by Diana Quincy
“Adam,” she breathed.
“Say it again,” he demanded, loving the sound of his name on her lips. No one ever called him Adam. “Again.”
“Adam, Adam, Adam.” When she stood abruptly, Sunny kicked the chair out of the way. He wanted nothing between them. She turned to him, her face flushed in the lamplight, her lips parted, her eyes blazing.
“Tell me what you want.” He wouldn’t touch her again until she admitted her desire for him.
“You, Adam.”
Exhilaration lit every one of his nerve endings. “And so you shall have me.” He lifted her onto the table and moved the lamp to the side. He stood before her and removed her glasses, doing away with her silly disguise before lowering his lips to hers.
She was sweet and warm, opening immediately to him, their tongues meeting and mating. His mouth pressed hard over hers, demanding everything. And she gave it. He kissed her deeply and intensely, like a man lost in the desert who’d suddenly found an oasis.
His other hand worked at the buttons of his breeches, undoing them until he freed himself and held his hard, pulsing cock in his hand. He broke the kiss and stepped back. He wanted her to see everything. He wanted no misunderstanding between them.
She was not shy about looking at his organ. Breathing hard, her hair a wild cascade of curls about her shoulders, she stared as his hand worked his prick, stroking it, the pad of his thumb touching the liquid glistening at its pink tip. His body felt like an inferno that was liable to explode at any moment if he wasn’t inside her soon.
“Are you just going to stand there?” she asked, her voice husky.
“Absolutely not.” He swept a hand under her skirts, skimming smooth cool thighs until he found the warm, moist place at the center of her. He found the bundle of nerves at its tip and toyed with her a little, loving how she undulated against his hand, asking, begging for more.
“Hurry,” she pleaded throatily. “Now.”
He pulled her arse to the edge of the table and positioned himself at her entrance. She braced her hands on his shoulders as he slid into her delicious heat, easing gently, waiting to come up against her maiden’s barrier. He found himself fully seated inside of her snug passage. It took his mind a moment to realize there’d been no barrier to breach.
And then every cogent thought fell out of his mind as he pulled back and then plunged back into her, mindless at the delicious sensation. She immediately picked up his rhythm and went head-to-head with him, giving everything and demanding more from him.
He stroked in and out, working her with everything in him, savoring the tight pull and unique ridges of her channel, the incredible sensation of his prick being completely enveloped by her.
He slammed into Finch, and she undulated back against his groin with every stroke. Perspiration trickled down his back as he took possession of her, moving faster and more frenzied, losing any skill or finesse he’d honed over the years. Then he felt it, the sensation of her muscles clamping down around his cock, and he knew complete victory and vindication and power and potential.
As she came around him, he let himself go, pumping harder and faster until his muscles contracted, his ballocks seized and the rising tension finally burst into a sublime release. But it was more than his seed; it seemed as if all of his strength and a part of his essence also flowed into her in a sensation so intense he could feel it all the way down into his toes.
He stilled afterward, totally devoid of energy, his legs unsteady. His heart booming in his chest, he staggered back and dropped into one of the schoolroom’s hard chairs, feeling both numb and elated, trying to make sense of what he’d just experienced.
He only became aware of Finch again when she stirred to put herself to rights. She looked deliciously ravished: Her lips were plump and moist, her hair a cascading crown of golden curls. The bodice of her dress remained crooked and open, but the chamber’s dark shadows and her thin white shift shielded those ripe, little breasts from his view, and suddenly all he wanted to do was to see them fully in all of their glory and to taste them.
He watched with hazy appreciation as her drab skirt fell over perhaps the most magnificent pair of legs he’d ever seen—shapely thighs and rounded calves with a slim delicate turn of ankle. The spectacular view prompted him to wonder what other delights the nanny kept hidden.
Finch appeared dazed as she stared at him. Given his own foggy state, Sunny couldn’t even begin to make out the meaning of her expression. The chamber was silent except for their breathing. Through the closed door came the very distant strains of music from the ballroom and the faint murmur of the crowds two floors beneath them. At the moment, the reality of everyday life was a distant thing, and there was nothing in the world aside from the woman before him.
Something tender blossomed in his chest as he watched her concentrate on buttoning her bodice, and he was overcome with the urge to say something worthwhile. “Miss Finch—”
The door creaked open and a small voice filled the dimly lit room. “Izzy?” Prudence pushed the door open, her sleepy eyes widening as she looked at her governess. He wondered if all parents were constantly interrupted by their children. At least this time, he and Finch had finished what they’d started.
“Why aren’t you dressed for the ball?”
“The ball is over for me, my sweet.”
“But you went?”
“Oh, yes.” Her bodice decently buttoned, Finch gathered her tousled curls in both hands and tried to twist them into submission.
“Did everyone see how beautiful you looked?”
Sunny cleared his throat. “They certainly did.”
“Cousin Adam?” Prudie’s eyes widened when she spotted him. “What are you doing here?”
“Your governess left the ball early.” His gaze caught Finch’s. “I came looking for her.”
“And he found you here, Izzy?”
Finch’s glistening blue eyes held his. “Yes, he did.”
“Did you see Izzy at the ball, Cousin Adam? Wasn’t she the most beautiful thing you ever saw?”
“She certainly was,” he said, meaning it. There was something about the woman. She wasn’t the most beautiful necessarily, but she was spectacular in a way he couldn’t put into words. “Miss Finch mesmerized everyone this evening, including myself.”
Even in the semi-darkness, he could discern the gentle flush on Finch’s cheeks. “Why are you awake, Prudie?” she said to the girl.
“I had a bad dream. I woke up and you weren’t there.”
Finch went to the child and knelt to take Prudie into her embrace. “I’m here, poppet. Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight?” Prudie nodded, and Finch kissed her forehead. “Then you shall.”
Sunny knew what she was doing. Using the child as a shield against him and her own desires. As she followed the girl out the door, he softly murmured, “Still running, Finch?”
She stiffened but otherwise gave no sign she’d heard him before exiting and closing the door quietly behind her.
* * *
—
The following afternoon Sunny strode through the front hall, perspiring but feeling energized after a vigorous session with Vale at Gentleman Jackson’s.
It was almost dusk. The day had gotten off to a late start. After his singular experience with Finch, he’d returned to the party and led the guests into supper at midnight. Then the festivities had continued until dawn. It had been well after seven in the morning before he’d found his bed, and he hadn’t risen until early afternoon for his scheduled session with Vale.
“Welcome home, Your Grace. Your bath is being prepared,” Dowding said as they passed several maids on their knees scrubbing the marble clean of last evening’s entertainment. Around them, servants moved furniture, scrubbed floors, and carried vases of flowers away, putting things to rights.
&nb
sp; “Very good.” Sunny headed for the stairs, anticipation coursing through his veins. “Please ask Finch to join me for supper. I’d like to discuss the girls’ progress with the pianoforte.”
It was a lie, of course. In truth, he wanted the nanny spread out on the dining room table. She alone would understand the request once his message was delivered. He’d told her he wanted to feast on her, and she’d been amenable. He could only hope she remained as hungry as he. He expected her to materialize in her drab costume, which suited him admirably. It would be even more erotic to do naughty things to her while she wore her spectacles.
“Erm.” Dowding seemed at a loss for words.
Sunny halted at the bottom of the staircase. “What is it?”
“Miss Finch isn’t in residence, Your Grace. And neither are the children.”
“Where are they? I shouldn’t like to have my supper delayed.”
Dowding frowned and swallowed hard. “I thought you were aware, Your Grace.”
“Aware of what?”
“Miss Finch has taken the girls to Cornwall to visit Lord Abel.”
Sunny suppressed a curse. She’d run. Again. “Did she say when they’d be returning?”
“I believe Miss Finch said it would be several weeks.”
Sunny rubbed his brow. “Very well.” Affecting a disinterest he did not feel, he mounted the stairs. “I’ll expect supper at the usual time then.”
“Very good, Your Grace.”
Reaching the landing, Sunny stalked to his quarters and shut the door hard behind him. He paced over and slammed a hand against the carved bedpost. The wooden column trembled from the force of the impact. What was Finch about? She’d wanted what occurred between them last evening as much as he had. They’d been equal partners in the carnal act.
Not quite equal. His chest went hollow. For him, the world had dropped away when they’d come together in that way. It had just been the two of them—a man and a woman who desired each other. But in reality, he remained a duke and she a governess in his employ. He was a man with the power to take away not only Finch’s livelihood, but also her access to Patience and Prudence.
He swiped a hand down his face as he began to view last night in a different light. He’d stalked Finch when she’d tried to hide from him. He’d been forceful about desiring her and getting what he wanted, all while he knew Finch would do just about anything to prevent being separated from the girls.
She worked for him and he’d bedded her. The truth almost brought him to his knees. After years of trying to avoid being anything like the old duke, what occurred last evening was proof that he’d failed.
That he was no better than his father.
Chapter 15
“How long do you intend to hide out here?” Lord Abel asked Isabel.
“I’m not hiding, I’m visiting.” Isabel inhaled the fresh country air, which held the tang of the sea, as they walked along the pebbled garden path. Harrow House’s gardens were without equal; the azaleas, hydrangeas, and fuchsias were in bloom, creating a colorful carpet of nature that stretched far into the fields. “Sunderford knows exactly where we are.”
“Adam is their guardian. You cannot keep the children away from him forever.”
Isabel resisted the urge to sigh. If only she could. A full week after arriving in Cornwall, she still struggled to make sense of what had occurred between her and Sunderford. Not only had she allowed the intimacy, she’d participated fully without any shame or inhibition. She’d behaved liked one of his wanton creatures.
To make matters worse, being with the duke in that way had been splendid. Even now, at this very moment, she craved Sunderford and the sweet savageness of his kisses. He’d been both wild and gentle, forceful yet tender, combinations and contradictions she’d found intoxicating.
That was perhaps what shook her the most—how much she’d enjoyed being bedded by a self-confessed rake, a man who made no secret of having more than one woman a night. He’d likely bedded a ball guest or two after their encounter. To make matters worse, she actually experienced a twinge of jealousy at the thought of Sunderford with other women, despite the fact that he’d probably bedded a dozen actresses, opera singers, and widows in the time she and the girls had been gone.
She and Abel reached the French doors that led to the library. “I’m meeting my gardener in the orchard,” he said. “I’ll see you at supper.”
She entered the library through the side doors and was surprised to find a strange man perched high up on one of the library ladders, perusing Abel’s impressive collection of books. He looked down as she entered.
He smiled. “You must be Miss Finch.”
“I am afraid you have the advantage over me, sir,” she said. “For I do not know you.”
“There is no reason why you should.” He had sharp features and curly dark hair prematurely shot with gray. His eyes, narrow slits colored with the dull metallic shade of unpolished silver, marked him as a ducal relation. “I know who you are because Uncle Abel informed me of your visit, yours and your charges.” He came down the ladder and offered her a bow. “Curtis Fairfax at your service.”
“How do you do? Lord Abel didn’t mention having another guest.”
“That’s because he didn’t expect me. It is a short visit before I must return to the rectory.”
“The rectory?” Her mood soured. She had heard of this nephew; he was the one who had refused to be the children’s guardian. “You’re the vicar.”
“Guilty as charged,” he said warmly. “Tell me, how is that cousin of mine? Is Sunny still causing a scandal wherever he goes?”
“So you are aware of his reputation.”
“Isn’t everyone? My cousin isn’t exactly subtle about the sort of life he leads. I say an extra prayer for him every night.”
And yet he’d sent innocent children into the care of a wastrel. “I wonder how it is that a man of God who is fully aware of the duke’s unsavory habits could send two innocent children to live under his roof.”
Dark brows hooded over the vicar’s eyes. “I beg your pardon? The children were never in my care, and I’ve never had a say in their upbringing.”
“Naturally. How could you after refusing Lord Abel’s request that you act as their guardian?”
“I fear you have been misinformed, Miss Finch. I was never asked to be the girls’ guardian.”
She stared at him. “Lord Abel never asked you to take in the children due to his ill health?”
He gave her a queer look. “Absolutely not. If he had, I would have happily taken them. It would naturally be my duty to my late cousin Cornelius, the children’s father.”
“Oh.” Why had Abel lied about his vicar nephew, a far more suitable guardian for innocents, refusing to take the girls under his wing?
“I was under the impression that Sunderford, as the head of this family, insisted upon having the girls in his care,” the vicar said.
She resisted the urge to snort. Sunderford would have preferred to shoot himself in the foot rather than take the girls in. He’d done everything in his power to find someone else to look after them so that his debauchery could continue unabated. Instead, he’d been forced to take his revels elsewhere. Since his party, the one where guests had been asked to put their most interesting body parts on display, the duke had not entertained at Sunderford House while she and the children were in residence.
“And if someone were to ask you now,” she inquired, “would you agree to take the girls on?”
He dipped his chin. “It would be my privilege. Indeed, life at the rectory might suit them quite well. The previous vicar resided there with his wife and six children. Naturally, I would expect their governess to accompany them. Uncle Abel tells me you are extraordinarily fond of the girls.” He tucked his black leather Bible under his arm. “If you will excuse
me, I have this Sunday’s sermon to prepare.”
“Will you be back home by then? You’ve only just arrived.”
“I set out the day after next.”
“So soon?” She would have liked to become better acquainted with Cousin Curtis to see if he might truly be a good guardian for the twins.
“Unfortunately. This is a brief trip. I traveled to see an ailing former member of my parish. But I do hope to see you again before I depart.”
“I should like that.”
He paused. “Would you mind if I speak of this further with Uncle Abel? The possibility of you and the girls coming to live at the rectory?”
“No, I would not mind,” she answered. “I would welcome it.”
* * *
—
After parting ways with the vicar, Isabel went back out the French doors she’d come in and made her way to the orchard, intent on getting some answers out of Abel. She found him in the shade of a plum tree conferring with the gardener and waited until the men completed their conversation before making her presence known.
She got Abel’s attention by whizzing a plum past his head. He turned in the direction of the fruit that had hit the tree trunk not far from where he stood. “Isabel. Have you come for some plums, after all?”
“No, just for some answers. Although I suspect getting the truth out of you might prove difficult.”
He plucked a ripe fruit from a low-hanging tree. “What is it you’d like to know?”
She was extraordinarily fond of the older man. He’d treated her as one of the family ever since she’d become the children’s governess, and she regarded him almost as an uncle. And because of that, she felt free to be frank with him. “I just met your nephew the vicar.”
“Did you? He’s a splendid young man.” He bit into the plum.
“He says you never asked him to act as the girls’ guardian.”
“Hmm.” He chewed for a moment before responding. “I guess it slipped my mind.”
