Chapter Ten
Heathcliff Marston, Viscount Kilpatrick, was not a stranger to beautiful women. Nor was he a novice when it came to the naked female form.
Rather, he was considered an expert.
Lord knew he’d had more than enough experience.
Yet he still felt the lingering intensity that threatened to make him combust.
He tried to remember the trek to the house. Surely he would have noticed the transparency of the fabric before? Yet it was also reasonably sound to consider that the water continued to soak through the layers of clothing till . . .
He slid a hand down his pants to ease the ache between his legs.
And there was something else.
Employees did not demand apologies from employers.
He’d seen it in her eyes the moment they flashed at him in irritation.
She had expected one, and when the expectation wasn’t met, she had demanded it be satisfied.
It was rather erotic. The forest- turned water-nymph had a bit of a temper.
He liked it, but it was an untried emotion. One she didn’t use often.
Apparently, he had the knack for bringing it out.
That could be intriguing.
The nagging curiosity ate at him yet. Who was she? He’d often heard of ladies of good breeding falling on hard times and turning into bluestockings. Hell, they’d employed a few ladies who’d turned into ladies of the night because of financial destruction. It wasn’t often, and they came to Temptations because they’d at least be treated and paid well, but it made him wonder what trauma had befallen the nymph now next door.
Thatwas another problem. Of course Mrs. Keyes would put the governess in the nursery rooms, but when she said it, it seemed wrong, like petting a hound against the grain of his fur. But that didn’t bloody well give him license to deposit her in the room across from his.
As if she didn’t present enough of a temptation.
Damn it all, she was the help!
Nothing could come of it.
Except pleasure.
Only that was one particular pleasure that wasn’t to be had, or so he tried to remind himself. In an irritated motion, he unfastened the wet shirt that clung to his skin, gritting his teeth against the memory of howherclothing had done the same. Tossing the offensive reminder to the floor, he all but stalked to the adjoining closet and selected another. He should call his valet, but he wasn’t the kind who required constant assistance from others. No, he preferred to accomplish tasks with his own two hands. His fingers fumbled slightly with the buttons, but soon he was tugging the sleeve of his shirt into place while he finished dressing.
The generational clock sounded in the hall, and Heathcliff counted the chimes,four.They kept country hours here, and he expected dinner to be served at around six, which left him two hours. Much could happen in two hours, but there was only one thing that was a necessity.
He had to calm the hell down.
It wasn’t an impossible feat, but it was a feat nonetheless. Governesses weren’t to be trifled or flirted with. That was simply the end of it. Yet, as he shrugged on his coat, his mind drifted back to the perfect outline of her waist swelling to perfectly rounded hips. His memory traveled the length of her waist, higher . . . he shook his head. In truth, the fact that he was attracted to her should be the first sign to be wary.
His judgment in women had never been good. Rather, it was a universal truth amongst his friends that if he found a woman interesting, she was trouble.
It would behoove him to remember that, and apply it to this situation. Miss Miranda may be beautiful, with the form of a goddess, but fine figures often hid black hearts.
After all, a beautifully wrapped poison was still lethal, no matter how lovely the paper and bow.
He headed to the door and strode out into the hall. It had been months since he’d been in residence; he needed to address the small mountain of correspondence and documents requiring his attention that had taken habitation on the mammoth desk in his study. As he took the stairs down to the lower floor, he caught a glimpse of Mrs. Keyes leaving one of the parlors and entering the foyer.
“I see you’re all cleaned up as well,” she said, her brow arching.
