The Governess Was Wanton by Julia Kelly

earl’s attention, or maybe it was the sultry excitement of so many hidden identities wafting through the air like perfume. Either way, she leaned close to Lord Asten and said in a low whisper, “I think I should like a breath of fresh air.”
    It was tantamount to an invitation to kiss her right there in the middle of the ballroom, but wasn’t the risk a part of the fun she’d denied herself for so long? She craved the rush of skirting the rules, and the only man she wanted to be dangerous with was Lord Asten.
    â€œI think that’d be just the thing,” he said with a little conspiratorial smile. He glanced over his shoulder, placed a hand on the small of her back, and led her through the open door.
    It had just rained, and the scent of it mingled with freshly cut grass and the early roses that were just beginning to bloom. Her slippers hardly made a sound as she crossed the damp stone of the veranda to a spot where she was well out of the line of sight of any windows. The moon that had guided her path into the ball was now hidden behind clouds, making it even darker in the garden. All the better to do sinful things with a man she wanted but would never be able to have.
    â€œDo you know what they call this time of night?” she asked, trailing her gloved hand along a marble banister.
    â€œTell me.”
    He stood very close behind her. Even though he wasn’t touching her yet, his breath stirred the little curls on the back of her neck. She tipped her head just enough so that she could watch him from the corner of her eye.
    â€œThe witching hour,” she said.
    The earl raised a hand and drew a finger along the line of her shoulder, down to the little scraps of fabric that hugged the top of her arms. “That’s fitting.”
    â€œWhy is that?” she asked.
    â€œBecause you’ve cast a spell over me.”
    The words sounded as sweet as honey. Intoxicating, seductively simple words. She turned and found herself caged between his strong arms, mere inches of space between the two of them. She sucked in a breath, knowing that something was about to happen. The earl was so focused on her. So intent.
    â€œYou still won’t give me your real name?” he asked.
    Anticipation raced through her veins and pooled between her legs. “No.”
    â€œThen I’ll have to be more persuasive.” The words were low and gravelly, as though he was holding himself back from the edge of the depths. Once he plunged in, taking her with him, there would be no coming back.
    Mary tilted her chin up, perfectly positioning her lips and hoping against all hope that the earl—a man of great character and duty—would decide to be just a little bad this night.
    When his lips touched hers, she forgot everything except the sensation of him on her. All at once his hands were around her waist, pulling her to him. Even through her skirts she could feel the hard length of his athletic body against hers, and yet it wasn’t enough. She wanted all of him pressed up against her, skin to skin, with no fabric separating them. She needed him to bend her over the banister and ravage her in ways that a governess wasn’t supposed to know about.
    He was a man—raw and primal—casting off the bounds of duty and restraint and taking exactly what he wanted without excuse. Didn’t she owe it to herself to do the same?
    She opened herself to him almost without understanding what she was doing. All she knew was that when she parted her lips, he traced them with his tongue and it felt good. Better than good. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced before, driving all common sense out of her head and with it, every concern about being caught. It didn’t matter who he was or who she was or where they were. The only thing that mattered was that he not stop.
    Too soon, Lord Asten broke their kiss. She whimpered in protest, but then his lips were on her neck and desire