The Secret Desires of a Governess (24 page)

He saw no one on his way to his private chambers. He settled her in his bed and worked quickly to strip her of her boots, and then her sodden, ice- cold skirts and bodice. He had to cut the strings of her corset free because the wet laces wouldn’t loosen, then he removed her chemise. All of it needed to come off if she were to grow warm again.

Tossing his blankets aside, he wrapped her in a sheet, dried her hair with the hand towel from the washstand, and settled her under every blanket and throw at hand.

Building up the fire was his next priority. He didn’t stop putting wood inside till he was sweating at his temples and armpits from the heat it let off.

When he approached the bed, her lips were still tinged blue. Sliding his hands beneath the blankets

he rubbed at her arm, hoping to bring warmth and a shimmer of blood back to her complexion. It didn’t work. She didn’t stir or acknowledge that she knew whom she was with, or where she was.

She lay in his bed lifeless.

How long had she been in the water? He knew it was possible to die from the cold like this, and that the only option left to him was to pull off his own clothes and climb in beside her.

It wasn’t as though they had not spent many a night naked in each other’s arms. Before he stripped, he retrieved a few more blankets from her bedchamber and tossed them on top of his down and counterpane.

He left his smalls on, tossing the rest of his wet clothes in a heap on the floor. Slowly, he climbed in next to Abigail in the wide bed. Her skin was like winter- touched marble.

So lifeless and unmoving, it made his breath catch. It was everything she shouldn’t be.

Elliott tucked her against his body, wrapping his legs around and through hers, tucking his feet under her icy ones. Her toes were like shards of ice next to his. Hopefully the cold melted away soon.

He smoothed the fl at of his hand along her arm, stroking the life and warmth back into her. His other arm was tucked under her head, the sand in her hair rubbing against his bare skin like sandpaper on wood.

“You cannot die on me, Abigail. Live.”

His hand rubbed over her stomach, her thighs, nothing seemed to warm her skin. Nothing seemed to steal the blue from her lips or awaken her from her cold death- like slumber.

“You can’t leave me. Not like this.”

He raised his hand away from her body long enough to brush the tangled ropes of hair from her face and then rub at her arms once again. He just wanted to bring back everything that was vibrant and fiery about her.

Thinking back to the fire that had claimed his wife, Elliott surprised himself in realizing that the loss of Madeline had been a messy blessing. The thought of losing Abigail played out differently on his emotions. He couldn’t help but think a larger part of him would be lost if the cold did not release its grip on her life.

But he couldn’t keep her always, could he? She deserved better than him, yet that didn’t stop him from finding his way to her bed every night.

For now, he’d hold on to her with everything he was worth, which by his estimation wasn’t a whole lot since he wasn’t quite a whole man. It would have to be enough for now. Hopefully come morning, she was alive and well and this whole bloody incident could be a thing of the past.

He realized something then: With the ever- constant danger for her, it wasn’t safe here. Would he have to ask the woman he loved to leave?

He would find the culprit responsible for her accident.

He should have found them before now, but he had become too complacent when no other accidents had happened since her fall from the parapet wall.

Elliott rested his cheek against her ear. The sound of her small breaths was a balm to his soul. It soothed his mind knowing she was still fighting her way up from the sleep that had claimed her.

“Dare harm me and our family will no longer thrive in these lands.”

“I care not for I died the day my ladylove ceased to live.”

—The Dragon of Brahmors

Abby was hot. So blistering warm, she felt slippery with sweat. She rolled her head from the pillow and was brought up short by the fact that she wasn’t so much wet as damp.

Her body felt itchy, as though a thousand feathers tickled her all at once. Sand, she realized. Sand rolled underneath her as she uncurled her legs and slid them down a hairy, masculine set of calves.

Her limbs felt heavy and stiff. As though she hadn’t used them for days, or as though she’d taxed herself after a full day of riding her horse and hiking through heavy thicket.

And there was no escaping the fact that she was overly hot. Which probably had a great deal to do with her much warmer bed partner. His breathing was deep and even in sleep, his face a mere inch from her ear. Each exhalation lifted the hairs lying against the side of her face, causing them to flutter against her cheek.

She was hot, stiff, and pleasured by the peace she felt in her silent yet drowsily aware moment. She lowered her hands to her belly and sighed out a deep breath. All wasn’t lost if she lay in bed next to Elliott.

She wanted to turn around in Elliott’s arms, watch him at rest. Indulge in the sight of him in quiet peacefulness.

It was her favorite thing to do when he slept in her room at night.

She wanted to remember every part of his face before she told him the news of her pregnancy. It could wait no longer. Her life had nearly been washed to sea.

Uneasy thoughts tumbled around in her mind. She remembered the beach. The feeling of helplessness as someone had clubbed her in the head and dragged her into the ice- cold water. She also recalled the desperation that had clawed at her to free herself from her captor’s unrelenting hold.

Her mind had not succumbed so quickly to the deadening sea around her as she floated in a place between time and matter. Her body neither here nor there. Her mind had been all she’d had left. Troubled thoughts had taunted her and had made guilt almost outweigh the need to survive the ordeal she’d been put through.

She’d lied to so many people, including herself. Had probably hurt everyone in the process, though that would not be apparent until the truth wormed its way out of the rabbit hole.

There were so many ugly truths that could not be ignored for much longer, no matter what she and Elliott had previously revealed. No matter that Elliott had somehow saved her from a fate of nonexistence.

How else would she have ended up in his bed as though her evening were nothing but a bad dream? But the sand rubbing uncomfortably against her skin and the smell of salt water and seaweed told her it had been no dream.

With a deep inhalation, Abby turned so she faced Elliott. She slid her arms around his broad shoulders to draw circles across his shoulder blades with the tip of her fingers.

His hand had been firmly tucked under her side, his legs wrapped around hers, holding her wedged tightly into his body. It was comforting and arousing all at the same time. They always slept completely entangled with each other. But not quite this entangled.

She slid one hand toward his face to trace the strong, hard line of his jaw. Her fingers prickled over his morning beard, then the indent at his chin.

He did not stir, so she explored further, tracing the thin line of his upper lip, and stretched closer to kiss the lower one. It was the lightest, most fl eeting of kisses. She lingered there, relishing the feel of him warm and alive next to her. Which made her also warm and alive, not cold and lonely in the bottom of the sea.

Sliding her hand lower, she traced the firmness of his arms, then lower . . . her touch feather- like because she wasn’t sure if she wanted to wake him quite yet. For the first time this morning, she lay awake in his arms, aware of every nuance in the room: the soft tick of a clock, the wind rattling against the house as though a storm raged in a fervor of urgency outside while all remained calm inside.

Only she wasn’t calm. She was exhilarated, thankful, confused, needful, tired, and agitated all at the same time.

So many emotions fluttered inside her that she didn’t know which to focus on. So she focused on the man next to her.

The arousal only grew in intensity with each of her caresses. Sliding her hand between his arm and waist, she explored his pliant yet heavily muscled body. His breathing seemed to come faster, but his eyes remained closed.

What would she have to do to bring him to the realm of the living with her right now?

She needn’t worry, for his hands moved over her back and pulled her closer so they could wrap around her.

“I’m glad you’re awake, Abigail. You frightened me half to death.”

“I didn’t mean to,” she whispered.

What should she say? That it hadn’t been her fault? That someone had snuck up on her unexpectedly and she’d been rendered helpless to fight back? She didn’t want to say anything at all on the topic. Because that meant thinking about everything that had happened. That meant realizing she couldn’t stay here, in this place she called home. That she had to leave Elliott and Jacob behind.

What she couldn’t understand was why someone wanted to murder her. The only person who hated her a great deal was Martha. But Martha would not have had the strength to do what was done to her today, would she? Anything was possible, she guessed. But why try to kill her when all she needed to do was tell her she couldn’t stay on anymore? Was Martha afraid that Elliott would override her decision?

“You’ve nothing to apologize for,” he said. “Don’t even think of apologizing. We’ll figure out what happened.”

“Will we?”

She wanted to believe him, but this was like the time she’d been pushed from the parapet wall. Nothing had come of his investigation of the house then. Why should that change now? Someone had orchestrated her downfall twice.

She would not give them a third opportunity.

“I will figure this out.”

“It has to be someone who lives here.”

“Why do you say so?”

“You don’t believe me?”

“No, I believe you. It’s just a question as to whom.” He rubbed his palm along her back, dusting off the sand that stuck to her. “You should sleep.”

“I don’t want to. What time do you suppose it is?”

“Around midnight.”

She’d give herself one more night in his arms. Just the one was all she needed. She’d have to leave in the coming days. She’d not put the life growing in her womb at risk again.

“Make love to me, Elliott.” She looked at his face, into his eyes. She couldn’t make out the color in the dark room, but could see that he stared back at her.

With a slow, lazy smile, he said, “Now that I’ve got you in this position, I have no desire to let you leave.”

He lifted her from the bed, made quick work of losing the sheet they’d lain upon, and shook the sand from the counterpane before putting it back on top of the mattress.

Elliott was gentle, careful even as he helped her back onto the bed. It was as though he was afraid she’d break if he was too demanding on her body. He kissed, licked, and sucked at her breasts, her belly, and even her thighs.

His hands did not remain idle in their exploration of her form. Nor did hers, for that matter.

When he finally knelt between her spread thighs, he pushed his way inside her slowly. The slow loving was no less fulfilling than the other times they’d been frantic to have each other. It was like he was remembering her body.

Did he plan on sending her away? Even though she knew she needed to leave?

He kept most of his weight off her as they made love.

His lips were light on hers, as he tasted of her mouth.

When his crisis came, his thrusts were harsher. He did not collapse on top of her, but rolled to the side.

“I was too quick,” he said.

His hands skimmed down between her thighs, searching out the bud that would drive her to distraction. She stopped his hand. It was enough just to be together to night. She was tired and knew she should sleep off the ordeal she’d been through.

“It’s fine, Elliott. I just wanted to be with you. To know that you were real and that I was really alive.”

He didn’t move his hand away, and she wondered if he would insist. Was it silly that she was too tired and too sad to want to find any physical enjoyment beyond what they’d just shared?

“Just hold me, Elliott.”

He let out a deep sigh and gathered her close to his body so she could rest her head upon his chest. They said nothing more for some hours, as they both lay awake in each other’s arms. Finally, he asked her what had happened, what she had heard, what she had seen as her attacker had dragged her into the water. She told her story.

But each rendering gave them no new information as to who had harmed her.

The curtains were drawn from the window. Light tickled at the very edge of the horizon. A subtle reminder and nudge that she could not remain here with Elliott for much longer.

“I should dress. Where are my clothes?”

“I doubt they’re dry as yet. I’ll retrieve fresh linens for you.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll borrow your dressing robe and return to my room. I should go before the house hold awakes.”

“I’d rather you stay. You need to rest. I nearly lost you yesterday.”

She pulled herself higher on his body and pressed her lips to his. She wanted to stay here for the day and do just what they were doing.

“Explain again what happened,” he said.

She let out a long breath and recounted her story for the third time. Was Elliott hoping to catch additional details with each rendition of the events last night? Some obscure detail she’d accidentally left out the first two times?

She didn’t remember any details aside from the ones she’d already given him.

“I sat down by the water for a quarter hour at most. To rest. I had taxed my energy. I was sure I was alone. I heard nothing but the sea and a few gulls calling overhead.”

“Nothing to indicate another on the beach with you.

Something doesn’t seem right. Anyone approaching would have displaced the rocks and alerted you to their presence.”

She knelt atop the bed; her only aim was to dress for the day before servants could find them together. Or notice that both were absent from their usual morning routine. And she didn’t want anyone knowing of hers and Elliott’s affair.

Elliott pulled her over his body once more, draping her tired, sated body on his muscular form. Without their clothes on it was hard to not notice the state he was in with his cock pressed hard to her belly.

“Tell me truthfully how you feel.”

“Shaky,” was her honest answer. She was scared for her unborn child, too.

She hadn’t found the right moment to reveal the truth of her delicate state, yet.

“I don’t think you should be out of bed today. You need to regain your strength. And though your hair covers the gash you took across your skull, I worry that you might have a concussion.”

All true. She did need rest. She’d been so tired this past week and had thought their late nights had finally taken their toll on her body. But she had never wanted to put a stop to their evenings. One night away from Elliott was too long as far as she was concerned. She placed her palms lightly on either side of his face.

“I’ll manage the day well enough. You know nothing can keep me off my feet.”

Tonight she’d tell Elliott her plans to leave and why she had to leave to protect their child.

Come morning, however, she’d look every last servant in the eye to see if their body language so much as hinted that they didn’t expect to see her today.

Elliott brushed a few strands of hair from her face and forehead, then grasped her face between his large ones so he could kiss the end of her nose. She closed her eyes and did nothing more than bask in the moment, rubbing the tip of her nose against his once his lips moved away.

“Elliott, I . . .”

I love you she wanted to say. It was hard to concentrate on saying the words when he stared at her with that intensity in his eyes.

When she made no attempt to continue what she’d been about to say, he gave her a lazy self- satisfied smile.

Surely he hadn’t known what she was about to whisper in an unguarded instant.

“You have given me complete happiness for the first time in my life,” he said instead of waiting for her to fill the silence.

And he her.

Just as she finished the thought a pain deep and intense in her gut had her rolling off his warm body and onto the bed beside him.

She clutched at her lower abdomen trying unsuccessfully to assuage the pain with her hands.

A low moan tore from her lungs, taken from somewhere so deep inside her she thought maybe it was her very essence, her soul tearing in two. She tried to get her hands and knees under her, but Elliott pulled her back down on her side, his hand pressed like a solid unmovable anchor over hers, locking them in place.

Did he want to take the pain away from her? She didn’t want it anymore. She didn’t like this one bit. She thought she could pitch all the food she’d stuffed herself full of over the past week.

“Abigail. Oh, Abigail,” he said, a hint of sadness in his voice.

The pain was too unbearable to move from the fetal position she’d finally curled into. She wasn’t sure what happened or when she was fully aware again, only that time must have passed because Elliott was no longer a shield at her back but stood next to the bed, tears in his eyes.

Tears in his eyes? For what reason? She focused more closely on him, but he wavered from her vision. He had pulled his drawers back on and held linens in his hands.

She felt so cold without him at her side. And strangely empty as she watched him watch her. She was cold, like she was swimming . . . drowning in the frosty, arctic sea all over again.

Her hands were tucked firmly between her clenched thighs. Wet with sweat from her chills, she assumed. She yanked her hands away from the center of her body and wiped the cool rivulets of sweat running down the side of her brow. When pulled them away from her face, she saw only red staining