"We are all happy here,” Clarissa stated, loyally. “Everyone in Lower Cadbury loves you, Papa. They would miss you if you went elsewhere."
The thought came to her that the marquess had several parishes on his vast estates. Would he be willing to appoint her father to one with a larger stipend if she asked? But then, she recanted. He had spoken to her with bitterness. Besides, she had not divulged her father's name—or his calling—to the Marquess of Chester, nor told anyone her real surname.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Clarissa returned her grandfather's dueling pistol to her father's room before her father came home, then hid the diary in her own chest of drawers. She had no need to refer to the notes. She would not write the book as planned.
After Jane left for the Priory, responding with many sad goodbyes, Clarissa was at loose ends. Her father seemed busy with one problem or another, and often was away on parish business. So she did not see much of him. She pulled some weeds from Mrs. Oliver's kitchen garden, then roamed around the house, picking up doodads she had forgotten about while away at the Priory. She paged through several novels she had read before. Still, she felt on edge. Nothing quelled her strange bout of restlessness.
"I have to stop thinking about the Priory,” she told herself as she strode along the dusty road that twisted between small, thatched cottages leading to the village green in Lower Cadbury. She needed exercise and decided to walk to the village and back. As she approached the gray stone church where her father preached, she was remembering the vast parkland belonging to the Priory, the color of those ancient walls, the lavish décor inside the sumptuous rooms that spread over several floors in the marquess's large residence. She first met the marquess on that wild ride across the field behind the stables. Try as she might, she could not forget him. He filled her mind—and her heart—nightly—as she lay awake, unable to rest comfortably.
An hour had passed after she returned to the vicarage. She knew her father was away visiting the wife of a farmer who was ill. Mrs. Oliver had gone to shop in Lower Cadbury. Their handyman was busy outside. Clarissa had ducked out of sight when she saw Olly bustling out of a shop in the village. She loved the housekeeper, but the woman was persistent, asking endless questions as to why Clary looked pale and wan, and why she didn't eat nearly as heartily as she did when she lived at home.
"Is there something wrong with my cooking?” Olly had asked. Clarissa had to assure her that she was the best cook in the world. She lacked appetite simply because she was blue deviled. Clarissa finally admitted to herself that she had fallen deeply in love with the Marquess of Chester. She never told Olly that, of course. Instead, she said her appetite would return as soon as she got more exercise.
Clarissa spied several children playing on the village green, and realized she missed Beatrice almost as much as she missed the marquess. At one time, she hoped to have children of her own. It was impossible now, of course. She could not wed a man she did not love, and motherhood meant marriage. Besides, the man she loved was far above her as well as being a callous, arrogant scoundrel—like Mr. Black.
Now Clarissa wandered into the parlor, bent down to pick up the ancient striped cat snoozing on one of the cushioned chairs, and carried the puss to the window. The two gazed idly out upon the side garden. Behind her, Clarissa heard the front door click open, heard heavy footsteps entering the cottage. She turned, expecting to see either Olly or her father. She froze, rigid as a statue.
It was not Olly standing in the doorway. Nor her father.
Clarissa pulled in a tiny gasp. Her grip on the cat loosened and the puss leapt from her arms, scooting past the boots of the man filling the room with his presence.
"Oh! Your Lordship! Why are you here?” Clarissa managed to blurt. “Is something wrong at the Priory? Has something happened to Jane? Or Beatrice?"
Alex walked toward Clarissa, then stopped without answering her questions. “Nothing is wrong,” he said, removing his hat and gazing down at her. “I could not...” he said, breathing in after a slight pause. “I-I simply did not want our last meeting to end the way it did. I came to apologize for my crude behavior."
Clarissa's heart thumped fast and hard against her ribs. He was standing so close she could almost feel the rhythmic vibrations in his deep baritone as he spoke. Her body sang with gladness. He was here! In Lower Cadbury! She would speak with him one more time. Would he be shocked to know how very glad she was to see him?
"Beatrice was devastated when you left, Miss Marrick,” he said, his voice calm. His eyes never left her face.
"Y-You did visit her, my lord? After I left?"
"Not until the following day.” His lips twisted into a rueful expression. “Only later did I have an opportunity to mull over that devastating lecture you viciously scalded me with. About my callous behavior."
"I only told the truth as I saw it, my lord.” Clarissa hesitated and inhaled. Her insides seemed to relax a bit. She was even able to manage a tiny smile when she said, “I am so glad you went to visit your daughter."
Clarissa had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. “I coaxed Jane to return to the Priory, too, Your Lordship.. Tell me. Do Beatrice and my friend, Jane, get on better now?"
"Fine, as far as I can tell. Of course, Beatrice would rather it was you that returned instead of Miss Hornsby. But perhaps..."
Then he smiled down at Clarissa, and she noticed a new light glowing deep inside his smoky eyes. Why? she thought. He looks ... happy.
"I must confess that I was not really a governess,” Clarissa continued. “I had no experience at it, but I wished to help Jane out of an untenable situation."
"I know. Very plucky of you, I must say. To face Freddy Black with that monstrous pistol."
Clarissa ducked her head. “I threatened him with it once before. But when he approached me a second time, he frightened me so much I pulled the trigger."
"As I recall, you did the same thing to me."
"I would never have shot you!” she exclaimed, her brows arching, eyes opening wide. Then she continued, hesitantly. “I hope you are not angry with me. Are you?"
"Not in the least. Not now, at least. It was foolish of me at the time not to realize what Freddy was doing ... lusting after Beatrice's governesses. I was not concerned about his lecherous misbehavior under my roof. I ... well, never mind that. I did punish him as best I could under the circumstances. Freddy got what he deserved."
"I am so glad, Your Lordship. It still bothers me that governesses are so vulnerable and helpless in situations such as that and are victimized by men like him.
"After all, any titled nobleman wields power over the people he employs. But single, unattached women often take the brunt of unwanted, sexual advances from men who live under the same roof with them.” Clarissa held her breath, wondering if she had spoken too decisively.
There was a short silence before Alex said, “Well, Freddy is gone and Beatrice has her governess back. What do you plan to do ... about me?"
Clarissa's eyes opened wide again. Her gaze this time was trapped by the intensity in his slate-colored eyes.
"Why, whatever do you mean, Your Lordship?"
"You seem to have forgotten that my name is Alex. You are to use it from now on, Clarissa."
"But, that is quite improper—"
"Quiet! I want no more lectures from you!” He scowled at her, then his brow cleared and he smiled. “I want you to come back to the Priory."
Clarissa's expression turned quizzical.
Was she at least considering it? He once asked her to be his mistress and later recanted.
Alex waited.
Have I convinced her to return? Nevertheless, let her answer before I tell her what I really want.
Finally, Clarissa said, “How can I come back, Your—I mean, Alex? I am no longer Beatrice's governess. And, besides..."
"Besides what?"
Clarissa sucked in a tortured breath. Now was her chance to be with him. All she had to do
was agree to be his mistress.
Oh! How she wanted to make that decision and be done with it. Then she recalled the servants’ rumors. His staff wagered on how long he would keep a lover. Lady Ponsonsby had lasted the longest.
No. She could not agree. If Alex set her aside, she never wanted to live with that amount of heartache. It was bad enough now. She had missed him enough during the brief time she had left the Priory. Clarissa's decision only solidified her moral convictions. Besides which, her father would be horrified and more—deeply chagrined if learning of his daughter's immoral behavior. She would not live with him without a marriage even though she loved Alex Warner to distraction and may never wed another.
"I cannot return to the Priory, and I will not be your mistress,” Clarissa told Alex, then stepped away from his charismatic pull on her senses.
"I am not asking you to be my mistress. I am asking for a more permanent position."
"What do you mean?” Clarissa asked. The tension in her expression tightened.
He took a step closer, then reached out and pulled her into his arms. “You can call me Alex or anything else you wish if we are to be married, my darling, Clarissa."
Another gasp of surprise escaped her lips. “But—"
"But, but, but.” He grinned down at her. “Is that all you have to say? I thought you were a well-tutored lady and properly versed in the English language, eh? Therefore, you must know the answer. Why not say the words and agree to marry me? Then I can kiss you the way I wish to ... the way I need to ... right now."
But of course, he did not wait for her answer. “I know. Shall we find out?” His mouth came down soft on hers at first as he gathered her close in an embrace that felt so wonderfully possessive that she knew she would never let him go. The sheer wonder of her budding love for him shot through her like a beam of sunlight through a glazed window. It was as if spring had arrived after a winter of ice and snow, melting the anxiety she felt deep inside her. Warmth and desire cascaded over her as he deepened the kiss. She knew she must be dreaming, but her hands went around his neck to curl in his dark hair. The marquess held her so tight she had to gasp for air when he finally gave her a chance to breathe.
A powerful need for fulfillment quickly rose within her. She had ached for the sight and touch of his hands on her during these last few days. Now her pliant body, pressed against his masculinity, exploded through her in an unstoppable demand for completion.
Alex coaxed Clarissa toward the shopworn sofa he spied upon entering the parlor. When he laid her down full length on it, he knelt beside her, covering her lips with more passionate kisses. His knowing hands traced the lush fullness of her breasts over the fabric of her gown.
Quivers of burgeoning desire escalated, turning to liquid fire between Clarissa's thighs. He had touched her there where she lay on the floor of the folly. Now an untamed need blossomed, grew stronger and more persistent by the second. Her nipples throbbed against the fabric of her dress as he tweaked the tips between his fingers. His mouth did wondrous things to her senses. He tenderly covered her face and cheeks with kisses before asking to taste her mouth. Alex's passion became more demanding as he plunged his tongue between her lips to savor her essence. Clarissa trembled with desire, urging him on with her unwavering, uninhibited responses, willing him to do what he demanded of her.
Clarissa took hold of his hand caressing her breast and carried it to the apex of her legs, showing him, in silent entreaty, where she wanted to be touched. She let her legs fall open.
Ready to do whatever she wanted, Alex lifted the hem of her gown. He slid his callused palm underneath the fabric, sliding it along the inside of one smooth calve, and reaching higher, along a thigh, loving the silky slide of warm skin as he watched the expression on Clarissa's face. Her eyelids drooped shut, her head resting on a pillow, but her breathing was rapid and shallow.
"If ‘tis a climax you want, love, I will give it to you very soon. But when I make love to you on our wedding night, I plan to tease you until you are driven wild by new sensations. I promise you our lovemaking will last longer and be more satisfying than this preliminary—until you fly off our mattress into the cosmos. Wait and you shall see."
"Please. Oh, Alex, please,” she murmured.
He reached the haven between her thighs; she was already drenched with slick liquid. He wanted desperately to lap at it with his tongue, taste her, and satisfy his own carnal need. His erection was big around and hard as a rock, but he vowed to himself not to take her until their wedding night. Clarissa was a novice at lovemaking; he dared not go too fast, only teach her now what would gratify them both for years to come.
With one hand, Alex pinched a nipple through her gown. His talented fingers stroked the throbbing heart of her sex, certain his expertise and persistence would fling Clarissa into orgasm.
It did not take long. She was so responsive. He gloried in her muted cries of ecstasy when her hips strained up off the sofa cushions. The walls of her body gripped his fingers as the climax convulsed through her.
Clarissa gasped out loud, panting with pleasure, voicing baby whimpers as ripples of sensation slowed until they finally ceased. She lay subdued and limp atop the worn pillows of the sofa.
Alex pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his fingers. He bent down and tenderly kissed Clarissa's mouth. “There will be more pleasure where that came from, darling. Ask me and I shall make love to you as often and as long as you want me to."
He rose from his knees and looked down at the girl/woman he had fallen in love with. He had not faced his feelings for her until she left the Priory.
Clarissa opened dazed eyes, then smiled up at him lazily.
"Was it good?” he asked, a male twinkle in his eyes.
"I-I ... it was extraordinary!” she answered, slightly embarrassed as she fluttered her eyelashes.
"It gets better, my dear. Much better. After we can practice a bit more,” he explained, the corners of his mouth curling upward in a wickedly sensuous smile. Alex joined Clarissa on the sofa after she sat up. “I tried forever, Clarissa, but could not forget you. I will not, not for a hundred years. Tell me you agree to marry me."
"It is ... difficult for me to think right now,” she hedged. “All of this is ... quite new ... and very hard to believe."
"Believe what?"
"That you truly wish to marry me."
"Yes. It is true. I once vowed never again to make love to a virgin, Clarissa. And I kept my vow until I met you and could not help myself. But we shall take care of that little matter on our wedding night. Not until then, my dear, so we had better hurry. I cannot wait much longer. I already sent to the bishop for a special license. We can be married at the Priory within days. What do you have to say now?"
"I have not agreed to marry you yet, Your Lordship—"
"Alex. Use my name. I like the way you say it."
"Alex, then, but I need to hear more from you."
"You are duly compromised here and now, Clarissa. So there is no going back. But what more do you need? Must I go down on my knees again to make my proposal legal?"
Clarissa giggled like a girl just out of the schoolroom herself.
Alex loved the sound of her giggle. At age thirty, suddenly he was drunk, not from spirits but from happiness. Nothing like this had happened to him since ... well, since he was a randy rake of two and twenty and fell top-over-tails into what he thought was a passionate love for Harriet. But this was different, and he knew it. Clarissa Manning would never betray him with another man—before or after their marriage.
"Why do you wish to marry me?” Clarissa asked him again. “I need to know, because if I thought you would put me aside for another, I should die, Alex. You see, I-I dearly care for you. And I heard the rumors about your short-lived liaisons."
Her words rang true to his ears. “I suppose you have, and I am sorry.” But he could not yet speak his own feelings for her.
"Darling Clarissa, I have lived a dissolute l
ife during these past eight or nine years. But I promise you I will change for the better. My affection for Beatrice has grown in the few days we have spent time together. She seems a very bright and lively young lady. Did I tell you we rode out together one morning after you left? I put her on a lead line when she begged me to let her at least sit on her pony. I am sure Doctor Tremayne would have rung a peal over my head had he known."
"Aha! I see you are spoiling her already."
Clarissa's heart swelled in her chest. It was obvious the strained relationship that kept the pair of father and child separate for eight long years had finally melded into a new beginning. How wonderful!
"Do not allow Lady Beatrice to take advantage, my lord. Mind you, she still needs some more disciplining. She behaved as obdurate and selfish as a child when I first met her. At times she must still be reminded to continue her proper, ladylike behavior."
Alex's lips twitched, hearing Clarissa spouting out like a mother hen. “I am sure you will remedy that when you are Beatrice's stepmother. Look how terribly you scolded me."
Clarissa held back from responding to his statement, but she did smile a little, saying, “Go on."
"I did not forget the wanton way you kissed me when we first met, either, Clarissa. You certainly were a hoydenish baggage sitting on Thunder's back!"
A soft tinge of pink painted Clarissa's cheeks. “I have no idea why I did that. I simply could not help myself."
"Well, neither could I when I captured you and kissed you in the dark."
"But you thought I was someone else."
"That was not the first time I kissed you, my dear. It was me when you popped out from the schoolroom into the hall—"
Clarissa frowned at him. “That was you? You were foxed then when I slapped you! I had no idea who was grabbing me!"
"I tasted those luscious lips of yours, and they responded so sweetly. Before the slap, that is.” Alex chuckled. “I intended to badger you about it when I spied you near my bedchamber. I thought perhaps you had sought me out for ... well, never mind. But then you ducked into that other room. I was sure you were hiding from me."
A Temporary Governess Page 23
