Page 39 of The Defiant Governess
From the drawing room window Mrs. Fairchild and Glavin watched them approach.
“Such a lovely picture they make, don’t they? If only it was possible ...” she sighed and let her words trail off.
Glavin nodded. “Haven’t seen His Lordship this happy since his mother was alive.”
Jane went around to the kitchen entrance and handed the basket to the scullery maid. She caught up with Saybrook in the main entrance hall, where the footmen were struggling to keep straight faces at the sight of the marquess, disheveled and mud-spattered, with a sleepy little boy entwined around his neck.
“Milord,” called Jane as he began to climb the stairs. “Let me take Peter to bed. You needn’t ...”
“I don’t mind.” He kept going, giving her no chance to argue.
She fell in step behind him, feeling a little grateful that she didn’t, in fact, have to manage carrying the boy. Peter was fast asleep when Saybrook put him down on the bed and held him up while Jane unbuttoned his shirt and slipped his nightshirt over his head. She slid off his muddy pantaloons and shoes, then tucked him under the covers. Saybrook had lit the candle on the boy’s nightstand. He guided her into the empty hallway and shut the door behind them.
“Do you care to have some supper t?” he inquired.
Jane shook her head. “No, I think I shall retire, too. It has been a long day.”
He made no reply but walked—slowly, it seemed to her—by her side. His shoulders were almost touching hers, and she was acutely aware of the warmth emanating from the marquess. It made her think of how his muscles had shown through the thin fabric of his shirt … and how the shirt had been open, revealing the tanned flesh and hint of dark curls on his chest.
All at once, her stomach was aflutter and the warmth was coming not just from his presence but from deep within her.
They had reached the door to her room and Saybrook turned to face her. He was close—oh-so close.
“Thank you, Miss Langley, for a special day,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. The candlelight played off his tousled hair and his eyes, which were fixed intently on her own with an expression that made her feel a bit dizzy.
“It was kind of you to come. It … it made Peter very happy,” she managed to stammer.
He nodded, but made no move to leave. Neither did he speak. He seemed to be lost in thought as he regarded the flickering candle.
“Good night, milord.” Jane fumbled for the door latch.
“Wear your hair loosened from now on,” he said abruptly.
Her hand flew from the latch to where her hastily pinned locks hung in disarray around the nape of her neck. “Oh, sir! I couldn’t. It wouldn’t be at all proper.”
“Perhaps not, but … please do it.” His hand reached out and slowly brushed a tendril away from her cheek.
Jane nearly gasped aloud as his fingers grazed over her skin, sending sparks throughout her whole being. As she breathed in, she was acutely aware of his scent, a mixture of bay rum, the faint spiciness of wine and the earthy masculinity of exertion. She averted her eyes, hoping that her eyes hadn’t betrayed her desire for him to keep touching her.
His hand seemed to linger just an instant, then dropped to his side.
“Good night, Miss Langley.” He turned and quickly walked down the corridor.
Saybrook pacedin front of the library fire, feeling much too agitated to take comfort in his favorite chair. He sighed and gave thanks that he hadn’t encountered any of his servants, for his physical arousal was all too obvious. Miss Langley was affecting him like no other woman—not even Elizabeth. He took a long swallow of his brandy. They had both been so very young.What had he understood of love?On that point, at least, his father had been right.
Elizabeth had radiated a fragile innocence.
But Miss Langley! She radiated forthrightness, honesty and a generosity of spirit. Yet there was also a passion lurking beneath her surface that inflamed his senses. She had ideas, opinions, feelings—he smiled ruefully at the thought of how her chin jutted out when she was arguing, how her sapphire eyes flashed when she was angry or espousing some point of view.
And had he detected a flicker of some other emotion tonight? He groaned aloud. When he had seen that look in her eyes, he had barely been able to contain his desire. He had wanted to crush her to him, to cover those expressive lips with his own. His hands ached to explore her beautiful body ….
Stop!He must stop such thoughts or he would go mad!
How miserably he had failed a woman before. How could he ever be sure it wouldn’t happen a second time?
However, he couldn’t deny that Miss Langley made him feel alive again. For weeks, there had been a bond forming between them. More and more, he was drawn to her presence. His pulse quickened when she was around. She had penetrated the hard shell he had carefully constructed around his emotions. She made him want to rant, to shout, to laugh, to scream in exasperation—and to love again. He had fought acknowledging what was happening, but today had forced him to admit it.
Yes.In spite of all his carefully crafted defenses, he had fallen in love, something he had vowed would never happen again.
