Page 8 of A Governess' Forbidden Flame
“No apology is necessary, Miss Wycliffe,” he assured her, walking over to her, his voice carrying a measured reassurance. He walked with the stride of a confidant man who believed the world belonged to him. It made her shudder with something that was not fear or apprehension, but rather the opposite. “Your enthusiasm is appreciated, especially since you might be transferring it onto my niece.”
She smiled at his words. She wanted this job. Sheneededit. But she believed she had done everything in her power to prove this to him. But before she could say anything to that, he continued.
“Miss Wycliffe, I appreciate the insights you’ve shared. Your passion for literature and your experiences as a governess have not gone unnoticed. I would ask for a bit of time to reflect on our conversation and make my decision.”
“Oh, of course,” she nodded immediately.
He paused, his gray eyes holding a mix of contemplation and something deeper. “It is already quite late, and I suggest you stay the night at Ravenscroft Manor. Dinner will be brought to your chamber, and we can reconvene for breakfast in the morning. It is then that I shall share my decision regarding your potential employment as the governess of my niece.”
Although his invitation was formal and firm, it held a certain warmth.
Don’t be fooled,she reminded herself.He is doing this out of mere propriety, nothing else. Where on earth are you supposed to sleep if not here?
She banished that treacherous little voice that sometimes seemed to make more sense than she needed it to.
“That sounds just fine, thank you.” She smiled, strangely excited to spend the night here.
“I’ll have one of the servants take you back to your guest chamber,” he said in a way that made her feel as if she already belonged there. She had no idea if that was fear of what awaited her if she had to go back, or if it was this strange attraction to this man she had only seen once, but somehow, she felt drawn to him as if they had known each other for ages.
“Thank you,” she repeated a little clumsily, not really certain what else to say.
“Before you go…” he suddenly started, pausing for a moment. “Why don’t you take that book to your chamber and have it keep you company? Nights in a new place can be…sleepless.”
She turned to the bookshelf, as if she had no idea what book he was referring to. Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion, of joy that she would once again hold and read this wonderful book. But at the same time, she was surprised that the brooding earl would do something so nice. That was not what she had heard of him. None of this was.
“I would love that,” she said, rushing to the bookshelf and reaching for the book in question.
Only somehow, the same volume was now stubbornly out of reach, as she shoved it deeper between the other tomes, now eluding her delicate grasp. She extended her arm and her entire body in an effort to reach it, but as she did so, a cascade of heavier, nearby tomes tumbled precariously, threatening to descend upon her.
In the moment of peril, the earl, swift and decisive, moved with unexpected agility. With a few quick strides, he reached her side just in time, pulling her away from the falling books. The heavy volumes crashed to the floor, creating a chaotic symphony of thuds and rustling pages.
Amelia, her heart racing from the close call, found herself now in the earl’s strong embrace. The sudden proximity, the warmth of his presence, added an unexpected layer to the charged atmosphere of the study. Their eyes met, hazel locking onto gray, in a moment that seemed to linger in the suspended breath of time.
“Miss Wycliffe, are you harmed?” he asked with a tone of genuine concern.
Amelia was still catching her breath, although she was not certain whether that was from the imminent danger she found herself in moments ago or the fact that she was now in the earl’s arms.
“No, I…I am fine, really…” she managed to muster in response. “Thank you for your timely intervention, my lord.”
In that unexpected embrace, surrounded by fallen books and the echoes of the near-miss, the study held a different energy. The dance of shadows seemed to pause as if even the enigmatic walls of Ravenscroft Manor recognized the significance of the moment—an encounter that went beyond the boundaries of governess and employer, revealing a shared vulnerability in the quiet sanctuary of knowledge.
Amelia knew that this was something that shouldn’t have happened. Though poised and composed by nature, Amelia couldn’t ignore the warmth of his embrace, the muscles of his arms that enveloped her like a safe harbor, keeping her safe from all harm. He didn’t need to say anything for her to feel that subtle reassurance that resonated through their unexpected contact.
The scent of aged leather and a hint of the earl’s cologne lingered in the air, permeating her nostrils, making her blood faster through her veins.
The truth was obvious, although she refused to acknowledge it. These were the arms she wanted to stay in, and his eyes were the eyes she wanted to get lost in, as frightening as it was.
***
What are you doing, you fool!? Unhand her! Now!
All common sense in him urged him to let go of her, and a little voice inside of him spoke with fervent urgency. Gazing into her eyes, he became acutely aware of the intimacy of their embrace. The realization dawned on him with a sudden jolt, and a thrill of excitement coursed through him. The carefully constructed walls around his emotions seemed to crack, revealing a vulnerability that he seldom allowed others to see.
He had not touched a woman in this manner in what felt like an eternity, and this bewitching creature managed to draw him toward her with such power that he found himself impossible to resist her allure. In that fleeting moment of this petrifying realization, Sebastian swiftly released Amelia from his embrace. The decision, born from a mix of surprise and a desire to maintain his composure, unfolded in an almost instinctive motion. His usually stoic expression returned, a mask that concealed the brief lapse in control.
“Forgive me, Miss Wycliffe,” he said, his tone reverting to its customary formality. “I did not mean to overstep my boundaries. The books, it seems, had other plans.”
Sebastian’s gray eyes, though guarded, carried a hint of something indefinable—a residue of the unexpected emotions stirred by their close proximity. He wondered if she could see this.
