Page 16 of Her Beautiful Bastard
Her belly quivered at the picture he made, a far cry from the man she’d met in London, yet still so similar. The easy grace in his movements was still present, as well as the devastating good looks. Only, now, those looks seemed far more dangerous, less refined out of a black evening kit and without the presence of moonlight. Hair unruly from riding, jaw covered in days’ worth of stubble, and his clothing … the worn breeches, soft boots, and coat with no benefit of waistcoat or cravat gave him an athletic air, showcasing the sinew of strong thighs and powerful shoulders.
She snorted derisively at herself, annoyed that the sight of him could make her lose hold of her senses so quickly. He had proved to be a cad, a lecher, an adulterer. What more did she need to relinquish her girlish fantasies where he was concerned?
Seeming to have heard the rough sound she’d made, Sinclair turned his head, glancing up at her. His smile melted away, replaced with an intense inspection that put her on edge. Her every muscle tensed, her limbs tingling with the urge to flee; yet, she remained rooted to the spot, unable to move, even while knowing she should run without looking back.
“Lydia,” he murmured, his deep voice carrying across the space between them.
The impact of her Christian name on his tongue made her head spin. She had underestimated the effect it would have to hear him say it.
“Miss Darling, if you please,” she snapped, folding her hands in front of her to stop their trembling.
Clearing his throat, he rose, still absently scratching the head of the hound, who went to its haunches and stared lovingly up at him. “I apologize. We are not so formal here at Buckton. I refer to my employees by their first names and invite them to call me Sinclair. However, if you prefer Miss Darling, I will certainly respect that.”
Inclining her head, she pursed her lips. “I do, thank you.”
He nodded, staring at her in silence. She did not like the way his dark gaze slid over her, taking her in from head to toe with slow deliberation. His glance did not feel lascivious from this distance, but rather a curious perusal, a steady calculation. Just now, she cursed herself for not going back inside for a bonnet, for a shawl, for anything that would act as a barrier between her and his eyes.
“Actually, I am glad we encountered one another,” she added, deciding that now was as good a time as any to set him straight on a few matters. “I wished to speak with you regarding my salary.”
Wrinkling his brow, Sinclair started toward her, those lean cords of muscle stretching and bunching beneath his clothes. She found herself about to retreat and fought against it, not wanting him to know how much the prospect of his nearness affected her. She idly wondered where the stable grooms might be, as they were utterly alone at the moment; a circumstance she had not considered when deciding to remain.
“I asked Charles—er, Mr. Welby—to inform you that your wages have been increased,” he said, pausing just before her, hands folded behind his back. “Did he not tell you?”
“He did,” she replied. “That is why I wished to speak with you. Mr. Clayton, the amount is too high. No governess earns so much in a year.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You are qualified to teach my son French and Geography aside from the usual subjects of Reading, Writing, and Arithmetic. Your references were all sterling, your previous employers insisting that you are worth your salt. As well, I distinctly recall meeting a genteel lady at that ball four years ago, which means you are a woman of breeding. Are all these things not true?”
She blinked before answering, slightly taken aback. “Y-you read my references?”
“I did. I want Henry to have every advantage this world can offer him, and that includes a good education. I do not mind paying what I feel you to be worth in order to provide that.”
Yet again, he had shocked her. It was the last thing she had expected to hear. However, she never thought she’d come face to face with him again after four years to find him married with a child. That thought bolstered her, bringing back the ire that had fizzled at the sight of him.
“I suppose you will not expect anything else from me for such a grand salary?” she prodded, folding her arms over her chest.
Confusion that seemed genuine flashed in his eyes, a few tiny lines appearing between his eyebrows as he took in her defensive posture. “Anything else?”
That he would play coy only infuriated her further.
“You are not to take my acceptance of this new salary to mean that I am open to arrangements of any other sort between us,” she spat, having reached the edge of her patience, nerves frayed beyond repair. “Nor should you feel you need to part with so much money in order to gain my silence. I am embarrassed enough about what occurred between us four years ago without needing to compound it by telling your wife.”
His eyes went wide, her meaning finally sinking in. Shaking his head, he took a step toward her, hands outstretched as if to touch her. She felt that touch, even though it did not land. Her shoulders practically burned from the intent of those reaching hands as she took a swift step backward, leveling a warning glare at him.
Holding his hands up in a placating gesture, he shook his head again. “Lydia—”
“Miss Darling!”
“Miss Darling,” he said quickly. “I believe you have the wrong idea concerning my intentions. I meant what I said, and believe you are worth every cent of the five hundred pounds per annum I intend to pay you. I expect nothing else from you but that my son receives the best education possible.”
Her throat began to burn from the words simmering there, the expletives she wanted to hurl at him. The tears she’d been holding back stung her eyes, threatening to emerge once more. But she would not give him the satisfaction. She would not allow him to see how much this hurt—learning of the family he’d had here at Buckton on the night he’d made her feel like the most desired woman in the world.
The feeling became acidic, boiling in her gut and scorching her throat, her tongue, her lips … she could no longer hold them in.
“You would have me believe that, even after you—a married man—attempted to seduce me in that garden?” she demanded, the accusation flying out before she could stop it. “You dare present yourself to me as being above reproach after your duplicity? Do you think me daft? Do you think I—a governess with myqualifications—am incapable of simple math? That I cannot clearly comprehend that Henry had to have been a newborn on the night we met? Did you think I would not puzzle out that the man who kissed me, who said all those flowery things to me, wasmarried?”
His expression quickly melted into one of horror, and he was coming toward her again, reaching out to touch her. This time, his hands landed, his fingers lightly wrapping around her upper arms. For a moment, she was shocked into stillness, the heat of his touch and the impact of his scent swirling up her nostrils overwhelming all the instincts telling her to push him away.
“It was not what you are making it out to be,” he insisted, his piercing stare unwavering, holding her captive. “That night, I was … It is complicated. My entire life is complicated. It has been since I was born. But with you, in that moment, everything felt easy. It felt right.”
