Not Just a Governess by Carole Mortimer Page B

as a lesson to Amanda in manners and etiquette,’ he added persuasivelyas he saw Elena was about to refuse his dinner invitation a second—or was it a third?—time.
    She arched dark brows. ‘In that case, might I expect to be allowed another afternoon off this month in lieu?’
    His mouth thinned at the stubborn defiance she made little or no attempt to disguise. ‘And what would you do with that second free afternoon, when, by your own admission, you do not know the Cambridgeshire area well?’
    She looked at him coolly. ‘I could use that free afternoon in which to know it better.’
    Adam bit back his instinctive reply, knowing that it would suffice nothing, change nothing, except to make her more determined not to dine with him rather than the opposite. ‘Then perhaps I might offer to be your guide?’ he came back with a good attempt at that reasonableness she had attributed to him earlier.
    She looked more alarmed than pleased at the suggestion. ‘You are such a busy man, my lord, I could not possibly ask or expect that you waste any of it on showing me Cambridgeshire.’
    ‘Or you to Cambridgeshire?’
    ‘I very much doubt, my lord, that the county has feelings one way or the otherabout meeting the governess of your young daughter!’
    Yes, whether she acknowledged it or not, she was indeed frostily indignant on her own behalf, as much as Amanda’s!
    It was an indignation totally at odds with her role of governess, an indignation that had given a flush to her ivory cheeks that was slowly moving down over the plump slope of her breasts visible above the low neckline of the turquoise gown she wore. Another of Mrs Hepworth’s creations, no doubt, Adam mused, approving of this gown even more than he had the rose-coloured one, admiring the way in which it deepened the colour of Elena’s eyes as they met his gaze unblinkingly and gave a soft glow to the ivory texture of her skin.
    Adam continued to hold that gaze with his as he spoke to his daughter. ‘Amanda, should you not consider taking Samson outside for a short time?’
    ‘Oh, yes.’ She gave a little giggle. ‘May I be excused, Mrs Leighton?’
    Those blue-green eyes narrowed slightly on Adam. ‘Yes, of course you may, Amanda. With your father’s agreement, I believe our lessons are over for today.’
    ‘Papa?’
    He smiled down at her approvingly. ‘I will see you at dinner, Amanda.’ Adam waited until his daughter had left the room before speaking again. ‘I believe, Elena, that I owe you an apology for my…brusqueness the last time we spoke together.’
    She raised haughty brows. ‘Is it now my turn to dismiss the repetitiveness of your own apologies, my lord?’
    ‘Adam.’
    She blinked. ‘I beg your pardon…?’
    ‘I believe I once asked that you call me Adam,’ he reminded her.
    Her cheeks warmed with colour as she obviously recalled the occasion on which he had made that request and the exact circumstances under which he had made it. ‘And I believe that I declined that invitation.’
    His mouth tightened. ‘Do you decline it still?’
    She gave a gracious inclination of her head. ‘As I must.’
    ‘Why must you?’
    Elena was unsure of how he came to be standing only inches away from her. She had not seen or heard him move, yet here he was, so close to her that she could see that black circle about the deep-grey iris as she lookedup into his eyes and smell the sandalwood cologne he wore. The darkness of his hair looked slightly damp, seeming to imply he had bathed and changed before coming to the schoolroom.
    She lowered her lashes to hide the expression in her eyes. ‘It is not fitting for me to address you so informally.’
    ‘Elena—’
    ‘Do not!’ She stepped back in alarm as he would have reached out and taken hold of her arms.
    He released a heavy sigh even as his hands fell back to his side. ‘Will you at least allow me to explain—to try to explain—why I was so ill-humoured on the last occasion we spoke