The Governess Club: Louisa by Ellie Macdonald Page B

blood was racing through his body to pool at his groin. For so many years he had denied himself and knowing his self-imposed celibacy could soon end sent his mind scattering. He did not know how long she had been a widow, but her kiss clearly spoke to him of loneliness and desire. This was a woman who had been denied a pleasure her body knew and craved, and now together they would find relief.
    John moved his hand from beneath her breast and closed it over the supple mound, intent on learning its shape and weight, intent on feeling how hard her nipple had become. He growled in frustration when his hand encountered a foreign material between her dress and flesh and his fingers worked at dislodging it.
    She pulled away. “No,” she gasped.
    “What?”
    “My disguise!”
    Reality descended upon him as her words registered. His mind had been so addled by their kiss he had completely forgotten that they were in a public place, and for what reason. A quick glance at the room showed the wench making her way to their table with a tankard of ale and their cheese board. He captured her mouth again, keeping the kiss more innocent than their previous one, and he adjusted her disguise back into place, making it look like a fondle.
    The tankard and tray thumped down onto the table and they broke their kiss, both breathing heavily. Louisa stared at him, taken by surprise at her disappointment that the kiss had ended. Her breasts ached, wanting to know his touch. She glanced at the wench who was glaring at her and felt a surge of primal satisfaction at knowing she had properly staked her claim on this man.
    Not that she truly wanted to claim him. It was the principle of the matter. No woman should seek to steal a man, not when he clearly had another woman already on his lap.
    Shooting the wench a victorious smile, Louisa ran her thumb over his lips, smearing away the lip rouge. She gave him a mock apology look. “Sorry abou’ the rouge, Johnny. Yer just too eager.”
    He blinked, still dazed. She didn’t blame him. Her insides were still quaking with arousal, lust pooling at her core. Swallowing, John fumbled for the payment. “What ale do ye serve here?”
    The wench turned to leave. “That there’s Black Duck.”
    “Same as we serve,” Louisa murmured, her wits returning.
    He lifted the ale to his nose and sniffed. “Seems about right.” He took a long swallow and nodded. “That is one smooth ale. Tasty.”
    Louisa rummaged in her reticule and pulled out a metal flask. “Now compare it to ours.”
    John looked at her with incredulity. “You actually brought a flask of our ale?”
    “Will you just drink it?” she whispered.
    So much for the nice haze of the kiss. Shaking his head, John tilted the flask back and grimaced. “That pales in comparison,” he said. He washed the disgust out of his mouth with the fresh ale.
    “I knew it,” Louisa said triumphantly. “We are being cheated.”
    “Normal people don’t sound so happy about that.”
    She took a piece of bread and cheese and popped it into her mouth. “I am not happy at being cheated. I am happy at finding the proof that we are. Now you can talk with the brewer and straighten this situation out.” She handed him some bread and cheese, which he took.
    John fiddled with the food for a moment. “Louisa, about that—”
    “It was just business,” she interrupted him. Now that her body was once more normal, it was easy to put that kiss into perspective.
    “Just business?” he echoed. Did she truly believe that? He still had a raging hard-on and she said it was business? She was a widow; there was no way in hell she was ignorant about what was poking at her ass.
    She nodded. “Yes. Nothing more. I understand why you had to kiss me.”
    Oh, I doubt that.
    “But we can’t allow that to complicate our partnership.”
    “Of course not,” he muttered darkly. So much for my luck tonight. He popped the bread and cheese into his mouth, chewing roughly to keep