Stephen.” She breathed the name as if it were a benediction. “I need you.”

  “Not yet.” His voice was a low growl, husky with his efforts at restraint. God, he needed her, too.

  He used his fingers to stretch her even further, while his thumb settled on the tiny bud, eliciting an ecstatic gasp from his future bride.

  His bride. He took a moment to enjoy that thought and then returned to the task at hand.

  Convinced that he could ready her no more without losing his own self-control, he slid his fingers from her and rose up, once again, above her.

  Her eyes were begging him, p
leading with him to finish what he had started. And he smiled.

  “You are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he whispered sweetly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Becky wasn’t sure what he was talking about but she had a good idea that it had a great deal to do with the large shaft she’d seen protruding from his body.

  “You could never hurt me,” she said, but Stephen knew that wasn’t entirely true. He had hurt her. He would spend a lifetime trying to make amends for his idiotic proposition.

  “I will hurt you, my darling. Just this once, though, I promise. Do you trust me?”

  A hint of worry snuck into her emerald eyes, but she nodded in spite and said, “I do.”

  That was all the consent Stephen needed and he lowered himself between her legs, spreading her wide. He nudged gently at her opening, giving her time to adjust to the foreign intrusion.

  Tiny stroke after tiny stroke drove him closer to her maidenhead and he fought against the urge to pummel right through it. He was determined to show her that the pain was only temporary and very much worth it in the end. He stopped and met her impatient gaze with his own.

  “Why did you stop?”

  Refusing her time to think, he plunged into her, breaking through the final barrier of her innocence.

  Becky gasped, but clenched her teeth against the searing pain. It was acute, frightening in a way, but she put on a brave face and tried to follow the instructions to relax that Stephen whispered into her ear. But when the pain subsided, all she could think about, all she could feel, was the glorious girth that filled her innermost places. The delightful sense of being joined with the man who had haunted her dreams ever since the first time she’d dared to kiss him.

  She undulated against him, giving him the go-ahead to continue, to take her to a place she’d never been before. She reveled in the feel of him, the glorious sensations that invaded her body. And when he leaned his head down to take her taut nipple between his teeth, she reached her breaking point.

  A terrifying point of vulnerability, of undeniable ecstasy that had her crying out, stretching to meet him and then finally collapsing in sated exhaustion.

  He kissed her then, driving his tongue deep, sucking her lips as if they were his first meal in months, until he found his own release. With a guttural roar, he came inside of her, filling her with his seed, making one of their two bodies.

  Silence ensued as their minds wandered back into consciousness and their eyes locked, smoldering and lazy. Perfectly content.

  Twenty-Four

  As Becky stared into the cheval glass, her nerves tingled at the tips of her fingers. Goodness, this day had come quickly. The morning after Stephen proposed, they announced the news to their guests and of course, Phoebe and Lord Eastleigh, along with the twins, decided to stay for the nuptials. Within days, the rest of the family had descended upon Hastings House and created a flurry of excitement and chaos.

  Becky had never been happier.

  And though her nerves were raw with anticipation, she knew she had made the right decision. She would finally abandon her maid cum governess persona that she’d created in desperation seven years ago and become a viscountess. And more importantly, become Stephen’s viscountess.

  A knock came at the door and the Wetherby women flooded into the room before she had a chance to invite them. In the mirror’s reflection, she watched as Phoebe and Katherine and both their mothers ushered Lydia forward.

  “Oh, heavens, Lydia!” Becky exclaimed, turning to get a better look at her soon-to-be niece. “You look like an angel, darling!”

  The girl turned from side to side, a wide grin on her face, and the bell of her ivory skirt swished with the motion. Becky’s heart melted at the sight and she fought back her tears.

  “Now, now, we mustn’t have any of that,” Katherine declared as she made her way to Becky. “You don’t want to meet your groom with puffy eyes!”

  “We’ve all come to wish you well, dear.” Lady Eastleigh stepped forward to kiss Becky upon each cheek, then backed away, dragging Katherine with her. “Now, we’ll get out of your hair.”

  With a quick kiss, Katherine reluctantly followed her mother out of the room. Lady Blake was next in line and Becky did her best to ignore the tears that shimmered in the older woman’s eyes. Phoebe hung back, waiting her turn, clearly eager for a moment alone.

  Becky knelt down and invited Lydia into her embrace. The child didn’t hesitate, but ran headlong into her arms. And when she asked, “May I call you mother, now?” the tears Becky had been holding back burst forth.

  “Oh, Lydia, nothing would make me happier,” she replied as she accepted a handkerchief from Phoebe. “Now run along like a good girl and tell everyone I’m ready.”

  With a wide smile that lit Becky’s heart, Lydia ran for the door and left the room.

  “Are you all right?” Phoebe asked, motioning for Becky to join her on the small, pink settee.

  She blew her nose and with a thick voice, replied, “I’m wonderful, actually. Is that not obvious?” They both laughed at this and then Phoebe procured a small letter addressed to Becky.

  “This came for you a bit ago and Mrs. Brown asked me to deliver it.”

  Becky eyed the missive and her stomach began to churn with an entirely different kind of nerves. There was only one person who knew she was here that wasn’t already in attendance for the wedding.

  “Thank you,” she said, taking it from Phoebe. “Perhaps I’ll wait until later to read it.”

  “Oh, and you mustn’t forget this!” Phoebe held up Becky’s locket, the one with her mother’s picture inside. She hadn’t planned on wearing it today, but on second thought, she couldn’t think of a more appropriate time to wear it.

  Becky couldn’t stop the tears flowing down her cheeks as Phoebe secured it around the high lace collar of her dress. She missed her mother more today than she had missed her in the last seven years combined. How she wished she could see her in her wedding gown. How she wanted her to know Stephen and what an amazing man he was.

  “Becky.” Phoebe spoke quietly as she took her hand and enclosed it in her own. “She would be so very proud of you.”

  They shared a tearful hug and then Becky requested a moment alone. Once Phoebe was gone, she opened the letter. Her hands shook as she read:

  Your title will never protect you. If you are smart, you will call off the wedding and return to London. Your father and your betrothed await.

  Becky’s heart raced. What the devil was she supposed to do? She couldn’t very well call off her wedding now. Not with everyone waiting for her, not with Stephen and the children counting on her.

  And not when it was her one chance at happiness!

  Marrying Stephen would be a risk, she knew that. She’d known that all along. But she wouldn’t let Shaw or her devil-of-a-father ruin her joy. Not today, not ever. If they wanted her, they would have to come get her. And Becky vowed she would be ready for them when they did.

  ***

  “You’re watching me sleep again, aren’t you?” Becky lay on her stomach, her face turned sideways on her pillow. She didn’t dare open her eyes to the blaring sunlight that poured into the room.

  In the week since their wedding, Becky had become accustomed to being watched over in her sleep. Every morning she’d awakened to find her new husband staring at her, smiling at her with a mixture of wolfish intent and sheer happiness. And she knew he was doing it now.

  “Stephen?” She braced herself and pried one eye open for merely a second to see if she was correct.

  She wasn’t.

  He was sleeping peacefully beside her, his eyes closed, his breathing steady. Somehow, Becky felt betrayed. It seemed their ritual of the last seven days had come to an end.

  She opened her other eye to study him more closely and then, deciding that he was indeed sleeping, rolled onto her back with a sigh. Her mind wandered to the previous night. It had been just like all the other
nights since their wedding in that it was pure bliss. Yet different, indeed. Yet another lesson in the art of seduction, in the heady delights of love-making.

  Becky glanced sideways at her husband and smiled shyly before turning her gaze back to the canopy above her. If the things he did to her didn’t feel so utterly amazing, she would be utterly humiliated by them. As it was, she simply didn’t care what humiliating or embarrassing position he got her into, just so long as he never stopped getting her into them.

  She dared another sideways glance at him, noticing the flash of blue as she did. Becky gave an incredulous gasp as she rolled onto her side and propped herself on her elbow. As she did so, the corners of her husband’s mouth twitched and twisted in his attempt to keep up the ruse.

  “You were watching me!” she exclaimed as she watched her viscount pretend to wake in a languorous manner.

  “Oh, good morning, darling,” he drawled sleepily, his blue eyes shrouded with heavy lids.

  “You louse! I saw you! How long have you been awake?”

  Stephen snaked one arm around her body, caressing the curve of her hip as he did so. Her bottom firmly in his grasp, he pulled her closer, melding their warm bodies together.

  “Does that really matter?” he growled.

  Becky giggled, enjoying every bit of his silly banter, very aware of the growing bulge below the covers. “Yes!” she exclaimed. “How long were you watching me, you naughty rake?”

  “Naughty rake?” he repeated, a wicked glint in his sky-blue eyes. “Well, that’s a reputation that I’m all too eager to try and live up to.”

  Stephen flipped her onto her back. His smile warmed her to her very core, drew her to his lips, made her drink him with unrestrained passion until both of them were panting with hot desire.

  “Do you want me to stop watching you while you sleep?” came his husky inquiry.

  Becky took his face in her hands, his morning stubble delightfully tickling her palms, and searched the depths of his eyes. “Never,” she whispered, the single word an invitation for him to teach her more about the mysteries of the marriage bed.