He wrapped her up in his arms, tight and secure, and she pressed closer, savoring the forbidden feel of his whole body up against hers, the scent of his shaving soap and him filling her, making her dizzy.
Yielding to a slight shift in the pressure from his lips, she opened her mouth and felt the bold invasion of his tongue. Her stomach dropped to her knees, her heart melted into a puddle, and electric jolts of pleasure thrummed through every nerve.
Her brain ceased to function and she was spinning away, sinking, floating, some undeniable sensation that was deliriously joyous and exciting and—
He broke contact, pulling her away as he raised his head and gulped in air. Dazed, she curled her hands about the collar of his tailcoat, seeking stability, needing strength.
“Dear God,” he muttered and shoved her away. He turned his back on her and walked toward the door, stopping in the middle of the room, not looking at her and thrusting his hand furiously into his tousled hair.
He stayed like that, back to her, head bent as he collected himself. It felt as if each second took an hour to pass, yet even with this slowed perception, her mind was having a difficult time comprehending what was happening. Her heart did, though, for it immediately began to burn with an exquisite blend of loss and humiliation.
She waited for what came next. He was rather predictable. There would be a polite apology, she supposed. The promise it would never happen again. The rebuke, the rejection.
“Do not dare tell me that was a mistake!” she blurted.
To her utter amazement, he shook his head and began to laugh. After a moment, he glanced back at her over his shoulder.
With his hair disheveled from his frustrated maulings and his brown eyes warmed by his laughter, he was devastating. “Do you never quit, mademoiselle?”
She smiled, relieved. Her spirits tweaked to the challenge. “The war between the French and the English is centuries old, monsieur. What gives you cause to think it shall be put to rest now?”
He returned to her, gently touching her chin as if toying with the idea of kissing her again. “It was a mistake, Chloe. You and I know it. I don’t want it to be that way, I will admit that. And bless you for your erstwhile honesty, I can see clearly in your eyes that you don’t, either. But there it is.”
Her eyes misted. What a fool he was!
His hand dropped and he said in a different voice, The Duke’s voice, “I do not see why this should disturb the professional relationship we have established. It was, after all, only a kiss.”
She heard him leave. She didn’t see it, for her eyes saw nothing.
Only a kiss.
Her body still trembled and her heart was beating so quickly she was panting from it. Her lips burned. Her hands burned. Everywhere he had touched her was on fire.
Only a kiss?
“Strathmere, you are too quiet tonight.”
His mother’s voice cut into his thoughts, rousing him from his deep contemplation of the utterly despicable nature of his character.
“It is rude to our guests,” the duchess continued starchly.
Jareth looked up and mustered a smile for Helena. “Forgive me,” was all he said.
She came to stand by his side, looking with him in the direction of the garden. “Perhaps the burdens of your new position wear on you. It must get tiresome.”
Pretty words, spoken in that velveteen voice that should have, by rights, banished his miserable mindset, but they sounded hollow somehow.
Ah, it was his mood tonight, he told himself, and said, “All I need is to hear your voice, and I know it will bring me out of this dreadful ill humor. Would you sing for me, please?”
Helena flashed a glimpse of a smile. With her turned-up nose, she looked a bit mischievous. It was the only unconventional thing about her.
“If it would ease you tonight, your grace,” she said with a humble incline of her head. To her mother, who was deep in conversation with his, she said, “Mama, will you accompany me, please? The duke has asked me to sing.”
Lady Rathford immediately leaped to her feet with as much alacrity as if a full regiment of redcoats had filed into the room. “Oh, of course, your grace!” She hurried to the pianoforte.
Jareth’s mother was no less pleased, folding her hands on her lap and giving her son a nod of approval. “Gerald!” she called sharply. “Please attend! Lady Helena is to sing.”
Gerald had been huddled with Lord Rathford all evening, both having discovered a kindred spirit in their similar love of hunting. They had been talking by themselves for more than an hour.
Obediently, Gerald nodded to his aunt, but Lord Rathford, who had been implicated in the admonishment to Gerald, chose to ignore the directive until his wife hissed a loud, “Christopher!” Rolling his eyes, he flounced back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest in an elaborate pout.
“Sing the aria from La Traviata, darling,” the duchess requested.
“Very well, your grace,” Helena answered, and bowed her head.
The song was magic.
Jareth let it pour into him, her passion touching all the raw places inside himself. He watched her, so beautiful and so brilliant.
He liked Helena, very much. Of her accomplishments, he was in awe. She was a kind person, if a bit bland.
She was a good woman. He could not ask for better in a wife. He must stop thinking her wan and spiritless just because she didn’t act like a hoyden and say startlingly intuitive things…Didn’t she have such passion, such sensitivity that her voice could stir a jaded heart?
The tension began to ease in him. It had been there since that abominable loss of control in the nursery…He had been foolish, putting too much stock in a moment’s aberration. After all, he had said it himself. It was only a kiss.
The aria built, and with it his sense of well-being. It nearly eclipsed the earlier unrest that had him so undone until his gaze wandered to the garden once again.
She was there.
Chloe.
He closed his eyes and swallowed hard as he realized he had been waiting for her all night.
The children were excited to be visiting the stable, mostly because Rebeccah was besotted by all manner of felines and one of the resident cats had just had a litter of kittens. Sarah emulated anything and everything her elder sister did, so she was equally jubilant as the three of them headed toward the barn.
“Now, you cannot pick them up,” Rebeccah was saying in a bossy voice to her little sister, “because the mama cat might not like it and she’ll scratch your eyes out.”
“Rebeccah,” Chloe warned without breaking stride. Such moments of intimidation were expected with Rebeccah.
“It’s true,” Rebeccah retorted, needing to have the last word. Chloe looked at Sarah, saw that she seemed not the least bit intimidated by Rebeccah’s dire warnings, and let the matter go.
Rebeccah resumed the lecture. “You must wait until I hold the kittens first. Each one, because I have to make certain that it is safe. You are littler, you see, and if the mama cat got angry, me being bigger, I could push her away. So wait until I give you a kitten and don’t grab.”
Chloe looked at the smaller child again, observed her unperturbed expression and smiled. For all of Rebeccah’s lordly imperiousness, Sarah would most likely do as she pleased. Never had Chloe seen such an implacable child.
As they drew closer to the stable, the girls’ excitement built and they broke into a run. They disappeared into the open doorway, Rebeccah shouting directions to Sarah, trying desperately to take command.
How like her grandmother she was!
A short shriek sounded from inside the barn, bringing Chloe instantly to attention. Breaking into a run, she almost collided in the doorway with a figure hurrying out.
“Oh, my dear, excuse me—Chloe!”
It was her friend, Mary, flushed and panting and looking exceedingly distressed…and decidedly guilty. Another figure came up from behind the pretty maid. Chloe recogniz
ed him as one of the grooms.
Chloe said quickly, “Where are the children?”
Mary’s mouth worked but nothing came forth. The groom stepped up and said respectfully, “They came in at full tilt, miss, and startled Miss Mary here. No harm done. It was Mary you heard give a shout, out of surprise, you see. The children paid it no mind and went on back into the stalls. I told them where the new kittens were.”
Mary finally recovered herself, bobbing her head once. It was such a childish gesture, done so emphatically it knocked her mobcap askew.
Or had it already been crooked?
Understanding dawned as Chloe took in Mary’s embarrassment, her reddened lips and slightly mussed appearance. Mary was a good girl, of that Chloe was certain, but she also knew the dangers of a man whose charms could seduce a woman into that realm beyond thought or care for the consequences.
“Well, thank you, then,” she said to the man. “What is your name?”
“Daniel,” the groom replied, touching his forelock and offering a jaunty grin. Oh, yes, this one had it in him to turn a girl’s head for sure.
“Well, thank you, Daniel. Can you possibly direct me in the same—”
A loud shriek interrupted her, and for the second time, Chloe was struck with mortal fear on behalf of her charges. Daniel was quicker to respond, however, and he had already spun about and was racing into the barn before Chloe unglued her feet.
She followed him down the narrow corridor, lined on both sides with stalls. She could see the girls up ahead, clutching each other as a beautiful chestnut mare leaned out of her berth, sniffing the tiny intruders with interest.
Rebeccah shrieked again. Little Sarah had her eyes and mouth squeezed shut against the terror of the horse’s curiosity.
Daniel skidded to a stop and chuckled. Chloe raced past him, collapsing to her knees in front of her charges.
“You ladies are afraid of Jess?” Daniel said, going directly to the horse and giving her a gentle nudge back into her stall, then shutting the upper half of the door to prevent her from returning, inquisitive thing that she was. “She’s just an old mare, can’t do you any harm.”
“Shh,” Chloe coaxed, peeling Sarah from her sister and taking both quaking children into her arms.
“I—I—I d-don’t 1-lıke horses-s,” Rebeccah stammered before dissolving into loud, wailing tears.
Mary arrived. “What was it? What happened?”
Daniel explained, “Jess was poking her head out to see if these young ladies had brought her a treat, and they kind of got a bit scared, ‘s all.”
“Oh, the poor dears,” Mary exclaimed. “Well, of course they did, the horse being so very large to them, being so tiny themselves.”
But Chloe knew it was not only the relative size of the horse that had frightened the girls. Since the accident, they had been terrified of any kind of carriage or coach—anything, in fact, to do with horses.
Not for the first time, she wondered what those moments of catastrophic horror had been like for them. Worse, she should have known to avoid this, but her brain was in a fog these days, too consumed with her own worries.
She led them outdoors and continued to rock them until Sarah began to relax and Rebeccah’s hysterıcs resolved into hiccups. Mary and Daniel stood by awkwardly, evidently feeling responsible in part for the fright the girls had received.
In the end, it was Daniel who succeeded in calmıng them. He fetched one wriggling, tiny kitten from its mother and brought it out to them. The tuft of fur was so new its eyes were still shut, and the girls were instantly transfixed.
Eventually, they were persuaded to come into the barn again after repeated reassurances that Jess and all the other horses were secured in their stalls. Chloe applauded their courage, and they made it to the mother cat’s bed, where six newborn kittens dispelled the last of the children’s apprehensions.
Rebeccah was so delighted with their boon she could hardly contain herself. “Can we bring one to live in the nursery? Please, Miss Chloe? Please?”
Hunkering down next to her, Chloe couldn’t help but be charmed herself by their adorableness. “Perhaps. We shall have to ask your grandmother.”
Rebeccah stuck out her bottom lıp. “She would never say yes. She never allows us to have any fun.”
Chloe looked at Mary with a roll of her eyes, m complete sympathy with the sentiment. Mary had to turn away and cover her mouth to stifle her giggles. Daniel was beside her in an instant, and Chloe did not miss the solicitous arm that went around her shoulders.
She sighed. She was happy for Mary. But envious. It wasn’t a very attractive quality to admit, but there it was. Looking at what could never exist for her did indeed hurt.
After Mary left to return to her duties, Daniel said, “I’ll be in the tack room, miss, if you need me. Remember, all the horses are either closed up or out in the pasture, so there’s nothing to frighten the little ladies when you leave.”
“Thank you, Daniel, you’ve been very helpful.”
He smiled and seemed uncertain, as if there was more to say but he was uncomfortable saying it. “Miss…er, about Miss Mary. I would appreciate it, as perhaps one good deed in return for another, if you wouldn’t mention to anyone she was here. You know she’s a good worker, but if others learned of it, they might think she was shirking.”
Oh yes, Chloe agreed, not to mention that someone could forbid the blossoming romance out of pure perverse meanness. And Chloe knew exactly who that someone was. “Certainement, Daniel. Mary is my good friend. I shall be happy to keep this to myself.”
He showed off his handsome smile. “Thank you, miss.”
Chloe returned to sparring with Rebeccah as that one insisted on exclusive domain over the animals. Sarah merely ignored her sister and gently cradled each tiny baby she could get her chubby hands on. As for the mother cat, she merely purred and blinked wisely, as if she were nothing but amused at this human fawning over her offspring.
As they sat among the straw, the children haggling over the kittens, Chloe was appalled when a masculine voice sounded above her.
“What have we here?”
It wasn’t the duke, she knew. She would recognize that voice immediately. Looking up, she spied a ruddy, slightly portly man standing in the stall doorway.
She had seen him before, in the library when she had unintentionally invaded a private family gathering. He was Gerald, she had heard the gossip among the servants. No one liked him, except the dowager duchess, who seemed to dote on him despite his rather obvious shortcomings.
“We are looking at the kittens,” Chloe explained, coming to her feet.
He looked down at the tangle of excited children and squirming animals with disinterest. “Yes, how charming.” Lifting his watery eyes back up to Chloe, he said, “I am afraid we haven’t been properly introduced, although I know you are my cousins’ governess, Miss Chloe.”
“Oui.”
His smile deepened, becoming more ingratiating. “I am the duke’s cousin, Gerald Hunt.”
“Pleased to meet you, sir. Have you met Rebeccah and Sarah?”
“No, I have not. But they are too fascinated by their pets to bother with an old boring relative like myself.” He took a step forward, bringing him far too close for Chloe’s comfort level. His eyes flittered over her face, down to her bosom. “How are you enjoying Strathmere? Quite a place, isn’t it? You are French, aren’t you? What part of France do you come from?”
Not certain which one of these inquiries to address first, Chloe took a step backward. “I am from a village near Blois, and I find my duties at Strathmere most enjoyable.”
“Yes, children are delightful, aren’t they? So, how do you find my cousin? Dour, isn’t he? Not like I remember him. Dear Auntie Charlotte has her claws too deeply in him. Going to smother out the fun in him like she did to poor Charles—”
“Sir!” she exclaimed, his last comments igniting her temper. “The children!”
Whether
or not Rebeccah had heard him, or understood if she had, Chloe couldn’t tell. She did seem unnaturally still, and Chloe suspected she had heard the reference to her father. She kept her head bent for a moment, then looked up through her lashes and said, “Miss Chloe, can you ask Grand-mère for us if we can have a kitten?”
Chloe opened her mouth to answer in the negative—knowing that should she approach the duchess with the idea, the woman would almost certainly deny the request out of hand—when Gerald hunkered down next to the child.
“How about if I do it for you, precious? Your Grand-mère could never resist me, the foolish woman.”
Rebeccah looked at him steadily, completely uncharmed by his efforts. “Thank you,” she answered.
Pleased with himself, Gerald glanced back up at Chloe, grinning winningly.
Chloe gave him a bland smile in lieu of her thanks.
Chapter Twelve
In the thick darkness of a moonless night, Chloe exited the house by the pantry door, pausing to gather her woolen cloak more closely about her shoulders. The sun had set on a clear sky, but it now felt moist all of a sudden. Glancing upward, she saw that only a few stars shone. These seemed to be dimmed, as if a thin haze obscured their brilliance.
She stepped away from the gas lamp installed by the back door and let the darkness swallow her. The garden seemed preternaturally still, caught in the thick soup of a gathering fog and the threat of an oncoming storm.
It made her shiver, the way one does when, as the saying goes, someone walks over one’s grave.
A sound slowed her steps. She waited, stopping to listen for it again. After a moment, she decided it must have been some nocturnal animal—probably a sprightly field mouse about his nightly duties—and continued on her way.
Jareth let out a long breath as he stood, hands on hips, gazing disgustedly up at the sky. Beside him was his newest telescope. It had arrived this very morning and, anxious to try it, he had brought it out to the garden, only to find the cloud cover gathering at a discouraging rate. Having dim hopes it might clear, he set the instrument up anyway. He really just wanted to see its design, revel in its superlative newness and the promise of the wonders that would be within his view with this, the newest and most powerful tool of science.
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