The Governess's Scandalous Marriage

by Helen Dickson

  ‘The incident is over. Don’t let it worry you further. You have nothing to fear.’

  She jerked her head up. ‘Fear? Fear is always close when the threat is to someone you love. I fear for my brother, about what will happen to him—that he will be thrown into a debtors’ prison should he continue gambling until we have nothing left. I doubt you know the meaning of fear, sir.’

  Christian ignored the sarcasm because he knew it came from a place of hurt. She had given him an insight of what lay behind her fear. Had it been anyone else he had caught in Lord Stourbridge’s Egyptian room he would not have let them off lightly. But he felt this young woman had far too much to contend with and there were times in life when there was more to be gained by giving a little. Her brother was a different matter and he blamed him entirely for placing his sister in such a dangerous situation. Had anyone else happened to come across her that night, they would have shouted thief and she would be locked up now.

  The idea of scoring off Toby Osborne appealed greatly to his sardonic sense of humour, knowing how immensely satisfying it would be to avenge himself in some way for his disgraceful treatment of his sister. But, on reflection, all such dealings were abhorrent to him. He had many faults, but it was not in his nature to inflict injury or insult on any man or woman who was guilty of wrongdoings against him.

  ‘You are wrong, Miss Osborne. I have known fear. And I know what you fear. I give you my word that I have no intention of exposing your brother,’ he said quietly.

  ‘And at what price?’

  ‘There is no price.’

  ‘I thought every man had a price.’

  ‘And every woman,’ he replied softly.

  * * *

  The melancholy note that had crept into his voice stoked her curiosity. She realised how little she knew about him.

  ‘Did your father spend a lot of his time in Egypt?’ she asked.

  His expression changed abruptly and became guarded, his eyes brittle and cold as glass. Moving away from her, he propped his shoulder against a pillar and folded his arms over his chest. ‘He was rarely at home—not even when I was a boy. Oh, I loved him well enough then, but I did not love his inconstancy. At eighteen years of age I felt the weight of responsibility foisted on me during his long absences.’

  ‘You were resentful, I can tell.’

  His eyes narrowed with pain as he stared out at the night. ‘Resentful because he put his love of all things Egyptian before me and my mother and the estate. It was something I could never understand or become reconciled with. He could not have cared less about what was happening at home.’

  ‘And you carry your hurt and bitterness around your neck like a millstone.’

  His smile was one of cynicism. ‘Does it show all that much.’

  ‘No, not at all, but I can hear it in your voice.’

  ‘There are some things, Miss Osborne, that cannot easily be put aside.’

  ‘Did he ever take you to Egypt as a boy?’

  He nodded. ‘One time—before my mother died, we travelled to other places—Venice and Padua in Italy, the Holy Land to name but a few.’

  ‘It must have been a difficult time for you when your mother died.’

  He smiled at her. ‘As you would know, having experienced the same kind of loss yourself.’

  ‘Yes, that’s true, but we all deal with death in different ways.’

  * * *

  Christian searched her face with something like wonder in his dark eyes. There were depths to Linnet Osborne that every woman he knew lacked and she never ceased to amaze him. ‘You confound me, Miss Osborne, do you know that? I came here because I wanted to see you, to see if my memory of you had changed.’

  ‘And has it?’

  He shook his head. ‘You risked your good name and arrest when you took it upon yourself to right a wrong for your brother. What an amazingly sensitive, perceptive, wise young thing you are, Linnet Osborne.’

  ‘If I were wise I would have done what my father asked of me before he died—to look after Toby and not allowed him to notch up so much debt. That is a millstone around my neck I have to bear.’

  Standing beside him, Linnet became silent, content for the moment to remain in his still presence and let the silence of the night surround her.

  ‘Tell me, Miss Osborne,’ he said, gazing at her, ‘does not the London scene and all its frivolities beckon?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘That’s a pity,’ he told her, ‘for you would be an enormous success in St James’s. In no time at all you would endear yourself to every male who crosses your path. You would slay the lot of them with your beauty.’

  * * *

  ‘Lord Blakely, please don’t exaggerate.’ She stepped away from him to hide her confusion, aware of the magnetic charm he was exuding and beginning to think it was time she returned to the house.

  ‘I don’t. You would bowl them over and down they would fall like skittles. No doubt they would all turn poets overnight and express their love for this bright new star in their midst.’

  ‘Really?’ She smiled, her eyes slanted, and a quietly teasing feeling of treacherous warmth seeped through her. ‘And would you pen one yourself, Lord Blakely?’

  He grinned. ‘You would break enough hearts without wanting mine. I did not realise when I saw you at the Stourbridge ball that your mask concealed so much beauty.’

  Linnet felt her face flush red. ‘I thank you for your kind remark, but I assure you that my looks—good or bad—play no part in my everyday life. I am quite content to remain at home. I visit Louisa from time to time and she often comes to me.’

  ‘You will miss her when she marries Harry and goes to live in Kent.’

  ‘I will, very much.’ She glanced sideways at him, mindful of his proximity in several ways, not least of which was his close attention to her problems and the spicy scent of his cologne.

  ‘Was your father a gambler, Miss Osborne?’

  ‘No, a businessman. In the years following my mother’s death he lost interest in his work and made some bad investments. They were close. He loved her so much he couldn’t bear being without her. Before he died he paid little attention to what was happening in the financial world until it was too late to do anything about it.’

  ‘So it is your brother who is the gambler.’

  ‘I’m afraid so and it does nothing to improve things.’

  ‘It appears to me that you are the sensible, practical one.’

  ‘As much as I can be, although it is difficult at times.’

  ‘Your brother is a grown man. He knows perfectly well what he is doing when he stakes his money.’

  ‘Gambling is a temptation which Toby cannot resist—to gamble and to go on gambling.’

  ‘You do know, Miss Osborne, that there will come a day of reckoning for your brother.’

  ‘I know,’ she said, quietly. ‘I know what you must think of Toby. You can say whatever you like about him. He is a gambler, and he is weak and easily manipulated by any unsavoury character that comes along. But whatever he is, whatever he has done, I will forgive him because I happen to love him. All I want is for him to stop gambling.

  Her eyes brimmed with tears. It was unexpected and it saddened Christian. Her open emotion and obvious declaration of love for her brother were distressing. This lovely young woman was suddenly more vulnerable than any woman he had ever met. In the few moments of silence which fell between them, he bore witness to her tortured thoughts.

  Pulling herself together, Linnet glanced at her companion and was unable to look away. He was still leaning against one of the pillars with one booted foot crossed over the other. A tree lantern threw a slant of shadow across the hard line of his cheek. He confounded her with emotions which were alien to her, emotions that overruled all common sense. She cast the thought away, furious with her
self at her inability to be physically indifferent to him. The expression in his eyes was disconcerting.

  * * *

  They must have been sheltering for at least half an hour when the rain finally stopped. Taking advantage of the respite they stepped out of the rotunda. Linnet looked down at her dancing slippers which were inadequate on the wet ground, but there was nothing for it but to walk on. They began to make their way back to the house, unconsciously taking a darker, longer route back along a path that was unlit by tree lanterns and the ground uneven. Suddenly, slipping on the wet ground and tripping on a tree root that snaked beneath the surface, with a cry Linnet tumbled to one side, falling and becoming entangled in a large rose bush, its cruel barbs hooking into her gown.

  Immediately Lord Blakely was beside her, seeing the danger posed by the vicious barbs. ‘Hold still. Let me help you. I’ll have you out in a trice.’

  Bending over, methodically and deftly his long fingers pulled away the offending branches. Linnet remained as still as she was able, feeling foolish over losing her footing and more than a little of her dignity. She watched his hands working quickly to release her, seeing they had the strength in them of a man who was not afraid to dirty them, yet giving the impression of refinement. Eventually she was free and, taking her hand and hoisting her to her feet, he held her steady. His senses were invaded by the smell of her. It was the soft fragrance of her hair—the sweet scent of roses mingled with a musky female scent—that made his body burn. Curling his long masculine fingers round her chin, he tilted her face up to his.

  ‘Thankfully there doesn’t appear to be any lacerations, but the same cannot be said of your gown.’

  Stepping from him Linnet surveyed the damage. The bodice was torn, a flap of material exposing her undergarment. The skirt had also suffered, with tears on either side and mud clinging to the hem. Some of her hair had become snagged and long tresses trailed to her shoulders.

  ‘Goodness! What a sight I look. Thank you for getting me free. Are you hurt? Those barbs are pretty sharp—but look at the sorry state of my gown.’

  Looking at his companion, Christian frowned. Her gown had suffered badly and her wet skirts clung to her in a most provocative way. He took a moment to appreciate the shapely figure beneath. ‘Your gown is wet and torn, but it will mend.’ Without thinking he reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, feeling the velvety softness of her skin against his fingers.

  ‘That may be so,’ she said, achingly aware of his touch. A tautness began in her breast, a delicious ache that was like a languorous, honeyed warmth. ‘I only hope I can make it to my room without being seen.’

  Linnet raised her head and looked at him, conscious of his close proximity. His eyes were deep and piercing and she was unprepared for the thrill of quivering excitement that gripped her now, beginning in her chest where her heart lay, and radiating to every part of her body. His tall figure was dark against the shadows, with just enough light from the moon to see him by. She did not move away when he reached out and drew her to him. He looked steadily at her, then moved his head closer to hers.

  Hypnotised by the warm dark depths of his eyes coming ever closer, Linnet found she couldn’t move—she had neither the desire nor the strength to do so. His penetrating eyes were searching her face. She was not imagining his interest in herself. She might have no experience of men, but she was perfectly able to recognise admiration in a man’s eyes. Suddenly it was like being on an obstacle course of emotions that left her confused.

  ‘You must think me very stupid, falling into that bush,’ she said softly, taking a step back. She looked away and stiffened her spine.

  ‘No, I don’t. You couldn’t help it. These things happen.’ For a moment he studied her with heavy-lidded, speculative eyes. Stepping close to her again, he cupped her chin in his hand. ‘Look at me,’ he said, in a low, velvety, unfamiliar voice that sent apprehensive and exciting tingles darting up her spine. ‘Ever since our conversation on the terrace earlier I’ve been wanting to kiss you. Now I think I will.’

  * * *

  Linnet raised her eyes to his. Although no one but this man had ever kissed her before, she took one look at the slumberous expression in his eyes and was instantly wary. ‘You will?’

  A slow, lazy smile that made her heart leap worked its way across his face and Linnet was unable to drag her eyes from his hypnotic gaze. ‘Yes. Do you mind?’

  She swallowed audibly. ‘I—I don’t know.’

  Her reply, spoken in complete innocence, caught Christian completely off guard. Every feminine ploy in existence had been tried on him in the past, but without success—and yet this artless young woman, her candour combined with her upturned beautiful face and alluring body, acted like a powerful aphrodisiac. Standing there, wide-eyed and vulnerable and lovely—dear Lord, she was lovely and he wanted her with a fierceness that took his breath away.

  ‘I don’t think you will be disappointed,’ he murmured, his arms folding around her, his face moving closer. ‘You certainly didn’t object when I kissed you before.’

  Still cupping her chin, he took a moment to peruse her face. The insistent pressure of his body, those feral eyes glittering with power and primeval hunger, washed away any measure of comfort Linnet might have felt. A familiar feeling fluttered within her breast and she was halted for a brief passage of time when she found her lips entrapped with his and, though they were soft and tender, they burned with a fire that scorched her. Closing her eyes, she yielded to it, melting against him. His kiss was both gentle and compelling. His lips moved on hers, the fierceness changing to softness, the velvet touch of intoxication. His hand was splayed across her lower spine, forcing her closer to him, and she unwittingly moulded her melting body to the hardening contours of his. The trees and the darkness around them seemed to vanish, leaving only the two of them locked together in a charmed circle against reality which fell away. He deepened the kiss. It was long and tender and devouring, his mouth insisting, stirring, demanding, working their pagan magic on Linnet.

  She was aware that this was a moment of great importance, that she stood on the threshold of a great revelation, but could not understand the substance of it. Her heart swelled with an emotion of such proportions she was overwhelmed as she allowed herself, just this once, the forbidden, fleeting joy of his mouth and his body close to her—never had she been so conscious of the nearness of another human body. She was astounded at her own body’s reaction to this man. A touch, a look, a kiss, and he could rouse her. She was suddenly swamped with a swirling turbulence of longing, a longing for something she had never known before, but which only this man could provide. She was conscious of the hard lines of his body pressed close to hers and how tall he was. Her mind cried out with agonised yearning. She strained against him. Beyond her will her slender arms snaked up and around his neck, her fingers feeling the thickness of his hair at his nape. Her body was like a yielding, living substance as she gave all her desire and passion, responding to his inner heat.

  He was a complex man who would be as elusive as smoke, a man who would break the heart of the woman who loved him. She felt she should be nervous, in the semi-darkness and all alone with him, but he offered no threat to her. They looked at each other with startled eyes, a look that lasted no more than a moment and yet seemed to last an eternity before he released her chin and pulled away.

  * * *

  Fighting back the wild desire to thrust her down on to the grass and take her there and then, Christian drew a long, steadying breath. He studied the flushed contours of her face, the thick crescent of her lashes and the fine line of her eyebrows. Her lips were soft and tender from his assault, her eyes warm and glowing with desire. He longed to run his fingertip down the slender column of her throat and to continue downwards until his hand cupped her breast. He imagined how it would be to have her in his bed, to take her in his arms and draw her to him and devour her with a
passion he had not felt in a long time. What a glory that would be. She would make a magnificent bed partner—he had sensed it the instant her mouth had responded to his kiss. It would happen. He would make it happen if he expired with the effort.

  Kissed and caressed into almost unconscious sensibility, a moment passed before Linnet opened her eyes in a daze of suspended yearning, newly awakened passion glowing in the velvety depths of her eyes.

  ‘Dear Lord,’ he murmured, looking down at her upturned face, his gaze smouldering, his breathing ragged, the throbbing ache in his loins reminding him how much he wanted to make love to her. With her hair tumbling around her face, she stood like a beautiful, pagan goddess. The return of the moon contending with the glow from the occasional lantern enhanced the warm glow in her eyes. He was tempted to caress the delicate, unblemished cheeks. Her features were perfect, her soft pink lips slightly parted, tantalising, moist and gracefully curving. Her eyes stared back at him, open, yet as unfathomable as any sea he had gazed into. ‘I think you will have to fall into a rose bush more often—providing I am on hand to pull you out.’

  * * *

  Surfacing slowly from the depths of desire, Linnet dazedly gazed up at him with hypnotic eyes—still dark from the mysterious forces of passion, as if she could not comprehend what had just happened between them. She was astounded at her body’s reaction to this man. A touch, a kiss, a look, and he could rouse her and something rose and shouted for the joy of it.

  ‘I should not have let you kiss me.’

  ‘No, you shouldn’t—any more than I should have attempted to. Do you mind?’

  She shook her head. ‘No—at least I don’t think so.’

  ‘Then there’s no harm done.’

  ‘No, none at all,’ she said, unaware as she said the words of the quietly giggling young couple who had witnessed their kiss and were already returning to the house to recount what they had witnessed. Lord Blakely thought he heard a sound, but looking into the darkness of the tall shrubs and seeing nothing untoward, thought nothing of it.