The Governess Game (Girl Meets Duke #2)(29)

For a moment, she forgot all about the knot. And the nursery, and the children, and anything else in the world that wasn’t his hard, lean male body. She was wrapped about him like a sailor lashed to the mast in a storm. And then his hand gripped her hip and pulled her closer still. As if they were lovers in an embrace.

He exhaled a shaky breath. The sigh gave her just enough space to work with. She wiggled her trembling fingers into the loop of rope, then pulled.

There. The knot was undone, and so was she.

They weren’t prepared. Pressed together so closely, they had all the stability of a lawn bowls pin. The sudden release sent them toppling, and his grip on her backside meant she tumbled with him.

And landed atop him, as they hit the floor with a thud. He cushioned the fall, taking the brunt of it.

“Oof.”

Alexandra levered herself on her elbows. “Are you injured?”

“No.”

“But you thunked your head.” She felt his skull. “Say something.”

“Ouch.”

She laughed, both relieved and nervous.

“Now I know what that dratted doll feels like.”

“Are you hurting terribly?”

“Tomorrow I will be. At the moment, I’m fine.”

“You’re certain? Perhaps I should—”

“Alexandra.” He cupped her chin and forced her to meet his eyes. “Enough.”

Goodness. The sound of her name from his lips, in that forceful, husky voice . . . He still clutched a handful of her backside.

“I know you don’t approve of the piracy game, but it’s the one way I’ve found to reach them. Daisy’s struggling with her lessons. She can scarcely read. Rosamund is so protective of her. Her instinct is to push me away rather than risk being hurt. They need patience.” She paused. “More than that, they need to feel safe and loved.”

“I’ve told you. I cannot give them that.”

“You could if you tried.”

“I thought you understood this from the very first day. I’m a bitter disappointment, remember. A poor excuse for a gentleman. A man incapable of understanding the consequence of stockings.”

“But you’re also a man who holds a little girl’s hand and eulogizes her doll every morning. A duke’s heir who builds cozy window seats and bookshelves by hand for his orphaned wards.”

“How did you know that?”

“I guessed. Downstairs, you were hanging your own paneling. Thank you for my verandah, by the way. You’re good with your hands.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” he growled. He gathered another handful of her bottom and squeezed.

An electric thrill forked through her. After zinging wildly all over her body, the sensation settled in her nipples, drawing them to tingling points.

“See? Don’t waste your time attempting to ‘reform’ me. It’s a lost cause.” He muttered, almost too low for her to hear: “I’m a lost cause.”

A lost cause?

That wasn’t the sort of conclusion one came to on one’s own. Someone had taught him a lie, etching it not only on his mind, but in his soul. Whoever it was, Alexandra despised them—on behalf of Rosamund and Daisy, and on behalf of Chase Reynaud himself. She couldn’t allow such a falsehood to pass unchallenged.

“Chase.” She softened her touch, smoothing back his hair. “No one’s a lost cause.”

His eyes held a clash of emotions. Doubt, mixed with a desperate yearning to believe. Denial, warring against desire. Push, tethered to pull.

Don’t imagine things, she told herself. In all likelihood, his eyes merely reflected the confused emotions in her own.

His grip on her bottom went firm as a decision. Her breath caught. In a flash, he’d rolled her onto her back, pinning her beneath him.

“Listen to me,” he said. “If I were any sort of decent man—one who could be trusted to care about anyone other than himself—I wouldn’t have a governess flat on her back, beneath me, on the nursery floor. If you refuse to believe that, I’ll have to teach you a lesson.”

She gave him a teasing smile. “What if I teach you one first?”

She kissed him square on the forehead.

He kissed her back, square on the lips.

And the passion of it took her breath away.





Chapter Thirteen


Chase kissed her forcefully, to prove what he was. There was no tenderness in it, only punishment. A good lashing with his tongue rather than a switch.

If everyone else was playing pirate, he was going to play pirate, too.

Pirates took. They seized. They plundered.

He kissed his way down her neck—her delicate, lovely neck—while he skimmed his hand the full length of her torso, tracing the contours of her body through the thin muslin of her frock. The embrace he meant to be punishing became much too tender.

“Alexandra,” he whispered.

Her friends called her Alex, but he wasn’t her friend. He was her employer, her superior in society, and a practiced rake. One who could ravish her right here, right now on the creaking schoolroom floor, amid the scattered books and slates and chalk.

Instead, all he wanted was to kiss her for hours. Days.

Every woman was unique, but she was just so different. Strange and brave and clever. She made him different, too. For once, he wanted to slow down, take time to explore and notice everything about her, rather than hide from himself.