Chapter 5 #2
All at once, she turned back, her free hand clamped onto his wrist, and then she was somehow twisting his arm and shoulder up and around and applying pressure in such a precise and forceful way that he found himself losing his balance.
In the blink of an eye, he was down on one knee, one hand on the floor, while his captured arm was immobilized and bent at an odd angle behind him.
In fact, he could barely move, and if he did, it was exceedingly uncomfortable.
He was trussed like a Christmas goose and completely at Mrs. Chase’s mercy.
Through the disheveled curtain of his hair, he glanced up at her. “Very clever,” he said. “I did not see that coming.”
She released him and as he straightened and pushed his hair out of his eyes, he suspected her smile was more than a little bit smug. He couldn’t say that he blamed her.
“I’m convinced you can hold your own, Mrs. Chase,” he began, but then she held up a hand.
“Not all attacks come from the front, Your Grace. Some are stealthy and come from behind. To complete my demonstration, I’d like to show you how I’d manage in that sort of situation.” She snared his gaze. “If you’ll indulge me a little longer.”
His masculine pride and his dignity had already been dented, so what more did he have to lose?
And he couldn’t deny that part of him was unabashedly intrigued by this woman and her seemingly endless arsenal of hidden talents.
Perhaps the British Army or the Foreign Office should recruit Parasol Academy graduates into their service.
“Of course,” he said. “What would you like me to do?”
She stepped close and turned so that her back was almost against his front.
Indeed, she was so close, he caught the beguiling scent of her.
A light floral fragrance (violets perhaps) and something else he suspected was simply “Mrs. Chase” drifted around him, and for one insane moment he struggled against the impulse to press his nose against the pale column of her elegant neck to inhale more of that sweet scent.
What the devil was wrong with him today?
Once again, he fought to pay attention to her directions.
“Now, Your Grace, I want you to slide your crooked arm about my neck, grip your own wrist with your other hand to make a noose, and then pull me backward like you mean to haul me off or even throttle me.”
Xavier immediately stiffened. The mere idea of someone trying to do something so appalling to Mrs. Chase filled him with abhorrence and smoldering anger.
Nevertheless, he complied and carefully slid his bent arm around her.
He then clasped his own wrist in an uncompromising hold.
At the same time, her hands rose and she gripped his bared wrists and forearms. Her touch seemed to tingle and burn the flesh beneath, but not in an unpleasant way. In fact, it was strangely exhilarating.
But perhaps that was simply because Xavier was not used to being so physically close to anyone. Especially a copper-tressed enchantress who smelled as sweet and delicate as a posy of violets, yet kept a knife strapped about her ankle and could bring a man to his knees.
She turned her head toward him and one of those damned silken locks almost brushed against his lips. “If this is to work, you’ll need to grip me harder. Like you mean business, Your Grace.”
“Very well.” Xavier gritted his teeth and then tightened his hold, pulling her body flush against his. Thank God the nanny’s skirts were voluminous, because if he had to maintain this position for too much longer, an untoward stirring in the vicinity of his trousers was bound to occur.
“Good,” said Mrs. Chase, and before Xavier knew what she was about, she was bending her knees and tipping sideways, and he was following her down…
right up until the moment she let go of his arms and grabbed him with surprising strength about the lower thighs.
And then somehow he lost his footing, again , and found himself tumbling to the rug.
She tumbled with him, her body crashing into his, her skirts tangling with his legs as they rolled.
The momentum of their collision carried them toward the sitting area…
And then there was a clatter and a crash, and the next thing Xavier knew, he was flat on his back, covered in tea and coffee, and Mrs. Chase was straddling his hips.
Again. Like yesterday.
As Xavier stared up at the nanny, he realized he didn’t care that vast patches of his linen shirt and silk vest were soaked through and uncomfortably plastered to his skin. Or that he might be lying on a mound of egg and cress sandwiches.
Rather, he became acutely aware that all the air had been sucked from his lungs.
But he wasn’t winded. Mrs. Chase had somehow stolen his breath.
She was breathless too. She was leaning over him, her arms braced either side of his head.
Her silly cap had fallen off and more of her curls, which had escaped the confines of her ruthlessly pinned bun, were practically tickling his cheeks.
Beneath his gloved hands, which had somehow ended up about her waist, he could feel the quickened pace of her breathing as her rib cage expanded and contracted.
Her face was so close as it hovered above his, he could see her fine lashes were tipped with gold and that there were tiny flecks of gentian violet in the depths of her azure eyes.
And that the scattering of freckles across her pert nose and flushed cheeks brought to mind cinnamon or nutmeg dusted across cream…
“I-I… I’m so, so sorry, Your Grace,” Mrs. Chase stammered as she pushed herself up to a sitting position.
She tucked her unruly hair behind her ears.
“I assure you, it’s not a habit of mine to sit upon—” She broke off and color suffused her cheeks.
And then a frown knit her brow. “I hope I haven’t hurt you. ”
“No. I’m perfectly fine.” Well, that was a lie. Xavier’s world had been turned upside down and inside out and he wasn’t sure how long it would take him to recover his equilibrium.
But recover it he must. For the sake of his project and his wards. He could hardly employ Mrs. Chase if he were at sixes and sevens around her. He couldn’t afford to be distracted when the deadline for his submission loomed.
Besides, it was the right thing to do. Maintaining his usual level of dispassionate, professional detachment when it came to interacting with his staff shouldn’t be difficult. He simply needed to put some distance—especially physical distance—between himself and the nanny.
If he could do that, there was no doubt in Xavier’s mind that she’d be perfect for the job.
To his relief, Mrs. Chase climbed off him, and then Xavier clambered to his feet.
“Oh dear. We’ve made quite a mess,” murmured Mrs. Chase as she cast her dismayed gaze over the wreckage: the upended table, the scattered china, the squashed sandwiches and strewn scones, and of course the spilled tea and coffee that he was also wearing.
She retrieved her lacy cap and pinned it on her head while Xavier pulled out a kerchief from his trouser pocket and wiped his damp neck and torso.
“How do you feel about birds?” he asked.
“Specifically, ravens? Because I have one as a pet. He’s named Horatio and he’s rather…
” He paused, searching for the right word.
“Impudent. Large and loquacious would also be accurate descriptors. I wouldn’t want him to put you off when you start. ”
Mrs. Chase’s eyes widened. “Are you… are you actually offering me the job, Your Grace?” she whispered.
“Yes. I am. If you’re willing to take it.” Xavier studied her face, trying to gauge her reaction. He was suddenly and quite inexplicably as tense as a bowstring. If she said no…
The nanny bit her lip as though she were suppressing a smile. Or was she apprehensive? Xavier hated that he couldn’t tell.
He was about to verbally nudge her for a reply when she said, “Well, to be perfectly honest, Your Grace, I’m not at all concerned that you have a large raven as a pet.
In fact, I’ve already met him, and I think him a rather handsome and charming fellow.
But I will admit that I’m a tad bothered to learn that you don’t drink tea.
” She gave a small sigh, but there was an unmistakable gleam in her eye as she added, “But I suppose I can overlook that one small thing.”
Relief welled inside Xavier’s chest. “So, your answer is yes?” Even though he knew she’d been teasing him again, he needed to hear her say it.
Mrs. Chase clasped her hands beneath her chin and this time, she did smile. “Yes. It’s an unequivocal yes. I will accept your offer.”
Xavier nodded and his own mouth began to curl up at the corners. “Excellent. I shall speak to Mrs. Temple about the contract—”
All of a sudden, the terrible sound of glass shattering penetrated the study and Xavier swore, quite loudly, before he could stop himself.
This nerve-jangling smash was immediately followed by a cacophony of other equally disconcerting, if not altogether disagreeable noises: a shrill female scream; a slamming door; the booming baritone of a man (possibly Woodley).
And then there was the wince-inducing counterpoint to it all…
the raucous squawking of Horatio. No doubt his redoubtable bird was in the midst of all the mayhem.
Xavier muttered another curse, this time beneath his breath.
Dash it all. What the devil had happened now?
What mischief had his three young wards got up to this time?
Had they brought down the chandelier in the entry hall?
Broken the stained-glass window above the landing on the main staircase?
Smashed a pane of a glass-fronted bookcase in the library? Exploded another firecracker?
He caught Mrs. Chase’s eye and noted her countenance had blanched. Damn it. He didn’t want her to leave before she’d even begun.
“Your wards?” asked the nanny, sympathy in her gaze.
“I think so.” Xavier started toward the door. “I can’t hear Harry, Barry, or Gary howling or wailing, so I’ll assume no one has been hurt. It sounds like the crash was close by.”