She prayed slumber would come just as easily to her tonight. And that it would be dreamless.
With a heavy sigh, Abigail rose from the seat with her untasted cup of tea in hand. But before she’d even taken a few steps, the rear door to the Grange flew open and a flustered Aunt Meredith appeared.
“What is it?” she asked, moving with haste along the flagged path. As she approached the door she noticed her aunt’s plump cheeks were bright red and her linen and lace cap was askew. She’d never seen her in such a state before and her heart began to race. “Is something wrong?”
Aunt Meredith extended a hand and Abigail took it. “Oh, my dear. I really don’t know,” she said, in a shaky voice. “There’s a gentleman waiting in the front parlor. He’s asked to speak with you. And he’s quite unlike anyone I’ve ever...” She swallowed and put her other hand to her chest. “Euphemia let him in and then sent me to fetch you.”
Abigail’s heart leapt into her mouth. “A gentleman?” It couldn’t be Sir Nicholas could it? She’d been so careful not to divulge where she hailed from but perhaps Mr. Wentworth had let slip her destination when he went to collect her traveling trunk from Hartfield Hall. Unless it was Mr. Wentworth himself. “Did he give his name?”
“I didn’t hear it but I caught a glimpse of him. So elegantly dressed and tall with the blackest hair and bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. Oh, my stars, when he looked at me,” Aunt Meredith fanned her face, “I almost fainted.”
Oh, my Lord, it was Sir Nicholas. Abigail’s hands shook so much, she sloshed tea out of the cup into the saucer and onto the skirts of her yellow dimity cotton gown. What did he want with her? He had commenced courting Horatia Sheridan, so why would he bother seeking her out? The journey from Hedgecombe to Farleigh Wick was not inconsiderable.
Unless Sir Nicholas just wanted to persuade her to be his mistress again because he missed the sex. But surely he didn’t expect her to put up with being the other woman. She just couldn’t do it.
But then, what if he was angry with her for abandoning him when he’d bought her a townhouse she now didn’t want. Surely he didn’t want recompense. Or perhaps he simply wanted to return her traveling trunk. But why deliver it himself? Her thoughts buzzed round and round inside her head like a swarm of agitated bees, making her dizzy.
Aunt Meredith took the cup from her. “You’ve gone as white as a sheet, my dear. You obviously know who he is. Do you want us to send him away?”
Abigail shook her head. “No. No I should speak with him. Only... Could you send him out to the garden?” She didn’t think she’d be able to deal very well with Sir Nicholas in a space as confined as her aunts’ small front parlor. His presence was overwhelming at the best of times.
Yes, the garden seemed safer. If she had to, she could always dash out the back gate into the adjoining field. Heavens, perhaps she was becoming hysterical.
Aunt Meredith touched her arm in an uncharacteristic display of tenderness. “Of course, Abigail. But you seem shaken. Would you like me or Euphemia to stay with you?”
Abigail was astonished that her aunts would let her receive a gentleman caller on her own. Unless... Perhaps they thought Sir Nicholas was going to propose to her. Which was ludicrous. Sir Nicholas would never marry someone like her. A lowly governess.
A whore.
She summoned a smile and shook her head. “No. It’s quite all right. I will see Sir Nicholas Barsby alone.”
“S-Sir Nicholas?” Now Aunt Meredith had turned white. “Abigail. Wasn’t he... wasn’t he your employer?”
Abigail blew out a breath. “Yes.”
“Oh.” Aunt Meredith touched her arm again. “If you need anything, just call. I’ll leave the door ajar.”
“Thank you.”
Abigail turned and paced back toward the stone bench. But she didn’t feel like sitting. She was as tense as the espalier wire beneath her aunts’ climbing roses. Instead, she followed the meandering pathway between the beds of hollyhocks and foxgloves, lavender and daisies until she reached the rose garden. A hedge sparrow frolicking in the birdbath gave her a quizzical look before fluttering into the branches of a nearby oak tree.
Abigail cast it an envious look. She might not be able to fly off but the back garden gate was within sight and just as she’d hoped, only a short dash away.
She sighed. She must be mad. As if she could outrun a man like Sir Nicholas. It seemed this meeting was unavoidable. Hopefully it would be over with quickly.
If only she knew what he wanted...
Stay calm. Stay cool. Perhaps he only wants to offer you a reference... Or return your things...
“Miss Adams... Abigail.”
Abigail shivered at the sound of that most beloved voice. Her heart crashed against her ribs. Slowly, she turned around and there he stood, the man that she loved.
The man that she couldn’t have.
“Sir.” She dropped into a curtsy then raised her gaze to his.
And that was a mistake. The sight of his too handsome face, the intense expression in his blue eyes, they stole her breath and any hope she’d had of remaining unaffected. Her vision grew blurry and a hard lump of anguish clogged her throat.
“Oh, Abigail. Sweetheart,” he murmured and took a step toward her but she raised her hand.
“No. Don’t. I’m not your sweetheart. And don’t come any closer.”
He halted immediately and drew in a short breath as if she’d hurt him. And that’s when she noticed the lines of tension bracketing his wide, beautiful mouth. The shadows beneath his eyes. His white linen cravat was rumpled and his navy blue coat was creased. He looked exhausted and harrowed. But why?
“Abigail. I know you are upset and angry with me. But please hear me out. I think I know why you left. And I want to explain. About Horatia.”
How did he know? He must have guessed. Or perhaps it was his conscience that bothered him. Either way, he probably wanted to make amends to make himself feel better. But he couldn’t eat his cake and have it too. She certainly wouldn’t go back to him.
Abigail lifted her chin. “You don’t need to explain anything, sir. You have every right to court a woman of your choosing. Just as I have every right to end our arrangement. I thought I could share you with another but I can’t. I cannot be your mistress any longer.”
“You saw Horatia with me at the lake, didn’t you?”
Curse the man. Why was he being so persistent? Couldn’t he see she was close to breaking into a million pieces? “I don’t want to talk about it,” she whispered in a mortifyingly shaky voice. “I wish you and Miss Sheridan every happiness. I’m sure Lord Nash is well pleased at the match.”
Sir Nicholas took a step closer. “What if I told you, you were mistaken by what you witnessed? You were watching from the folly, weren’t you? Which is some distance away.”
Abigail swallowed. “Yes.” It seemed pointless trying to deny that she was there or that she’d spied on him. “But I know what I saw. Miss Sheridan threw her arms about you and...” She bit her lip. She shook her head and couldn’t go on.
Sir Nicholas drew closer again. When he spoke, his tone was soft yet urgent. “Yes, she did throw herself at me. She wanted me to kiss her. But Horatia Sheridan is a ninnyhammer. She just wants a bit of sport with a rake or two before her brother marries her off to the highest noble bidder and she thought I might be up to the task. But I wasn’t. I didn’t kiss her. I didn’t want to kiss her.”
He took another step closer. He was so close, he would be able to touch her if he wanted to. “And do you know why I didn’t?”
Abigail shook her head. She couldn’t speak. Sir Nicholas’s gaze held hers and the soft light in his eyes stole her breath all over again.
“I didn’t kiss her,” he continued in a voice husky with emotion, “because the only woman I ever want to kiss forevermore is you, Abigail Adams.” He lifted her chin with gentle fingers so she couldn’t escape his gaze. “I love you.”
Abigail sucked
in a shaky breath and whispered, “You can’t. I’m a nobody. Nothing. Men like you don’t fall in love with women like me.”
“Well, I beg to differ. This man has fallen in love with you and only you. And,” before she knew what he was about, Sir Nicholas knelt down before her on bended knee and took her hand, “Miss Abigail Adams, you light my days with joy and fill my nights with untold passion. Would you do me the inestimable honor of consenting to be my wife?”
Abigail shook her head in disbelief. “You must be mad. You cannot be serious. What will everyone think?”
“I’m entirely serious. I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. And I don’t give a toss about what anyone else thinks. They can all go hang. You are all I think about, every minute of every day. Since you left, and even before that when my blasted friends turned up at Hartfield and I barely saw you, I’ve been utterly miserable.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers so reverently, Abigail’s heart clenched with longing. “I’ve missed you and I cannot live without you by my side. Sweet Abigail, please say you’ll have me.”
How could she say no after a declaration like that? “Oh, Nicholas,” she whispered, her vision misting with tears. “Yes. Absolutely, unequivocally, yes.”
Sir Nicholas surged to his feet and caught her in a fierce hug, swinging her up off the ground and twirling her around until she came to rest with her back up against the oak tree. Giddy with joy, Abigail looked up into his beloved face and stroked his jaw where dark stubble had begun to appear. “I love you too, Nicholas,” she breathed, “with my whole heart and soul.”
He framed her face with his large hands. “Say that again, my beautiful girl.”
“Nicholas, I love you.”
His mouth lifted into a breath-snatching smile. “I will never grow tired of hearing you say that.” And then he kissed her. His lips, soft and warm, glided over hers and Abigail sighed with delight, relishing the satiny texture and taste of him as his tongue slid between her lips; the heady flavor of Nicholas filled her senses and made her head swim. She wanted to drown in him. Be one with him. She fisted her hands into his lapels and pressed herself closer. To think she had actually contemplated living a life without this... Without him...
When one of Nicholas’s hands cupped her breast and kneaded the eager flesh, her heart sang. “Damn, you are wearing stays again, aren’t you?” he muttered before kissing her neck and her jaw.
A bubble of laughter rose in Abigail’s throat. “I’m afraid so. My aunts are very conservative and easily shocked.”
“Well, they’d best not venture into the garden.” Nicholas rained a trail of kisses along her shoulder then lifted his head. “Actually, I have a better idea.”
Before Abigail knew what he was about, he swept her into his arms and carried her back down the garden path toward the house. “What on earth are you doing? Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you somewhere private so I can have you all to myself.” He kissed her temple before adding, “And I don’t give a fig if your aunts are scandalized. You’re mine, sweetheart and I mean to have my wicked way with you as soon as possible.”
Desire immediately fluttered in Abigail’s lower belly. She couldn’t deny him. Not when she felt like this. Could one be drunk with love?
Aunt Euphemia and Aunt Meredith jumped back from the doorway when Nicholas entered without losing stride. When Abigail saw their flabbergasted expressions, she merely smiled and called out over Nicholas’s shoulder as they swept past, “I’m betrothed to Sir Nicholas, my dear aunts. Wish us well. I shall be back tomorrow.”
“Perhaps,” murmured Nicholas in her ear. “It’s been over a week since we last made love. We have a lot of lost time to make up for.”
“You’re insatiable,” Abigail admonished but she was grinning from ear to ear as he bore her out the front door of Thistleton Grange and over to a waiting carriage with the Barsby crest emblazoned on the side. A footman opened the door.
“Always when it comes to you,” her affianced replied, setting her inside then climbing in after her. He issued an order to the footman that they were to drive onto his townhouse in Bath and then the door slammed shut. And Nicholas pulled her into his arms. “Now, where were we, my love?”
“You were complaining about the fact I’m wearing stays.”
Nicholas grinned. “Not for much longer though.” He gave her a swift but ardent kiss then drew the red velvet curtains across the carriage windows.
Abigail’s heart began to gallop with unbridled excitement. “Do you really mean for us to make love in this carriage?”
“Why not? It’s at least five miles to Bath. We have plenty of time.” He kissed her cheek then her neck as his hand gently palmed her breast. “I’m game if you are.”
“You know I am.”
“Here, come sit astride me.” Nicholas helped her to straddle his hips. Abigail could already feel his erection; it strained against the fall front of his buckskin breeches and rubbed against her already wet folds as she moved with the carriage. The friction was exquisite and she bit her lip to stifle a moan.
That small sound seemed to trigger something in Nicholas. His eyes burning with need, he gripped her head then pulled her down for a passionate kiss. His tongue plundered her mouth, stroking her in a measured rhythm, reminiscent of what they were about to do. Fire licked through her, enflaming her desire to blazing proportions.
She pulled frantically at Nicholas’s cravat and pushed his coat off his shoulders. Attacked the silk-covered buttons of his waistcoat and tugged his shirt from his breeches. She wanted to touch him, explore the body she loved so well and Nicholas seemed happy to oblige. They broke apart from the kiss and Nicholas discarded every stitch above his waist so that within moments he was gloriously half-naked.
Abigail sat back a little so she could admire him, traced her fingertips over the broad lines of his shoulders, the sharp contour of his collarbones, the hardness of his heaving pectorals. She bent and whirled her tongue over each bronzed nipple and smiled when he sucked in a sharp breath. How she loved making him sigh and groan. Pleasuring him was aphrodisiacal for her as well; she would never grow tired of it.
“My turn, sweetheart.” Nicholas loosened the fastenings at the back of her gown and her stays. After Abigail shrugged out of the sleeves of her loosened bodice, Nicholas wrenched down her sagging corset and shift before seizing her bare breasts in both hands. He flicked his thumbs over the tight nipples before tugging one aching nub between his teeth. The sensation was exquisite and Abigail arched into his mouth, moaning, helpless with desire. When his teeth grazed a sensitive spot on her bare shoulder, arrows of lust shot straight to her slick, throbbing quim and she ground herself against his hardness. She was making a mess of his breeches but she didn’t care.
“Christ, sweetheart, I’ll come too soon if you keep that up,” Nicholas gritted out. She stilled and he tugged at her already loosened chignon and her hair tumbled down about her shoulders. He cupped her jaw with one gentle hand and rubbed his thumb over her swollen bottom lip. “Look at you. You are so, so beautiful. I can scarcely believe you said yes and that you love me. That you are all mine.”
“Yes, I’m yours. I’ll always be yours.” Abigail smoothed his tousled black hair back and dropped a kiss on his forehead, then his eyelids and strong blade of a nose. His chiseled mouth. She rocked against him. “Take me, Nicholas. I want you inside me. I want you to spend inside me.”
“God, yes.” He reached between them and ripped at his breeches releasing his cock. His hot, hard, velvet-smooth shaft slid along her throbbing cleft and Abigail felt a fresh rush of moisture well between them. She was so aroused, it wouldn’t take much for her to reach her peak either.
Grasping Nicholas’s shoulders for purchase, Abigail lifted herself up then positioned her slick entrance over the head of his cock. Nicholas flexed his hips and nudged into her, teasing her and no doubt himself judging by the hiss of pleasure that escaped him.
Her gaze locked with Nicholas’s, Abigail slid with deliberate, torturous slowness down his rigid length until he was fully inside her. Buried deep. So deep. The feel of him, so hot and thick, filling and stretching her, was almost too much. Panting, she rested her forehead against Nicholas’s. “I love you,” she whispered.
He smiled and pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I love you too. Now ride me, sweet Abigail.”
How could she resist such an invitation? Gripping his shoulders again, Abigail set up a slow, undulating rhythm, rising up and then sliding downward, over and over again. Loving him with her body and her gaze. How she adored watching his face: his eyes heavy-lidded and glazed with lust, bore into hers; his high cheekbones were flagged with color; his jaw was clenched tight, and he bared his teeth as if she was driving him wild.
She couldn’t wait for him to lose control. And this time, she would make him spend inside her. They could truly be free with one another. The notion was beyond exhilarating.
Abigail began to increase the pace of her plunging and Nicholas leaned back, thrusting his hips, pumping his thick cock in and out of her with perfect precision as he held her around the waist. Her breasts bounced as she rode him and her breath came in short ragged bursts. She’d never felt so deliciously wanton and abandoned, delirious with passion. Her orgasm was building, her inner passage tightening. She was almost there.
And she sensed Nicholas was close to the edge too. His grip on her waist was almost painful and he’d thrown his head back; beneath his dark lashes, his eyes glittered with animal lust. The sight of him so far gone was her undoing and with a cry of elation she at last shattered around him, her sheath spasming so hard, Nicholas hurtled into blissful oblivion with her. On a deep shuddering groan, he thrust upward, his cock pulsing, throbbing, his seed flooding her womb in hot, brilliant bursts.
The pleasure was blinding, the mutual joy overwhelming as Abigail collapsed against Nicholas, burying her face in his neck. His pulse hammered beneath her lips and she smiled, completely exhausted yet utterly content. She’d never dreamed of finding such happiness in this life but somehow she had.
An Improper Governess: An Improper Liaisons Novella, Book 2 Page 14
