Page 6 of Her Duke to Beguile: Lady Be Wicked
She had been lounging in her little area of the garden for some time now. The sun was starting to set and she should return to the house. But once she left her spot in the garden, she would have to return to reality. Something Eleanor was loath to do…
“Bloody hell,” a gentleman muttered.
Eleanor sat up. Who was there? Should she announce herself or hide? This was not the first time she had secluded herself in this particular spot in the garden. No one ever came here. Yet, someone had, and that left her too startled to react.
“How can I be lost in my own damn garden,” the gentleman mumbled.
It was the duke… He sounded…wrong. Should she help him? He was mumbling something, but she couldn’t quite make it out. Slowly, Eleanor got to her feet and tiptoed toward the sounds of his feet shuffling against the stone path. “Your Grace,” she called out to him.
The Duke of Cranbrook stiffened and turned toward her. The duke narrowed his gaze, as if he couldn’t quite see her properly. “The delightful governess?” He took a step toward her. “Am I imagining you?”
He was inebriated. She had never been around a man who was foxed before. What should she do? “I’m quite real, Your Grace.”
The duke took a few steps toward her. He reached out his hand and grazed the back of his hand over her cheek. “So soft,” he said in a hoarse tone. “So, so lovely.”
Her cheeks heated at his words. Surely he didn’t realize he was talking to her. Eleanor had never been so captivated in her entire life. She should not allow him to take such liberties. She had a reputation to preserve, and yet, she also wanted him to do so much more than merely touch his hand to her cheek. “Do you require assistance, Your Grace?”
“I do,” he said, then groaned. “But I shouldn’t ask that of you. You’re far too sweet, lovely governess.” He tilted his head to the side. “Do you taste as sweet as you look? I bet you do.” The duke shook his head, then groaned again. “Shouldn’t have done that. Now the world is spinning before me.”
Eleanor sighed. He was saying things she longed to hear, but clearly the man had too much to drink and she shouldn’t take any of it seriously. He might say those things to any female he stumbled across. “Let me help you back to the castle, Your Grace.” She stepped toward him.
That was her first mistake. She tripped and fell into him, then they both tumbled to the ground. The duke had wrapped his arms around her and braced them both so that when they hit the ground; he cushioned her fall. “If you wanted me to hold you, all you had to do was ask. No need to throw yourself into my arms. I assure you, I am quite willing. At least with you…only you.”
Did he think she was someone else? That was the only thing that made any lick of sense. “We should return to the castle, Your Grace?”
“I like it here,” he insisted. “Here I have you. At the castle, I have to pretend I don’t want you. Don’t leave me.”
“Your Grace…”
“George,” the duke said. “You must call me George. We’re more than mere acquaintances now. I’ve held you, touched you, and I damn well plan on kissing you.”
“I cannot…” She didn’t get the chance to finish that sentence. He was a man of his word and he pressed his lips to hers. She lost all ability to think or form words. All she could do was feel, and that kiss sent a spike of desire through her entire being.
Eleanor never imagined a kiss could make her feel so damn much, or that she would suddenly want far more than she ever should. Before, it was a dream. This was reality, and reality far surpassed anything she could ever have imagined. This kiss. It was everything. How would she ever return to being a mere governess after this?
Four
George groaned and placed his hand over his aching head. He should never have listened to Allister and gone into town. Then he wouldn’t have imbibed too much and… He cursed and sat up abruptly. What had he done? Surely he couldn’t be recalling things correctly. When he returned, he definitely had not wandered into the garden and he most definitely had not kissed the governess.
He cursed again.
As much as he wanted to be wrong, he was also certain he did remember the previous evening correctly. He had kissed her, and it had been a glorious kiss at that. She hadn’t pushed him away, and she had let him thoroughly taste that delectable mouth of hers. But everything after that had gone sideways. She had stepped away from him, and then she had insisted that she help him inside. Once they reached the castle, another servant had appeared and ran to fetch George’s valet.
Bivens had taken charge immediately, and he had lost any chance he had of seducing the lovely governess. He should be thankful for that. Seducing the lovely Miss Jones would have been a mistake; however, he couldn’t find any semblance of gratefulness. To his addled brain, it was nothing more than a missed opportunity. He wanted her, and damn the consequences. Though there still might be some of those to contend with. She could still resign her position and she had every right to do so.
George had to make it right with her…
He just didn’t know how to go about accomplishing that particular feat. Bivens strolled into his bedchamber and stared at him. The disapproval in his valet’s eyes was evident as he glared at George. “Your Grace,” he greeted him. His tone was far more neutral than his gaze implied. “I’ve had a bath drawn for you. I’m also to tell you we have guests in the drawing room, and Lady Craven has requested you join her at your earliest opportunity.”
He groaned. Again. Who the blazes had decided to visit Cranbrook Castle? At least Allister had made sense. His estate was only a half day’s ride, and they had important issues to discuss. No one else should have cause to pay a call on them. It was the sole reason he had decided to abandon London for the peace of his countryseat. Now it appeared as if that solitude would be intruded upon as well.
“Did she mention who is visiting?” Perhaps it wasn’t as terrible as he anticipated it would be. He’d been wrong before, and he desperately wanted his assumptions to be incorrect.
“She did not,” Bivens said. He remained still near the entrance to George’s dressing room. “I am merely delivering the message I was given.”
Of course he was. George’s sister never gave details to the servants. She didn’t believe there was a reason to, and there probably wasn’t. That didn’t mean he had to like it. He preferred to be prepared for anything, but his sister wasn’t going to allow him that small comfort. He sighed and strode to the tub. He’d have to bathe quickly or there was no telling what his sister might do. She could be relentless when she demanded someone to do something, and she seemed to think that he needed to be present with this visitation. She rarely requested that of him.
He slid into the warm bath and took a deep, fortifying breath. The bath felt heavenly, and he was glad his valet had arranged it. He might feel more himself after its conclusion, and he would need to be his best before he left his bedchamber. If his sister asked him to join her, then the visitor was one she didn’t wish to be alone with for too long.
