Not Just a Governess by Carole Mortimer

it!
    Obviously he could not speak for the ‘devilish gleam’ in his eyes, but the other part, at least, was without a doubt true, that hot and throbbing arousal evident in the obvious bulge pressing against the front of hisbreeches. An arousal he would probably have to deal with himself when he retired to his bedchamber later this evening. As he’d had to do this past four nights. Unless…‘Best bring me another flagon of this wine, Josie,’ he advised ruefully as he refilled his glass; inebriation was another way of banishing these intruding thoughts of the delightful governess from his mind. And quelling the raging desire of his shaft!
    Josie gave a throaty chuckle. ‘Just say the word and I’ll shimmy ’neath the table and see ’e’s settled quick as a wink.’ She gave a slow and pointed lick of painted ruby red lips as she looked down at the bulge in his breeches.
    ‘Tempting…but let me try the wine first, hmm,’ Adam murmured evasively.
    ‘You knows where I am if’n ye should change ya mind.’ She shrugged her shoulders good-naturedly, jiggling her ample breasts temptingly, before leaving the parlour to collect a second flagon of wine.
    Adam sat back with a sigh, knowing he had to find a suitable solution to this dilemma, of desiring a woman he had no right to desire, that he could not go on living in this physical and mental purgatory indefinitely; both he, and his estates, would suffer if he did notsoon find some way of putting an end to what had become a hellish situation.
    This past four days’ absence from Hawthorne Hall, of thinking constantly of Elena Leighton rather than the business he should be dealing with, had more than proved that point. And it provided him with only two solutions going forwards.
    Elena must either leave his household forthwith, and so be removed from both his sight and temptation, or Adam must give in to his desire and offer her the role of his mistress and hope—or fear—that she would accept…
    ‘Do you think Papa will be cross about Samson…?’ Amanda looked at Elena anxiously as she stroked the soft black fur of the rapidly growing kitten currently purring in her lap.
    In truth, Elena had absolutely no idea how Adam would react to his daughter having adopted the black kitten they had found after the picnic. He had left in his carriage for his business appointment later that very same day, without so much as saying goodbye to Amanda or leaving instructions for Elena.
    Elena did know that Amanda had been sobbing inconsolably when she had soughtout the little girl in her bedchamber that day, Amanda’s disappointment at her father’s imminent departure having been replaced with regret and remorse for having behaved so badly. A regret Amanda had unfortunately not had the opportunity to voice to her father before he’d left.
    And ever since he’d been gone, Elena had tried but failed in her attempts to forgive the dratted man as she witnessed her young charge’s misery.
    Amanda was aged only six, Adam Hawthorne was eight or possibly nine and twenty, and that disparity in years between father and daughter should have carried a similar disparity in their maturity. Unfortunately, in this case, that did not appear to have been the case.
    Consequently Elena was very angry with Adam. More angry than she could remember being for a long, long time—if ever. As a result, when it transpired that the black kitten was a stray, unaccepted by any of the mothering she-cats in the stables, Elena had taken it upon herself to give her permission when Amanda had asked if she might have the kitten for her own. And if Lord Adam Hawthornedid not like that decision, then Elena would tell him exactly why she had made it!
    ‘Not at all,’ she assured Amanda briskly. ‘I have every reason to believe your father is a fair and reasonable gentleman—’
    ‘I am glad to hear it,’ that very same ‘gentleman’ drawled from the schoolroom doorway. ‘Just as I would dearly love to hear