Page 21 of The Beastly Earl

“No. I don’t think you’d be suitable as a governess.”

“Give me one good reason why?” she demanded imperiously. Unaccustomed to anyone taking exception to his decisions, Ewan’s muscles tightened even further at the way she continued to challenge him.

“Do not question my decisions in my own house,” he snarled as he strode out of the shadows to stand over her.

She immediately retreated from him, her hazel eyes wide with alarm. Her reaction was everything he’d expected, but it was his disappointment at her retreat that bothered him the most. In the far reaches of his mind, her defiance earlier had made him think she might not view him as the beast so many others did. To his surprise, she relaxed slightly as her gaze narrowed at him.

A split-second later, Louisa reversed her retreat and defiantly closed the distance between them. It was as if a caber had landed on his chest. Christ Jesus, he’d never seen anyone so fearless in the face of his anger. And he was finding his anger difficult to maintain as he breathed in the sweet scent of her. His gaze slowly slid downward as he remembered the lush curves hidden beneath her dress. The memory increased his longing to explore her mouth and a body made for a man to indulge himself in.

When he returned his gaze to her face, pink color had risen high in her cheeks, but her expression revealed nothing of her thoughts. The devil in him made him lean forward until he could feel the warm heat of her breath on his face. The smell of mint filled his nostrils, and it made him ache to taste the cool fire of her mouth.

His gaze met hers, and the instant she wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, Ewan’s jaw tightened until the muscles in his face ached. God help him, he was a fool to even think about allowing her to remain at Argaty Keep. Straightening upright, he glared at her, determined to squelch the increasingly strong urge to tug her into his arms and kiss her.

“For a chattering magpie who entered my study uninvited, your tongue seems to have failed you, Louisa Morehouse,” he bit out in an icy voice before he turned away from her to stalk toward the bookcase.

Without thinking, Ewan reached for the book he’d left on the shelf with his artificial hand. The weight and size of the book proved too cumbersome for the device. As the tome slipped out of his gloved hand and the device pinched the stump of his arm, he uttered an oath of disgust. Angered by his clumsiness, and that Louisa had been a witness to it, he lunged downward to retrieve the book.

His fingers missed the book as his only eye miscalculated the distance. A second later, a feminine hand grasped the leather-bound volume and handed it to him. With a growl, he snatched the book from her with his good hand.

“It’s time you left, madam,” he said in a harsh tone as he opened the book to stare down at the page.

“You’ve still not answered the question I put to you before you charged at me like a mad bull.” Her fierce words startled him, but he quickly suppressed his surprise.

“A mad bull?” he bit out between clenched teeth as he jerked his head and sent a cold glare in her direction.

“Yes. An angry mad bull. If this is how you always act it certainly explains why everyone walks around on eggshells in this house.” Clearly exasperated, she didn’t flinch as she met his gaze. “If you won’t give me a reason for saying no to my proposition so quickly, would you at least think about it overnight rather than rejecting it in haste?”

The revulsion he’d expected to see in her eyes wasn’t there. Just as startling was the complete lack of horror and fear in her gaze. Perplexed by her manner, the anger that had consumed him only a short moment ago ebbed back into the darkness of his soul. He closed his eye for a moment. Louisa Morehouse was a force to be reckoned with, and he wasn’t sure he had the wherewithal to withstand her persistent drive to get her way.

“Did you drive your man to drink, Mrs. Morehouse?” he said with an annoyed shake of his head.

At his question, her face took on the same ghostly pallor she'd worn when he’d found her on the moors. Eyes dark with pain, she had the look of a woman haunted not with grief, but with guilt. Regret slammed into Ewan. His words had inflicted far more damage than he’d expected, and he didn’t like how the knowledge of that made him feel.

She swayed slightly on her feet, and Ewan instinctively reached out to steady her. Electricity jolted its way through his body as she braced herself against his chest. The subtle scent of roses filled his nostrils, and he savored the smell as he breathed in her fragrance. It had been a long time since he’d enjoyed the smell of a woman.

Head bowed she didn’t move for a moment then dragged in a deep breath and raised her head. The fire he’d witnessed in her only seconds before had been extinguished and replaced by an icy façade. He grimaced at her expression, and regret slammed into him again.

“It wasn’t my intent to cause you pain, lass,” he said quietly as he met her gaze.

“You didn’t.” Her voice was devoid of emotion as she stepped back from him. “Forgive me for coming here uninvited.”

Still pale, she turned away from him and walked toward the door. In the back of his head, he heard a voice shouting at him. Desperately, he tried to ignore the clarion calls to stop her. The demands were as persistent as Louisa Morehouse had been up until the moment he'd caused her to remember something painful.

“Louisa.”

Ewan watched her stop and look over her shoulder at him. He frowned at how pale she still was. McCallum had been right. She’d not fully recovered from her ordeal. The fact he’d been so harsh with her made his jaw tighten in remorse.

“I shall consider your proposal and give you my answer in the morning,” he said quietly.

An odd expression flashed across her face as she nodded then left the study. Alone once more, Ewan violently slammed his book down on the bookshelf. The room echoed with the loud, abrasive crack of leather against wood.

Why was he even thinking about granting Louisa Morehouse the position of governess? It was a bad idea. The woman would be a distraction. Would be? A snort escaped him. She already was. In fact, she was the most distracting creature he’d ever met. The woman had stormed his study like a general leading a charge. And she’d stood up to him in a way few people ever did.

Not even McCallum had ever confronted him so directly. The Scotsman persuaded or suggested actions to take, but nothing more. Louisa Morehouse on the other hand had been fearless. He went rigid as he remembered how he’d called her by her given name to stop her from leaving the room. It was a warning sign he needed to say no to her proposition.

Wearily, Ewan rubbed his forehead at the sudden pounding assaulting his head. The only way to make his headache go away was to sleep. With a quiet exhaled breath of frustration, he strode out of the study and headed toward his room. He’d make his decision in the morning. In the back of his head, a voice taunted him for being a dolt as it laughed and informed him that he’d already made his decision. Irritated by the mocking laughter filling his head, he ignored the sound and what his decision might cost him.

Chapter 6