this,” he said, tracing the shape of his own lips with the tip of his tongue.
After a moment, Tessa licked her lips as he had done, and a soft sound escaped his throat watching the pink tip of her tongue glide over the Cupid’s bow. Something shifted in his loins. The vision of her reclining there, her long chestnut mane rippling over her shoulders, her dewy lips still parted, had aroused him from across the room. What would those lips feel like beneath his own? He could almost taste their honey sweetness. Would that tongue, those lips, betray him as Elena’s had done? Dared he chance finding out? Could he suffer betrayal again?
Never had a woman—any woman, lady or whore, for he’d known his share of both—affected him the way this mysterious female did. Was she angel or witch? It didn’t matter. He was captivated. His manhood was tight against the seam of his buckskins, his heart hammering in his breast. Cold sweat trickled down his spine, riding gooseflesh that had raised the fine hairs from the nape of his neck to the small of his back. His loins were on fire.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “What did you ask me just now?”
Tessa gasped. All at once her focus shifted and her eyes flashed. From her position, she had seen what he could not from his vantage at the easel, until his head snapped toward the doorway and Master Monty standing barefoot in his soiled and wrinkled nightshirt.
Muttering a string of oaths, Giles slapped the palette down on the table, scattering paint and brushes, and made a lunge for the boy. But Monty darted straight for Tessa, who had vaulted to her feet, and threwhis arms around her waist, clinging fast with pinching fingers.
“I…I’m sorry. I’ve been bad, miss,” the boy hiccupped, tears streaming down his face. “I got locked in a room…It was dark, and…and…”
Tessa was just about to embrace the boy when Giles wrenched him away from her none too gently and propelled him toward the door, his white-knuckled fist wound tightly in the back of Monty’s nightshirt, out of the way of the boy’s deadly teeth.
“Mr. Longworth, please. He’s only a child!” Tessa shrilled.
Exasperated, Giles flashed her a look that backed her up a pace. “That is all we’ll do today, Miss LaPrelle,” he said, steering the boy through the door. “The light is soon gone in any case. You are dismissed.”
“You’re a clever little bastard, aren’t you, Master Monty?” Giles seethed, hauling the boy along the corridor toward a narrow staircase at the far end of the hall. “Trying to seduce the new governess, eh? You won’t send this one screaming from the Abbey. She’s onto you. You’ve met your match, finally.”
“I…I don’t know what you mean,” the boy whined. “Where are you taking me?”
“Where you can cause no harm until morning,”
“I’m hungry,” the child wailed.
“You will be fed.”
“I’m cold!”
“My hand will warm your bottom if you do not stop that infernal whining!” Giles warned him.
“It will be dark soon,” the child reminded him. Cold chills of a different breed riddled Giles’s spine with gooseflesh now, at the sound of that rasping adult voice coming from his nine-year-old ward. He needed no reminders. The sun was going down. Soon the moon would rise. Thefull moon. There was much to do before then, and not a moment to lose.
They were nearly halfway up the back staircase when Foster came running at a pace Giles would not have believed unless he’d seen it himself.
“You’ve found him!” the valet cried, sagging against the wall. “He broke the lock on the tapestry suite bedchamber door. You will not believe the devastation in those rooms, sir!”
“Never mind,” Giles replied. “I’m taking him to the old tower room. Go down and fetch a tray of food for our little savage here, and bring bed linens for the cot up there. No candles. The moon will give off enough light for his shenanigans.”
The words were
After a moment, Tessa licked her lips as he had done, and a soft sound escaped his throat watching the pink tip of her tongue glide over the Cupid’s bow. Something shifted in his loins. The vision of her reclining there, her long chestnut mane rippling over her shoulders, her dewy lips still parted, had aroused him from across the room. What would those lips feel like beneath his own? He could almost taste their honey sweetness. Would that tongue, those lips, betray him as Elena’s had done? Dared he chance finding out? Could he suffer betrayal again?
Never had a woman—any woman, lady or whore, for he’d known his share of both—affected him the way this mysterious female did. Was she angel or witch? It didn’t matter. He was captivated. His manhood was tight against the seam of his buckskins, his heart hammering in his breast. Cold sweat trickled down his spine, riding gooseflesh that had raised the fine hairs from the nape of his neck to the small of his back. His loins were on fire.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “What did you ask me just now?”
Tessa gasped. All at once her focus shifted and her eyes flashed. From her position, she had seen what he could not from his vantage at the easel, until his head snapped toward the doorway and Master Monty standing barefoot in his soiled and wrinkled nightshirt.
Muttering a string of oaths, Giles slapped the palette down on the table, scattering paint and brushes, and made a lunge for the boy. But Monty darted straight for Tessa, who had vaulted to her feet, and threwhis arms around her waist, clinging fast with pinching fingers.
“I…I’m sorry. I’ve been bad, miss,” the boy hiccupped, tears streaming down his face. “I got locked in a room…It was dark, and…and…”
Tessa was just about to embrace the boy when Giles wrenched him away from her none too gently and propelled him toward the door, his white-knuckled fist wound tightly in the back of Monty’s nightshirt, out of the way of the boy’s deadly teeth.
“Mr. Longworth, please. He’s only a child!” Tessa shrilled.
Exasperated, Giles flashed her a look that backed her up a pace. “That is all we’ll do today, Miss LaPrelle,” he said, steering the boy through the door. “The light is soon gone in any case. You are dismissed.”
“You’re a clever little bastard, aren’t you, Master Monty?” Giles seethed, hauling the boy along the corridor toward a narrow staircase at the far end of the hall. “Trying to seduce the new governess, eh? You won’t send this one screaming from the Abbey. She’s onto you. You’ve met your match, finally.”
“I…I don’t know what you mean,” the boy whined. “Where are you taking me?”
“Where you can cause no harm until morning,”
“I’m hungry,” the child wailed.
“You will be fed.”
“I’m cold!”
“My hand will warm your bottom if you do not stop that infernal whining!” Giles warned him.
“It will be dark soon,” the child reminded him. Cold chills of a different breed riddled Giles’s spine with gooseflesh now, at the sound of that rasping adult voice coming from his nine-year-old ward. He needed no reminders. The sun was going down. Soon the moon would rise. Thefull moon. There was much to do before then, and not a moment to lose.
They were nearly halfway up the back staircase when Foster came running at a pace Giles would not have believed unless he’d seen it himself.
“You’ve found him!” the valet cried, sagging against the wall. “He broke the lock on the tapestry suite bedchamber door. You will not believe the devastation in those rooms, sir!”
“Never mind,” Giles replied. “I’m taking him to the old tower room. Go down and fetch a tray of food for our little savage here, and bring bed linens for the cot up there. No candles. The moon will give off enough light for his shenanigans.”
The words were
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