The Ungrateful Governness

by Mary Balogh

  It did not matter that she no longer wanted that freedom. It was unimportant that she wanted nothing more than to be a prisoner of his love for the rest of her life. It mattered only that he had said that he loved her but had come to set her free. She would give him the most precious gift she possessed in return, and she would demand nothing, no security in advance.

  His embrace soon gentled. And he was making love to her indeed, with sensitive, knowing hands, with warm lips and tongue, with murmured words whose sense was felt rather than heard, and with the firm touch of his body. And she touched him in return, kissed him, crooned words of love and desire.

  "Come to bed," he said against her mouth eventually. "Come to bed with me, love, and let me unclothe you. Jess. Jess, my love, it will be good for you. I swear it will be good for you."

  "Yes," she whispered. "Oh, yes."

  And it would be good. She let him pull back the bedclothes from the bed and lay her down. And she lay still as he undressed her with expert ease. She watched him through half-closed lashes, his face flushed, his hair even more rumpled than it had been when he came in. She was glad that the candle had not yet quite burned itself out.

  And oh, yes, it would be good for her. Her body hummed with desire for him. And with impatience as his hands left her naked body in order to remove his own clothes. It would be good. She would feel pain. In a few minutes' time he would hurt her, according to all accounts. But it would be a welcome pain. She was eager for it. She wanted the moment of becoming his to be very memorable. She wanted it to hurt and hurt so that she would know her gift worthy of her need to give.

  But there was no more time for thought. He came to her then, and his hands and his mouth began to work their slow, erotic magic again. And she took fire, reaching to take him closer and closer, arching to give more and more of herself. And she was gasping, moaning with the need and the frustration of being unable to give or take any more.

  "Jess." He was speaking against her mouth, his hands in her hair. "Now, my love. Now. It will be good. I shall try not to hurt you."

  But she did not shrink from the fear of the unknown. She opened eagerly and fully to his body as it moved across to cover hers, and tilted her pelvis so that his hands could come beneath her.

  And then she was gasping against his mouth, clawing at his shoulders, tense with shock and pain and wonder. And finally, when his inward movement had stopped, she relaxed against him and smiled against his mouth with sheer joy.

  "Beautiful. Oh, beautiful, Jess."

  His voice was deep with passion. He buried his face against her hair. And then she began to lose herself in unimagined ecstasy as he started to move in her. Oh, totally unimagined. No need now to wonder at her earlier frustration. Of course she had not been able to give as she had wanted. Of course she had not felt quite satisfied with what he had given her.

  It was this. Only this. This total and intimate giving and taking of lovers. She knew no anxiety even though satisfaction did not come immediately but only rather an unbearable ache. He would make it good for her. And finally she knew the way to give herself completely. She held herself open and relaxed for her lover and held no part of herself from him.

  And finally the pounding rhythm of his body slowed and he moved his head to murmur against her mouth as she felt the warm merging of selves deep inside her.

  He lay heavy on her for several minutes, but she did not feel the discomfort of his weight. She pulled the sheet up around his bare shoulders, wrapped her arms around him, and rested her head against his. She stared up sleepily and happily into the darkness. She had not noticed exactly when the candle had finally gone out. She waited for whatever her future would be. But whatever it was, she would not regret what had just happened. She could never regret that.

  "Mm." He murmured drowsily against her ear eventually and lifted himself away from her. "I fell asleep, Jess. You must be squashed. I am sorry."

  He gathered her into his arms, her head on his shoulder, and tucked the blankets warmly around her.

  "I did not mind," she said, her fingers feathering over his chest.

  "I hurt you," he said. "You winced. I did not want to do that, Jess."

  "But I am glad," she said. "I wanted there to be a very definite moment, even a painful one, when I became your woman."

  "My woman," he said, his fingers touching her cheeks. "Why, Jess? I still don't understand. I had pledged not even to touch you. And then you offered me this. Why?"

  "Because I was free to do it entirely of my own will," she said. "I have loved you from the day of your arrival at Lord Barrie's, I believe. And I have wanted you. I wanted to be your mistress. I wanted to be your wife. But there has always been pressure on me to do one of those things, always a very good and practical reason why I should do so. I was never free. I have never been able to give myself to you. The best I could do was allow you to take me. But not tonight. Tonight I was free to give."

  "I thought you hated me," he said against her hair. "I thought I was the very last person on earth you wanted. Jess, I have spent all of yesterday and today trying to accustom myself to that thought."

  "I wanted to know that I was free to choose," she said. "I wanted to know that you needed something from me too. Not just this. I wanted to know that you loved me. Tonight you have said that you do. I do not know quite what you meant by that. But you gave me something infinitely precious tonight. You gave me myself. Finally tonight I possessed something of value. I possessed myself, to give or to withhold as I chose."

  "And you chose to give, Jess?" His lips were nuzzling her ear.

  "Yes, I chose to give, my lord," she said, turning her head so that their lips met warmly. "It was a gift. But a free gift. There will be no talk tomorrow of being obliged to offer for me because my reputation is in shreds. You are under no obligation to me for anything from this moment on. I did not use my freedom in order to put chains on you. I want you to know that."

  He found her hand in the darkness. "Will you marry me, Jess," he said, "because I love you and because I think you will become the dearest friend I will ever know? And because life without you has seemed to me for the past two days and still seems the bleakest prospect I could ever be asked to face? Will you, Jess?"

  "Yes, my lord," she said.

  Lord Rutherford smiled down at his betrothed. He wanted to laugh, but he was afraid of waking her. There was some light filtering through the window from the inn yard below. Otherwise he might not have realized that she had fallen asleep. At just the moment when he was preparing to settle in for a long and satisfying talk. How could any woman listen to a marriage proposal, answer, "Yes, my lord," and promptly fall asleep?

  He dared not move. He did not want to wake her. He did not want to wake himself. He was beginning to feel all the unreality of what was happening. She had refused him just the day before. He had said good-bye to her the evening before. She had run away that morning. He had come after her in the hope of taking her back home before taking himself away from her forever. Even an hour ago-less-he had been holding his breath almost, hoping against reason that she would let him accompany her home or at least allow him to go back and send someone else to her.

  He had not dreamed, in the whole long day he had never once dreamed that he would be able to win her for himself. And yet here he was, lying in Jess's bed at the inn, holding her in his arms, watching her sleep as a result of their lovemaking. And betrothed to her. And all because finally he had done unwittingly what she had wanted all the time. He had given her the gift of her freedom, she had said. And consequently she had given him back that freedom as a free gift.

  And how very sweetly and thoroughly she had done so. In all his experience he had never lain with a woman who had given her all with such abandon. It was as if she had wanted to keep nothing at all back for herself. And she would not even allow him to feel guilty about her pain. She had wanted the pain, she had said.

  Dear Jess. He could not resist the temptation to kiss he
r lightly on the nose. She opened her eyes immediately and smiled dreamily at him.

  "Have I been sleeping?" she asked.

  "Amazingly, yes," he said. "I wonder what we would find if we opened this mattress, Jess. A couple of wooden crates and several lumps of coal, do you think?"

  "Don't complain, my lord," she said. "You have me in here and I have you. What more could we ask for?"

  "A few tons of goose feathers, perhaps," he said. "But your point is well taken, love. If I had to choose between you and the goose feathers, I don't suppose I would choose the feathers."

  "Thank you, my lord," she said, smiling sleepily.

  "Jess," he said, "I know the force of habit is strong, but do you think that at some time during the next fifty years or so you will be able to bring yourself to call me Charles?"

  "Yes, I think so," she said, "Charles."

  He kissed her on the nose again.

  "Charles," she said, "are you going to make love to me again tonight?"

  "Another free gift, love?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

  "No." She shook her head. "One precious gift each is enough for one night. No, Charles, just for the sake of mutual pleasure?"

  "That sounds fair enough," he said. "Very fair indeed, in fact. Well, my little gray governess, so this is the sort of activity that gives you pleasure, is it? You are not at all worthy of your calling, you know."

  "I know, Charles," she said, wriggling over onto her back as he lifted himself above her. "That is why I am retiring, you know. I am going to be a lady of leisure. A countess, in fact."

  She lifted her face to find his mouth in the darkness.

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