The Observations of a Curious Governess (9 page)

‘Please, help me,’ I shrieked.

Clearly, my gentleman needed no further prompting. Within a moment I found him crouched before me, tearing my slippers from my feet before lifting me bodily into his arms. The next thing I experienced was the freezing snap of water dousing my body. He’d thrown us both into the lake!

I am not a lady accustomed to swimming, so the chill, green, murky water fairly caused me to scream. ‘Hush hush,’ I heard Mr Reeves implore. Yet I was stricken with panic. I could not stem my frantic clawing at his chest – in hindsight it appeared as if I was attempting to climb him like a child does a tree.

‘Miss Swan!’ he implored me further. ‘You are well, I shall not let you drown.’

He spoke so softly, like a man soothing a frightened horse or some such – astonishingly, however, it seemed to have a marked effect. I swiftly calmed under his gentle tones. His hands remained firm about my waist, ensuring I should not fall further into the murky depths. After another moment or so, I began to realise that the cold water upon my legs had fairly washed the wicked ants away, though I had little doubt more of the beasts may still cling to the cloth of my skirts. The gentleman’s arms were tight about me, and I could feel the heat from his body burn into mine through the cool water.

‘Oh, Mr Reeves,’ I exclaimed as the last burning bites were eased by the water. ‘What a clever man you are to have thought of this. I believe you may have just saved my life.’ I was gushing like a nincompoop, but could not stem my relief.

Mr Reeves offered me a delectable masculine laugh. The sound echoed his pleasure at my praise, and gooseflesh erupted over my body – I know not whether its cause was the cool water or the peculiar effect his body was having so close-pressed to mine, though I very much suspected the latter.

Realising just how wickedly inappropriate the scene may appear to an onlooker, Mr Reeves interrupted my gushings. ‘I must take you back to the house, Miss Swan.’

‘Quite,’ I agreed, suddenly utterly breathless. Yet I realised at that particular moment that I did not
want
him to take me back to the house, to be cared for by the maids. I was more than pleased with the care he was offering me and would rather not have it interrupted. Was this how Nancy felt when she was under the ministrations of Lord Stanton? Was this the emotive force that lured Lady Stanton to sin with her maid? I knew it was. For a devilish moment I wished to linger there, in that inappropriate embrace, and experience the strength and muscle beneath my protector’s sodden clothing and study its effect on my body.

Mr Reeves had lost his hat in our flight into the lake, and his hair, splashed as it was, curled romantically about his face.

‘Miss Swan?’ he asked His voice had taken on that tender note once more.

‘Mr Reeves, I confess you have fairly taken this lady’s breath away.’

He laughed again, and this time began to move out of the lake. We had not ventured far into the waters, so his progress was swift and within a sad moment or two I found myself deposited gently upon the lawns.

I shook off my skirts in some pretence of modesty, noting that my quim had adopted that swollen, heavy sensation once more. I longed to touch it, to ease the sweet ache. Nay, if I am truthful, I very much wished it may be Mr Reeves who touched it, and eased that ache. The thought made my belly tighten. I looked at Mr Reeves then and noticed his face had taken on a peculiar look of longing and his hands were loosely clasped before him. I took only a lingering glance, but could discern a notable swelling there. It seemed Mr Reeves was not so unaffected by our closeness in the water as he had made out.

Would that I could marry this man, have this man, touch this man,
and have him touch me.
Had I never witnessed the wicked goings on here at Stanton, I suspect I may never have had these thoughts. Yet, exposed as I have been to the carnal lusts of my employers, I believe I have become somewhat depraved with wants and wicked curiosities. They torment my mind as much as my body.

My nipples puckered taut beneath my gown, and I worried at my lip. There was so much I wanted to say to Mr Reeves, yet here we were, standing beside one another, the distance between us seemingly insurmountable.

Mr Reeves coughed. ‘Come Miss Swan, you shall catch a chill. Let me take you to the house and I shall return to the vicarage to change my attire, before my meeting with His Lordship.’

He offered me his arm, which afforded me a better glimpse of his swollen member clad in wet cloth. I could see its form clearly beneath the fabric. It was thick, and its head angled up towards his stomach. Good Lord! My throat became dry, and I hoped he had not caught me staring.

And then I saw them – several beastly ants! They were crawling about cloth covering his nether parts. Here was my chance – a chance to sate my curiosity, under guise of something else. Without hesitation, I brought my hands to his area, and brushed my hands past his swollen manhood.

‘Miss Swan!’ he cried.

‘Mr Reeves, those terrible ants.’ I hushed him and continued my featherlight brushing. The ants were gone now, but I was thrilled to hear the gentleman sharply suck in air through his teeth at my touch and I continued under the pretence there were more.

But Lord he was firm! His staff felt like warm stone beneath his breeches. It seemed so thick and strong. I wondered how it would feel pushed between my thighs, piercing my maidenhood. It should hurt, I expect, terribly even. Even that thought made my quim begin to seep its dew and throb anew.

‘Please,’ Mr Reeves’ voice was weaker now and rasping. I looked at him. His eyes had darkened. ‘Miss Swan…’

‘Mr Reeves,’ I stepped even closer towards him. ‘I …’

He looked at me then, his jaw taut and lips thinned. His hand came and met mine, and for an inestimable moment, he pressed my hand more firmly into that ridge of hard, hot flesh. My stomach tightened once more, and that feeling utter longing rolled through my body like a storm. What was I doing? What had I preached to Lord Stanton about temptation? What were those pertinent passages from the Bible I had quoted? My mind was fog, lust-ridden, I believe. I remembered naught.

‘Martha, I don’t think you quite understand what you are doing …’ he growled, and finally pushed my hand away.

I responded without thinking. It was as if my mouth spoke for my body, and not my mind. ‘Oh, but Mr Reeves, I do. Mayhap there are ants that need to be brushed from my person also?’

That muscle in the gentleman’s jaw tightened once more, and his eyes, which had previously been so modestly averted, devoured my being. My sodden dress clung to my body indecently, I knew. The wet cloth hugged that juncture between my thighs and moulded to my breasts as though I were nearly naked before him.

‘Good Lord, Miss Swan…’ he groaned and turned away. ‘This mustn’t occur.’

‘But why?’ my voice interrupted, again without my mind bidding it. I pulled his hand to my breast, placing it palm-down over the mound.

His eyes widened, and his fingers curled around it. It seemed my flesh swelled beneath his searing touch.

‘We cannot marry, you and I. We know this. I must be a spinster, and you shall find some other lady one day – and yet, we have this moment, you and I. To for once sate our curiosity – for that is all it can be.’

‘I have no curiosity,’ Mr Reeves replied, which was a lie I knew, for his eyes devoured the breast where his hand had touched just a moment before he removed it with a wince. I was bereft without it. ‘And I cannot fathom why you are … are … propositioning me. It ought be I who does the propositioning, and you who rebuffs me.’

I laughed then. What a pair we made.

‘Mr Reeves - dearest Jonathan. You have known me since childhood. I am ever a practical woman. I am not incognisant of the scandalousness of my current behaviour.’

‘Indeed, Miss Swan – then why do you persist? I’

‘Because I am a governess and spinster, and am happy with all but one facet of my lot. I am curious, Jonathan. I wish to experience – ’

There was a glimmer of heat that flashed in his eyes, and I knew he understood. ‘God!’ Mr Reeves gasped and turned away again. ‘Stop, don’t say it.’

I shook my head. ‘I have long prayed to God to ease me of my curiosity, but He in his wisdom has not. Thus, I cannot make any sense of these feelings but to act on them.’

Mr Reeves laughed. ‘You are trying to justify yourself. Listen, Miss Swan. I shall not bespoil you.’

‘Jonathan, I do not wish to be bespoiled, and how should I be bespoiled regardless? To be bespoiled, others must have knowledge of the bespoiling – and who shall know?
No one
shall ever know. It shall be a secret betwixt you and I, just like the time you burned all your sister Josephine’s dolls because she destroyed your toy soldiers. Remember? I do, and I’ve never told a soul.’

Good Lord, what was I doing? What would Mrs Hester Chapone think? But I wanted this. I may never have another chance.

For a long moment Mr Reeves appeared perplexed and unable to offer a convincing argument.

‘This is more than burning dolls, Martha. This is… wickedness.’

‘Wickedness to whom? Not I, for I am asking you for this boon.’

‘Lord! Boon? You have no notion. You’re pure, Martha. It shall hurt you, physically and …’

‘I care not. I merely wish to experience it. Just once, so that I may quench this curiosity – with more than my own fingers.’

Heat suffused the gentleman’s face. ‘Martha!’ he exclaimed. ‘This really is quite unseemly.’

I wished to giggle. How my modelling of propriety had dissolved in a few short weeks! Truly, there must be something in the wine at Stanton.

‘I
know,
that is why I am asking you to do this – as a favour to me. For I trust you implicitly Jonathan. How can I live the rest of my life as a spinster, without knowing what I am missing? It should be quite intolerable!’

The stiffening in his breeches had not abated, I noticed with pleasure.

‘Please,’ I added. ‘There is yet time before my morning lessons. We could venture into the woods, and …’

‘And rut like a shepherd and maid? Martha! Think of the scandal.’

‘The only scandal shall be the one in your own heart. No one shall know, and I am at ease with this decision. I wish to do it, and goodness, I wish to do it
now
.’

And then, like some heroic gent from one of those romance novels that Mrs Hester Chapone had taught me to abhor, he gripped me to him and brought his lips to mine. Truly, I felt like another woman altogether. The kiss was hard, brutal and utterly exhilarating. It reignited those parts of me that had just started wax into slumber.

‘There,’ he announced firmly. ‘You have experienced enough. Let me take you back to the house and we can forget about this foolishness.’

‘I want more than that, Jonathan.’ I opened my eyes and gazed at him. ‘Please.’ I moved my lips against his once more. ‘Don’t deny me, Jonathan. I shan’t ask it again. I promise. I shan’t mention it ever again …’

‘Curse you, Martha, but you make me weak.’ He groaned and his hands roved over my body, cupping my buttocks through my sodden skirts. I felt as debauched and wicked as a harlot – yet with none of the shame. For I knew, despite what I did this day, I was neither of those things.

He kissed me again, this time grinding that hard staff into the softness of my belly. I felt myself verily crippled with a need so great I thought I might lose control of my sensibilities even more than I already had done. It was then, as if in some wicked dream, that he took my hand and led me into the woodlands beyond.

I could scarcely believe Mr Reeves had agreed to this! I could not believe I was to experience that most thrilling of intercourses betwixt a man and woman, and with the man I so greatly admired and trusted.

At length we found ourselves in a clearing. I believe I was drunk on lust at that moment, for I cared neither for the distance we had walked nor its implications for the time. In a dashingly chivalrous manner, Mr Reeves removed his coat – though it still remained sodden – and laid it upon the grass beneath an oak tree. My heart constricted and I sank down upon it, feeling the first tremors of nervousness.

‘Martha …’ he began, ‘Truly, I do not think this wise …’

‘Do not try to dissuade me, Mr Reeves. I am adamant. You shall leave for London tomorrow and I very much wish to have this intercourse with you now, before you depart and forget me.’

He released a laugh, more bitter than sweet. ‘I would never have forgotten, dearest Martha, not now, not ever.’

I smiled then and laid myself down, the grassy earth forming something of a pillow for my head.

‘Well, what next?’ I asked, unable to mask the thrill of excitement in my voice.

His eyes dark and hooded, Mr Reeves’ sank down beside me, stretching his long breeches-clad legs beside mine, and ran a seemingly nervous hand down my side.

‘There are all manner of things we may do next,’ he said, voice weak.

‘Are you well-versed then, in the carnal conversations between men and women, Jonathan?’ I asked.

Heat suffused his angular face, and he reached to run his hands through his hair. ‘Well enough, I suspect,’ he admitted.

Well! I quite found myself swelling with something I knew must be jealousy. ‘Indeed?’ was all I could say. That explained why he had no curiosity about such matters.

He chuckled then and moved to kiss me. I can only liken Jonathan’s kisses to opium – not that I’ve ever experienced it, only read about the disastrous effects it can have on one addicted to its pleasures. His kisses sent me somewhere else and ignited my body with heat. He rolled towards me, pushing further back into the summer grasses that filled the shade dappled glade in which we lay. His hands began to rove, finally finding my breasts that ached so to be touched. He leaned down, and kissed each hardened tip through the cool cloth of my dress. I arched toward him.

‘Oh, Mr Reeves,’ I whispered, and felt his leg move between mine. My heart pounded and I stared at the tree canopy above me, amazed and bewildered.

‘Are you certain?’ His voice was growing huskier.