Page 11 of The Governess Teaches A Duke (Wayward Dukes’ Alliance #34)

Chapter Ten

T homas stocked back and forth in his rooms, nude and frustrated.

That innocent exchange with Maribel had been one of the most erotic encounters he had experienced.

No courtesan had ever elicited such raw passion.

Perhaps what had made it so delicious was that it was so wrong.

She was young and innocent and should be completely out of reach as his child’s governess.

Unless…he employed her instead as his mistress?

He was disgusted at the depraved idea. Miss Lewisham was a fine governess and what his child needed.

Tomorrow, I will go to London. Put distance between myself and her siren song, because that’s what it is. I am drawn to her like a mariner passing his ship in the night, tempted by the call of an ethereal being that would only mean my destruction.

“Mr Jones,” he bellowed, “have my trunks packed. I head to London tomorrow.”

He was rock-hard, and he knew it would not go away, not without release.

A release he would now need to give himself, he thought with a scowl.

He could not and should not lie with Maribel.

Their kiss had been bad enough. He moved to his bathing room, where a freshly-drawn tub beckoned him to sink into its warm depths.

If only I was sinking into the warm depth between Maribel’s legs.

He released all his lewd thoughts as the hot water eased his tension.

Thomas did not care to tend to his own releases, and it had rarely been an issue as he spent his time with many women who would.

What happened tonight would not rest until he allowed himself to sink into it.

The warm water sluiced off his body as he tried to find a comfortable position from which to hang his head over the edge.

His erection had not gone down, and he was powerless to make it do so.

Only his hand would be of use to him, like a green boy who cannot find a woman to touch him.

Taking himself in hand, he began to stroke himself firmly as he replayed the lust Maribel had exhibited.

Her siren call that had made him kiss her like a man starving.

The feel of her hips pressed against him, needing something that she had no idea of.

He started to stroke himself faster and more firmly.

Her innocence proved to be a heady aphrodisiac as he pictured those doe eyes wide in surprise as he made her feel new pleasure after pleasure.

He moved his hand more quickly, the water splashing about as he strained to finish.

He roared his release, letting the sexual tension she had wound up in him erupt into a moment of bliss.

“Damn her!” he yelled to the empty room, the moment soon gone as he began to fixate on her. He needed distance, distraction. He needed to be away from her.

* * *

Thomas tapped his foot impatiently as his postillions prepared to mount their horses.

He had chosen his chariot for the trip to London because he wanted the room to loll about and brood.

And drink. He had made sure the chariot was stocked with bottles of claret ready to be drunk.

Thomas had elected to not say goodbye to Clara lest he encounter that damnable Miss Lewisham, and he felt a slight pang of guilt towards his daughter.

This thought seemingly conjured the child as shouts of ”Father, Father!

” moved towards him. Turning, he noted that Maribel walked behind her.

Her face was devoid of smile and her eyes were slightly narrowed, so it seemed she had also planned on avoiding him today.

“Father, how could you leave me and not say goodbye?” Clara cried.

“I am sorry, darling, I simply did not want to make a fuss. I will not be gone long.”

“Gone where?” Her bottom lip dropped dangerously low.

“London, and I promise I will bring you back some marzipan.”

“And a new dress and bonnet.” The smile was back on her face—the act of negotiation in her favour always defused an oncoming tantrum.

“I shall, my darling.” He bent down to kiss her cheek.

Satisfied, Clara ran back towards the manor, leaving Maribel standing there with strong disapproval etched on her face.

“Is there something the matter, Miss Lewisham?” he asked, trying to keep his tone bored.

“Yes, there is. I do not think it is wise to reward outbursts or bargaining with promises of gifts. This leads to disobedience.”

“Miss Lewisham, I shall remind you that I have hired you to govern my daughter, not myself, so please refrain from teaching me lessons.”

Her cheeks flamed, and she opened her mouth as he braced himself to be lashed with her tongue.

“You are correct, Your Grace, and I do apologise. I am but a lowly governess.” She spoke coolly to his surprise. They stared at each other for a moment, and she broke contact first, walking away without a word. Thomas stepped inside his carriage and took a seat, pondering her words.

A lowly governess? But she is just a governess?

Am I to feel bad for this or be the one to blame?

Such impertinence—why do I find it so attractive?

He realised it hurt him that she would say such words.

In his unkindness, what else would she think?

It was clear to him this trip to London would be filled with the maddening chatter of his own psyche.