Free An Improper Governess: An Improper Liaisons Novella, Book 2 by Amy Rose Bennett Page B

a shadow of uncertainty crossing her face.
    “You’re concerned about your reputation,” he said softly. It suddenly occurred to him that it was Abigail’s paradoxical qualities that had him so enthralled; that beneath Miss Adams’s very proper governess’s exterior lurked a passionate woman. A veritable siren.
    He couldn’t wait to get to know that side of her. But in the meantime, he would do what he could to allay her concerns.
    “I know it sounds ridiculous,” she said with a small sigh as she fiddled with his lapel. “You’d think my reputation shouldn’t matter to me considering the fact I will be leaving here. Most of the staff probably suspect something already. Especially Mrs. Graham.” She grimaced and transferred her attentions to the top button of his silk waistcoat. “Colin is probably waiting for me in the library right now.”
    The bloody footman. Surely she didn’t have a tendre for the presumptuous upstart. “I knew this interview might take a while so I had Lawson reassign him. I’m sorry if I’ve made things awkward for you.”
    A mischievous smile lit her eyes. “No you’re not.”
    “You’re right. I don’t give a jot about what the staff think, including Mrs. Graham. Or my sister-in-law for that matter. No one has a claim on your time except me, sweetheart. And I’m definitely not sorry about that.” He trailed a finger along the neckline of her plain green gown. Her pulse leapt in her throat and he smiled. He would dress her in the finest satins and silks and velvets. Or better still, nothing at all. Leaning in, his lips brushed her shell-like ear as he whispered, “I’ll take care of you, Abigail.”
    Her breath caught and she splayed her hands over his chest. “All right. We’ll lock the door.”
    “Excellent.”

    * * *
    A s Sir Nicholas secured the double oak doors, Abigail placed her hands over her hot cheeks. Dear God. She’s just agreed to have sexual relations with her employer—or perhaps she should now think of him as her protector—in the middle of the afternoon in the drawing room of Hartfield Hall. The notion was both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. She moved away from the window toward the center of the room and hovered near a red brocade settee, unsure how to behave. Thoughts of what they were about to do filled her head and she gripped her hands together to stop them from shaking. The sound of teeming rain filled the otherwise silent room. That and the mad drumming of her heart.
    As Sir Nicholas prowled across the carpeted floor, his blazing blue gaze focused solely on her face, he shrugged off his charcoal-grey coat and threw it carelessly over the back of a wingback chair. When he stopped directly before her, she exhaled a shaky breath and a frown creased his brow.
    “You seem nervous,” he observed, a note of concern in his voice.
    Abigail licked dry lips before attempting a smile. “Yes.” There wasn’t much point in denying it. She supposed most mistresses were self-assured seductresses. Whilst she had some experience, and she’d imagined doing all kinds of things with Sir Nicholas, now that the moment was upon her, self-doubt gnawed at her confidence. He wanted her, but would she be enough for him? She wanted to please him, but would she remember what to do?
    Sir Nicholas rubbed his jaw as he contemplated her. “Forgive me for speaking plainly but perhaps it was wrong of me to assume that I wouldn’t be your first...” He raised an eyebrow in query.
    She shook her head. “No. You’re not wrong. But it was several years ago that I... He was in service too. A footman. I liked him well enough but we were both young.” She shrugged a shoulder. “And then he moved on to another position.”
    “Ah, I see.” Sir Nicholas held out his hand and smiled. “Come.”
    Abigail placed her hand in his and he threaded their fingers together in such a way that her heart flipped over. These unexpected displays of tenderness were difficult