The Wicked Governess (Blackhaven Brides Book 6)(45)

“More accurately, he spoke to me,” she corrected herself. “Outside church.”

“What did he say?”

“He asked about Rosa.” At last, she met his intense yet veiled gazed. “And he warned me against you.”

Javan curled his lip. “I would expect nothing less. I’m sorry he chose you to bleat at, though. I was hoping he’d fled the country.”

“He said you beat him to within an inch of his life.”

“A slight exaggeration. Given what I suspect now, I wish I’d hit him harder. What else?”

“That you…that you forced your wife to marry you for her money and that you were responsible for her death.”

He kicked a stone out of his path. “Perhaps I was,” he said moodily.

“And he said that you mistreat Rosa,” she blurted.

He glanced at her with contempt, though for what or whom she could not be sure. “And you believe that?”

“No. I suppose I might have believed the rest if it hadn’t been for that, but I know nothing could induce you to harm Rosa.”

“You can’t know that,” he snapped. “One never knows what oneself is capable of, let alone what another person is. What you mean is, you hope I would never harm Rosa, because for some reason I have yet to fathom, you like me.”

“And that is why you hired me?” Caroline retorted. “In the mere hope that I would not harm her?”

A smile twisted his lips. “Exactly.”

She waved one dismissive hand. “You are impossible. Sir, if Mr. Swayle took the trouble to speak to me in this way, he may well be traducing you in Blackhaven to anyone who will listen.”

“I’m sure it’s all grist to the rumor mill,” he said without interest. “Which, judging by the way you looked at me when we first met, has already been working hard.”

“I had no idea who you were when we first met.”

“Do you know any better now?”

She held his gaze, watching with fascination as the icy contempt and fury behind them drained into something far warmer. “A little,” she whispered. “I think.”

His hand brushed her wrist among the folds of her cloak, and his fingers threaded through hers. “How did I exist without you, Caroline Grey?” His fingers curled convulsively. “How will I exist without you.”

Her heart beat so fast she felt dizzy. She was afraid to breathe, to say or do the wrong thing. But she could not prevent her hand clasping his.

“I will not leave unless you bid me.” The words came out hoarse, almost broken.

Abruptly, she was half-pushed, half-dragged off the path and into the trees until she felt the roughness of bark at her back and the hardness of his body pinning her there. His eyes blazed down into hers.

“You should not say such things to me,” he whispered.

“You should not do such things to me,” she returned shakily.

A warm smile flickered across his face. “No, I shouldn’t.” But he remained thrillingly pressed against her, forcing her to awareness of his muscled thighs, his hips, and the hardness that grew between. Delicious weakness held her still. Desire raged through her.

Slowly, his forehead dropped to hers and rested. “I wish…”

“What?” she asked desperately, and as suddenly as he’d seized her, she was freed.

“One day I might tell you that, too,” he flung at her as he broke back on the path. “Until then, you should avoid being alone with me because it seems I can’t keep my hands off you. Rosa! This way!”

Her trembling knees were reluctant to hold her up as she trailed after him to meet Rosa, struggling to work out what had just occurred.

*

At luncheon the following day, Miss Benedict happily revealed that she had received notes of acceptance to her dinner from both Lady Tamar and Mrs. Grant. And that Lady Tamar would gladly bring her younger sisters—news which made Rosa clap her hands, her face lit up with delighted expectation.

As they returned to the schoolroom, Caroline said lightly, “You’re looking forward to seeing the Braithwaite girls again.”

Rosa nodded.

“You enjoy their company,” Caroline observed, “as they enjoy yours. I’m glad you have found ways to communicate with them so that you can join in.”

Rosa’s smile faded. She looked away.

“You can’t always join in?” Caroline asked gently.

Rosa shook her head. A single tear squeezed out of the corner of one eye and trickled down her face.

“Rosa.” Caroline put her arm around the child, hugging her to her side. “No one thinks less of you for it. Your family loves you. I love you. Your friends will love you whether or not you speak. I just wonder if you wouldn’t have more fun if you could bring yourself to say the odd word here and there. We grow too comfortable sometimes, with the way things are, but we can always make them better. Like your father and your aunt giving up solitude for company.”

Rosa smiled wanly. For a moment, she clung to Caroline, and then broke free, and ran to the schoolroom.

Later that afternoon, while Rosa was lost in her painting of a bowl of fruit, Caroline was drawn to the window by the clop of hooves on the drive. Dr. Lampton, Blackhaven’s preferred physician, dismounted, and, leaving his horse with Williams, walked up the steps to the house.