The Governess Game

by Dare, Tessa

  If Chase wasn’t careful, sending the girls to school could mean losing them. Forever.

  Chapter Eighteen

  With a satisfying whack, Chase drove home the final nail.

  There.

  He pulled his shirt over his head and used it to mop his face before casting it aside. Then he stood back to admire his work.

  His gentleman’s retreat was, at long last, complete. Ready to be christened. By this point, he’d been presented with a myriad of options for its title: Cave of Carnality, Libertine Lair, Rake Room, Passion Palace.

  Lately, it had been the Self-Pleasure Sanctum. He’d shared it with no one but his hand since Alexandra Mountbatten arrived in this house. To be truthful, even on those occasions when he satisfied himself, she was still there—in spirit. In fantasy.

  It was as if the moment she’d strolled through that door, her dark hair neatly pinned and a weathered satchel in hand, she’d claimed the place. As he looked around at the products of several weeks’ labor, the space that was meant to have hosted a succession of meaningless encounters . . . it had meaning.

  There was the chair where she’d been sitting while she enumerated the many deficiencies in his character.

  There was the stretch of paneling he’d been hanging when he sliced his thumb and surprised her in the kitchen, and she’d given him the most stirring kiss of his life.

  There was the glassware rack he’d pieced together on a night when he’d been aching with want, lost in fantasies of tying her naked to a bedpost mast and licking her body from bow to stern.

  She was in every nook and niche of this room. He was having difficulty imagining sharing it with any other woman. If he didn’t act soon, the Den of Deviance would be boarded up before it had even opened for visitors.

  Alexandra, Alexandra. What the hell am I going to do with you?

  Nothing, of course. He couldn’t do anything with his tempting little governess, and that was his bloody problem.

  Someone rapped at the door. When he didn’t answer it directly, the rapping became pounding. Whoever was standing out on the street sounded equally as desperate as Chase felt. He made a vow to himself in that moment.

  If the person on the other side of that door was a willing woman, Chase was going to haul her inside and make hot, sweaty love to her. End of discussion.

  When he opened the door, he was instantly reminded why he should never, ever make vows.

  The woman standing on the other side of the door was Alexandra.

  “Do you have company?” she asked.

  He shook his head.

  “Good.”

  She entered without waiting for his invitation, breezing past him and into the center of the room. “So sorry to intrude. I went out on the green to track a celestial object that was passing out of my view upstairs. In my haste, I locked myself out of the house. The night is unusually cold. Thank goodness you were awake.” She looked around her. “And alone.”

  She wore only her nightclothes, and her arms were crossed over her chest to soothe her shivering. Good Lord, he’d seen her in her shift entirely too many times. All he could think of was seeing her out of it. He’d spent days struggling to banish this fantasy from his mind, and it was all for nothing in the end. She stood before him, a dream come to life, and he was seized with desperation to take her in his arms and hold her tight, lest she vanish.

  He plucked a blanket from the chaise longue and wrapped it about her shoulders, in the interests of self-preservation.

  “So was it a comet?” he asked.

  “Not this time, I’m afraid.” She hesitated, looking him over. “I’m glad to see you.”

  His heart made an embarrassing, giddy flip.

  “We haven’t spoken in some time,” she said. “And the girls have been missing you.”

  “Is that so?” he said in a low, flirtatious drawl. “And you, Miss Mountbatten? Have you been missing me, too?”

  She looked away, flustered.

  He was a coward, burying that question beneath jaded swagger when he secretly longed to hear the answer. For his part, he’d been missing her intensely.

  She turned her gaze about the room. “My goodness. You’ve been busy, haven’t you? So many improvements. Have you done all the labor yourself?”

  He shrugged modestly. “Most of it.”

  All of it, but he didn’t want to sound as eager for her admiration and approval as he felt. He’d been telling himself he’d done all this building to take his mind off her, and now he wondered if he’d been telling himself a lie. Maybe he’d done it for her. Not to seduce her, but to impress her. She’d complimented his carpentry, after all. Even named it as one of his redeeming qualities.

  You’re good with your hands.

  Her gaze landed on the hammer and nails he’d just set aside, and she walked toward his just-finished project—a wide, tall cabinet with two shuttered doors.

  “Is this a new wardrobe?” She put her hand on one of the door handles.

  Bloody hell.

  “Alex, wait.” He lunged forward just as she gave the handle a pull, catching her in his arms and drawing her to the side. Just in time. The contents of the cabinet fell forward as designed, spilling into the center of the room and landing with a crash.

  His heart pounded from the urgency of whisking her to safety. It pounded even harder from the thrill of holding her in his arms.

  She didn’t seem in a hurry to leave his embrace. Instead, she stared at the room’s new centerpiece and gave a little laugh. “Oh, my. Now that is impressive.”

  Alex was awestruck.

  A bed.

  Really. A secret, stashed-away bed. This was beyond antlers, beyond bawdy house paintings and velvet draperies. He’d tucked a mattress and bed frame in the cabinet, standing it on end so that when the doors were opened, the bed folded down from the wall—ready for use.

  It was ingenious in its sheer depravity.

  His strong arms remained about her. She probably ought to express some thanks for his swift move to save her from being crushed by the thing. But at the moment, she was too transfixed by his invention. Extricating herself from his embrace, she strolled around the perimeter of the bed, peeking under the frame and investigating the mechanics.

  “Did you devise this yourself?”

  “I’m not the first to think of a folding bed, if that’s what you mean—but I made my own customizations for this one.”

  “Where did these wooden legs come from? The cabinet’s not deep enough to fit them.”

  “They’re tucked under the bed frame. When the bed is lowered, they unfold to support it.”

  “Remarkable. And it’s even made up with bed linens.” She trailed her fingertips over the satin sheets. When she came to the end of the bed, she peered at the back of the cabinet. “Oh, look. There’s a mirror. You truly are shameless, aren’t you?”

  “Never claimed otherwise.” He moved behind her, stepping into the reflection. “There’s meant to be a strap to secure the thing. Keep that sort of accident from happening. But I hadn’t installed it yet. I only completed the thing today.”

  If he’d only completed it today, and he didn’t have company tonight . . . that meant the bed hadn’t yet been used.

  Good.

  The thought of him occupying this bed with another woman made her tremble with envy.

  She wanted him for herself.

  There was no denying it any longer. Only deciding what—if anything—she meant to do about it.

  Alex regarded herself in the mirror, consulting her conscience. In years to come, her memory of the next few moments would either be cause for pride and satisfaction, or a source of profound regret. One way or another, her life would be altered forever.

  “The other night, in your bedchamber . . .” She turned to face him. “You told me there were many ways to give and receive pleasure. A great many ways.”

  He nodded slowly. “Yes.”

  She steeled her nerve. “Teach me a lesso
n.”

  As Chase stared at her, Alex’s nerve endings tied themselves into knots. Individually. By the time he finally spoke, she was nothing but human carpet fringe.

  “You can’t mean that,” he said.

  “Before you argue, let me assure you—I’ve thought it all through.”

  He looked dazed. “But of course you have.”

  Alex navigated around him and went to the well-stocked bar. “Let’s count the advantages.” She slid a whisky decanter toward one end of the counter. “There’s too much tension between us. If we can dispel it, why shouldn’t we? We’re both adults.” She sent a bottle of champagne to join the whisky. “You’re frustrated”—a jug of apple brandy—“and I’m curious.”

  He had no response.

  “You said yourself, you’re scrupulous about preventing conception and disease. That does away with those risks on my end.” She moved a few more bottles to join the rest, then stood back. “Look at the tally. The conclusion is obvious.”

  He blinked at the row of bottles and decanters. “What I’m concluding here is that I should send you to bed and then get roaring drunk.”

  “Don’t be absurd. I can’t think of any disadvantages at all, unless . . .” She gave him a coy look and pushed a wine bottle toward the “against” direction. “It might be bad?”

  With a huff, he crossed to the bar, grabbed the wine bottle, and plunked it down solidly among the “for” arguments. “It would not be bad.”

  “Or maybe . . .” She reached out and nudged the bottle back toward the negative side. “Maybe you don’t want me. I know you could have your choice of lovers.”

  “Bloody hell.” His hand closed over hers in an iron grip, keeping the bottle in place. “You know that’s not the source of my hesitation. I haven’t wanted any woman with the fierceness I’ve been wanting you. Not in . . .”

  She clung to the end of that sentence by her fingernails. Not in what?

  Not in weeks? Not in months? Not in years, decades . . . a lifetime?

  Instead of finishing the thought, he left her hanging. Impossible man.

  He released her and ambled to the other side of the room. “Alex, lovemaking is something you should explore with a husband. Or at least with someone you love.”

  “But you’re not married. You’re not in love.”

  “No, and I don’t intend to be.”

  “Then why are liaisons acceptable for you, but not for me? It can’t be because I’m a woman. You take women as lovers all the time.”

  “Not inexperienced women.”

  Inexperienced? Now that was too much. She’d endured more in her lifetime than he could possibly imagine.

  “You don’t know what I’ve experienced in my life. Just because I’m a virgin, that doesn’t mean I haven’t lived. I’ve earned the right to make my own choices, thank you.”

  He rubbed his face with his hand.

  Alex went to him. “I know there’ll be no promises,” she whispered. “I don’t expect them.”

  “You should expect them.” His arm tightened around her waist, and his intent gaze swept her face before settling on her lips. “You deserve them. I’ve been shameless, letting you squander your first tastes of passion on me. Someday you’ll meet a man who has it within him to promise you the world. And the moon and stars and a few comets, too.”

  Curious that he should mention comets. At the moment, her heart threatened to burst from her chest and blaze a flaming arc across the sky.

  “Well . . .” She made a show of looking about the room, craning her neck to search the corners. “Unless you see that man standing about, I’m content to be with you.”

  “Alex . . .”

  Undeterred, she swept a touch along his cheek, treasuring the dark growth of whiskers there. Then, turning her hand over, she laid the backs of her fingers to his neck. In her best attempt at playing the seductress, she traced them downward in one long, sinuous, unbroken caress, past his Adam’s apple and down through the notch carved at the base of his throat.

  By the time her fingers reached his breastbone, she’d reached the end of her bravado, too.

  His heart pounded fiercely beneath her touch. Breath rose and fell in his chest. The rest of him remained so quiet and still, Alex’s insides began to quiver with doubt.

  Please, she silently begged. Take the reins. Make the next step. Don’t force me to crawl farther out on this limb.

  After an eternity, it seemed her choices were to act or spend the rest of her life staring numbly at the dark, flat circle of his nipple.

  She summoned the last of her courage and lifted her head. “Cha—”

  His mouth fell on hers before she could even complete the syllable. As his hand fisted in her hair and drew her into the kiss, sweet relief melted through her bones.

  Breaking away, he loomed over her, filling her vision with his raw, masculine presence. She couldn’t see anything else at all.

  Only him.

  When he spoke, his voice was so perilously deep it needed a fence and a warning signpost. “If it’s a lesson in pleasure you truly want . . .”

  “It is.”

  “Then it’s a lesson you’ll get.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Oh, thank heaven that worked.

  In a single, fluid motion, Alex found herself swept off her feet and deposited on the bed. He laid her down on her back, and then he joined her, stretching out on his side and propping himself on one elbow.

  “As I told you, there are a great many ways.” He nuzzled her neck and ran his fingertips from her wrist to her elbow. “Perhaps you’ve discovered one or two of the ways yourself. In bed, in the dark, with your hands beneath your shift. Or in that orange-flower-scented bath, with no shift at all. Exploring all your body’s secrets, learning where the pleasure gathers and how it breaks.”

  She nodded, dizzy with sensations.

  “It’s different,” he murmured, “when the touch belongs to another. Anticipation lays a fuse through your veins. The slightest caress is a spark.”

  Good Lord. That was one lesson Alex didn’t need. He’d scarcely touched her, and she was ready to explode.

  His hand settled on her belly. “If you wish me to stop at any time, you’ve only to say it. Do you understand?”

  She couldn’t respond. She couldn’t breathe.

  “Alexandra.” He tilted her gaze to his. “When I ask a question, it needs an answer.”

  Somehow she managed to nod. “I understand.”

  “Good.” His gaze dropped to her breasts, glassy with desire. His murmured words sounded miles away. “Good.”

  His hand, strong and callused from work, claimed her breast. Kneading and shaping her through the thin veil of her shift. He pulled the fabric tight, and her dark, hardened nipple stood out in relief.

  He dipped his head, swiping his tongue over the aching, needy peak. She gasped with the keenness of the sensation.

  As he shifted his hand to her other breast, he dropped hot kisses on her lips, her neck, her ear. “I have to see you.” His whisper stirred her hair. “Alexandra. Let me see you.”

  She nodded.

  He raised his head, gazing down on her as he plucked at the buttons down the front of her shift. The first slipped free easily. He pressed an openmouthed kiss to the patch of skin he’d revealed.

  When his fingers moved on to the second button, however, he stilled. “I have a better idea.”

  “You do?”

  He rose up on his knees beside her, hooked his thumbs into a gap between the lowermost buttonholes—and yanked, ripping the two sides of her shift apart. Buttons went flying.

  She stared up at him. “Why?”

  “So I can buy you a new one. One that’s warmer, finer. As lovely as the woman who wears it.” He pushed the ruined garment down her shoulders. “Besides, I’ve always wanted to do that.”

  “It was rather arousing, I must admit.”

  The curl of his lips was wolfish. “Good. Because I have
no regrets.” His gaze roamed her exposed breasts, making her tender flesh ripple and quiver. “God, you’re beautiful.”

  Instead of stretching alongside her, this time he lowered himself atop her. He weaved his legs with hers, pressing a broad, muscled thigh directly against her sex. As pleasure jolted through her, Alex gasped.

  Suddenly, he was everywhere. Licking and suckling her breasts, drawing a hand down her body to gather the hem of her chemise, rubbing his thigh against her cleft in an exquisitely maddening rhythm. Desire raced through her body like a pack of wild, hungry beasts. No part of her was safe. She had nowhere to hide.

  It occurred to her, rather belatedly, that perhaps she ought to be doing something, too. She slid her hands to his shoulders, clutching him tight.

  Then he slowed, easing his weight from atop her body and sliding one hand under her shift. His fingers climbed the trembling slope of her inner thigh, dragging the frail linen with them.

  As he moved his hand to her center, his gaze held hers. His fingertips brushed—lightly, gently—along her cleft.

  Oh, sweet heaven above.

  He explored her with that same light, gentle touch. Not invading her body, but waiting for its soft, wet invitations. His thumb covered the swollen bud that was the center of her pleasure, and she felt his fingertip ease inside her.

  Alex tensed and made a faint, whimpering sound of bliss.

  He paused. “Still a yes?”

  She bit her lip and nodded. “Yes.”

  Yes.

  He watched her responses so intently, she grew self-conscious and had to close her eyes. In the dark, her awareness narrowed to that sweet, pulsing pleasure between her thighs. It flickered, expanded, glowed blindingly bright . . . until—

  Yes.

  And yes and yes and yes.

  He caressed her as she came floating back down to earth, running his fingers through her unbound hair and murmuring words that she couldn’t quite catch—but they sounded warm and approving.