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“Oh, my poor dear.” The lady held the little scrap of a girl. She lost a baby brother to fever not long ago, and she still grieved. Aurelia let her weep on her shoulder.
Conrad witnessed the exchange, having decided to visit the school his wife had built. He had tied his horse not far. The scene felt like a punch in his guts. The tenderness and consideration she showed the child spoke about a warm heart and an empathetic personality. Things he had glimpsed in her, but never taken into account. Now, the sight threw those on his face so blatantly he did not know how to deal with it.
“Look, it’s Lord Strafford!” The little girl exclaimed and hurried to curtsy to him, kitten forgotten, face streamed with tears.
Aurelia averted her face abruptly and stood up slowly, taking her time to turn to him. She lowered her lashes, and he missed what passed behind them. One of those practical dresses, high-necked and austere clad her curvy body. Her beauty all too evident in those; and the prim dresses begun to light his fire.
“And what’s your name, little lady?” He mirrored his wife and crouched to the girl’s level.
“Bess, milord!” She opened a large smile at him
“Nice to meet you, Bess!” He bowed his head, taking his hat off, making Bess’ eyes shine. “Can I help you with anything?”
“It’s just me kitten milord. Milady says it’s gonna show up sooner or later.”
“Let’s hope it does, Bess.” He looked at her solemnly.
“Yes, milord. I’d better go and help mum now.” She curtsied again and ran off.
He straightened. Both remained in the class, no distractions. She still refused to look at him.
The tender way he tre
ated Bess moved her. His tall, strong body bending down to Bess and talking to her so relaxed, did something to her guts. He looked gorgeous today in black breeches that hugged his muscular thighs and riding coat that marked his broad shoulders. The shoulders she had clung to last night, lest she fell in a precipice of pleasure. The thought made her blush furiously. Her senses begun to get the best of her, much to her contrariety.
“I can take over the school while Mrs Hutton is away.” She heard him say in that deep voice of his.
Her head angled to him looking somewhere beyond his shoulder. “What do you know about teaching?”
“Well, I had an education myself.” At Eton, she knew. “I surely can teach small children their numbers.” He rose his brows, daring her to contradict him. “You have already much work with the estate, as you make it a point to be so.”
She measured him from head to toe then. “Why are you offering? You never cared!” She accused.
“I am here, am I not?” His legs drew apart, so sexy she almost forgot herself. “With you managing the manor, I have time to spare.”
Relinquishing a task to him, any task meant an exercise in trust. He had always been erratic, absent and negligent. There was no reason whatsoever to risk the children’s confidence in the school. Part from that, she really had much to do. To substitute Mrs Hutton, added one duty too many in her already busy day.
“Right.” She conceded reluctant. “But if I come to know anything is amiss, you’re out.”
An amused glint come to his dark eyes. “Yes, milady.” He bowed his midnight haired head, nearly undoing her. “Maybe you’d like to show me around the school.” He offered his arm to her.
She looked pointedly at the arm, not knowing what to do. She should not refuse his courteous gesture, though, her hand resting lightly on his arm, as it was awkward to touch him after… well after… that. The feel of his warm muscles through the fabric was enough to heighten her awareness of him.
In the week that passed, they performed the motions of talking about the estate affairs, having dinner in tense small talk and pretending nothing had happened.
On those occasions, she found herself acutely affected by his presence and trying her best to ignore the fact. What she could not ignore, though, was that he never drank alcohol at dinner or otherwise. He gave preference to tea or even water. This amazed her, but she remained too retreated to ask him about it. He also spent his evenings at home. He had not visited her chamber since that gloriously disastrous night though. She did not fathom as to why since he seemed so bent on this heir issue. Relief and longing battled in her to maddening point. She saw light under the connecting door and realised he stood just feet away.
Sleep did not come easy to her. Her thoughts in constant whirlwind, her body craving what she should not crave. That night would not leave her mind and she reproached herself incessantly for it. She began to be afraid her needs would take control of her in no time.
Conrad was nothing but courteous at every opportunity. He achieved a rather surprising success as a substitute teacher and the children expressed a besotted admiration for him. She was grateful she had not made a mistake by agreeing to his helping in the school; secretly, she applauded his versatility in that matter.
Not only could Conrad not take that night out of his head, but also he could not take her out of his mind. He wanted more. He wanted all. The need to be patient tore him apart. He attempted to give her time to get used to him again. Difficult for him. The night in her chambers had been the most explosive he had ever had. He wanted a repeat. Soon. Even clad in those stifle dresses she tempted him. The nights had become hell. The light under the connecting door, her muffled movements tortured him. He walked on thin ice here. If he made a mistake, he might lose everything. Of course, he might claim their agreement and fast-forward that stale mate. But he wanted her pliant and willing, like that night. The problem being his temper did not fit patience. His candle burned low already.
Aurelia walked to the orchard to have a look at the growth of the fruit and clean off the weed. As she entered it, she saw Conrad there, doing exactly what she came to do. Actually, it was as if he stood in every place she came to, a constant presence she did not mind getting rid of soon. He had been helping her. A lot. Which lightened her burdens, naturally. She did not want him to though. She did not care to count on him. For anything. He should not be trusted with any minimum task. Eventually he would betray her in one way or the other. Irritation coated her mood.
“What are you doing here?” The vexed question escaped her mouth unrequested.
He gyrated to her, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. He wore breeches and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing tanned muscular arms. His time in India had given him a touch of tanned skin so unnecessary to enhance his attractiveness. The watery sun shone his midnight hair in bluish streaks. It became more and more difficult to ignore him, she realised with an unfortunate note.
