“Oh, no, it is not,” Catherine retorted, raising her empty china teacup. “I want the tart, Ian. And if you do not hand it over to me this minute, I’m going to cosh you over the head.” Catherine swung her arm higher in the air to emphasize her resolve.
“Catherine!” Isabella exclaimed in a voice filled with indignation. “Put that tea cup down this instant!”
Catherine opened her mouth as if to protest Isabella’s command but remained silent when she caught a glimpse of the earl’s stern features. Reluctantly, Catherine lowered her arm, although she continued to glare challengingly at her younger brother.
Isabella let out the breath she had been holding as Catherine resumed her seat. The momentary calm was shattered as Ian and Catherine both made a sudden, simultaneous grab for the pastry. Isabella saw their intent and somehow managed to be quicker than either of them. Impulsively, she snatched the offending pastry off the tray, and in a final desperate attempt to prevent the children from coming to physical blows, stuffed the strawberry tart into her mouth.
Her completely unexpected action stunned the children into silence. Catherine, Ian, and the earl stared openly as Isabella struggled to keep from choking while she chewed and then tried to swallow the large, dry tart.
Isabella refused to allow the embarrassment she felt to show. Boldly, she returned the shocking stares she received from the earl and his children, her jaw moving ferociously as she chewed the tart, her deep violet eyes sparkling with anger, daring any one of them to make a comment. When at last her throat was clear, Isabella announced in her sternest, most proper governess’s voice, “Children, tea is over. However, before you take your leave of this room, you will apologize to your father for your rude behavior and unmannerly display this afternoon.”
Isabella braced herself for a tirade of protest, intending to stand firm, but one stern look from Damien and the children begrudgingly complied with Isabella’s request.
The welcoming silence that descended on the drawing room after Catherine and Ian departed helped sooth Isabella’s ragged nerves. She had spent the past two hours correcting, admonishing, and outright threatening her charges in an effort to make them behave in a civilized manner. In the end her efforts met with very little success. She felt drained and agitated and was certain these emotions were plainly written on her face.
Isabella glanced speculatively at the bottle of brandy on the sideboard as she poured herself a cup of lukewarm tea. Even though she rarely consummed them, the idea of strong spirits to calm her ragged nerves held definite appeal. Yet she would never be so bold as to pour herself a glass, especially in front of the earl.
Isabella was, in fact, afraid to look at Damien, not wishing to see the disapproval and reproach he must certainly be feeling reflected in his eyes. What must he think of her! Was she so poor a governess that she could not keep two young children under control long enough to have a civil cup of tea with their father?
The earl rose from the brocade settee and stretched his long legs. He walked carefully toward the sideboard and poured two generous portions of brandy. Wordlessly, he crossed the room and held out a glass to Isabella. She looked up, startled, as he pressed the goblet into her hand, but offered no protest.
“You look as though you could use this, Isabella,” Damien said with a distinct twinkle in his eye. “I know I certainly need lit.”
Isabella did not miss the amusement on his handsome face. “I can see you find this entire situation humorous, sir,” she said dryly, “though for the life of me I cannot imagine why.”
“Come now, Isabella, I thought you would be pleased,” Damien replied with a teasing smile. “Catherine and Ian were acting like their mischievous little selves again. Wasn’t it just this morning you were saying how concerned you were because the children were not exercising their . . . um . . . how exactly did you phrase it? Oh, I remember . . . their ’natural curiosity.’ ”
Isabella stifled a groan at the earl’s remark. For a brief moment she wondered if Damien had put his children up to this afternoon’s antics but she quickly ruled out the possibility. No father in his right mind would willingly encourage such appalling, obnoxious behavior.
“Encouraging a child’s natural curiosity is one thing, sir,” Isabella insisted, as she took a small sip of the brandy. “Tolerating their unruly and rude behavior is an entirely different matter.”
“They weren’t all that bad today,” Damien said in a conversational tone. He drained his glass and refilled it before reclaiming his seat. “If I remember correctly, the last time my children fought over a pastry, Catherine lost a clump of her hair.”
“Ian pulled out Catherine’s hair?”
“Only a small amount,” Damien clarified calmly. “Of course, he was provoked. Catherine bit him on the arm. Twice, I believe.”
“Hair pulling and arm biting over Mrs. Amberly’s dry strawberry tarts,” Isabella said, shaking her head in amazement. “I shudder to think what would occur if Catherine and Ian sampled a competent pastry chef’s wares.”
“It could very well mean war.”
Isabella could not prevent the small laugh that rose to her lips. She took another sip of her drink. “Yes, I can picture it clearly. Teacups being thrown, hair being lost, numerous body parts being bitten.”
The earl indulged in a low chuckle and Isabella felt her heart lurch at the rich, intimate sound. Why did she find him so incredibly appealing? Deliberately focusing her attention away from the restless churning in her stomach, she cleared her throat loudly and said in a serious voice, “I don’t intend to treat this lightly. It was amply demonstrated this afternoon that I need to exercise greater control over my charges. Yet, I feel strongly that the reason for the children’s appalling behavior is their quest for your attention, sir.”
“I believe you are making far too much of all this,” Damien insisted, trying not to concentrate on her delicate face. Her cheeks were flushed from the brandy, and a wisp of chestnut hair grazed her temple. Damien thought she looked lovely, disturbingly so. “My children are merely high-spirited, Isabella.”
“I prefer them disciplined. Are you going to support me in my efforts?”
“Yes,” Damien whispered softly.
“Good,” Isabella replied with a satisfied nod. She lifted her chin defiantly and gazed directly into Damien’s bold gray eyes, determined to conquer the strange emotions he inspired.
It was a mistake. Damien met her direct stare with an intense, powerful look that sent chills up and down her spine. His eyes held a challenge she did not fully understand, yet she admitted honestly to herself that she was intrigued. Though they were separated by several feet, Isabella swore she could feel the heat of his powerful body.
They would have sat there indefinitely, if not suddenly interrupted by Jenkins’s voice.
“Are you going to ride out and inspect the work on the south fence before darkness, my lord?”
