The Ungrateful Governness

16

Jessica stiffened when the knock sounded on her door. She might have known that her good fortune was too good to be true. She was going to have to share her room after all. The bed was certainly large enough to accommodate more than one person.

"Yes?" she called out hesitantly, wishing that she could pretend to be deaf.

There was no answer for a moment. Then her blood ran cold.

"Jess?" a familiar voice said.

Jessica leapt to her feet. Her book slid with a thud to the floor and her cloak slipped from her shoulders. "Who is it?" she called foolishly. There was only one person in the world it could possibly be. "What do you want?"

"May I talk to you for a minute?" the Earl of Rutherford asked.

"What about?" she said. "What do you want? I have nothing to say to you."

"Jess." He was speaking quietly through the thin door. "Will you please open the door? I have something of great importance that I must say to you. I give you my word of honor as a gentleman that I will not touch you."

"Go away," she said. Her voice was shaking, she noticed in some alarm. "Please go away."

"Jess, please listen to me," he said. "Please open the door. The innkeeper will be up here soon wanting to know what all the commotion is about. Just listen to me. Hear me out. Please."

She pulled the door open and immediately felt what a tactical error it was to have done so. He looked huge, clad still in his greatcoat and topboots. His hat and whip were in his hands. His hair was disheveled, his face rosy with cold. He looked impossibly handsome.

"My lord," she said breathlessly, "I do not know how you have found me here. But I will not be harassed any longer. I have left your father's house and your grandmother's. I am on my way to a new situation. I want nothing more to do with you. I thought I had made that plain. And I seem to recall that you promised just last night that you would leave me alone. Please go away."

"Jess," he said, "let me in. Let us not entertain a whole inn with our quarrel. No, you are quite safe." He said this as he stepped inside, closed the door behind him, and threw his hat and whip onto the bed. "I have promised not to touch you."

Jessica watched him warily and backed between the wall and the bed down toward the washstand.

"You must come back," he said. "This flight into Yorkshire and return to a life of service is madness, Jess. And totally unnecessary. You do not belong in such a life."

"Your tune has changed drastically within a few weeks," Jessica said. She was beginning to feel more in command of herself. "Until you discovered my grandfather, this was exactly the life in which I belonged."

"No," he said. "You forget that I offered you a very different life even before I discovered that you are Heddingly's granddaughter."

"My life is none of your concern anyway, my lord," she said. "If I choose to take a situation as a governess, that is my business only. I do not owe you an explanation."

"No, you do not," he agreed. "You owe me nothing,

Jess. Nothing at all. It is not for myself I plead. It is for you. I do not believe that you can be happy with such a life. And I have reason to believe that you are returning to it because of what I have said to you. But it is not true, Jess. It is not true that your reputation is ruined. You do not have to flee from society."

She looked at him, amazed. "Flee from society?" she said. "How absurd! Do you think I care what other people say of me?"

"Yes, I think you do," he said gently. "But other people are saying nothing, Jess. I made the situation sound very bleak yesterday morning, did I not, when I was trying to persuade you to accept my offer. I wished you to believe that you had no choice, that marriage to me was your only way of avoiding great scandal. But it is not so at all. I lied."

"Why?" she asked. She had moved around to the foot of the bed and held on to one of the bedposts.

He shrugged and smiled somewhat apologetically. "I don't know," he said. "I suppose I considered it a sure way of getting you to agree. Not very honorable, was it? And foolish, as it turned out."

"You should have been relieved that I released you from having to do the honorable thing," Jessica said.

"Relieved?" He laughed. "But it does not matter how I felt or feel, does it? That is not the question here. The point is, Jess, that you are running away from a situation that does not exist. And you belong back there. You belong with your grandfather, stubborn and wrongheaded as he can be. You need to marry and have a family with someone of your own class. Not this, Jess. Oh, not this shapeless gray dress, dear, and the severe hairstyle. And not the demure look, eyes cast down, that I saw at the Barries'. Not that, Jess. Please."

"Life was tranquil until just a couple of months ago," Jessica said. "It is only since that it has been full of feelings that have torn me apart. I have not been happy. And there is nothing to go back to. Only emptiness and heartache." She had laid her forehead against the bedpost and closed her eyes. "I want to be at peace again. I must go on."

She was aware of him throwing his greatcoat impatiently onto the mattress. He strode around the bed toward her but stopped a short distance away.

"I have promised not to touch you," he said. "Don't be so unhappy, Jess. Can you not see that I have been responsible for all your misery? I insulted you and harassed you when I first knew you, and I have pestered you with unwelcome attentions and with offers that you did not want. And the last one was unforgivable because I enlisted the help of a man whose wishes I thought you could not resist and used arguments that I thought would crumble all your resistance. Wherever you have turned, you have found me. And I now know that you have not wanted me in your life at all."

Jessica put one hand between her forehead and the bedpost so that he would not see her face.

"I am sorry," he said gently. "Love can make one very selfish and very blind. In my love for you, I was unconscious of the misery I was causing you. But the point is, dear, that it is a matter that can be put right. Once I have escorted you back to London-and I shall hire a carriage for you, Jess; I wil not ride with you- then I shall leave as I promised you last evening. And I shall not renege on my promise to leave the country in the spring and stay away for a few years. You will be happy once I am gone, Jess. I promise you will."

She was crying into her hand. But she could not move or say a word without betraying the fact to him.

"Would you prefer that I left now and sent someone else to accompany you tomorrow?" he asked. "Aubrey would come, or Godfrey, I know. Or would you prefer me to ask someone not connected with my family at all? Just promise me that you will stay here and not run away while I am gone."

Jessica was concentrating all her energies on not allowing a sob to escape her.

"Jess," he said suddenly. He sounded closer, though he still did not touch her. "You are not crying, are you?"

She felt a light, hesitant hand on her hair when she still did not answer.

"Don't cry," he said. "Please don't cry, dear. I can't bear to see how miserable I have made you. Please, Jess."

She turned away from him and reached for a handkerchief in her pocket. She scrubbed at her eyes and blew her nose.

"You must not blame yourself," she said. "You have not been entirely the villain of this piece, you know."

"You will come back?" he asked.

She stared down at her hands, her back toward him, for a long moment. "Yes," she said, "I will come back."

He did not move. "With me?" he asked. "Or shall I send someone else?"

"With you," she said.

"Thank you." The tension had gone from his voice. "Thank you for trusting me, Jess. You have made the right decision, you will see. You will be happy once I am gone. For tonight I will not risk scandal. There is another inn two miles farther north. I shall stay there for the night and return for you in the morning. I shall hire a carriage for you. All you have to do is wait here. You will wait, Jess?" There was a note of anxiety in his voice again.

"No." She shook her head and turned to face him. "Don't leave."

"There is no room left here," he said. "I should have to sleep in the taproom. Not that that would matter. But we must not stay at the same inn. Tattlemongers might make something of that if word were to get out."

"There is a room," she said. "Here. I want you to stay here."

"What are you saying?" He watched her intently, a frown between his eyes.

She swallowed and flushed. "Do you still want me?" she asked. "You used to want me. I am offering myself to you."

He did not move or change his expression. "I have not asked for anything, Jess," he said. "I have made no demands on you. I have come so that I might take you where you belong and set you free. I want you to be free, dear. You owe me nothing."

"Am I free to offer myself to you?" she asked. Her flush had deepened. Her hands twisted nervously against the sides of her woolen dress. "I do not feel constrained. I make the offer because I wish to do so."

"Jess?" He frowned and gazed at her uncertainly.

She took a deep breath and let it out raggedly. Then she stepped forward, laid a trembling hand against his coat, and lifted the other hand to join it. She unbuttoned the coat and then proceeded to do the same with his waistcoat. She spread her hands over the silk of his shirt and looked up into his eyes.

He had not moved, but he looked down at her in wonder.

"Don't you want me?" she asked, her eyes slipping from his.

"Don't I want you!" He caught her to him suddenly in a bruising hug and rocked her from side to side. "But I don't understand, Jess. I don't understand."

She raised her head from its position against his shoulder and found his eyes with hers once more. "Make love to me," she whispered. "Make love to me, my lord."

She gasped at first under the fierce onslaught of his kiss. His mouth covered hers hungrily and his tongue invaded its warm depths. But her passion matched his almost immediately. She put her arms up around his neck, arched her body against his, and gave herself. There would be no holding back this time, no last-second pangs of conscience. This time she was his for the taking, no matter what happened afterward. This time she offered the gift of herself in love and gratitude for the precious and selfless gift he had just given her: her freedom.

It did not matter that she no longer wanted that freedom. It was unimportant that she wanted nothing more than to be a prisoner of his love for the rest of her life. It mattered only that he had said that he loved her but had come to set her free. She would give him the most precious gift she possessed in return, and she would demand nothing, no security in advance.

His embrace soon gentled. And he was making love to her indeed, with sensitive, knowing hands, with warm lips and tongue, with murmured words whose sense was felt rather than heard, and with the firm touch of his body. And she touched him in return, kissed him, crooned words of love and desire.

"Come to bed," he said against her mouth eventually. "Come to bed with me, love, and let me unclothe you. Jess. Jess, my love, it will be good for you. I swear it will be good for you."

"Yes," she whispered. "Oh, yes."

And it would be good. She let him pull back the bedclothes from the bed and lay her down. And she lay still as he undressed her with expert ease. She watched him through half-closed lashes, his face flushed, his hair even more rumpled than it had been when he came in. She was glad that the candle had not yet quite burned itself out.

And oh, yes, it would be good for her. Her body hummed with desire for him. And with impatience as his hands left her naked body in order to remove his own clothes. It would be good. She would feel pain. In a few minutes' time he would hurt her, according to all accounts. But it would be a welcome pain. She was eager for it. She wanted the moment of becoming his to be very memorable. She wanted it to hurt and hurt so that she would know her gift worthy of her need to give.

But there was no more time for thought. He came to her then, and his hands and his mouth began to work their slow, erotic magic again. And she took fire, reaching to take him closer and closer, arching to give more and more of herself. And she was gasping, moaning with the need and the frustration of being unable to give or take any more.

"Jess." He was speaking against her mouth, his hands in her hair. "Now, my love. Now. It will be good. I shall try not to hurt you."

But she did not shrink from the fear of the unknown. She opened eagerly and fully to his body as it moved across to cover hers, and tilted her pelvis so that his hands could come beneath her.

And then she was gasping against his mouth, clawing at his shoulders, tense with shock and pain and wonder. And finally, when his inward movement had stopped, she relaxed against him and smiled against his mouth with sheer joy.

"Beautiful. Oh, beautiful, Jess."

His voice was deep with passion. He buried his face against her hair. And then she began to lose herself in unimagined ecstasy as he started to move in her. Oh, totally unimagined. No need now to wonder at her earlier frustration. Of course she had not been able to give as she had wanted. Of course she had not felt quite satisfied with what he had given her.

It was this. Only this. This total and intimate giving and taking of lovers. She knew no anxiety even though satisfaction did not come immediately but only rather an unbearable ache. He would make it good for her. And finally she knew the way to give herself completely. She held herself open and relaxed for her lover and held no part of herself from him.

And finally the pounding rhythm of his body slowed and he moved his head to murmur against her mouth as she felt the warm merging of selves deep inside her.

He lay heavy on her for several minutes, but she did not feel the discomfort of his weight. She pulled the sheet up around his bare shoulders, wrapped her arms around him, and rested her head against his. She stared up sleepily and happily into the darkness. She had not noticed exactly when the candle had finally gone out. She waited for whatever her future would be. But whatever it was, she would not regret what had just happened. She could never regret that.

"Mm." He murmured drowsily against her ear eventually and lifted himself away from her. "I fell asleep, Jess. You must be squashed. I am sorry."

He gathered her into his arms, her head on his shoulder, and tucked the blankets warmly around her.

"I did not mind," she said, her fingers feathering over his chest.

"I hurt you," he said. "You winced. I did not want to do that, Jess."

"But I am glad," she said. "I wanted there to be a very definite moment, even a painful one, when I became your woman."

"My woman," he said, his fingers touching her cheeks. "Why, Jess? I still don't understand. I had pledged not even to touch you. And then you offered me this. Why?"

"Because I was free to do it entirely of my own will," she said. "I have loved you from the day of your arrival at Lord Barrie's, I believe. And I have wanted you. I wanted to be your mistress. I wanted to be your wife. But there has always been pressure on me to do one of those things, always a very good and practical reason why I should do so. I was never free. I have never been able to give myself to you. The best I could do was allow you to take me. But not tonight. Tonight I was free to give."

"I thought you hated me," he said against her hair. "I thought I was the very last person on earth you wanted. Jess, I have spent all of yesterday and today trying to accustom myself to that thought."

"I wanted to know that I was free to choose," she said. "I wanted to know that you needed something from me too. Not just this. I wanted to know that you loved me. Tonight you have said that you do. I do not know quite what you meant by that. But you gave me something infinitely precious tonight. You gave me myself. Finally tonight I possessed something of value. I possessed myself, to give or to withhold as I chose."

"And you chose to give, Jess?" His lips were nuzzling her ear.

"Yes, I chose to give, my lord," she said, turning her head so that their lips met warmly. "It was a gift. But a free gift. There will be no talk tomorrow of being obliged to offer for me because my reputation is in shreds. You are under no obligation to me for anything from this moment on. I did not use my freedom in order to put chains on you. I want you to know that."

He found her hand in the darkness. "Will you marry me, Jess," he said, "because I love you and because I think you will become the dearest friend I will ever know? And because life without you has seemed to me for the past two days and still seems the bleakest prospect I could ever be asked to face? Will you, Jess?"

"Yes, my lord," she said.

Lord Rutherford smiled down at his betrothed. He wanted to laugh, but he was afraid of waking her. There was some light filtering through the window from the inn yard below. Otherwise he might not have realized that she had fallen asleep. At just the moment when he was preparing to settle in for a long and satisfying talk. How could any woman listen to a marriage proposal, answer, "Yes, my lord," and promptly fall asleep?

He dared not move. He did not want to wake her. He did not want to wake himself. He was beginning to feel all the unreality of what was happening. She had refused him just the day before. He had said good-bye to her the evening before. She had run away that morning. He had come after her in the hope of taking her back home before taking himself away from her forever. Even an hour ago-less-he had been holding his breath almost, hoping against reason that she would let him accompany her home or at least allow him to go back and send someone else to her.

He had not dreamed, in the whole long day he had never once dreamed that he would be able to win her for himself. And yet here he was, lying in Jess's bed at the inn, holding her in his arms, watching her sleep as a result of their lovemaking. And betrothed to her. And all because finally he had done unwittingly what she had wanted all the time. He had given her the gift of her freedom, she had said. And consequently she had given him back that freedom as a free gift.

And how very sweetly and thoroughly she had done so. In all his experience he had never lain with a woman who had given her all with such abandon. It was as if she had wanted to keep nothing at all back for herself. And she would not even allow him to feel guilty about her pain. She had wanted the pain, she had said.

Dear Jess. He could not resist the temptation to kiss her lightly on the nose. She opened her eyes immediately and smiled dreamily at him.

"Have I been sleeping?" she asked.

"Amazingly, yes," he said. "I wonder what we would find if we opened this mattress, Jess. A couple of wooden crates and several lumps of coal, do you think?"

"Don't complain, my lord," she said. "You have me in here and I have you. What more could we ask for?"

"A few tons of goose feathers, perhaps," he said. "But your point is well taken, love. If I had to choose between you and the goose feathers, I don't suppose I would choose the feathers."

"Thank you, my lord," she said, smiling sleepily.

"Jess," he said, "I know the force of habit is strong, but do you think that at some time during the next fifty years or so you will be able to bring yourself to call me Charles?"

"Yes, I think so," she said, "Charles."

He kissed her on the nose again.

"Charles," she said, "are you going to make love to me again tonight?"

"Another free gift, love?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"No." She shook her head. "One precious gift each is enough for one night. No, Charles, just for the sake of mutual pleasure?"

"That sounds fair enough," he said. "Very fair indeed, in fact. Well, my little gray governess, so this is the sort of activity that gives you pleasure, is it? You are not at all worthy of your calling, you know."

"I know, Charles," she said, wriggling over onto her back as he lifted himself above her. "That is why I am retiring, you know. I am going to be a lady of leisure. A countess, in fact."

She lifted her face to find his mouth in the darkness.