Page 8 of The Viscount Needs a Wife (All for Love #2)

E mrys descended from the barouche and turned to hand his ladies down onto the pavement.

First Lady Ava, then her sister Lady Heather, Miss Mary Watson, and lastly Miss Pringle.

He had spent the carriage ride to the village with his knees virtually touching Miss Pringle’s and trying to avoid looking at her.

She was wearing that damned brooch again, and he was acutely aware of its situation in a most disturbing way.

Today’s dress was the same cut as yesterday’s, just in a dark maroon.

It ought to be plain and drab, in fact it was, but the bodice cupped her tempting breasts so neatly, he couldn’t shake the flush of heat he felt just looking at them.

Which forced him to look anywhere except at her.

“This way,” said Ava, twirling her parasol and leading off.

They were standing in the main street of Kegworth and were bent on a shopping expedition for lace and silk stockings, for which the village was famous.

Sarah had volunteered to keep an eye on the children for the morning, ably assisted by the duke, to Emrys surprise, and to him had fallen the task of escorting the ladies.

“It is very kind of you to do this,” murmured Miss Pringle. “I’m sure you will be horribly bored.”

The viscount shrugged and patted the satchel he had slung over one shoulder. “I brought a book, Miss Pringle. I plan to buy a tankard of ale from that inn over there and plant myself on that bench outside the shop and wait for you ladies to finish your business. I shall not be bored.”

She smiled. “Very resourceful of you,” she said and entered the shop behind the girls.

Emrys heaved a sigh of relief to be free of the embarrassment of her company, collected his ale, and settled himself with his book.

The sun was warm, and he was soon removing his jacket and loosening his neckcloth.

He had soon managed a chapter sipping at his ale and enjoying the sun and peaceful solitude.

There were only a few people about and no one accosted him.

The shop bell tinkled as the door reopened and Miss Pringle reappeared. His eyes snagged on that brooch, and he swallowed a groan, dropping his book into his lap. What is wrong with me?

He raised his eyebrows. “All done? That was quick.”

“Oh, the girls are not done yet, they will be another half an hour at least. But there is little point in me continuing to look, lovely as everything is. I fear the price of lace is rather beyond a governess, and it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to wear it in any case.

” She took a seat beside him. “This is a very pleasant prospect,” she said, settling herself while he put his book away.

“Do you care to take a stroll up the street and back?” he said abruptly, figuring if he was walking beside her, he couldn’t stare at her breasts.

“Why not?” she smiled, and he rose and offered her his arm.

*

Annis took the viscount’s arm and they set off up the street, but they hadn’t taken more than three paces when she got that prickling feeling between her shoulder blades.

She’d woken in a cold sweat again last night from the dream, and the prickling now set off a tingling, teasing panic down her spine and made her heart race.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” she said, turning to look up at the viscount, realizing he had addressed her, and she had not heard a word he’d said.

“I asked if you—” he broke off and frowned. “Miss Pringle, are you well? You have gone awfully pale.”

“Yes, yes, I’m—” She swallowed and dropped her reticule.

She stopped to pick it up, even as the viscount bent to do it for her, and she used the opportunity to glance over her shoulder.

She saw nothing and no one suspicious, and she took her reticule from him with a gasp. “Thank you. How clumsy of me.”

“Do you wish to sit down, Miss Pringle? Is the sun too much for you?”

“No, no, I am perfectly well,” she said. The prickling feeling had stopped, and she felt like a perfect ninny for reacting in such a stupid way.

By the time they’d all returned to The Castle, she was quite recovered and had relegated her moment of silliness to the back of her mind.

That afternoon’s entertainment was a game of Princess in the Tower, a mock battle between two armies, one led by the duke and the other by the viscount.

The objective for each army was to defend their own princess and capture their opponent’s.

The duke had offered up armor and blunted weapons for himself and Emrys from the armory, and the schoolroom produced toy swords and helmets for the children.

Lady Heather and Miss Watson played the respective princesses, and Miss Pringle, the duchess, and the dowager were the audience, with Ewen on Miss Pringle’s lap.

*

The site of the battle was the south lawn, with the princesses both situated behind barricades of outdoor furniture, pressed into service as their towers, at each end of the field.

Fortunately for the men, the day was cooler than the previous ones, with the sun remaining largely behind the clouds.

That didn’t stop it getting hot and sweaty inside the armor, but at least he wasn’t in danger of cooking, reflected Emrys. The stuff was damned heavy, though.

His respect for medieval knights went up a degree or two as he charged down the field yelling his house motto in Latin, leading his troops behind him, all yelling at the tops of their lungs.

Robert, bellowing the Laynes’ motto, and tearing toward him with his rag tag bunch trailing him with equal enthusiasm, met him in the center of the field, and they hacked at each other with more theatricality than accuracy.

The small fry bounced around them hacking at each other with gay abandon.

Emrys had the four girls and Robert the three boys.

He was defending Lady Heather and attempting to capture Miss Watson, and Robert the reverse.

Emrys was surprised at how well the girls were acquitting themselves in the fight.

Ingrid and Hepzibah were fierce, and his Lizzie and Charlie were no less ferocious in their attacks.

Lizzie, dodging round Japheth, made a beeline for the tower holding Miss Watson, and began climbing the stacked chairs. He was so distracted by this that Robert got a blow into his shoulder that sent him staggering.

“Damn you, Rob,” he said bringing his sword up and slashing with a bit more science.

The duke panted, huffing with laughter. “Haven’t had this much fun since I was seven!” he said, dancing out of Emrys’s range.

Lizzie had reached the top of the stack of chairs and stretched her hand in to help Princess Mary out of her tower.

As the boys were still fully occupied with the other three girls, this was a major blow to Robert’s team.

At this point they were definitely losing.

But Lizzie still had to get Princess Mary across the battlefield to safety in the other tower, so there was time for a reversal of fortune yet.

The duchess and the dowager were urging Robert’s team on and Miss Pringle and Ewen were cheering for his team. So, between them and the yelling of the troops, there was a lot of noise and confusion.

Mary was free of her tower, both girls having clambered down the stacked chairs and landed on the lawn. Now they edged forward slowly, sticking to the edges of the lawn, Lizzie in front, protecting her princess.

At this point, Emanuel ducked round his twin, Hepzibah, and took off for Princess Heather’s tower, determined to release her and get their team back in the game.

But his sister wasn’t letting him go easily, she gave chase and whacked him on the behind with her sword.

Emrys lost sight of them then as they ran behind him, and Robert’s renewed attack demanded his attention.

While all this was going on, Lizzie grabbed Princess Mary’s hand and belted for Heather’s tower. Suddenly Emanuel had two to fight, and Mary was able to climb the tower and drop inside the barricade with a whoop of victory!

“We won! We won!” yelled Lizzie throwing her sword up and bouncing around. The girls all squealed with delight and the boys looked defeated, dropping to the grass with groans.

Rob pointed his sword to the grass and shook Emrys hand, “Well done, old chap, some fierce little warriors you have there!”

Emrys ripped off his helmet and grinned. “I have indeed.”

Miss Pringle came over and held out a medallion on a ribbon. “Would you care to do the honors? I think Miss Elizabeth wins the day for most valorous knight.”

Emrys grinned and took the medallion, beckoning Lizzie over. “Kneel, Sir Knight, and receive your reward,” he intoned in suitably portentous accents.

Lizzie, her face flushed and grinning from ear to ear, dropped to her knees, and he bent and slipped the ribbon down over her head and settled the medallion on her proud little chest.

“For intelligence and valor extraordinary in the field of battle, you are so rewarded, Sir Knight,” he said solemnly.

Refreshments were then served, ale for the men, wine for the ladies, and lemonade for the children, and it was declared a vastly entertaining afternoon.

Ewen trotted over to Emrys, waving one of the wooden swords dropped by the other boys. “Will you teach me to fight too, Papa?” he asked plaintively.

Emrys squatted down and smiled at his son. “Yes, of course I will, Ewen.”

Ewen grinned and swung the toy sword wildly, whacking Emrys in the legs, which made him wince. He would have a bruise from that! Then Ewen hurtled off to Miss Pringle, yelling, “Papa’s going to teach me to fight, too!”

She received him, picking him up and deftly avoiding getting her eye poked out by the sword. Emrys strode over quickly and divested his son of the weapon. “Be careful, Ewen. You don’t want to hurt Miss Pringle, do you?”

“No, Papa!” He flung his arms round her neck and hugged her, and she flushed with obvious pleasure. “I like Miss Pingle!” he said with a beatific smile.

Emrys heart melted as he reflected that he liked Miss Pingle, too, if she could make his little man smile like that.

He resolutely kept his eyes away from her bosom but was physically conscious of her even so.

A tingling in his breeches he hadn’t felt in months provoked a blush that made him look away, lest she guess what he was thinking.

“Papa!” Lizzie came up holding her medallion in one hand and a piece of cake in the other.

“Papa!” Charlie attacked him from the other side, also with a piece of cake, but with fruit instead of a medallion in her other hand.

“Yes, girls?” he said crouching down to their level.

“Can we stay here forever?” asked Charlie. “It’s so much fun!”

“Yes, can we pleeeease, Papa?” wheedled Lizzie.

“I’m afraid we can’t do that, but”—he hastened to add as the pouting lips appeared—“we are not going home yet. And I believe Miss Pringle has more adventures in store, don’t you, Miss Pringle?” He looked up at her, and she nodded.

“Yes, I do.”

“Tell us!” demanded Lizzie.

“It’s a surprise,” Miss Pringle said with a smile.

Emrys waited for Lizzie to announce that she didn’t like surprises, but she didn’t. Instead, she stuffed the cake in her mouth and hared off toward Hepzibah, trailing Charlie behind her.

He rose to his feet, shaking his head. “I don’t know how I’m going to turn them into young ladies. They are half feral, I fear.”

Miss Pringle juggled Ewen on her hip and said, “Plenty of time. They are children still—let them enjoy it.”

“Oh, I will. And I enjoy them immensely. I never know what they will say next.”

Later that night, climbing into bed, Emrys settled back against the pillows with his book in hand, but his every attempt to concentrate on the written word was interrupted by snatches of the day.

It had been both enchanting and disturbing.

He couldn’t shake the image of Miss Pringle’s generous breasts encased discretely in the plain fabric of her gown.

The brooch nestled in the center, the plain ribbon beneath, the way the fabric cupped them. ..

A sudden rush of hot desire assailed him, as his mind posed the question of what the soft, round globes of her breasts might look like beneath that prim and proper dress. And more to the point, what they might feel like?

The notion took so strong a hold that he couldn’t dislodge it, and for the first time in months his cock grew stiff against his belly and his balls tightened uncomfortably.

He uttered a soft groan as his hand groped for and seized his cock, stroking it almost without conscious thought.

With blinding awareness, he knew his body needed release and would not be denied.

It had been months since he’d had any inclination for it, but he was suddenly ravenous.

He spat upon his hand and stroked himself vigorously, trying to block any more lascivious thoughts of Miss Pringle.

She was a lady and did not deserve to be the subject of his lechery, but those alluring breasts refused to be ignored, and he found his fevered brain wondering next what they might taste like, and how much of each one he could fit in his mouth.

From there it was a simple slide to imaging what her reaction to such treatment might be, and in seconds flat he was spurting his seed all over his belly in a blissful, heated rush.

Getting his breath back, he lay spent while the tingles of desire slowly faded from his limbs, and he wondered why his fancy had led him to fantasize about the prim and proper governess over any other female of his acquaintance.

It was a revelation to him that a pair of breasts could provoke such a reaction in him.

Did he have a taste for well-endowed ladies then?

Given that he had been married since he was twenty-two, he actually had no idea what his taste was.

He’d been hopelessly in love with his beautiful wife Caroline for the entirety of his marriage and never thought of another woman.

He could see no parallels between Caro and Miss Pringle—no two women could be more different at a glance.

Caro had been tiny, ethereal even, like a fairy princess.

If there were any similarities to be found, a closer fit would be to Ava who was also small of stature, though more sturdy and shapely of build than Caro.

But it wasn’t Ava who had inspired his first stirrings of desire. It was unequivocally the governess.

He shrugged at the mystery of it and rolled onto his side, closing his eyes. As a youth and young man before his marriage, he’d had sudden urges and fantasies about random women, but it hadn’t meant anything. No doubt this was the same.

Yet as he drifted into sleep it occurred to him that, enjoyable as it was to look upon her beautiful shape, it was Miss Pringle’s undoubted mothering skills that he was truly drawn to. The picture of little Ewen’s arms round her neck made him smile.