Page 37 of The Nanny’s Handbook to Magic and Managing Difficult Dukes

He wanted to sweep Emmeline Chase up and away, carry her heavenward to the stars.

Mrs. Chase’s—no, Emmeline’s lips—were as smooth and slippery as the finest silk, and as Xavier deepened the pressure of his mouth on hers, she yielded. Parted her lips and released a soft breathy moan. And Xavier felt like he’d been set alight.

Fire raced through him like molten quicksilver, straight to his loins. Sparks flared behind his closed eyes. He dropped his cane.

One of his hands grazed a path along Emmeline’s slender shoulder and he hauled her closer. At the same time, Emmeline tugged him down, and the press and slide of her mouth grew harder, her movements urgent, as though she wanted more from him.

She wanted him to taste her. He could sense it.

Gathering his courage, Xavier gently pushed his tongue between her lips, delving into the warm, slick recess. Explored her with languid strokes. And when she caressed him back, her sinuous tongue boldly curling around his, he groaned in appreciation.

She tasted like heaven and honey and the sherry she’d been drinking. He’d always believed that he didn’t like sweet things. But he hadn’t tasted Emmeline Chase.

Xavier suddenly wanted to press his lips against her neck.

Slide open the buttons of her gown and trace the soft freckled flesh above the neckline of her chemise, the hollow above her collarbone…

and lower… His fingers flexed against the side of her breast, and she arched into him like a cat, wanting more.

God help him, he wanted more too.

When they at last drew apart, both of them were breathless.

Indeed, Xavier’s head was spinning like he was intoxicated while other parts of him were throbbing.

He was both satisfied and unsatisfied. Caught between what he longed to do with this remarkable woman, and what was the right thing to do.

How could something that felt so natural and wonderful be so wrong in all other respects?

But wrong it was. He was a duke. She was a nanny.

He’d taken advantage of her when she’d been in a vulnerable situation.

Even though she’d invited him to kiss her, in his mind, it still felt like he’d pressed her for an illicit favor, and in the heat of the moment when her guard was down she’d consented.

As guilt rushed in, extinguishing any lingering embers of pleasure inside Xavier, one thing was clear. This couldn’t go any further. This could never happen again.

“Mrs. Chase… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

The nanny shook her head. “Don’t apologize.

We were both… not ourselves. I’m to blame for what we did as well.

We’d been in danger and-and we were both simply overwhelmed by relief.

It was a natural reaction. A completely expected response considering the extraordinarily tense situation we were both thrust into.

” She drew a breath and held his gaze. “That being said, perhaps… perhaps it would be best if we both tried to forget what happened. Lock it away in our minds in a compartment labeled ‘this never occurred.’ If the Parasol Academy hears about this. Any of this…” She shivered.

“I could lose my license to practice. I can’t afford for that to happen. ”

Ah, so she regretted what they’d done too. And for good reason.

Xavier nodded. “I understand. And your secret—all your secrets—are safe with me. Duke’s honor.” He placed a hand on his chest, in the spot where Mrs. Chase’s had been right before they’d kissed. “We shall never speak of this again.”

He couldn’t promise that he wouldn’t think about it though.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Nodding toward the laneway, she added, “It’s stopped raining. Shall we return to St Lawrence House?”

Xavier retrieved his cane. “I think that would be most sensible.”

Once they were safely installed inside a hansom cab and on their way back to Belgravia, the nanny ventured, “Your Grace, I’m afraid that I have another small favor to ask.”

Xavier immediately pulled his attention away from the window. He’d been focusing on the snarls of traffic and the passersby on the Strand, rather than fixating on the only woman he really wanted to look at. “Anything,” he said.

Mrs. Chase was sitting opposite him and the light from a passing gas lamp flickered across her face.

Her manner seemed apprehensive as she said, “Instead of taking one day off per month, might I… might I have two half days? So that I can visit my father once a fortnight. He’s not been well of late, and I’m worried about him.

If it’s all right with you. I wouldn’t want to put you or your wards out. ”

“No, that’s perfectly fine,” said Xavier. “I’m sorry your father is ill.”

“It’s only a cough,” she said. “You know, the cells are cold and damp and…” She shrugged. “He has a tonic and a new blanket. He’ll be all right.” She appeared to rally and summoned a smile. “Thank you again, Your Grace. Many employers wouldn’t be so considerate.”

“Family is important,” said Xavier gravely.

Since his wards had come into his life—since Mrs. Chase had entered his life—he was beginning to understand that much at least, even if a finer emotion like love remained a mystery to him.

“We must look after those we care about. Indeed, I can see how much you care about your father, and that is to be commended. Not only that, but worrying about his well-being is bound to have an effect on you too. I don’t like the idea of you being so troubled all the time. ”

A small line appeared between Mrs. Chase’s brows. “At the chophouse, I assured you that my performance had not and would not be affected by my family’s ongoing trials and tribulations.”

“I know that, and I believe you. It’s just that seeing you hurt—” Hurts me. Xavier broke off before he uttered those two very small but telling words. “You work very hard. And I’m sure Fanny will manage without you two afternoons per month,” he concluded.

Xavier had told himself over and over again that he would not acknowledge any softer emotions when it came to Mrs. Chase.

He’d continually reassured himself that he knew nothing of love.

The giving or receiving of it. So his heart couldn’t be in danger if it was an organ that was essentially broken. Frozen and hard and unfeeling.

It seemed that maybe he’d been wrong.

At least he’d stopped himself from saying anything too mawkish. No doubt Mrs. Chase would start to believe that he was actually mad.

Turning his gaze back to the window, Xavier tried very hard to resurrect his aloof and difficult, tending-toward-bitter side.

He set his jaw and focused on the passing streetscape and how poorly sprung the hansom cab was.

How lumpy the worn leather seat felt and how irritating it was to be looking through a grimy windowpane.

How his damp trouser legs clung uncomfortably to his shins and calves and that inside his wet leather shoes, his toes were half-frozen. How he hated wet shoes.

With all his might, he attempted to concentrate on everything but the fearless and passionate young woman sitting across from him.

Or the fact he could still feel the exact place where she’d rested her hand upon his chest. How the flesh beneath his silk-lined cambric shirt seemed to glow with a subtle warmth.

As though her sunshine was melting away the ice encasing his heart and breathing life into his bones.

Somehow that simple touch had marked him, and Xavier knew that he would never be the same again.