shrugged, a slight, unconsciously graceful gesture. ‘It is my job to fit in and make the best of what I find. Few households can be said to be ideal.’
‘No doubt you are right. Finish your wine now, it is time for us to retire.’ He got to his feet and reached for a candle to give her.
There was no mistaking the tension that shot through her at his innocuous words. She stood up, lifted her chin and said with just the merest tremor in her voice, ‘Of course my lord. I am quite…ready.’
Ready for what? Then he realised what the tightly clasped hands and the pulse beating visibly at her throat meant. She thought he had brought her home to—Damn it, does she take me for some libertine? Gareth leashed his temper with an effort. ‘So, you think you have jumped out of the frying pan into the fire, do you, Jessica?’
Her eyes widened at his use of her name, the pupils expanded so their green light became almost black. ‘You had gone to that place for a purpose and thanks to me you were not able to accomplish it.’ She stood quite still, although he could see the edge of the nightgown moving. She was trembling and suddenly that made him furious.
‘Are you a virgin?’ he asked, his voice harsh.
She went white. ‘Yes. I am.’
‘And you think I am in the habit of ravishing virginal young ladies?’
‘I am not a lady, I am a governess.’ Her lips tightened for a moment. ‘From my observations, the aristocracy regards governesses in much the same light as chambermaids.’
‘As fair game?’ Obviously being an aristocrat weighed heavily against him.
‘Yes.’ She gave a little huffing breath as though to recover herself after running. ‘And I owe you for rescuing me—I pay my debts.’
‘Indeed?’ Gareth set the candlestick down with a snap, suddenly too angry to analyse why. ‘Would it be worth my while, I wonder? Virgins are no doubt interesting, but then there is the lack of experience…’
‘I learn quickly my lord.’
‘Do you, Jessica?’ He closed the distance between them and cupped his hands around her shoulders. Under his big palms her bones felt fragile. ‘Let us see just how quickly’, and he bent his head and kissed her full on the mouth.
Jessica had just enough warning to drag a breath down into her lungs and then her world changed. One moment she had no idea what a man’s mouth felt like, what a male body crushed against hers would feel like or how her own body would react to such contact—and the next everything became a sensual blur filled with this man’s heat and scent and taste and the pressure of his lips devouring hers.
She was up on tiptoe, held hard to him, his big body forcing hers to curve and mould into his. His mouth moved on hers with purpose that confused her until she realised that he wanted her to open to him. With a little gasp she did so and his tongue filled her, hot and moist and indecently exciting. She could taste the wine they had been drinking and something else that must be simply him. He was possessing her mouth with what she hazily realised was an echo of a far more complete possession and she melted, boneless, shameless, against him.
When Gareth Morant lifted his mouth from hers and set her square on her feet again she had lost the power of speech, of movement and, utterly, the will to resist him. Jessica gripped the powerful forearms as his hands steadied her. She tried not to pant.
‘Miss Gifford.’ Unfortunately he did not appear to have been reduced to the same state. His breathing was perfectly even, his face calm, his colour normal. ‘Miss Gifford, you are a delightful young lady and a pleasure to kiss, but I hope you will believe me when I tell you that I have not the slightest intention of taking you to my bed. I went to that place this evening at the behest of my friends, not to seek a woman, and you may rest assured that even if I had that intention, I am capable of suppressing my animal instincts for one night.’
‘Oh.’
‘And I am not in the habit of ravishing virgins, nor of extracting a price from someone whose plight should have prompted any gentleman to rescue her.’ He paused and the corner of his mouth twitched. ‘Or even any aristocrat.’
‘Oh.’ Jessica struggled to get her brain out of the morass of warm porridge into which it appeared to have fallen and to say something coherent. ‘Then I must say that was the most embarrassing mistake I have ever made,’ she admitted with painful honesty.
‘Kissing me?’ His eyebrows shot up. Obviously his lordship was not used to having his caresses dismissed as embarrassing. He was probably offended that, having reduced her to a quivering puddle, she was not begging for more.
‘No. I had no choice about that, had I?’ Jessica glared at him. ‘I mean, assuming that you would expect—you know.’
‘Well, I do not.’ He picked up the candlestick again and handed it to her. ‘I will ring for Jordan to show you to your room.’
‘Why did you kiss me, my lord?’ She had not meant to say it, she had meant to say Thank you in a calm and dignified manner, but the question just escaped.
‘Because you made me cross.’ He stood watching her and she made herself stand up to the scrutiny without fidgeting until the corner of his mouth quirked into a ghost of a smile. ‘And because I wanted to.’ He reached for the bell pull. ‘You may sleep in peace, Miss Gifford, my curiosity has been satisfied.’
Well, that was a flattening piece of reassurance to be sure! Jessica produced a perfectly correct curtsy and stalked out in the butler’s wake. So his lordship’s curiosity had been satisfied, had it? And what if it had not been? Would he have persisted? Obviously he was used to far more sophisticated kissing than she could provide.
‘Your room, Miss Gifford.’
Her agitation melted away on a sigh. Warm firelight flickered on rose-coloured walls. A bed heaped with white linens sat comfortably in the far corner. Steam curled upwards from the ewer standing on the washstand and the curtains were closed tight against the damp London night and all the dangers it held. This was not some rake’s love nest. Lord Standon was treating her as a guest and she had cast aspersions on his motives.
‘Oh dear.’
She had realised she had spoken aloud. Jordan turned. ‘Miss Gifford? Is something wrong?’
‘I have just realised that perhaps I expressed my gratitude to Lord Standon insufficiently just now.’
What might have been a fleeting smile passed over the impassive countenance. ‘It is easy, if I might make an observation, miss, to misinterpret things, especially when one is tired and in some distress.’
‘Yes. Thank you, Jordan.’ The man bowed and left her. Jessica took off the heavy apricot satin robe, pulled the cream silk nightgown over her head and went to pour water into the basin. Her feet were filthy, but her whole being felt contaminated from those desperate hours in the brothel and she stood for long minutes lathering the sweet-scented soap over every inch of her body before she began to feel clean again.
Fresh and dry at last Jessica slipped back into the nightgown,
