Page 35 of The Iron Duke's Flaming Christmas
She glanced at the duke, who was shaking his head at her, in an imperceptible way, clearly not wanting her to speak her mind. But that was nothing new, was it?
“That will do, Miss Bomind,” he said, with a tight smile. “You do not need to stay and wait for Lady Lenore. I will ring for you when it is time to collect her.”
Selene nodded stiffly, sweeping into a curtsy, before turning and marching out of the room, without another word. Her throat was thick with tears at the way he had so casually dismissed her, as if their night of passion together had never happened at all.
What did you expect from him, Selene? Did you think he would fall at your feet clutching a dozen red roses, begging you to marry him? It means nothing to him. You are just the governess. If you left Trenton House tomorrow, he would barely notice.
Desperately, she held the tears at bay, refusing to cry. Lady Gwen might be beautiful and elegant, a true lady, but she was just as odious as Mrs. Kittles had told her she was. Why would a high-born lady, with all the wealth and privilege in the world, want to humiliate a humble governess?
***
Ian stepped out into the gardens, taking a deep breath, filling his lungs with fresh air. He had been entertaining Lord Mastiff and Lady Gwen for the entire day without a break and already he was sick of socializing and playing the host… and they were staying here for another week, at the very least.
Suddenly, he froze. Lenore and Miss Bomind were taking a stroll in the distance. His daughter was skipping, looking as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Miss Bomind, however, looked pre-occupied with her own thoughts, as if she were miles away in her mind.
His heart clenched and his blood started to pound. He hadn’t spoken with her privately since their passionate love making the previous night. He had briefly fallen asleep in the library, completely spent, and when he had awoken, she was gone.
He had been heading to speak with her today, but then, his houseguests had suddenly arrived, a day earlier than expected. Apparently, they had made better time than they had anticipated in their journey from the north. Their abrupt arrival had filled him with frustration, but there was nothing he could do about it.
He kept watching her, filled with longing. He felt guilty about what had happened between them, but amazingly he did not regret it, even though he had fought it.
Making love to her was so amazing, so fulfilling, that he could barely comprehend it. He felt like he had shed an old, tired skin, like a snake, and had emerged revitalized and transformed.
It is only because you have not made love to a woman in such a long time. That is all.
“Papa!” Lenore had spotted him, and was skipping toward him, her face bright.
Miss Bomind turned at his daughter’s voice, seeing him. Her face tightened. She didn’t look happy. Ian ran a hand through his hair, gritting his teeth. She thought of him as a rake now, of course. A man who had taken his pleasure with her and was discarding her. He didn’t blame her—he had barely spoken to her since.
He greeted his daughter, taking her hand, walking toward Miss Bomind. As he grew closer to her, visions of their lovemaking flashed through his mind, burning his flesh, stirring his loins to life anew.
The feel of her skin, so soft, like a velvety peach. The smell of her. The taste of her. The moment of ecstasy when I sank into her warm, silky depths…
“Your Grace.” She bobbed a quick curtsy. Her face was still grim, and she wasn’t smiling as she gazed at him. “Where are your guests?”
“They are resting after their long journey,” he replied, his hands balling into fists at his side. “We will reunite at dinner.” He paused, staring at her, his heart pounding hard. “I wanted to say…”
“Will you practice my dance steps with me, Papa?” asked Lenore suddenly, rushing to his side. “Miss Bomind was showing me the steps to the waltz today for the party in the conservatory.”
Ian shook himself, gazing at his daughter. “The waltz?” He frowned. “It is a rather scandalous dance, Lenore, and I am not certain if it is entirely appropriate.” He sighed. “But… of course I will, if you desire it.”
“Thank you, Papa!” Lenore clapped her hands together in glee.
He twirled his daughter around, advising her where to place her hands and feet for a few minutes, feeling awkward. Miss Bomind stood on the sidelines, watching them, her eyes flickering toward the house.
“Now dance with Miss Bomind,” commanded Lenore breathlessly. “If I see the dance, it will make better sense to me.” She gazed at him. “Please.”
Ian hesitated, his heart racing, turning to Miss Bomind. She looked stunned by what Lenore had just said.
“Oh no, my lady,” she said quickly. “His Grace does not wish to dance with me.” She looked straight at him, her eyes burning. “I am only a governess, after all. Masters do not dance with their governesses. It is not the done thing at all!”
Ian stiffened. Her anger was so palpable it was like an energy field surrounding her. He took a deep breath, holding out his hand to her.
“On the contrary, Miss Bomind,” he said, in a clipped voice. “I think that my daughter is right. Seeing the dance will help her to perfect it. We should oblige her.”
Miss Bomind stared at his outstretched hand. For a split second, he was sure she was going to refuse, and march back to the house in high dudgeon.
“If you insist, Your Grace,” she said eventually, in a tight voice.
