“Are you well, my lord?” Mrs. Church asked.
He snapped his gaze toward her. “Of course, why do you ask?”
“You look ready to murder the next person who walks through that gate.”
She was bold, this governess. He wasn’t quite sure if her confidence infuriated or amused him. Perhaps he’d decide later, when his mind wasn’t in such turmoil. Hell, he shouldn’t like her. But he did…way too much.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I forget my place at times.” She hesitated, unsure, then picked up her skirts and turned to flee. A little mouse scurrying back into the safety of her corner. But her words caught his interest.
Forgot her place? What had her place been? Who was this woman who spoke and walked like a lady? A woman whose arrogant tone screamed money and titles? Yet, she hid in shadows, scurried away from interaction and cried out in her dreams like one guilty.
“Mrs. Church,” he snapped impatiently.
She paused, shoulders back, spine straight. Something only ladies were taught.
“Return, please.”
As the moments ticked by he thought she might actually ignore his demand, and he wondered what he would do if she so dared. Fortunately for the both of them she finally turned. As her amber gaze met his, he lost all train of thought. Nervous, timid…but more.
Aye, she had a passion in her eyes buried deep down, a passion and stubbornness that called to him. He could see her as he’d seen her in his dream…running through the fields with her hair falling down around her shoulders…free. So many layers to this woman, that she could keep a man intrigued for years.
“Yes, my lord?”
“The boys,” he blurted out, grasping at whatever topic came naturally. “How are they doing?”
She looked relieved, which wasn’t normal where governesses and his boys were concerned. “Quite well.”
He quirked a brow, amused for the first time that morning. He’d smiled more since she’d arrived than he had in years. She entranced him, this little mouse. But then he’d never met a woman who was so adamant about thriving, so bloody stubborn in resisting the truth. “Really?”
“Truly.”
He shrugged. “Wonderful. I’ve never had a governess respond in such a positive manner where my boys were concerned.”
She tilted her chin high, arrogant, almost. How he preferred her jauntiness over that meek and mousy woman. Which, he wondered, was the real Mrs. Church? Damnation, how she fascinated him.
“Well,” she said. “Perhaps these former governesses did not have my stamina.”
Stamina? The word brought with all sorts of nefarious thoughts best kept to himself. Unable to help it, he grinned. “Perhaps not.”
She seemed startled by his smile, but managed to nod, before turning to flee once more. Yet…yet, he couldn’t quite let her escape. Oh no, it was much too fun to taunt her, and their short conversations had been much too intriguing. Or perhaps he was just bloody lonely. Or maybe he merely wanted to forget his problems for a moment.
“Mrs. Church?”
She actually sighed, the impertinence. “Yes, my lord?” But when she faced him once again she was all sweet expressions and angelic being. “What is it?”
“You’ve something on the back of your bodice.”
She stiffened and turned in a circle much like a dog after its tail. “Do I?”
Nate was on her in two steps, gripping the back of her shoulders before he was reduced to laughing like an imbecile. “Hold still,” he said more gruffly then he’d intended. Hell, the woman was ridiculous, and he was insane for humoring his desire to be near her.
She froze, her back to him. He swore she didn’t even breathe as he brought her closer. She’d been married, but she acted as if she’d never been touched by a man. How he wished he could see her face, read her expression.
His fingers tightened around her upper arm, worried she might attempt escape. “Hmm, odd indeed.”
“What is it?” Her voice came out breathless, bringing up thoughts of moans and thrashing limbs underneath cool sheets. He shoved aside the images as quickly as they came.
“My lord, is something amiss?”
“Indeed.” He tore his gaze from her bottom, surprisingly a rather lush bottom, and focused on the chalk upon her clothing. “Why, Mrs. Church, someone wrote witch across your back.”
****
They put minnows in her tea.
The little hellions had put fish in her tea. Fish so small she’d actually let one slip between her lips before she’d realized. It had wiggled and flopped upon her tongue until she’d darted from her chair, screaming, only to have the fish fall from between her lips and land upon the tabletop.
This, of course, had produced peals of laughter from the demon spawn.
She’d almost gotten sick, but had forced her breakfast to remain firmly in her stomach. She would not lose her meal… again. Instead, she had calmly picked up the fish, settled it back in the tea and asked Oliver to take the poor thing to the creek, proclaiming it had been through enough. It was only the first in a long line of jests they had played upon her in the last two weeks.
She’d finally managed to teach them mathematics after they’d given up tormenting her… for the day. And now… now, thank God, she was getting a moment to herself while they ate. She’d raced down the hall, only to run into Reynolds, the butler, who had stared down his beak-like nose, not saying a word. Merely looking at her as if he found her completely and utterly lacking. He’d practically sniffed his disdain at her. While Mrs. Turner was all common woman, and laughing eyes, that cold man would do any London butler proud.
She curtsied, then pushed on through the door and stepped into the side garden, admiring the roses that grew along the stone wall of the keep. Finally free! Brushing her hands over the fading daisies that lined a slate path, she started across the lawn. It was chillier up north, but she welcomed the breeze. Welcomed the way the air lifted the loose tendrils at her neck. Welcomed relief from the stuffy nursery where she’d been ensconced for hours attempting to teach children who had no desire to learn.
Lord, how would she manage this for a year? The boys had no parenting, little education, and absolutely no structure. From what she’d heard, each governess hired had rushed away almost as soon as she’d arrived. Beth didn’t blame them in the least. She most certainly wouldn’t have been there either if she’d elsewhere to hide.
And then she’d caught Lord Brimley in some obviously important discussion and had attempted to sneak away, only to be called to task. Here she was…caught in a horrifyingly embarrassing situation once again. Humiliated in front of the lord of the keep.
“Witch?” Heat shot to her cheeks and she spun around to face him. He was serious, utterly serious. She could tell by the amusement in his eyes. He was serious and he found it hilarious that she’d been duped yet again. She supposed he would say he’d told her so, that his sons were a handful she couldn’t control.
He rested his palms on her shoulders, the heat of his hands burning through her gown, scorching her skin. “Turn.”
She couldn’t. She didn’t want to. She wanted to run into the house and hide. No, better yet she wanted to race home and forget this had ever happened, to return to the life she knew and understood. “No.”
He forced her to turn. At least with her back to him, he couldn’t see her furious blush. All of a sudden she felt warm hands brushing the chalk from her back. She cringed at his touch, but forced herself to remain still. She shouldn’t be thinking about Lord Brimley and his inappropriate touching. It would only make her mind wander to places it should not wander.
Instead, she would focus on his spawn. The little demons had struck again. She’d thought it strange when Tommy had wanted a hug. And yes, for a moment, she’d let herself believe that she’d finally won him over. How humiliating! And worst of all, she had a feeling they were merely beginning their quest to destroy her. She’d thought after the days had gone
by that they’d relent. She bit her lower lip to keep from telling him what she truly thought of his children. What she truly thought of him.
“I did warn you, Mrs. Church, as did Mrs. Turner.”
Of all the arrogant…
Beth gritted her teeth. She knew she was tip-toeing dangerously close to overstepping. Still, she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Yes, the lads might be little hellions but really, who was at fault here? And after seeing Lord Brimley in near fisticuffs with that young man by the tree, she had no doubt the boys had learned a thing or two from their father. The more she thought on it, the more annoyed she became. They’d had no guidance, no one to care for them…how did he expect his children to behave?
His hands paused, his breath warm on the back of her neck. A warm breath that did all sorts of uncomfortable things to her insides, which made her even more upset. Why must she be attracted to the man? It wasn’t normal, her blasted urges! As a lady she shouldn’t want a man’s touch, she shouldn’t desire kissing and other things. At least that’s what her mother had proclaimed.
“There. Better.”
She turned, swallowing hard, only to realize that he was still close, too close. Unable to stand it any longer, she stepped away. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, I merely needed….”
He quirked a brow. Those eyes, that normally icy gaze, was warm with amusement. She could admit, to herself, that he was handsome, even approachable that way, and for a brief moment she wished he would smile more often.
No, that wasn’t a smile, but more of a smirk, of course. “A break from my sons?”
How she hated when people mocked her, especially handsome men. She’d been mocked by people who thought they were better her entire life. And Lord Brimley was definitely mocking her. She wouldn’t react. Yet, she couldn’t deny the heated flush that swept through her body at his scrutiny. Her stomach was doing silly twists and turns, much like when she’d met her husband for the first time. What was the matter with her? She was an adult, she no longer fawned over men with handsome faces. She’d learned her lesson years ago. But here she was breathless and aching merely by being near him.
“No, of course I don’t need a moment away from your sons,” she said, sounding much too defensive even to her own ears. “Your boys are quite…”
He laughed, but she found no amusement in their conversation. Was it a jest to him? The way his children behaved? The way they tormented her? He should have been concerned, not amused. In fact, if anything he should have been embarrassed since this was his fault after all.
He turned on his heel and strolled away from her, as if she was of no consequence. “Tis fine, truly. I know they are quite rambunctious. What they’ve done to you does not surprise me.”
Either laughing, or arrogant and dismissive. Lord Brimley was no gentleman, but that didn’t shock Beth. She’d met so very few actual gentlemen. It also wasn’t surprising that his children behaved as they did, considering they were starving for affection. To him this was all a great big jest. “And yet you let them behave that way?”
“Me?” He seemed confused by her accusation. Typical man. When children acted up, they looked only to the women for blame. How often had her husband accused her if things went wrong? And who would Lord Brimley blame now? His poor dead wife?
“You are their father. You are the man responsible for their upbringing. They look to you, my lord, to know right from wrong.”
His face didn’t change expression, but his voice was deceptively mild as he leaned against the oak where only moments ago he’d been ready to pummel that man. “What are you implying?”
She realized in that moment that she had overstepped…again. Oh lord, what was wrong with her? She bit back her response, refusing to give into temptation and tell him what she really thought. How difficult it was to remember she was no longer lady of the manor.
She looked at the ground, attempting to appear meek. “Nothing, of course. I apologize.” She curtsied and turned to leave, intent on hurrying away before he tossed her out on her ear. She’d been lucky one too many times.
“Mrs. Church.”
She froze. Blast, she should have known her escape wouldn’t be that easy. Time to take her medicine, no matter how bitter it tasted, as her mother used to say. Slowly, Beth turned.
He did not frown, nor even glare, but his eyes were brittle ice once more. Although the sun was warm, she felt a chill all the way to her toes. “Yes, my lord?”
“You know nothing about our family, I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself.”
“I understand.” She stepped back, then turned, intending to dart through the gate. She had to escape before she said something utterly ridiculous. She needed a moment to herself. Only a moment to regain control, to walk along the hills and let the sound of the evening numb her.
“Where are you going?”
His hard voice stopped her in her tracks. She glanced over her shoulder, surprised to see the outrage upon his handsome face. “I thought only to stroll before dinner…”
She snapped her mouth shut. He looked furious. So furious, she actually took a step back.
“Are you jesting?”
In that moment, as he came closer, it was as if her husband was storming forward. She couldn’t help herself and flinched.
He seemed just as startled as she, and came to a quick halt. For one long moment neither of them spoke. He was a mere step away, so close she could touch him if she dared. The wind shifted, sending a dark lock of hair across his forehead but it didn’t soften his appearance. His dark brows furrowed, his lips turned down as he scanned her face, his mind turning over the event. He knew. He knew and she hated him for it.
“Mrs. Church, do you truly think I’d harm you?”
Her face flamed with embarrassment. What could she say? That she believed any man had the ability to harm? She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling stupid and small.
“Did you honestly think I would strike you?” he demanded.
She couldn’t respond because he wouldn’t be happy with her answer. Of course she thought he might hit her. Why wouldn’t she? She didn’t know him and most men were brutes. He’d already proven that he didn’t care about his own children. He’d practically been caught participating in fisticuffs with that young man when she’d entered the garden.
He stepped back, confusion and anger fighting across his features. “You will not leave the grounds at night. I thought I stated that quite clearly.”
“Tis not quite night. I thought—”
“Good evening,” Eliza called out cheerfully.
Beth gritted her teeth. Did the woman live here? Or did she hover outside the wall so she could pop up at the most inopportune times?
“Eliza,” Nate said in greeting, although his gaze remained on Beth. “What are you doing here?”
She kept her attention to the ground, waiting for him to dismiss her. Eliza. The woman who had only to bat her lashes and men would come running. And age had made her only all the more appealing.
“I thought to visit, of course,” came her haughty reply.
At least Lord Brimley wasn’t only rude to Beth, he was rather dismissive of his beautiful neighbor as well. “Go,” he snapped, looking at Beth. “Return to your room.”
“Oh dear,” Eliza said. “I see I’ve interrupted once again.”
“Not at all,” Nate replied.
Beth curtsied and turned to leave, eager to escape before Eliza recognized her. She had no mud to cover her features now, and her red hair was like a bloody beacon.
“Mrs. Church,” Eliza called out. “Is it?”
Blast it all! Slowly, Beth turned. She prayed the woman didn’t notice the guilty flush to her face. Eliza, like always, was dressed in the best fashion…a midnight blue riding habit that matched Nate’s eyes. Had she picked the color on purpose? She wouldn’t have been surprised. Why did the thought bother her?
Eliza tilted her head to the side, the feather on her hat falling t
o gently caress her cheek. “Do we know each other?”
The heat in her face intensified. “Not that I am aware of, my lady.”
Eliza frowned, studying Beth through narrowed eyes. “You look quite familiar.”
“Eliza, stop harassing my staff,” Nate growled.
Eliza rolled her eyes. “Oh Brim, that’s rich, coming from you.”
“Mrs. Church, return to your quarters.”
“Yes, my lord,” Beth mumbled, for once eager to obey Lord Brimley.
She spun around and headed toward the house, feeling his gaze burning into her back. Blast it all, she must learn to not only avoid Lord Brimley but also Eliza. It would be a complete and utter disaster if the woman remembered Beth. England was a small country and the ton even smaller, she should have known she would come across someone she might be acquainted with. How had she never met Lord Brimley?
Who was the man? A man who had dark smudges under his eyes as if he didn’t sleep well, as if his own demons kept him awake at night. A man who had seen her in her night clothing only weeks ago and could have easily taken advantage, had looked as if he wanted to, but hadn’t. A man who worried she might get lost in the woods and come to harm. Yet, a man who growled at her whenever she was near. Who was the real Lord Brimley?
She dared to glance back as she reached the door.
Lord Brimley was leading Eliza out the gate, disappearing onto the grounds where he’d only just told her never to roam. Beth released the air she held and pulled open the door.
Gothic novel indeed. There was something incredibly strange about Lord Brimley. Something she wasn’t sure she wanted to uncover.
Perhaps, just perhaps, it was time to start looking for a new position.
Chapter 5
The scream awoke her.
A horrible, gut-wrenching scream that tore through slumber and had her bolting out of bed. Beth’s feet hit the cold floor, her heart hammering madly. Had she dreamt it? Had she imagined the sound? The castle was eerily silent.
A Night of Redemption (The Night Series Book 2) Page 6
