A Temporary Governess

by Blaise Kilgallen

  "Perhaps I should tell you what I am interested in doing, hmm?"

  Clarissa's eyes stared into his, her pulse skittering wildly through her veins. Inviting her comment, his eyes burned into hers, but for some reason she could not utter a word. She felt her nipples tighten as if in anticipation of something. The muscles of her belly tensed. Heat pooled between her thighs. Her eyes almost begged to drift shut while her knees went weak. She gave up and leaned into his embrace.

  Alex's head swooped low and his lips found hers again; his fingers swept up her torso, his hungry, devouring kisses eating her mouth. He had pushed down the wide neckline of her gown so that it slipped easily over her bare shoulders. Soon he was rubbing and pinching her jutting nipples.

  Her pouting buds must surely be aching for succor. From me.

  Trapped by the sleeves of her gown, Clarissa dragged her hands off Alex's shoulders to his muscular chest. She caressed him unconsciously beneath his jacket's lapels, his nipples becoming aroused by her touch, too.

  Alex felt the size of his erection growing, not realizing Clarissa had started to undo the buttons on both his jacket and waistcoat. He croaked, “Wait.” He grabbed her fingers and tore off both of his garments, leaving him in a silk shirt and satin breeches. He undid his cravat and threw it on the deep pile of clothing already spread on the floor of the folly.

  Moments later, Clarissa's knees gave beneath her, and she sank onto the soft cushion made by their clothes. Alex followed her down to the folly's wooden floor.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  "Psst! Freddy! I need you. Now!” The Countess of Devon, Georgianna Ponsonsby, gestured her former lover toward a small alcove near the ballroom's secret door. “Have you seen Alex? He seems to have disappeared."

  Georgianna had come to the masquerade as a mid-eastern houri, wearing voluminous silk trousers, toe-curled slippers, a brief, beaded, sleeveless jacket that barely hid her lush breasts. Several heavy gold bracelets adorned both her wrists and jangled beside the silk tassels she had glued onto her aureoles and nipples so they jiggled when she moved. A waist length, semi-sheer veil was attached to a gold circlet that fit over her blond curls, leaving only her kohl-painted eyes clearly in evidence.

  Freddy had heard her call and stopped before throwing a studied gaze around the overly crowded ballroom. He was dressed like a seventeenth century courtier—an elaborate and cumbersome costume that did nothing but emphasize the codpiece protruding from between his legs. He would have been better off with something simpler, unless he could whip off the contraption quickly and finish the job with a lady of his choice.

  "Alex was in here earlier, Georgie. I saw him,” Freddy explained. “Perhaps you had not yet come down.” He threw an eye around the large room a second time. “I do not see him now, but I am certain he will turn up. He may have ... uh..."

  Freddy hesitated and threw a sidewise glance toward Georgie. He dared not mention that Alex may have sneaked off to pleasure someone else.

  "I say, look over there, Georgie! I see Prinny.” Freddy started to walk away. “Let me go. I want to speak with him."

  "Freddy Black, you come back here!” Georgie screeched above the music.

  For a moment, he was undecided whether to go or stay. Then, making up his mind that his bread was best buttered on the side of the countess, he slinked into the alcove beside her.

  "I want you to find Alex,” she railed at him, her tone sharp and demanding. “You know that he did not send me an invitation to this house party, but I came anyway when I found out. You should have let me know!” She squinted angrily at him. “And he has ignored me for days since I arrived. I overheard one of the servant's wagering this morning that I will be out of His Lordship's good graces very soon. What have you heard?"

  "Nothing, Georgie. Not from Alex, leastways. Besides, I have no idea what we can do about it if he does."

  "We had better do something soon, because if that is the case, I shall be sent packing. If that happens, you will be out on your arse with me. I will make sure of it!"

  The countess, intending to thoroughly frighten him, continued, “You and I will end up in the soup and in debtor's prison when the Earl turns up his toes. I hoped to have word from Scotland on his demise, but the ancient bugger just keeps on living."

  Georgie placed a spread palm on Freddie's chest. “I want you to learn whom Alex has dallied with lately when he spurned me. If it is that slut, Charlotte Gray, I will see she gets her just desserts. Her viscount is too thick-skulled to realize his wife is stepping out on him while he buries himself in his damn ledgers, trying to rescue his estate from dunning creditors. One word from me and he will see that Charlotte is kept away from Alex's parties."

  "I do not think it was her, Georgie. Not the viscountess. I overheard that Charlotte is being called back to Tottenfields. She is here tonight only because the Regent is. She leaves tomorrow. That should keep her out of circulation for a while."

  "Well, then, who do you think Alex is pursuing?"

  "I thought at first it was Alice Charrington—"

  "That Convent Garden trollop?"

  "No. But now I get the feeling it is someone closer to home. Someone new. Do you suppose he has an eye on the new governess? I saw him enter the schoolroom briefly last evening. I surmised, of course, it was something to do with his daughter's school work, though I never noticed him to be interested in his chit at all."

  Freddy's brows curved upward, now that the idea permeated into his brain. He, himself, had lusted almost immediately for the nubile body of Clarissa Marrick. As yet without success. Did Alex feel the same way? If so, they were surely birds of a feather.

  "Do it now, Freddy. Find out in whom Alex is interested. And what is going on here. Let me know quickly. I must know how to proceed."

  Georgie pointed a manicured finger at her half brother. “And by the way, I understand you have been pursuing that new governess. What is it with you? Have you no common sense at all?” she scolded. “If either you or Alex has already been under her skirts, I want to know that, too. You are to mind my business for the nonce if you are wise, and keep your randy lust hidden in your breeches where it belongs, not diddling with the governess."

  * * * *

  Rapid escalating breathing wafted across the cool night inside the folly. Clarissa was pinned beneath Alex. His arms were wrapped around her. He was sucking dexterously on her ripe nipples, shifting from one to the other as Clarissa squirmed and whimpered with pleasure.

  "I can keep this up all night, cherie," he murmured, pulling one of the nipples into the wet cavern of his mouth and swirling his tongue around the pebbled aureole.

  Alex vowed to himself that he would not fornicate with the beauteous governess, but he was having a devil of a time not plunging himself into where he wanted to go. It took every ounce of fortitude he owned not to lift the hem of her gown, press open her thighs, and satisfy himself inside the delicious, wet heat of her body. He promised he would treat himself by merely tasting the delicious sweetness of her mouth, kissing her enticing breasts, and suckling her tempting nipples.

  Alex forgave up thoughts of marriage after his own experience had curdled his insides with pain and infidelity. Some wondered about the reason for his vehement decision, but he kept it hidden for eight years. Suddenly, it appeared there in the ballroom, an undesirable longing that welled up within him and tantalized his brain. It was followed rapidly by an unusual craving embodied by the woman he was now making love to. She was young, and may or may not be virginal, whether she said it was true or not. He couldn't be sure, but in his arms, she was allowing him do numerous improper things. The same way Harriet had let him.

  He had kissed and fondled Clarissa Marrick's lips and body three times already. Would she have permitted others to do likewise during the masquerade? He wondered. Would she find a cozy spot and allow Daniel to have his way with her? Sexual hunting was the prime priority at tonight's festivities. The pleasure of carnal satisfaction was pursued an
d understood by his guests, male and female alike, who came to enjoy his parties.

  Or could he be falling under Clarissa's naïve, impudent spell?

  Alex shifted his gaze to the governess's kiss-bruised lips, wet with his saliva, glistening in the bright moonlight. She protested only slightly. He had simply muffled her whimpers with his devouring mouth again, kissing her deeply, his tongue playing havoc behind her teeth while he teased her breasts with his knowledgeable fingers.

  Fighting to control his rampant passion, Alex moved lower until he cupped the prominent mound located between her thighs. He first rubbed over it with the heel of his hand, pressing roughly, a maneuver he knew would excite her.

  She began to respond, tilting her torso upward to meet the pressure.

  His fingers roamed over her gown's thin fabric and petticoat, pressing expert fingertips into the crevice between her spread nether lips until he found her sensitive and aroused female core. He stroked her deeply to pleasure her.

  Dizzying sensations radiated through Clarissa, and she melted like hot wax under his hand. The place between her legs began to throb. Oh! She was wicked and filled with shame. But nevertheless she did not want him to stop. Seconds later something awesome and wonderful began to pulse from deep inside her. A never-experienced wave of potent, but delightful convulsions swept through her lower body, leaving her gasping. Her breathing continued rapid and shallow. She had grabbed Alex's wrist frantically, keeping his hand in place as he pleasured her, as she yearned for more of those same exquisite sensations.

  Alex was almost as surprised as Clarissa was when she climaxed. His palm lay on top of the damp fabric where his probing fingers had made a dark wet stain. He soothed Clarissa with slow, sliding caresses meant to bring her down from an experience that may or not be new to her. Her dress was twisted beneath her, her slender, stocking-clad calves showing above the hem. She lay supine on the folly's floor, limp and unmoving, arms and legs akimbo.

  Alex leaned up and kissed her, then lowered to rest his cheek on a plump breast as he continued to fight for sexual control. He drew in a long, shuddering breath. So far, he conquered the temptation to finish what he needed and wanted. Undesirable thoughts raged through him in dishonorable waves. Had he been a distasteful cad to treat Clarissa so? He had been unable to help himself, not once, but several times. Now, he had much to think about. But not here. Not now.

  Clarissa lay stretched out on a pile of wrinkled clothing like a sumptuous feast any man could be satisfied with, now and for a long time after. He dared not think about the sharp shaft of wisdom he was considering about proposing to her.

  Then cease looking at her and get her back to the ballroom, his thwarted brain warned. Then forget about it. And her.

  Alex shut his eyes against the appealing vision of enticing beauty, so vulnerable and delicious, lying quiet and still in the moonlight, like a surprising gift left for him alone to sate himself on.

  "I-I've never felt like this before,” Clarissa finally whispered. As if surprised, her lids slowly popped open.. “If that was my forfeit—"

  "No,” Alex replied quickly, bluntly, interrupting her question as he rose abruptly from where he lay on top of her. “There was no forfeit needed."

  "W-what? I owe you one, my lord. I try to k-keep my promises."

  His breath caught in his throat as Alex pulled away from her.

  "Never mind. And forgive me, Miss Marrick. I should not have—"

  He tightened his lashes against the sight of her again. She affected him more deeply than he ever thought possible, more deeply than any woman had ... since his unfaithful fiancée and wife, Harriet Warner. Suddenly, he was convinced that this woman, Clarissa Marrick, would never cuckold or deceive him. But she was also too dangerous to be handy and available to satisfy his current lifestyle.

  A strong sense of possessiveness still ran rampant through him, driven, perhaps, by a powerful emotion he was not ready to entertain ... unless he truly made a stab at a new beginning.

  No. No. No. Not marriage. Not again. He was not ready to accept such a drastic change.

  By the same token, he knew he could not keep Clarissa Marrick on as Beatrice's governess. He was too enthralled by her inviting persona.

  His mind still hedging, he considered that second alternative again.

  Would she possibly agree to be his mistress if he offered her the world?

  * * * *

  Alex helped Clarissa straighten her gown, tidy her hair, and re-tie on her mask and cloak. She pulled the hood up and over her hair as before. Alex put on his waistcoat and jacket and stuffed his once crisp cravat into a pocket.

  Clarissa never said another word to him about the forfeit. He denied it, saying she need not give him anything, though she thought it was his reason for bringing her to the folly.

  "Come, Miss Marrick. I shall return you to the ballroom."

  "No, Your Lordship. Please deliver me to a rear door of the Priory. I wish to return to my room. I have seen enough of your masquerade."

  "Of course. As you wish."

  When they reached a back door, Alex said, “It seems we are back to formalities, but I will speak with you again, Miss Marrick. My guests will leave very soon. There will be too much hustle and bustle then, so our discussion must be delayed a day or two."

  Clarissa nodded her head in the semi-darkness and slipped behind the door he held open for her. She murmured, “Goodnight, Your Lordship.” She hurried up the rear servants’ stairs to the upper hallway, her nerves as taut as catgut strings on a violin.

  * * * *

  Freddy stepped onto the terrace from the ballroom alone to catch a breath of the night air. He had copulated fast and furiously with a masked lady dressed as a childish milkmaid behind the musicians’ raised stand. She giggled afterward, straightened her gown, and returned to the ballroom without a second glance. Their quick encounter had left him unsatisfied. He wondered where he could find someone else to scratch his itch again. Beatrice's governess came to mind.

  The ballroom was now thin of revelers. Most had drifted to the upper reaches of the Priory's rooms to play their carnal games, flitting between bedchambers as was the custom in such libidinous house parties. The musicians had packed up their instruments and disappeared. They, too, may have enjoyed delights with willing women at the ball during intermission. It was not unusual for a member of the aristocracy to diddle discreetly with a commoner.

  Freddy leaned against the balustrade and lit a cheroot from a nearby sputtering lamp as he gazed out over the Priory's vast parkland. He saw two figures returning to a rear door that opened and threw a glow from a sconce left burning inside. Freddy realized one of them was Alex. He had not donned a costume and still wore evening dress. Almost every woman at the masquerade had come in costume. A woman draped in a blue cloak accompanied the marquess, the hood hiding her face. Freddy had seen such a cloak a few times during the past weeks. It dawned on him that it belonged to Beatrice's governess. He remembered seeing the same woman in that same cloak standing beside Daniel DeLand earlier this evening. There was no doubt in his mind now that it was Clarissa Marrick with Alex.

  Freddy watched the marquess turn and walk toward the stables.

  He puffed on his cigar for a short time before making up his mind. Then he snuffed out the cheroot and slowly headed for the central staircase to the second storey. He did not start toward his bedchamber. Instead, his furtive, soundless steps approached the schoolroom.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Clarissa felt somewhat lightheaded after what occurred between her and the marquess. So much so, that she had forgotten to lock the door to the schoolroom and the connecting door to her bedchamber.. She had the presence of mind, however, to flip the key in the lock when she entered her room from the hallway.

  She slipped off her outerwear and hung it in the wardrobe. She never had a lady's maid at home, so she did not need one now. She was able to undo enough buttons so the gown slid down around her ankles. She
stepped out of it, along with her petticoat. She noted the rather large stain in the front of her skirt, and color rose to heat her cheeks. The marquess had pressed seeking fingers deep, pushing petticoat and gown into the wet area between her legs to caress her. It was seconds later when those odd, excruciating sensations flashed through her, and left her short of breath. She would never be able to express what it felt like in words. Was that what women worried about on their wedding night? She had been told there would be pain accompanying it, but she felt nothing but pleasure and tranquility afterward. And she wanted more of it.

  Clarissa removed her slippers, her garters, and her stockings, rolling them into a ball and stuffing them into the wardrobe with the rest of her garments. She stood facing the cheval mirror in the room wearing nothing but her chemise. The interlocking door from the schoolroom to her chamber slowly opened. The movement caught the corner of her eye. She spun around, expecting to see Beatrice, sleepy-eyed, waiting to hear about the masquerade ball.

  In the dim glow of a single lamp, she knew who it was.

  How dared Mr. Black come back to haunt her!

  Clarissa had the sense to grab her wrapper and plunge her arms into the sleeves, tying the belt tightly around her waist.

  "What are you doing in here?” she spit out, her irate voice low enough so it would not awaken Beatrice. “Even wearing that ridiculous get up, I know who you are, Mr. Black. Now, I suggest you turn around and leave my room this minute."

  "Now, now, dear Miss Marrick. I thought perhaps you were lonesome for company.” His smile leered. “I watched you say goodnight to Alex down below. Has he already satisfied your need for a bit of amorous play?"

  Silence.

  "Well, then, if not, I assure you I am here to grant your every wish."

  It was then Clarissa remembered the pistol. It was in the drawer of her bed table. Her eyes focused on Mr. Black as he advanced toward her. Quickly, she spun and reached in the drawer, bringing out the dueling pistol again. “You damnable pest! Do not come any closer! My aim is true! So do not forget it!"