As if the marquess read her mind, the pressure of his mouth increased. She had never before been before so totally wanton and reckless. She wished to be part of him, have him part of her, in body and soul. She could only feel, not think, even though her brain told her this moment was impossible—a wild fantasy conjured up by her own inflamed imagination.
Clarissa's untutored emotions believed this was true love while her educated mind continued to deny the wonder of it. Nobody fell in love that quickly. Certainly not her. And especially with a rich, arrogant—magnificent—male with an age-old English title. The Marquess of Chester could have his choice of aristocratic mistresses and willing wives. He would never look at a penniless vicar's daughter whose father had an uninspiring title, lived in a charity residence, and had a score of long-standing debts.
Slowly, Alex drew away from her in a voice that was curiously odd, and sounded strained. “I fear that I must leave you—cherie. Ahh ... perhaps, another time."
Before Clarissa could reply, he loosened his hold on her, opened the door and left, closing it behind him.
Clarissa trembled from her head to her toes, her mind blurred by what she knew was a potent, terrible and wicked, wanton desire for the marquess to continue making love to her. He stirred brand new, absolutely inexplicable emotional currents racing along her nerve endings. They quivered and quaked with no place to go.
Of course, what she did was scandalous! What would her father or her mother think? Or even, Jane? But she confessed to herself that she would not have asked him to stop. She could not. Not the waves of sensations she felt just then. She wanted so much more. But now she felt queasy, having experienced the unknown emotional upheaval during those several moments. Nevertheless, she dreamed of more of his sensual kisses, more of his caresses, more ... of him.
* * * *
Clarissa had no idea how long she stood in the dark. Her breathing slowed by tiny, sharp inhales; her heart, though, still raced too fast beneath her rose-colored gown. Finally, her feet seemed glued to the floor where before they had floated on a cloud. Since she could breathe normally now, she pulled open the door and stuck her head out in the hallway. It looked clear. Swiftly, she moved as fast as possible, not wishing to cause undo curiosity. She reached the schoolroom, slipped inside, and shut the door. Like that little bird in the cage, her heart still fluttered wildly in her chest.
She covered her face with her hands. Waves of unrest coursed through her. The marquess had kissed her, and she would never be the same. He had awakened feelings and sensations in her that she thoroughly enjoyed, but so far, she had never been kissed like that by anyone. Could a wager between the two men attempting to seduce a governess be true?
No. Not possible.
True, the marquess had been in her thoughts ever since he had thrown her onto his horse's back, but then again, she had spent almost the same amount of time thinking about Mr. Black. She had kissed the marquess on horseback. Not the way she let him kiss her and kissed him back so wantonly moments ago.
Clarissa shook all those devilish thoughts from her as she paced the small schoolroom, her mind muddled by what had occurred to her already during her short time at the Priory.
Yes, she had made notes on the hero in her book. And yes, the marquess's face still haunted her. She decided earlier that the man's attractiveness, his wealth, and his title were simply the usual reasons why women chased him. None of it necessarily reflected his true personality. Clarissa gave a deep sigh. Nowhere in her young experience had she met a man who was so callous and unfeeling about his own child. There must be a reason, but she could not come up with one. Now she was torn by new feelings about him. In just a short time, she found herself as attracted to him the way any other woman might be. Beyond that, his sensual kisses caused weird tumbling and whirling inside her. She hoped it would never stop. She never expected to feel that way, ever. Alex Warner turned her world topsy-turvy in a matter of minutes. But then—even if the man's kisses were arousing and delicious—and they were—she would never be unable to put those feelings into words in her novel.
Abruptly, Clarissa halted in her pacing, a fingertip to her lips. Time to face reality. What is the matter with me? Have I gone daft? Was I totally befogged by his kisses? The marquess was not kissing me! He thought he was kissing someone else in that tiny hall!
Her stomach clenched at the terrible truth! Foolish, foolish girl!
Clarissa's mind took a different path now. What would the marquess think when he learned he had not kissed the woman he expected to find behind that door? Could he tell she was a country innocent he had kissed instead of one of the worldly aristocratic house guests of his acquaintance?
A wanton giggle escaped Clarissa. Her wicked thoughts confirmed that even if he had made a mistake, she had enjoyed every moment of the marquess's lovemaking.
It was time, she decided, to turn off the lamps in the schoolroom and go to bed. She went to the schoolroom door, and as she reached out to turn the key, she realized it was gone. Not there. Not in the lock. Not lying on the carpet. She even opened the door slightly and checked outside in the hall.
Missing.
A horrible thought punched her in the solar plexus, and she sucked in an audible gasp. She headed toward her bedchamber, almost guessing what she would find. The key to her bedchamber to the hall outside was also missing.
Chapter Twenty-one
For a moment, Clarissa was panic-stricken. How could she face Mr. Black when her mind and body still throbbed with the wonders of her encounter with the marquess? Nevertheless, she was determined to defy the man both she and Jane loathed.
It flashed through her that she could run to the marquess for the protection he had offered. That would be cowardly, demeaning, and something she would never consider agreeing to, not what he meant when he broached the offer.
It was up to her to teach Mr. Black a lesson. Not only because he had frightened poor Jane out of her wits, but because he also gave her uneasy moments as well.
I shall advise him in so many words what a heinous cad he was to pester me and terrify Jane. And again warn him that I am not afraid of him.
Courage came to her rescue. She rummaged through her trunk. Near the bottom under frayed petticoats and darned stockings, she found the dueling pistol that belonged to her grandfather. She felt a lot better holding it in her hand. Her fingers gripped tightly around the smooth ivory butt, the weight of the pistol lending her boldness. As apprehension grew, her hand did not waver one bit.
Clarissa's heart was beating in double time. Much different, however, nothing like it did when the marquess's arms enfolded her in that passionate embrace.
She loaded the pistol with a certain amount of expertise and cocked it. She walked into the schoolroom with it clutched in her right hand, glancing at the mantel clock, noticing that it was close to midnight. She heard music from below stairs when she rushed back to the schoolroom. The impromptu ball in Prinny's honor must still be in full swing.
Now all she had to do was wait for Mr. Black to show up.
Clarissa lowered herself onto the wooden bench facing the schoolroom door, the pistol clasped in her hand, well-hidden beneath the rose-colored folds of her gown's skirt. She had donned her most fancy gown. It seemed at the time, it was only suitable that she be dressed in her best, just as the marquess's guests donned theirs for the ball in the honor of the Regent.
The minutes dragged. The hands on the clock seemed never to move as Clarissa waited in anticipation, thinking about Jane. She would be terrified now if she were here rather than me. No matter what nefarious plans Mr. Black had, Jane might be abused—mentally as well as physically—and left to suffer a trauma for months on end.
Well, it will not happen to me, Clarissa vowed, settling her posterior onto the bench, her senses rigid with tension and trepidation. In fact, only a quarter of an hour passed before Clarissa heard footsteps coming down the corridor.
Was he smiling? This time there were no l
ocked doors to interfere with his entering at will, so she wondered, Does he think I'm cowering in here the way Jane probably had?
Then the door to the schoolroom slowly opened. It was no surprise to Clarissa that the man outlined in the doorway was Frederic Black.
"Ahh, it seems you are expecting me, Miss Marrick.” He chuckled. “How nice that we shall finally have a cozy chat. Alone, eh what?"
"What do you want, Mr. Black?” Clarissa retorted. “I do not know you well, and I don't believe we have anything to chat about. Why will you not be a gentleman and go away and leave me alone?"
"Ah, but at the moment, dear Miss Marrick, I am not feeling like a gentleman. Instead, I feel like a man who is entranced by your beauty. Much the same way I was on the stairs a few days past. I was certain that you and I could make lovely music together. Do you not agree?"
"I think not, Mr. Black."
"Perhaps you would like to waltz. The ball is still going on below stairs, but I can hum music right here in this room. I am anxious to have you warm and soft in my arms."
"I warn you, Mr. Black, do not come near me."
"Ah, come now, pretty one. Do not fight me. I want nothing but sweet words and pleasure between us."
He took a few more steps inside the room and held out his hand. “Perhaps words are not necessary after all. Just tell me what you want and I shall try to comply."
Clarissa watched his cunning expression and felt shudders of trepidation working their way down her spine.
Dare I shoot him?
Freddy made another forward move, and Clarissa jumped to her feet, whipping the pistol into her hand. “That is far enough, Mr. Black.” Clarissa watched sheer astonishment flicker across his countenance when he saw the gun.
He halted and remained where he stood.
"Before you leave this schoolroom, Mr. Black, I have some things to say to you!” Clarissa exclaimed, raising the barrel of the pistol and pointing it at his chest. “Listen to me carefully.” She drew in a deep breath. “I would rather be in company of the lowest reptile in the kingdom before I would allow you to get near me or touch me, sir! You are a scoundrel, a cur, a beast, the lowest of cads! How dare you molest unwilling women in the marquess's household? Perhaps, others cannot defend themselves, but I can!” Clarissa spat.
She caught a glint of real anger flashing from his eyes after she finished her rant.
Then he laughed. “Spoken very bravely for one so young, Miss Marrick!” His gaze, however, was glued on the pistol in her hand.
Clarissa saw he did not move forward.
He paused, it seemed, weighing his words before he uttered them. “Surely, you are not foolish enough to shoot me, sweetheart! If you fire that ridiculous weapon, it is likely to backfire in your hand. It looks ancient enough to do so.” He even cracked a smile. “Come now. Let us forget this nonsense, my pretty one.” And he had the temerity to wink. “I promise after tonight I will be very good to you."
Clarissa's grip on the pistol tightened. The long barrel did not waver.
So he continued, coaxing, “Would you rather leave this paltry position as governess here to the marquess's chit? I can offer you comfortable lodgings in Town, even a monthly stipend."
Black seemed ready to move forward. “Come now, put away that pistol, my dear, and let me kiss you. I am terribly anxious to press my lips to yours, hold you against me, touch you."
"Ugh! I would rather cast up my accounts!” Clarissa raged at him. “A few nights ago, I was certain you grabbed me outside the schoolroom. Do not lie to me!"
"Nonsense! I never touched you!"
More temper and annoyance blazed in his gaze as he stepped forward.
"No! Do not move! Just stay away from me, Mr. Black. I want you out of the schoolroom. Now!” Clarissa warned, tilting the pistol slightly higher.
"I see you are the kind of challenge I like. Not like the other one!” He hesitated and halted in his tracks. “For now I shall leave you to contemplate my generous offer."
Freddy Black's smile was more like a leer as he spun away and walked out of the schoolroom.
Seconds later, Clarissa lowered her arm with the pistol and let it hang beside her hip. It felt like a stone's weight in her hand right now. She was shaking inwardly, but her hand holding the pistol had never wavered—or trembled—until now. Her knees were knocking, though, as if there was not strength enough to hold her erect. She tottered toward the bench and sat down. Her insides rolled with turmoil, as if she truly were going to be sick. She dropped the pistol into her lap and wrapped her arms around her waist to stop the shakes.
What if I had killed him? Dear Lord, what would happen to me if I shot the marquess's friend? I have no friends here, none to help me! Besides, who will believe a lowly governess's accusations against a hero like Frederic Black!
* * * *
The marquess was coming up the stairs when he ran into his friend on the second storey's landing. “Where are you in such a rush to, Freddy. I thought you were arranging a tryst with Lady Barthelmew a short while ago. By the look on your face, however, it seems as if she turned you down."
"Argh! If you must know, Alex, it was that cow-eyed governess I tried to make up to and ... well, she sent me packing."
Alex chortled softly, although he was annoyed by his own sharp reaction to his friend's explanation. “Serves you right, my man. You have a heavy hand with the ladies at times. But do me a favor, Freddy. Georgie has been trailing me about all evening. I came up here simply to get away from her. Head her off, will you? Keep her entertained for a half hour or so. I need to do something while I am here."
"I thought you and Georgie were an item. Have you changed your mind?"
"Let's not discuss it, shall we? Just keep her off my back for a bit."
"As you wish, but it will not be easy. You know she is quite taken by you."
Alex laughed louder this time. “Methinks perhaps we have been too close too often. Too much time spent with one's lover soon becomes boring."
"Do you have your eye on someone new?"
"Perhaps. Then again, I may cast about for a suitable wife, my friend. That would be a surprise, would it not? Perhaps it is time I make a legitimate heir for the title."
"Does Georgie know? That you are thinking to put her aside?"
"No. And I don't want my words or thoughts bruited about. I have not made a decision, Freddy, so be a good fellow, and take care of Georgie for me. Anyway you can, eh?"
Freddy Black left the marquess with perturbation lancing through him. He needed to digest the marquess's words and let the countess know.
Chapter Twenty-two
The schoolroom door flew open without anyone knocking. The marquess stood in the doorway, framed by the dim light in the hallway. He stared at Clarissa, who was poised for flight.
Even as his appreciative gaze ran over her, Alex noticed the governess's shining hair glinting in the warm glow of candlelight inside the room. Her smooth cheeks and full lips were tinted by warm color and enhanced by the rosy shade of her demure gown. It shouldn't, but the vision of a lovely Clarissa Marrick dressed so prettily rather than in a shabby riding outfit stirred the blood in his loins. He had kissed her, in two different places in the Priory, but he never saw what she was wearing either times.
"Quite extraordinarily lovely, I must say,” he murmured to himself, before taking a few steps inside and closing the door behind him.
Clarissa was astonished to see him here, and she gaped, wide-eyed. The marquess is visiting the schoolroom now? At this time of night? Why? Has Mr. Black tattled to him about the pistol? Has he come to send me away?
"Good evening, Miss Marrick,” Alex said softly.
"Your Lordship! You-you have taken me by surprise!"
She managed a brief curtsy, but her legs did not function properly. “You must know that Lady Beatrice was put to bed hours ago and is asleep. But w-why are you here?"
"I see you are still awake. Good.” He waved a hand toward
her. “This is an informal visit. Do sit down."
Clarissa let herself ease down onto the bench again. Looking at him, he did not seem angry or upset, but she did not know him very well even if she had been clasped in his arms while he kissed her with demonstrative passion a short time ago.
Instead, Alex began a leisurely stroll around the small schoolroom. Clarissa watched, the sudden jolt of a surprise visit still coursing through her veins. The marquess still wore evening dress. Why would he visit here and now while the festivities were still underway?
The marquess picked up a book from a stack on a lower shelf and flipped through the pages. Next, he angled toward the large world globe resting in an oak stand in one corner of the room and ran a finger over the map's slick surface. He gave it a gentle whirl. Finally, he paused before the bird's cage. A cloth had been thrown over it. He gently lifted the cover and peeked inside. The little bird fluttered his wings, awake now, and upset. He had been dozing on his perch, his head tucked under one wing. Now he squawked noisily, hopping from perch to perch in the cage.
Clarissa had risen to her feet when the marquess entered. She had enough wits left to shove the pistol into a pocket of her skirt. She approached the marquess where he stood in front of the birdcage. “I fear you disturbed Sir Lancelot, my lord. It is well past his bed time."
"Sir Lancelot?” he replied with a lop-sided smile.
His teeth were even and white, shining like pearls in the candlelight when he smiled. She never had the opportunity to notice them. He had been either behind her on the horse, in the tiny, dim bedroom during their meeting about Beatrice, or in the dark, when he kissed her.
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