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Authors: Dawn Thompson
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and this seemed to be the night to draw them all the way around. “I am sorry to disturb you, but a…situation has arisen with Master Monty that requires your attention.”
“And what might that be? I thought I made it clear that you were to be in complete charge of my ward.”
Tessa hesitated, praying he wouldn’t think her too incompetent to supervise her charge and dismiss her. That the boy was turning out to be a bit more than she could handle didn’t enter into the equation; she didn’t want to leave Longhollow Abbey.
“Y-yes, you did,” she stammered. “But this is something that I am sure I do not have the authority to…correct.”
He pulled the door open wider, his expression dark. His handsome lips were forming that bloodless crimped line she’d seen when first they’d met in the Welsh bluestone drive, and his jaw muscle had begun to twitch.
He stood aside. “Won’t you come in?”
Tessa hesitated. Glancing past him, she saw that he had been working, but she couldn’t see the front of the canvas. The easel had been moved since the nightbefore. It no longer faced the lounge. “I…I think not,” she said. “What I have to tell you can be said right here, sir.”
“Then out with it!” he said. “As you can see, I am busy.”
“After supper, I looked in on Master Monty,” she began. “It was long past his bedtime, and I attempted to see him to bed. He was argumentative, even threatening, which I thought reasonable enough, since he’s been on his own for so long and suddenly tethered to a governess again. I ignored his behavior and offered to read him a bedtime story. When I reached to turn him toward the bed, he…attacked me, or almost did. He swooped down as if he was about to bite my hand…like he did yours, he pointed out. It was a test staged to frighten me, and it did, though I tried not to show it.”
Giles flung his paintbrush down and seized her forearms, examining them frantically. His touch was like a lightning strike. His warm fingers denting her bare flesh struck a chord deep at the epicenter of her sex, flooding her loins with hot sensation that undermined her balance.
“Don’t!” she cried, trying to pull away, but his grip was firm.
“Where—show me where ,” he demanded. “Did he break the skin?”
“No,” she cried. “Stop! You’re hurting me! He swooped down and hovered over my wrist with his teeth bared, as if he was going to take a bite out of it, then as much as said if I ever touched him again, he would bite me the way he bit you. This is something I do not have the authority to address. That’s why I’ve come to you.”
He pulled her over the threshold and let her go. “By God, this will not be borne!” he seethed. “Stay here until I return.”
When he tried to move past her, she seized his arm, freezing him in his tracks. His taut biceps rippled beneath her fingers through the thin shirtsleeve. His eyes, gleaming like onyx chips, flashed toward her hand from the shadows beneath the ledge of his brow, then met her gaze relentlessly. The heady scent of brandy drifted toward her. He’d been drinking, but he wasn’t in his cups. To the contrary, he was as sober as she was. The look, the feral scent, the very intensity of the man paralyzed her senses and numbed her tongue, but only for a moment.
“No!” she cried. “Not like this! Not in a rage. He’s only a boy. He’s crossed the line. He needs to know his limits. Do not make a martyr of that child. Can’t you see that’s what he wants, to cause a rift between us three? If you go storming into that chamber now in a blind rage, I will never be able to control the child. He will hate me for it!”
“I see,” said the master of Longhollow, his nostrils flared, his breathing deep and audible. He looked for all the world like a fire-breathing dragon—so much so, Tessa half-expected flames to shoot out of his nose and smoke to pour out of his ears. “Well, if you possess the sage
“And what might that be? I thought I made it clear that you were to be in complete charge of my ward.”
Tessa hesitated, praying he wouldn’t think her too incompetent to supervise her charge and dismiss her. That the boy was turning out to be a bit more than she could handle didn’t enter into the equation; she didn’t want to leave Longhollow Abbey.
“Y-yes, you did,” she stammered. “But this is something that I am sure I do not have the authority to…correct.”
He pulled the door open wider, his expression dark. His handsome lips were forming that bloodless crimped line she’d seen when first they’d met in the Welsh bluestone drive, and his jaw muscle had begun to twitch.
He stood aside. “Won’t you come in?”
Tessa hesitated. Glancing past him, she saw that he had been working, but she couldn’t see the front of the canvas. The easel had been moved since the nightbefore. It no longer faced the lounge. “I…I think not,” she said. “What I have to tell you can be said right here, sir.”
“Then out with it!” he said. “As you can see, I am busy.”
“After supper, I looked in on Master Monty,” she began. “It was long past his bedtime, and I attempted to see him to bed. He was argumentative, even threatening, which I thought reasonable enough, since he’s been on his own for so long and suddenly tethered to a governess again. I ignored his behavior and offered to read him a bedtime story. When I reached to turn him toward the bed, he…attacked me, or almost did. He swooped down as if he was about to bite my hand…like he did yours, he pointed out. It was a test staged to frighten me, and it did, though I tried not to show it.”
Giles flung his paintbrush down and seized her forearms, examining them frantically. His touch was like a lightning strike. His warm fingers denting her bare flesh struck a chord deep at the epicenter of her sex, flooding her loins with hot sensation that undermined her balance.
“Don’t!” she cried, trying to pull away, but his grip was firm.
“Where—show me where ,” he demanded. “Did he break the skin?”
“No,” she cried. “Stop! You’re hurting me! He swooped down and hovered over my wrist with his teeth bared, as if he was going to take a bite out of it, then as much as said if I ever touched him again, he would bite me the way he bit you. This is something I do not have the authority to address. That’s why I’ve come to you.”
He pulled her over the threshold and let her go. “By God, this will not be borne!” he seethed. “Stay here until I return.”
When he tried to move past her, she seized his arm, freezing him in his tracks. His taut biceps rippled beneath her fingers through the thin shirtsleeve. His eyes, gleaming like onyx chips, flashed toward her hand from the shadows beneath the ledge of his brow, then met her gaze relentlessly. The heady scent of brandy drifted toward her. He’d been drinking, but he wasn’t in his cups. To the contrary, he was as sober as she was. The look, the feral scent, the very intensity of the man paralyzed her senses and numbed her tongue, but only for a moment.
“No!” she cried. “Not like this! Not in a rage. He’s only a boy. He’s crossed the line. He needs to know his limits. Do not make a martyr of that child. Can’t you see that’s what he wants, to cause a rift between us three? If you go storming into that chamber now in a blind rage, I will never be able to control the child. He will hate me for it!”
“I see,” said the master of Longhollow, his nostrils flared, his breathing deep and audible. He looked for all the world like a fire-breathing dragon—so much so, Tessa half-expected flames to shoot out of his nose and smoke to pour out of his ears. “Well, if you possess the sage
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