Chapter 30 #3
Another button slid free, revealing the edge of Mina’s corset and lace-edged chemise. “Aye. When they’ve finished their cake, Frobisher will take them to the ballroom and entertain them by playin’ tunes and marbles and whatever else they’d like to do.”
“And … and Brutus?”
“After one of the footmen gives the wee sod a bath, he’ll be confined to the house until further notice.”
“Not the terrace?” Mina laced her fingers around Phinn’s strong neck.
“No.” Phinn was down to the last button. “I don’t trust the bugger not to roll around in the mud in the back garden just to spite me.”
“He loves you, you know. He thinks that you’re—” Mina broke off. Blast. She did not want to be talking about her ability to mentally communicate with blinking Brutus. Not when the man she loved was in the process of undressing her.
But Phinn had noticed as he looked up and frowned. “And how would you know what me dog thinks, Mina? Don’t tell me you can hear his thoughts.”
Mina winced. “All right. I won’t tell you that.”
“Sweet Jaysus.” Phinn’s eyes crinkled with mirth. “I’m not sure whether that would be a nightmare or feckin’ hilarious.”
Mina laughed. “A little of both. And just so you know, he can only hear my thoughts if I let him.”
“Thank God for that,” said Phinn with a roguish grin as he hooked two fingers into the top of her corset and chemise and tugged them down, revealing one of her breasts.
“Because your thoughts are about to get all kinds o’ wicked.
Just like mine are, because feck me”—he ran a fingertip lightly around one of her nipples, making it furl into a tight pink bud—“you’re more gorgeous than I ever imagined. ”
Mina swore she blushed all over as Phinn’s frankly admiring gaze drank her partially naked state in. But she also felt beautiful and adored and desired and ready for whatever wicked journey this man was about to take her on.
As Phinn lowered his head and kissed Mina where she’d never been kissed before, teasing the aching point of her nipple with his lips and clever tongue and the rough pads of his fingers, she was aflame with desire.
“Oh Phinn,” she moaned as he transferred his attention to her other breast. Everything he did to her set off sparks that sizzled through her veins, radiating delicious heat throughout her body.
“Why … why haven’t we done this until … until now? ”
He lifted his head and arched a dark brow. His eyes fairly smoldered as he said, “Damned if I know, darlin’.” He lifted a hand and waggled his fingers. “Just wait until you discover the magic I can do with these.”
But Mina didn’t find out because just as Phinn was sliding a hand beneath her skirts and was heading straight for the slit in her drawers, there was a volley of rapid knocking upon the drawing room door. “Lord Kinsale? Miss Davenport? Are you in there?”
Oh no. It was Meddley Smedley!
Phinn voiced what Mina had been thinking. “Blast and feck and blinkin’ hell,” he muttered as he sat up and raked a hand through his thoroughly disheveled hair. Mina, as she sat up too, attempted to haul up her corset and chemise. “What the hell do you want, Smedley?” he all but barked. “I’m busy!”
“There’s a Mrs. Temple here to see Miss Davenport. She says it’s most urgent and cannot wait,” called back the butler. “I’ve shown her to the library.”
“Well, have Mrs. Aldershot organize a tea tray for her,” returned Phinn tersely. “And tell Mrs. Temple that Miss Davenport will see her shortly. Oh, and don’t let anyone else in without checkin’ with me first!”
“Of course, my lord. And yes, the distraction of a tea tray is a good idea. It will keep Mrs. Temple busy while you and Miss Davenport straighten yourselves out.”
What? Mina’s jaw dropped open. “The cheek of the man,” she whispered, her face burning with fiery indignation.
“He better not have been peeking at us through the keyhole.” At least she’d been reclining on the settee and the chair’s back would have shielded her scandalous state of dishabille from prying eyes. But still.
Phinn’s expression was like thunder. “If he was spyin’, he’ll rue the day he was born.” Casting his gaze over Mina, he grimaced. “I’m afraid I’ve made a terrible mess o’ your hair and uniform.”
Mina grinned. “Oh, I can fix that in a jiffy. I can fix your attire and hair too.”
“How?” asked Phinn. “You have a spell for that?”
“I certainly do.” Mina reached into her governess’s pocket and pulled out a small feather duster. “Prepare to be unsmirchified.”
Phinn sat back and pulled Mina across his lap. “Does it hurt?”
“Being unsmirchified?” She shrugged a shoulder. “It might tickle a little. But nothing worse than that.” Then she sighed. “Although I’m afraid that a Parasol-Academy-perfect appearance will not save me from Mrs. Temple’s wrath. Now that will hurt.”
Phinn tucked a lock of Mina’s hair behind her ear. “Maybe she’ll surprise you. I mean, it doesn’t matter if she revokes your license to practice as a governess now, because you’re about to become the next Marchioness of Kinsale.”
“True,” said Mina. “But what if she has me arrested for kidnapping a child?”
Phinn cradled her face with a gentle hand. “I’m sure she won’t. You’ve told me yourself that the Academy’s name and reputation must be protected at all costs. But if she does summon Scotland Yard, anyone who tries to arrest you will have to go through me first.”
“I love you,” said Mina, touching his lean hard jaw. “Your faith in me lends me strength. Now close your eyes.” And when Phinn did, she waved her magical duster over them both as she whispered, “Unsmirchify.”
A soft white glow immediately enveloped them and a soft wind ruffled their hair and clothes.
And when Phinn opened his eyes, he gave a low whistle.
“How feckin’ brilliant is that?” he murmured, looking down at Mina’s gown, which was all done and up and looked like it had just been pressed.
His hair and cravat and anything else that had been rumpled were now perfectly in order.
Mina laughed. “It is a handy spell, I’ll give you that.
Although”—she pushed the magical feather duster back into her pocket as she climbed to her feet—“I doubt I’ll have access to Fae magic for much longer.
As soon as my license is revoked, I’ll just be plain and ordinary Hermina Davenport from Ablington. ”
Phinn rose too. “You’ll never be plain and ordinary to me,” he said with fervent sincerity and then he kissed her softly on the lips.
“Now”—his expression firmed—“let’s go and face Mrs. Temple together and sort out what’s to be done about the problem of Sir Bedivere Ponsonby.
Like you, I won’t be lettin’ Christopher get returned to that prat’s care.
Not … not unless he can be un-ensorcelled. ”