Chapter 11

Chapter 11

“Oh, look,” cried Lady Lenore, her voice filled with excitement, pointing to a tree. “It is a bird’s nest!”

Selene smiled at the little girl’s joy, despite her exhaustion. She had barely slept a wink after what had happened between her and the Iron Duke in the library last night. She needed this morning walk before lessons started as much as her pupil did.

They had walked a fair distance from the house. The wind was very chilly, and it was so cold, but already, Selene felt a little better. It was as if the wind was clearing the cobwebs from her mind. She was starting to feel more like herself again.

Do not think about the kiss. The duke will probably never mention it. It will be as if it never happened at all.

She felt a warm glow envelop her, despite the cold, and shivered, touching her lips. The way that his lips had felt against hers. The feelings he evoked within her. She had never dreamt that such feelings existed…

Stop it. He is your master. You are an employee in this house. Nothing good can come of it.

She took a deep breath, pushing the memory of last night away, walking to Lenore, who was standing beneath the tree now, gazing up at the nest on a high branch.

“I love birds,” declared the girl, her eyes shining brightly. “I love them more than anything in this world!”

Selene laughed, delighted by her enthusiasm. “Do you? They are marvelous creatures. I think they are wonderful too.” She looked up at the nest. “I wonder what birds live there?”

As if it had heard her, a bird suddenly flew to the nest, looking down at them, its head tilted to the side, chirruping loudly.

“Why, it is a robin,” cried Selene, peering at the bird. She looked at Lenore. “Robins live here all the year round. They stay in winter, as well.”

“Hello little birdie,” cried Lenore, waving at the robin. She turned to Selene. “Can we come here every day and visit the robin family?”

Selene laughed. “If you like. But it is time to head back now and start our lessons.”

The little girl pouted, then sighed, but turned away from the tree, following Selene back to the house. Their breath fogged in the air as they settled into silence. Suddenly, Lenore turned to her, her face solemn.

“Do you think that robin was the mother bird?” she asked.

“Yes,” replied Selene. “I think it might be.”

“She is waiting for her babies to hatch,” said Lenore. A long silence. “What is it like to have a mother, Miss Bomind? Do you have a good mother?”

Selene’s heart shifted. “I do have a good mother, my lady. I love her very much and she is very kind to me. She has looked after me well.” She hesitated. “I am very grateful to have her in my life.”

The little girl was silent for a moment. “I wish I knew my mother,” she said eventually. “I cannot even remember her. Not even a little bit.”

“You were far too young to remember her, my lady,” said Selene gently, her heart contorting with pity for the little girl. “You were only just born when she passed away. No one can remember anything from when they were a newborn.” She tried to smile. “I am sure your mother was a kind, sweet lady and would have loved you very much.”

Lenore looked at her, her face twisting. “She left me. She did not want me.”

“No,” said Selene, frowning. “That is not true…”

But Lenore wasn’t listening to her. She poked out her tongue, waving her hands in the air above her ears, staring at Selene, before turning and running away, her red scarf trailing in the wind.

Selene sighed heavily. This was the second time the little girl had referred to her late mother. Clearly, she felt the loss keenly. And Selene was sure that her temper tantrums and hostility toward her previous governesses had something to do with it.

Her heart lurched again. Lady Lenore was a handful, a spirited girl, but she was making progress with her. She just needed a gentle hand. However, unless the little girl resolved her conflicted feelings about her late mother, Selene wasn’t sure how lasting that progress would be.

I should talk to the duke about it. I should advise him to talk to his daughter about her mother and tell her it wasn’t her fault that her mother passed away.

But as soon as the thought entered her mind, she dismissed it. She would only antagonize him. He would tell her to mind her own business again. And besides, she had resolved to avoid him, as much as possible. Even if her body was still glowing from their encounter… and craving his lips again, with a fierceness that truly shocked her.

***

Ian stood at his study window, watching his daughter and the governess walking back to the house. His hands balled into fists at his side. He hadn’t been able to get the kiss out of his mind.

He watched Miss Bomind trudging through the snow. She was wearing a plain, pale green dress with a gray woolen shawl around her shoulders. Snowflakes had settled on her bright chestnut colored hair and her cheeks were glowing from the walk. Her beauty was so radiant that he hastily turned and walked away.

He sat down in the armchair by the fire, staring into the flames, glowering. He was tired—he hadn’t slept well after what had happened in the library the night before. And he was angry and disappointed with himself for kissing the governess… and with such hunger.

What on earth had gotten into him? He knew that a lot of gentlemen dallied with the attractive servants. Somehow, they thought it a perk of their position, but he had never been like that. He had prided himself on the fact he never seduced the servants.

Apart from the power imbalance—he would never make a woman submit to him just because he was her master. It would just make life so damn complicated, being forced to see the woman every single day, and no one could predict if it would get messy.

He glared into the fire, running a hand over his chin, feeling prickly stubble. With a jolt, he realized he had forgotten to shave that morning. He had been too distracted.

His eyelids started to droop. He really was so very tired. He would close his eyes for just a minute to get some rest… it was so warm in the room…

He was at the door of his chambers. He turned and saw her walking slowly toward him down the hallway. The governess. She was wearing a flimsy gown which clung to her curves, with her chestnut hair falling in waves down her back.

His loins pulsed with need. Quickly, he walked toward her, picking her up in his arms. He booted the door of his chambers open, carrying her to the bed, his blood thickening more with every step. She looked up at him, sighing, her green eyes alight with need.

He dropped her onto the bed, staring down at her. He was so hard it was painful. The lust for her was consuming him. Hungrily, his eyes roamed over her. Her hair was spread like an aura on the mattress.

Her breasts were clearly visible beneath the flimsy fabric of her gown, the nipples hard and erect. He wanted to take one in his mouth and suck on it hard, pull it long and deep, make her shudder beneath him…

He couldn’t stand it any longer. He fell on her, kissing her fiercely, every delectable inch of her, groaning with need. She writhed beneath him, crying out, her head tilting back.

He slid his hands down her legs, hitching up the gown, shuddering at the silkiness of her skin, the creamy perfection. He wanted to plunge into her velvety depths, over and over, until he exploded within her.

Ian bolted upright in the chair, opening his eyes, panting as if he had been running for a mile. Sweat was dripping down his neck and back and he felt pressure in his trousers. He jumped up, pulling at his cravat, walking out onto the balcony that adjoined the room, taking long, deep breaths of the crisp, fresh air.

He leaned against the railing, his head spinning. The dream had been so vivid, so very real—it was as if he truly was making love to her.

He blinked, trying to dispel the power of it. Lenore and Miss Bomind were nowhere to be seen. They must be in the house now. But he could still see the imprints of their boots in the snow, leading toward the house. The evidence that they had been there.

He took a long, ragged breath. This was dangerous. His passion for the governess was inexplicable, but it was fierce. He must be very careful, for he had no desire to entangle himself with her and make her his secret mistress, no matter how tempting the thought was.

And he could never pursue her seriously. Not that he wanted to do that, either, regardless of whether she was high-born or not.

He already had a wife. Just because she was dead and gone didn’t change that fact. He would never remarry. And he could never love another woman.

He exhaled slowly. Miss Bomind was never going to be his mistress. Far too complicated. And he was never going to seriously pursue her. Therefore, he must leave her alone… even if it killed him.