Page 39 of His Wicked Little Christmas
A foreign emotion traveled through him, settling firmly in his chest.
Of course, his errant governess arrived to find man and child beaming at each other across a desk, unspoken promises floating between them.
Franny cleared her throat, hesitating in the doorway.
Light from the sconces washed over her, igniting sparks in her glorious hair and across her freckled cheeks. She had an ink smear on the sleeve of another atrocious gown. He’d never known a woman in more desperate need of a modiste. Hideous clothing, however, couldn’t hide her beauty. Too, he liked that she didn’t seem to care for such things as gowns and fripperies. A folio was clutched in her hand and the expression on her face—tentative excitement—led him to believe she’d come with sketches to share.
Her companion stepped behind her. Ada’s shrewd gaze instantly found Chance’s, her scowl growing. The woman was no fool and recognized his attraction. Probably because it sat out there like a lazy cat snoozing in the sun. Then she looked to Franny, recognizing her charge faced the same dilemma. Sighing, she jabbed Franny in the side with a murmured oath.
“Excuse us,” Franny said and stumbled into the room. “Ada is going to take Kat down for her lunch. Then a nap.”
Kat groaned and wiggled her hand from his. He missed the feeling of contentment immediately. “I don’t want to. We’re having fun.”
Chance felt a smile lift his lips.Fun?Perhaps this child-rearing business was easier than he’d thought. Straightforward conversation. Touches. Promises of gifts. Was that all there was to it? It wasn’t much different a set-up than with his mistresses. Young or old, women were women.
Franny’s soft snicker snapped him out of his musing. Her golden eyes fixed on him; her lips parted in amusement. Somehow, she knew what he was thinking. This insight brought comfort and panic. He’d gotten used to feeling alone in a ballroom. Isolated in a city packed with distractions. Lonely in a bed with rumpled sheets, the warm body of someone he didn’t love lying beside him.
To have Francine Shaw see him was exhilarating andterrifying.
“Go on,” he urged when he was sure his voice wasn’t going to shake, shooing Kat from the room. “Young ladies need their beauty sleep. We’ll talk more at dinner. You can tell me about the decorations you’ve placed all over the house.”
Groaning, she clutched the threadbare ragdoll to her chest and trudged across the room. Ada gave him a piercing glare—look but don’t touch—then escorted Kat from the room. He vowed then and there that the girl would have a new doll for Christmas.
Franny watched them go before turning to him.
Nervous. She was definitely nervous. Deciding to take pity on them both, Chance tossed her a lifeline. When he’d never felt like seducing someone more—or acting on the impulse less. “I’ve heard I’m to provide gifts for Christmas. I’m glad Kat informed me before it was too late.”
Instead of flushing with mortification, Franny laughed, and stepped into the room. “They’re arriving tomorrow. I know you have enough to worry over.” She flicked her hand around the space, a benevolent gesture meant to encompass his wealth of responsibilities. “This is part and parcel of what I agreed to. Take care of the child.”
“Responsibilities as in, low on funds to purchase gifts. My dire situation is fodder for gossip, I realize. Most of the mamas throwing their daughters my way have introduced the topic of finances first, beforebeauty or skill with the pianoforte. My father wasn’t an able fiscal manager. In fact, he was a profligate gambler, unconcerned with the inconvenience he was leaving me to handle. Estates and no funds. A brother in need of guidance. For myself, I don’t care so much, I make enough to survive with the furniture, but the staff, the tenants…”
He dragged his hand through his hair, his breath shortening as it did when he thought of the lives attached to the viscountcy’s payroll. When he thought of Arthur. His brother was fragile in ways he’d never been. “Some servants have worked on the estates, three including the townhouse in Mayfair, for most of their lives.”
Her chagrin arrived, flushing her cheeks a rosy hue. Yet she didn’t deny the assertion. He was destitute, and everyone in London knew it.
Chance sprawled in his chair, stacking his hands over his belly. Her gaze followed the movement, lingering on his chest, then rising to his face. Her eyes were a golden explosion, heaps of emotion contained in their fiery depths. He had to work to hear her soft exhalation.Christ, he wanted that sound skating across his skin while he sank inside her. More than he wanted his next breath. Indeed, his attraction was astonishing. He could see no way he’d been in the same room with her and notfeltit. He must have confused the vibration for something else, not knowing what he was feeling.
He swallowed hard, his throat dry. What had they been discussing?
“Presents,” she murmured. Again, knowing where his mind had gone.
“Is a doll arriving in the shipment?”
She nodded. “Of course. What little girl doesn’t want a new doll? And sweets, as the English call them, when we simply say candy. Books. Boots. A dress.”
“You’re the most efficient member of my staff, Miss Shaw. Thank you. The last thing I want to do is disappoint her.” He shrugged, discomfited. Scrubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “Although I don’t know how to please her, either. My brother is the only person I’ve tried to accommodate, and that hasn’t worked out so well.”
Franny took three steps until her hip hit the edge of his desk.
Because she’d done the same without concealing it, Chance let his gaze travel the length of her. Following Ada’s unspoken advice, hewouldn’t touch, but he wouldlookall he pleased. Trap visions of her lush curves in his mind, the swell of her breast pressing against her bodice, and use them. Later, in his massive medieval bed. Where he’d stroke himself to completion while fantasizing of the sweetly guileless American who had stumbled into his life.
“Is this the way you look at every woman?” she asked breathlessly. “If it is, I understand.”
He wrenched forward in his chair, his hands going to the desk to brace himself. “Excuse me?”
She leaned in, palming the wood as he had, her hands settling on each side of his. Her gown dipped at the neck, allowing a slender view of the rounded slopes of her breasts. He dragged his gaze to hers with extreme effort while his cock hardened beneath buckskin. His fingertips tingled, his body tensing in anticipation. “I understand why half of London is desperate to get to you. Climbing inside second-story windows for even one moment basking in the intensity of your regard. I’ve heard of a man undressing you with his eyes, but I’ve never experienced it.” She licked her lips, and he felt his breath sucked from his lungs. “Until now. It’s quite… extraordinary.”
Touch her, Chance,round this desk and touch her.