Chapter 14

It was all Sunny could do not to drag Finch directly to the study.

His blood raced powerfully through his veins; he was like a stallion in heat. He couldn’t recall ever feeling this randy before. Yet he forced himself to remain where he was, chatting inanely with some dowager about his extensive art collection, all the while tracking Finch from the corner of his eye as she quitted the ballroom.

The minutes languidly ticked by while he eagerly awaited the moment he would ravish the nanny within an inch of her life. She’d likely never experienced true passion before. It would be his pleasure to introduce sensuality into her straightlaced existence.

When—at long last—it was finally time, he took his leisure strolling from the ballroom, cognizant of the curious eyes that always followed him, especially here in his own home where he was their host. Once he was well away from prying eyes, he strode purposefully toward the study, his heart pumping, his prick swollen and hard.

He threw open the door and found an empty room, devoid even of a fire since Dowding had not expected anyone to use this particular chamber this evening.

“Finch?” He entered the dark room, trying to make sense of the shadows, hoping one would take the shape of the beguiling female he’d come for. She wasn’t there. His heart dropped. Had she changed her mind?

He reversed out of the room and slammed the door hard behind him, heading for the dining room. Perhaps she thought he’d said the dining room. He went over the last words he’d said to her. Maybe he was confused and she awaited him there.

He threw the door open, and his heart sank when he realized there was no mistake. Finch wasn’t there. He cursed, frustration swooshing through him. His body was a cauldron of need. He forced a breath and attempted to reassert some control over his agitated physical state. There were any number of beguiling females in his home at this very moment willing to accommodate a quick tumble. But that wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want a quick tumble; he wanted Finch. Damn it all to hell.

He stormed out of the dining room and headed for the nursery. He knew he would find her there. Hiding from him—and herself—using the children as shields. He took the steps to the nursery two at a time, treading lightly so as not to wake the children—and also so she wouldn’t flee when she heard him coming.

He pushed open the door to the nursery. When his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw the children sound asleep. They’d kicked off the covers and snored softly. But Finch wasn’t there. He closed the door softly behind him, his body near to bursting with physical frustration and unmet need. Where was she? Then he spotted it. The dim light coming from under the closed schoolroom door. And he knew he had her.

He pushed the door open to find her seated at the table with an open book before her and a burning lamp next to it. She wore her spectacles, her hair tightly pulled back, and one of her dark, rough nunnery gowns. She was hiding again, but it was too late for that. He’d seen her now and would never unsee her.

Finch looked up when he entered, the light reflecting against the lenses of her glasses. As he stepped toward her, he realized she was trembling.

“You have no reason to fear me,” he reassured her. “I would never do anything you don’t want me to.”

“But don’t you see”—her eyes glistened as she looked up at him—“that is exactly what I fear.”

Relief whooshed through him. She wanted him still. And he’d never desired a woman the way he craved her now. He went to stand behind her and tentatively reached to stroke her hair. When she showed no signs of rejecting his touch, he worked to loosen her hair, to free it from the confines of the tight bun she’d imprisoned it in.

She shivered at the feel of his fingers running through her hair, her physical reactions telling him everything that she refused to say with words. He took his time, loosening the full waves, running his hands through them, lightly massaging her scalp. She sighed and leaned her head back in his hands, like a cat nuzzling its master’s hands, waiting to be petted and coddled.

He toyed with her earlobe and caressed the curves of her neck, feathering his fingers along the curve of her jaw. His fingers moved to the high neckline of her drab gown and worked at the buttons, undoing them one at a time. She wore a shift underneath but no stays. He supposed she hadn’t had time for that.

He let one hand drop deep down inside her gown until he felt one small, perfect breast, its beautiful tip hard and eager. He toyed with her nipple, running a finger over it, pulling gently, squeezing before he slipped his other hand down the front of her dress and did the same with her other lovely bosom.

With a moan, she dropped her head back against his body, her head and glorious tousled curls pressing against his throbbing cock while his large hands fondled her delicate breasts. He almost spent right then, but it was too soon. He was going to make it good for her—for both of them.

He continued to toy with her swollen peaks, reveling in their warm softness as he bent to curl his tongue into her ear. A primal sound of surprise tore from her throat, and she writhed as he caressed her ear with his tongue. He was determined to work her into a frenzy that only he could soothe.

“Your Grace,” she said breathlessly.

“Adam.” He paused long enough only to utter the word before he continued his sensual assault on her ear. “My name is Adam. Say it.”

“Adam,” she breathed.

“Say it again,” he demanded, loving the sound of his name on her lips. No one ever called him Adam. “Again.”

“Adam, Adam, Adam.” When she stood abruptly, Sunny kicked the chair out of the way. He wanted nothing between them. She turned to him, her face flushed in the lamplight, her lips parted, her eyes blazing.

“Tell me what you want.” He wouldn’t touch her again until she admitted her desire for him.

“You, Adam.”

Exhilaration lit every one of his nerve endings. “And so you shall have me.” He lifted her onto the table and moved the lamp to the side. He stood before her and removed her glasses, doing away with her silly disguise before lowering his lips to hers.

She was sweet and warm, opening immediately to him, their tongues meeting and mating. His mouth pressed hard over hers, demanding everything. And she gave it. He kissed her deeply and intensely, like a man lost in the desert who’d suddenly found an oasis.

His other hand worked at the buttons of his breeches, undoing them until he freed himself and held his hard, pulsing cock in his hand. He broke the kiss and stepped back. He wanted her to see everything. He wanted no misunderstanding between them.

She was not shy about looking at his organ. Breathing hard, her hair a wild cascade of curls about her shoulders, she stared as his hand worked his prick, stroking it, the pad of his thumb touching the liquid glistening at its pink tip. His body felt like an inferno that was liable to explode at any moment if he wasn’t inside her soon.

“Are you just going to stand there?” she asked, her voice husky.

“Absolutely not.” He swept a hand under her skirts, skimming smooth cool thighs until he found the warm, moist place at the center of her. He found the bundle of nerves at its tip and toyed with her a little, loving how she undulated against his hand, asking, begging for more.

“Hurry,” she pleaded throatily. “Now.”

He pulled her arse to the edge of the table and positioned himself at her entrance. She braced her hands on his shoulders as he slid into her delicious heat, easing gently, waiting to come up against her maiden’s barrier. He found himself fully seated inside of her snug passage. It took his mind a moment to realize there’d been no barrier to breach.

And then every cogent thought fell out of his mind as he pulled back and then plunged back into her, mindless at the delicious sensation. She immediately picked up his rhythm and went head-to-head with him, giving everything and demanding more from him.

He stroked in and out, working her with everything in him, savoring the tight pull and unique ridges of her channel, the incredible sensation of his prick being completely enveloped by her.

He slammed into Finch, and she undulated back against his groin with every stroke. Perspiration trickled down his back as he took possession of her, moving faster and more frenzied, losing any skill or finesse he’d honed over the years. Then he felt it, the sensation of her muscles clamping down around his cock, and he knew complete victory and vindication and power and potential.

As she came around him, he let himself go, pumping harder and faster until his muscles contracted, his ballocks seized and the rising tension finally burst into a sublime release. But it was more than his seed; it seemed as if all of his strength and a part of his essence also flowed into her in a sensation so intense he could feel it all the way down into his toes.

He stilled afterward, totally devoid of energy, his legs unsteady. His heart booming in his chest, he staggered back and dropped into one of the schoolroom’s hard chairs, feeling both numb and elated, trying to make sense of what he’d just experienced.

He only became aware of Finch again when she stirred to put herself to rights. She looked deliciously ravished: Her lips were plump and moist, her hair a cascading crown of golden curls. The bodice of her dress remained crooked and open, but the chamber’s dark shadows and her thin white shift shielded those ripe, little breasts from his view, and suddenly all he wanted to do was to see them fully in all of their glory and to taste them.

He watched with hazy appreciation as her drab skirt fell over perhaps the most magnificent pair of legs he’d ever seen—shapely thighs and rounded calves with a slim delicate turn of ankle. The spectacular view prompted him to wonder what other delights the nanny kept hidden.

Finch appeared dazed as she stared at him. Given his own foggy state, Sunny couldn’t even begin to make out the meaning of her expression. The chamber was silent except for their breathing. Through the closed door came the very distant strains of music from the ballroom and the faint murmur of the crowds two floors beneath them. At the moment, the reality of everyday life was a distant thing, and there was nothing in the world aside from the woman before him.

Something tender blossomed in his chest as he watched her concentrate on buttoning her bodice, and he was overcome with the urge to say something worthwhile. “Miss Finch—”

The door creaked open and a small voice filled the dimly lit room. “Izzy?” Prudence pushed the door open, her sleepy eyes widening as she looked at her governess. He wondered if all parents were constantly interrupted by their children. At least this time, he and Finch had finished what they’d started.

“Why aren’t you dressed for the ball?”

“The ball is over for me, my sweet.”

“But you went?”

“Oh, yes.” Her bodice decently buttoned, Finch gathered her tousled curls in both hands and tried to twist them into submission.

“Did everyone see how beautiful you looked?”

Sunny cleared his throat. “They certainly did.”

“Cousin Adam?” Prudie’s eyes widened when she spotted him. “What are you doing here?”

“Your governess left the ball early.” His gaze caught Finch’s. “I came looking for her.”

“And he found you here, Izzy?”

Finch’s glistening blue eyes held his. “Yes, he did.”

“Did you see Izzy at the ball, Cousin Adam? Wasn’t she the most beautiful thing you ever saw?”

“She certainly was,” he said, meaning it. There was something about the woman. She wasn’t the most beautiful necessarily, but she was spectacular in a way he couldn’t put into words. “Miss Finch mesmerized everyone this evening, including myself.”

Even in the semi-darkness, he could discern the gentle flush on Finch’s cheeks. “Why are you awake, Prudie?” she said to the girl.

“I had a bad dream. I woke up and you weren’t there.”

Finch went to the child and knelt to take Prudie into her embrace. “I’m here, poppet. Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight?” Prudie nodded, and Finch kissed her forehead. “Then you shall.”

Sunny knew what she was doing. Using the child as a shield against him and her own desires. As she followed the girl out the door, he softly murmured, “Still running, Finch?”

She stiffened but otherwise gave no sign she’d heard him before exiting and closing the door quietly behind her.

---

The following afternoon Sunny strode through the front hall, perspiring but feeling energized after a vigorous session with Vale at Gentleman Jackson’s.

It was almost dusk. The day had gotten off to a late start. After his singular experience with Finch, he’d returned to the party and led the guests into supper at midnight. Then the festivities had continued until dawn. It had been well after seven in the morning before he’d found his bed, and he hadn’t risen until early afternoon for his scheduled session with Vale.

“Welcome home, Your Grace. Your bath is being prepared,” Dowding said as they passed several maids on their knees scrubbing the marble clean of last evening’s entertainment. Around them, servants moved furniture, scrubbed floors, and carried vases of flowers away, putting things to rights.

“Very good.” Sunny headed for the stairs, anticipation coursing through his veins. “Please ask Finch to join me for supper. I’d like to discuss the girls’ progress with the pianoforte.”

It was a lie, of course. In truth, he wanted the nanny spread out on the dining room table. She alone would understand the request once his message was delivered. He’d told her he wanted to feast on her, and she’d been amenable. He could only hope she remained as hungry as he. He expected her to materialize in her drab costume, which suited him admirably. It would be even more erotic to do naughty things to her while she wore her spectacles.

“Erm.” Dowding seemed at a loss for words.

Sunny halted at the bottom of the staircase. “What is it?”

“Miss Finch isn’t in residence, Your Grace. And neither are the children.”

“Where are they? I shouldn’t like to have my supper delayed.”

Dowding frowned and swallowed hard. “I thought you were aware, Your Grace.”

“Aware of what?”

“Miss Finch has taken the girls to Cornwall to visit Lord Abel.”

Sunny suppressed a curse. She’d run. Again. “Did she say when they’d be returning?”

“I believe Miss Finch said it would be several weeks.”

Sunny rubbed his brow. “Very well.” Affecting a disinterest he did not feel, he mounted the stairs. “I’ll expect supper at the usual time then.”

“Very good, Your Grace.”

Reaching the landing, Sunny stalked to his quarters and shut the door hard behind him. He paced over and slammed a hand against the carved bedpost. The wooden column trembled from the force of the impact. What was Finch about? She’d wanted what occurred between them last evening as much as he had. They’d been equal partners in the carnal act.

Not quite equal. His chest went hollow. For him, the world had dropped away when they’d come together in that way. It had just been the two of them—a man and a woman who desired each other. But in reality, he remained a duke and she a governess in his employ. He was a man with the power to take away not only Finch’s livelihood, but also her access to Patience and Prudence.

He swiped a hand down his face as he began to view last night in a different light. He’d stalked Finch when she’d tried to hide from him. He’d been forceful about desiring her and getting what he wanted, all while he knew Finch would do just about anything to prevent being separated from the girls.

She worked for him and he’d bedded her. The truth almost brought him to his knees. After years of trying to avoid being anything like the old duke, what occurred last evening was proof that he’d failed.

That he was no better than his father.