In fact, Miss Jones had nerves of iron as his palms smoothed down her thighs.
“What have we here?”
“Er…”
He fingered the contours. A sheath of some form at her garter in the shape of…a blade?
“Have you a weapon upon your person, Miss Jones?”
“A governess can never be too careful,” she retorted huskily. “Licentious employers, you understand.”
Hugh suppressed his quirk of lip. He should throw her out with a flea in her ear this very moment. But he still needed to discover who Miss Jones really was, wait until she gave herself away, and in all fairness, he’d not caught her in any demonstrable act of theft.
So, he’d let her believe he still thought her a simple governess, but from this moment onwards, Miss Jones would not be able to breathe without him knowing it, feeling it.
Breathing with her.
He untied her wrists.
“Albeit that I’ve found naught stolen on your person, I do feel a punishment for such an intrusion should be administered.”
“And I feel, Sir,” she spluttered with such innocence, pressing her freed wrists and scowling, “that a punishment for such mistreatment of a governess should be administered.”
His lips twitched.
Faultless debutantes wearied him, willing widows jaded him, and although Miss Jones may be a thief, a liar, a villain, or all three, there was something about her that…fascinated him.
So he brought a hand to her silken cheek.
She stilled but…turned not.
He cupped both her cheeks, mouth lowering to hers.
To punish.
Yet he did not force.
No, he tantalised. Lips brushing back and forth, his touch tender.
If she’d demurred or flinched, he would have halted.
But instead he breathed in her gasp, desire drowning him, wishing to kiss her until her lips parted in welcome.
But that did not happen.
Because all of a sudden, she took of her own accord. And it became torrid and ferocious and divine.
Her hands gripped his bare arms – skin to skin, nails clawing.
Caught up in the same dark sensual web as he.
Alone in this study.
Within the globe of lantern light.
No spies or governesses. Just them in the silence of the night, possession and need.
He threaded a hand through her lustrous hair, no control of his desire where this mendacious governess was concerned.
