The Governess Club: Louisa (12 page)

She did as he said, causing the bag to shudder. It wasn’t a swing, but movement just the same. She looked at him. “It doesn’t hurt as much, but it’s difficult.”

He steadied the bag with one hand. “That’s because this is my bag. It is made to withstand my punches while still being heavy enough to develop my power. This is a champion’s bag. I could have a smaller one made for you, if you like.”

Intrigued for just a moment, she shook her head. “Why didn’t it move when I hit it correctly?”

“It’s not really supposed to move much,” he explained. “This is a resistance tool. If it swings too much, then it won’t be withstanding punches and therefore building power. My trainer would stand and hold the bag still to provide even more resistance.”

“Show me how you use it.” She tried to keep the interest out of her voice.

He gave her a half smile. “Of course. Step back a bit.” When he ensured she was safe, John stood at the bag within arm’s reach in an upright stance, raising his hands to hover just below his chin. He moderated his breathing, taking slow breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth. He wound up his right arm and jabbed at the bag, the dull thud of his muffler hitting the canvas meeting his ears. He did a few more right jabs before bringing in his left for combination hits. The bag shuddered where it hung, swinging slightly as the force of his hits increased. The thuds picked up their pace, mingling with his grunts whenever he hit the dummy. He shuffled around the bag, imagining an opponent in front of him and hitting him.

His exercise lasted several minutes, his mind and body achieving the mindless state of repetition and exertion. When he finally stopped, his breathing was haggard and his muscles were beginning to ache, especially around his shoulders. He had been a prizefighter for a decade and it had taken a toll on his body.

Panting, he glanced over at Louisa standing at the edge of the stall. Her mouth was slightly open and her eyes had a glazed look to them. Her fingers absently played with the edge of her wrapper, but he could see her tightened nipples through her nightshirt.

John turned his attention back to the bag, steadying it with his hands, fighting his reaction to the woman. The last thing he wanted was another relationship like his marriage, where his wife only had use for him when he boxed. Even though Louisa’s obvious arousal had his cock stiffening into a full-fledged salute, he resisted it.

His caveman side was screaming at him. This is why he had come into the stable so late at night, unable to sleep because of this woman. She had avoided him for the last three days, so he turned to a proven method to work out his frustrations, both sexual and otherwise. And now here she was, clearly open to getting into bed—or a stall—with him.

But his seven-year celibacy gave him strong control over his primitive side. And he would not be made a fool of by a woman again.

“Johnny,” she said, her voice quiet and throaty. The sound of his name spoken in such a way shot another arrow of lust to his groin, but he continued to resist. “John,” she repeated, so he turned his eyes to her. “About the other day—I understand—I don’t have expectations. It was just—”

“So help me God, Louisa, if you say it was just business, I won’t be held accountable for my actions.” He turned back to the dummy and gave it a few hard punches.

“What?” she asked, startled by his interruption.

He was incredulous when he turned to face her fully, hands on his hips. He didn’t miss how her eyes scanned his chest again, but he remained focused. “What kind of man do you think I am? To make love with a woman I work with, a woman I respect, and consider it just business? If you were a prostitute, yes, but yea gods, Louisa, give me credit for having some semblance of honor.”

She looked at him with solemn eyes. “I was going to say that it was just unexpected. We need not place any more ideals upon it. We both were involved in what happened; I do not place the blame at your feet.”

“Oh. Well.” He blinked. “Not that I think we did anything worthy of blame,” he muttered.

“In fact,” she continued as though she hadn’t heard him, “that is something I wished to speak to you about.”

He watched as she pressed her lips together and lifted her chin, actions that amused him. She did those things when she was going to make a declaration of some sort or was unhappy about something and trying to save face.

She did not disappoint. “We are both healthy adults, obviously with needs that are not currently being met. I propose we make an arrangement between us to see to those needs.”

John rocked back on his heels. “You mean to have an affair?”

She nodded. “A discreet one. It would not do for our inn’s reputation should word of it get out; women are just beginning to feel comfortable here. We would meet late at night, in my cottage when I indicate you will be welcome. A sheath would be used, something I must insist upon, as I have no wish to conceive a child. You must never spend the night but return to your room soon after we are finished with each other and ensure none sees you enter or exit the cottage. Outside of that, our relationship would remain as it is, professional and courteous. No sneaking touches or kisses, no needlessly seeking the other out, nothing to indicate anything untoward is happening between us. While I understand my widowed status allows me a modicum of freedom, I will not be fodder for gossip.”

During her delivery, he had turned back to the dummy and traced lines on it. When she was finished, he resumed punching it.

“Well, do you agree?” she asked over the noise of his exercise. When he continued his punching, she raised her voice. “Do you have nothing to say?”

He stopped and shot her a hooded look. “I wasn’t aware my participation was required in the conversation. You clearly have it all sorted. Am I even necessary to see to your needs?”

She sniffed. “There is no reason to be crude.”

He barked out a laugh that had the horses shifting. “You just outlined the most bloodless affair known to man and you think I am being crude?” He shook his head. “What makes you think I would agree to any of this?”

“Well,” she sputtered, “you are a man. I am offering an arrangement with no expectations. I should think that would appeal to you.”

“The fact that I am a man means I should be grateful for your offer? What am I to expect when I enter your room—will your nightshirt already be pulled up and your legs spread, and ten minutes later I take my leave of you?” He shook his head again. “I am a man, not a savage. Such a cold arrangement has never held any appeal to me. I am not controlled by base desires nor will I beg for your favors or attention. If I enter any sort of affair with you, I will not be afraid of any expectations placed upon me. And it would be an affair that leaves us both satisfied, not this fumble-tumble idea you have.”

“A simple
no
would suffice.” Her chin was in the air again.

John walked up to her until she had to tilt her head to keep her eyes on his face. “That wasn’t a no,” he murmured, enjoying how her mahogany eyes widened. “It was a request for us to actually discuss this like reasonable adults who are attracted to each other. I won’t deny it, kitten, I want to make love with you again, but not at the sacrifice of intimacy and affection.”

She shook her head and her voice was firm. “It would just be sex, not making love. No intimacy or affection.”

He looked at her, trying to see beyond her words. “How long ago did your husband pass away?”

She stilled and there was a brief flare of panic in her eyes. “Long enough for this to not be a scandal.”

“You loved him, so much that it hurt when he died?”

“What business is it of yours?”

John reached out and tucked a loose blond strand of hair behind her ear, trailing his fingers down her neck and to her shoulder. “I would not seek to hurt you. It is not wrong to seek happiness, even when one you loved is gone. I would do all in my power to assure you find it.”

That was the wrong thing to say. He could see it in the way her face darkened and closed off, a formidable wall erecting between them.

“My
happiness
is not your responsibility. It is mine alone, dependent on me and no one else, least of all any man. Forget I ever mentioned anything.” She spun on her heel and marched out of the stall.

L
ouisa barely paid Rose’s chatter any mind as they cleaned the vacated guest rooms. This was not something she usually assisted the maids with, not after training them, but she wanted to avoid the office today. She knew it would be the first place Giant Johnny would look for her and wanted to delay that confrontation as long as she possibly could.

The humiliation from the night before still burned in her. The crudeness of his words, the way he rejected her proposal—it had been unexpected and embarrassing. Neither of her footmen had put up any fuss, which was how she liked it.

But Giant Johnny had to be different, didn’t he. Why couldn’t he be like every other red-blooded male and just take the sex she was offering? Why did he have to make things so difficult?

It hadn’t helped that she had been so aroused after watching him with his punching dummy. The play of his muscles in the candlelight, the way they bunched along his back, how his biceps tightened and released; she had felt the impact of his hits deep inside her and it thrilled her. She hadn’t realized before that moment how incredibly controlled he was and she wanted to have that leashed power in her bed and between her legs.

If only he hadn’t refused, she could have her satisfaction whenever she wanted.

She and Rose gathered their supplies and moved on to the last room. Rose began pouring out the used water basin while Louisa stripped the bed of its dirty linens. She was about to retrieve the clean ones when heavy footsteps sounded in the corridor and Giant Johnny appeared in the doorway. His face was tight and grim.

“Mrs. Brock, a moment if you may.”

She stood her ground. “I am busy.” She held a pillow in front of her, a pathetic shield.

Without speaking, he stalked over to her and yanked the pillow from her, tossing it on the bed. He grasped her elbow and pulled her out of the room. She resisted, squirming to get out of his hold, but he just tightened his fingers.

“Unhand me,” she demanded as they neared the stairs.

He ignored her and descended the stairs.

“You have no right to manhandle me! I will make a scene, I swear.”

He didn’t stop, but pulled her through the pub. “Go ahead. No one will care and you will only look foolish.”

She shut her mouth and pressed her lips together. She knew he was right. She lifted her chin and tried to walk regally for all he was propelling her through the room. She did not make any eye contact with patrons or employees, feeling the burn of her earlier humiliation compound itself at this display of chauvinistic imperialism.

They entered the kitchen and he led her without hesitation to the office. Expecting him to release her once they arrived, she was surprised when he continued into his room and closed the door behind them. When he did release her, she took several steps away from him and rubbed where his hand had been, although he hadn’t actually hurt her.

Louisa glared at him. “If you think that display of prehistoric—”

He closed the distance between them, his face dark, and covered her mouth with his hand. “Stop,” he growled. “You had your turn to speak last night. Now it is mine.”

Her glare continued over his hand until he dropped it. She raised her chin. “You did manage to say plenty last night,” she pointed out.

“Yea gods, woman, do you never cease?” He ran his hands over his bald pate.

She thrust her fists onto her hips. “You drag me into your room, most inappropriately I might add, and then have the audacity to be put out with me? If anyone has a right to be—mmph!”

John cut her off the only way he could think of. He caught her waist and pulled her flush against him, his mouth descending quickly to take her mouth in a wet kiss. She struggled for a moment, but he held her close and followed her movements with his head, not letting her get away. Finally, she sighed into him, her arms sliding around his waist.

Yea gods, but he would never tire of kissing this woman. He sank into her mouth, tasting the sweetness he knew lay beyond her tart words. Their lips met and molded into each other, teasing and exploring the other. He kept it slow, savoring the way she kept sighing, her body relaxing against his, giving herself up to him in a timeless instinct.

Breaking the kiss, he lifted his head, pleased to see how slowly she opened her eyes and blinked at him. He smiled at her. “Allow me to speak,” he murmured.

Anger flashed in her eyes when his words registered, but she pressed her lips together and nodded.

“I brought you in here because I did not want you to use any excuse to avoid me. Do not belittle either of us by claiming otherwise,” he said when she opened her mouth. She clamped her lips together and glared at him, telling him he had been right. “I also did not want anyone interrupting or eavesdropping.

“I said last night that I would discuss your proposal as reasonable adults. I will not accede to all of your wishes, just as I am aware you will not with all of mine.”

She looked at him warily. “What wishes are those?”

“I will be upfront with you. I have no intention of entering any such arrangement with you without knowing that marriage will be the end result.”

Louisa pulled out of his arms and took several steps away, turning her back on him. “I will not marry. It is out of the question.”

“I am not saying that it needs to happen now or even soon, but eventually.”

“No.”

“I will give you time to grieve your husband and to adjust to the idea of marrying me, but I will not risk the possibility of a child out of wedlock.”

“There will be no child. I insist on using sheaths.” She began to pace the length of the short room.

John was still surprised for a woman to speak so bluntly about such things, but he kept it to himself. Louisa was not a usual sort of woman. “I agree to that, but sheaths break, kitten. I will not have a bastard.”