Page 21 of The Iron Duke's Flaming Christmas
She took a deep breath, pushing the memory of last night away, walking to Lenore, who was standing beneath the tree now, gazing up at the nest on a high branch.
“I love birds,” declared the girl, her eyes shining brightly. “I love them more than anything in this world!”
Selene laughed, delighted by her enthusiasm. “Do you? They are marvelous creatures. I think they are wonderful too.” She looked up at the nest. “I wonder what birds live there?”
As if it had heard her, a bird suddenly flew to the nest, looking down at them, its head tilted to the side, chirruping loudly.
“Why, it is a robin,” cried Selene, peering at the bird. She looked at Lenore. “Robins live here all the year round. They stay in winter, as well.”
“Hello little birdie,” cried Lenore, waving at the robin. She turned to Selene. “Can we come here every day and visit the robin family?”
Selene laughed. “If you like. But it is time to head back now and start our lessons.”
The little girl pouted, then sighed, but turned away from the tree, following Selene back to the house. Their breath foggedin the air as they settled into silence. Suddenly, Lenore turned to her, her face solemn.
“Do you think that robin was the mother bird?” she asked.
“Yes,” replied Selene. “I think it might be.”
“She is waiting for her babies to hatch,” said Lenore. A long silence. “What is it like to have a mother, Miss Bomind? Do you have a good mother?”
Selene’s heart shifted. “I do have a good mother, my lady. I love her very much and she is very kind to me. She has looked after me well.” She hesitated. “I am very grateful to have her in my life.”
The little girl was silent for a moment. “I wish I knew my mother,” she said eventually. “I cannot even remember her. Not even a little bit.”
“You were far too young to remember her, my lady,” said Selene gently, her heart contorting with pity for the little girl. “You were only just born when she passed away. No one can remember anything from when they were a newborn.” She tried to smile. “I am sure your mother was a kind, sweet lady and would have loved you very much.”
Lenore looked at her, her face twisting. “She left me. She did not want me.”
“No,” said Selene, frowning. “That is not true…”
But Lenore wasn’t listening to her. She poked out her tongue, waving her hands in the air above her ears, staring at Selene, before turning and running away, her red scarf trailing in the wind.
Selene sighed heavily. This was the second time the little girl had referred to her late mother. Clearly, she felt the loss keenly. And Selene was sure that her temper tantrums and hostility toward her previous governesses had something to do with it.
Her heart lurched again. Lady Lenore was a handful, a spirited girl, but she was making progress with her. She just needed a gentle hand. However, unless the little girl resolved her conflicted feelings about her late mother, Selene wasn’t sure how lasting that progress would be.
I should talk to the duke about it. I should advise him to talk to his daughter about her mother and tell her it wasn’t her fault that her mother passed away.
But as soon as the thought entered her mind, she dismissed it. She would only antagonize him. He would tell her to mind her own business again. And besides, she had resolved to avoid him, as much as possible. Even if her body was still glowing from their encounter… and craving his lips again, with a fierceness that truly shocked her.
***
Ian stood at his study window, watching his daughter and the governess walking back to the house. His hands balled into fists at his side. He hadn’t been able to get the kiss out of his mind.
He watched Miss Bomind trudging through the snow. She was wearing a plain, pale green dress with a gray woolen shawl around her shoulders. Snowflakes had settled on her bright chestnut colored hair and her cheeks were glowing from the walk. Her beauty was so radiant that he hastily turned and walked away.
He sat down in the armchair by the fire, staring into the flames, glowering. He was tired—he hadn’t slept well after what had happened in the library the night before. And he was angry and disappointed with himself for kissing the governess… and with such hunger.
What on earth had gotten into him? He knew that a lot of gentlemen dallied with the attractive servants. Somehow, they thought it a perk of their position, but he had never been like that. He had prided himself on the fact he never seduced the servants.
Apart from the power imbalance—he would never make a woman submit to him just because he was her master. It would just make life so damn complicated, being forced to see thewoman every single day, and no one could predict if it would get messy.
He glared into the fire, running a hand over his chin, feeling prickly stubble. With a jolt, he realized he had forgotten to shave that morning. He had been too distracted.
His eyelids started to droop. He really was so very tired. He would close his eyes for just a minute to get some rest… it was so warm in the room…
He was at the door of his chambers. He turned and saw her walking slowly toward him down the hallway. The governess. She was wearing a flimsy gown which clung to her curves, with her chestnut hair falling in waves down her back.
