| |
Grace wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and gathered the books she needed to return to the library. She had waited until she thought the family and servants were abed. She didn’t want to come upon Lord Lockhart. After their encounter this afternoon, Grace had stayed hidden away in her bedchamber.
She spent the time packing her belongings and straightening the room. Lady Lockhart might have persuaded her to stay until she secured another position, but Grace doubted she could convince her son to agree with her plans. The lady’s generosity warmed Grace’s heart, and she would be forever grateful for how the lady treated her. However, Grace must protect herself and be prepared for the inevitable.
She shuffled along the hallway and down the staircase, avoiding the creaking boards. When she inquired about why nobody repaired them, Douglas had told her that the late Lord Lockhart refused to fix them because they warned him when his children were up to their mischief. Grace questioned further that surely the children would walk around them and Douglas replied they had tried. Instead, they had walked into another trap Lord Lockhart set for them to avoid the creaking boards.
Grace wondered if Lockhart had ever realized his father’s trick. If so, he never implemented the technique himself. At least she hoped he didn’t. If not, then she must face him before she prepared herself. She hoped to avoid him altogether. However, Vivian had yet to respond to her letter, which left Grace at the mercy of Lockhart’s arrogance.
She cringed as she pushed the door open to the library. The panel creaked at her arrival. Her silent venture had come to an end. She peeked over her shoulder and sighed with relief when she didn’t notice anyone nearby. Grace set the candleholder down while she returned the books to their original space. Her fingers trailed along the spines she desired to read but would never have the chance to. Perhaps her next position would permit her the same luxury.
“Must I worry about you absconding with my family treasures like you charmed my family as to where I am the enemy?” Lockhart drawled from the darkness.
Grace backed against the bookcase, clutching at her shawl. Her gaze traveled around the library, searching for Lockhart’s whereabouts. She had thought she was alone but had failed to notice the fire lit and the window coverings drawn open. Lockhart sat half-disrobed near the windows. He had discarded his suit coat and cravat, and his shirt gaped open from where he had undone the buttons.
The moonlight emphasized the sheer enormity of the gentleman. Once again, he reminded her of a warrior set out to conquer a victory. His hair lay in a disheveled mess, as if he had run his hand through the strands multiple times. The shade of red glistened in the moonlight against the dark locks. One of his legs sat crossed over the other, pulling the fabric of his trousers to mold around his thighs. A glass of spirits resting on his leg drew Grace’s gaze to his lap. When he raised the glass to his lips, Grace’s gaze didn’t follow.
“Well, Miss Penrose, are you going to provide an answer to my question?”
Grace slowly dragged her gaze up to Lockhart’s smirk directed at her. Her body flamed with mortification at Lockhart catching her blatant perusal. Could her day get any worse?
“I wanted to return the books I borrowed from the library before my departure,” Grace explained.
Lockhart sipped at the whiskey. “And your excuse for charming my family, making me the enemy?”
Grace bristled, edging toward the door. “It was never my intention to make you the enemy.”
Lockhart scoffed. “Yet you did.”
“I apologize, my lord.”
“Close the door.”
“Yes, my lord. G-Good evening,” Grace stuttered.
“I have not dismissed you yet, Miss Penrose. I only wish for our privacy.” He held his glass in the air. “Also, I am in need of a refill. Since my mother promised your assistance during this transition and I dismissed the other servants for the evening, you shall do nicely.”
Grace had failed to make her escape and must now endure Lockhart’s sharp tongue. She was at his mercy until Vivian replied to her request. Until then, she would bite back her remarks to please Lockhart. She needed his recommendation if she hoped to secure another position. Grace hurried to his side, hoping once she refilled his glass, he would allow her to leave.
She held out her hand for the glass and waited while he threw back the contents in one swallow. His gaze pierced hers as he handed over the glass. Before she could turn toward the cart, he grabbed her wrist. With gentle strokes, his thumb swept back and forth across her pulse, which beat an erratic rhythm. The longer he held onto her, the swifter her pulse raced.
Lockhart dropped her hand as if she had scorched him. She rushed over to the cart and attempted to refill his glass. However, her hands shook when she poured the whiskey from the decanter, causing it to slosh against the rim of the glass. Only half the alcohol ended up in the tumbler. The rest splashed against her nightdress and the cart.
Grace stilled as she glanced at her attire. She had left her bedchamber intending to visit the library and return to her room before anyone saw her. While she wore a matronly nightdress made of thick cotton to keep her warm, she had only covered herself with a shawl and not her robe. She had neglected to wear her slippers, and her bare toes peeked out underneath the nightgown. Her attire was inappropriate while in the presence of her employer.
Lockhart had never considered himself a cruel man, yet he toyed with Grace when he should have allowed her to scurry to the safety of her bedchamber. After his family went to sleep for the evening, he had sought the solace of the library to drink away his sour mood. A mood caused by his family and their support for the governess, who they believed he ill-treated with his dismissal. They had treated him like the enemy throughout dinner, and while they enjoyed playing games in the drawing room before bed, they excluded him from the conversation.
When the younger children kissed their mother good night, he had thought he could finish the evening in peace. However, his mother had confronted him about Grace’s dismissal. She hadn’t argued with him over his decision but convinced him to allow Grace to stay until the tutor arrived. A tutor he had yet to hire. There might be some truth in how he was a bit presumptuous in his haste to dismiss Grace. But in his defense, he did so to prevent a scandal that would occur if she remained in his household.
Now she stood before him wearing not a stitch underneath her nightdress, unaware of how the firelight shined through the worn gown. He couldn’t resist touching her once she came near him. The hitch in her breath as he caressed her had undone him. A touch she had provoked when she stared at him with desire flaring in her eyes. Each swipe of his thumb across her soft skin had hardened her nipples into tight pebbles pressing against her gown. The shawl hid nothing from him after she dropped her hold.
Touching her might have been a mistake, but after today’s events, he no longer cared. Her presence in the library was meant to be. A sign from an unspoken universe to savor Grace until she was no longer a temptation that invaded his every thought. He had never declared himself a gentleman, so why should he not indulge while she was within his grasp?
Because he refused to lower himself to the lower bases of a hedonistic gentleman. He was not a barbarian who wanted to use Grace to appease his lustful appetite. No matter how much he desired her. No matter how much he wanted to savor the sweetness of her luscious lips. No matter how much he wished to teach her about the pleasure they would enjoy in each other’s arms.
He was the head of this family. His mother and siblings rested abovestairs. The servants he employed rested below. Scandal had never touched their doors, and he wouldn’t be the reason because he couldn’t control himself around a governess he respected more than he showed.
Lockhart rose to stand behind Grace. His eyes closed as her flowery scent soothed him. When he opened them, he noticed how damp her hair was in its braid. The blond strands had darkened to the color of the wheat in his fields. He untied the ribbon separating her hair to spread across her shoulders. Grace stiffened but never objected to his touch.
His fingers trailed over the silky length. “We do not want you to catch your death before you depart us.”
Grace closed her eyes at his exquisite touch, savoring the few seconds before she must object to his inappropriate behavior. As much as she wanted to discard her inhibitions, she must stay strong in resisting Lockhart at all costs.
Grace swung around, splashing the whiskey down the front of Lockhart’s shirt. “Lord Lockhart, you take liberties I have never granted you.”
Lockhart grabbed the glass before Grace thought to throw it at him. “Mmm. Have you not? Your bold stare from earlier gave me all the encouragement I needed.” Lockhart stepped around Grace and repoured his glass. After a healthy swallow, he handed the glass back to Grace. “Take a drink, my dear. I believe you need the spirits more than me.”
“My Lord?” Grace sputtered when Lockhart pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it on the chair.
Droplets of whiskey rested on his muscular chest, teasing Grace to lick across it to see if he tasted as harsh as the spirit. She gripped the glass with such force, she worried it would break. Grace lifted the glass to her lips and took a drink that she regretted as soon as she swallowed.
Coughs racked her form as the whiskey burned a path down her throat to settle in her stomach. Then the most incredible warmth spread throughout her body, heating her to the core. Lockhart’s eyes darkened as she took a step closer to him. Whether it was a drink of courage or the intimacy surrounding them, she would never know what caused her to act with bold intentions.
She lifted her fingers and traced the whiskey across his chest before sliding them between her lips. Her soft moan echoed around them, startling her from the trance she had fallen under.
Grace’s horrified look clashed with Lockhart’s shocked expression. “Oh my. Oh my.”
Grace could not issue a coherent statement. How could she even explain herself? Her actions were those of a wanton harlot. Lockhart was sure to order her from his home without delay.
Every argument he had subjected himself to since Grace entered the library disappeared at her touch. Her bold advance held the expertise of a harlot, yet her caress held the gentle touch of a maiden. Her innocence seduced him to act on his desires. Lockhart promised he would only steal one kiss before sending her back to her bedchamber. Tomorrow, he would apologize for his misconduct. Tonight, he only wanted to indulge in the fantasy within his grasp.
Lockhart gathered Grace into his embrace. He pulled the shawl from her grasp and tossed it next to his shirt. He didn’t want any extra layers between them.
“My lord?” Grace’s voice quivered.
“Calum,” he whispered before lowering his head.
“Calum,” Grace whispered before his lips brushed across hers.
She expected an order to pack her bags, never expecting the gentle tease of his lips against hers. The stroke of his tongue across her lips urged her mouth apart. Nor did she expect the swipe of his tongue against hers as he ravished her with a kiss that weakened her knees. His growl as she lost herself in their kiss sent tingles rushing along her spine. His kiss became more demanding the deeper he growled.
“Ah, lass, the whiskey tastes much better drinking it from yer lips than from the bottle,” Lockhart declared before sweeping Grace into his arms and carrying her to the sofa.
Lockhart never lifted his lips away from Grace’s. Her sweetness was too intoxicating, and she made him drunk from her shy response. He coaxed her lips apart and stroked his tongue against hers, enticing her to follow his lead. Grace responded by mimicking his actions. With each swipe, she returned the favor by exploring his mouth with an eagerness that fueled his lust, setting him aflame.
He swore he would only steal one kiss. But one kiss had proven that it was impossible to destroy his attraction for his governess. Not when he wished to strip the nightdress from her body and pour a trail of whiskey across her pert nipples to her pussy so he could get drunk off her delectable body.
Hell! What he desired was for Grace to finish her exploration of the whiskey on his body. To have her lick away the drops with the gentle glide of her tongue, slowly covering every inch until he was at her mercy.
Lockhart growled as her soft moans filled the empty silence of the library. When she speared her hands through his hair, pressing him closer, Lockhart almost lost control of his remaining sanity. Her need reflected his own. He had hungered for Grace for an eternity, and he never wished for this moment to end.
Grace should never have allowed their kiss to continue. She must stop Lockhart now. But she had been powerless to resist him after he whispered to address him as Calum. She had only ever whispered his name while alone in her bedchamber as she fantasized about them.
Reality far surpassed what she had ever imagined. Calum tasted of the fine whiskey he had indulged in. The flavor off his lips far surpassed the drink she’d swallowed. His kiss filled her with the same warmth. The heat spread through her, inflaming her senses into an inferno of need so profound she ached for him to never stop.
She held no clue about how to kiss but followed Calum’s lead. His gentle urgings held the patience of a man who did not care about her experience. She wondered if he would show the same patience during lovemaking. Oh, she must put a stop to his madness now before they both lose complete control. She would allow him one more kiss.
Just one more.
A log shifted on the fire with a crackle that split the air. Grace and Calum pulled apart at the rendering noise. They stared at each other with conflict about how to explain themselves. There was no excuse to justify their actions, only the honesty of the attraction they both wished to explore but couldn’t. Because the reasons seemed insignificant while wrapped in each other’s arms.
Grace pulled her hands away from Calum and tugged on her nightdress to cover her legs. The garment had ridden past her knees while Calum kissed her with a ravishing need. She scrambled to slide off his lap but ended up digging her elbow into his stomach.
“Easy, lass,” Lockhart spoke softly, so as not to spook Grace any further. He grabbed her waist and set her on her feet.
Calum’s voice thickened with his Scottish brogue as he tried to calm her, which only pulled at Grace’s desire for them to continue. However, she had made a fool out of herself enough for today. She attempted to peel his fingers away, but he only tightened his grip. She closed her eyes, fighting to keep her resistance from crumbling into dust.
“Please.” Grace swiped at his fingers again.
Calum dropped his hold so he could stand and explain himself. However, once he released Grace, she took off so fast he never got a chance to apologize for his behavior. He was the one with more experience and had taken advantage of Grace’s vulnerability. And for that, he wanted to make it clear that it would not affect her position while she remained in his home. Also, it would never happen again.
“Please allow your hair to dry before you fall asleep,” Calum requested before Grace stole out the door.
He did not dare chase after her, in case any servants were about to see him comforting Grace. Also, he was unsure how she would react if he followed. He didn’t know how he would explain to his mother if Grace confessed to their kiss. His mother would demand he offer for the chit, an offer that would end in misery. She may have kissed like an angel, but her touch burned him like the devil. He wanted a peaceful wife, one who handled his household to his liking and guided his siblings and any children they would have with a structure necessary for their rank in society. Not a wife who would consume his every thought and encourage havoc within his family.
Lockhart filled his glass again and lifted it in the air to toast himself. “Congratulations, Lockhart. You have managed to make a difficult situation even more uncomfortable.”
However, he didn’t regret his actions for one second. Because never had he savored lips so sweet. They were pure intoxication. And he could deny he would never cross the line with Grace again, but it would be a lie. Every rational argument told him to avoid her like the plague and never find himself alone with her again. Except he remembered how she felt in his arms, her soft moans filling his soul with their musical melody. He already made plans to kiss her again tomorrow.
What was the harm of another kiss?