The Governess Club: Louisa Read Online Free PDF Page B

shopping for you?”
    Timothy shrugged. “How much do them dresses and bonnets cost?”
    Louisa’s eyes were sympathetic. “More than a few pennies.”
    His face fell. “Well, what else do mams like?”
    Louisa lifted the tray. “They like nicely behaved, handsome sons that do the dishes instead of going out and playing after dinner.”
    A cheeky grin covered his face. “I got the handsome stuff down pat!”
    She smiled back at him. “That you do, Timmy boy.” She turned and carried the tray to Giant Johnny’s office. “I will keep thinking about your mother’s birthday gift.”
    “Thank ye, Mrs. Brock,” Timothy called out, the cheeky grin still on his face.
    Giant Johnny looked up with a frown as she entered the office. “What was that about?” he asked.
    Louisa shook her head. “Nothing important. Timothy wants to buy his mother a birthday gift.”
    “Hm” was all the response she got as he turned his attention back to his books, rubbing his head.
    She stood in the doorway for a moment, looking at Giant Johnny hunched over his desk. He looked awkward, uncomfortable, as he scratched away at the paper. He didn’t normally ignore her like this. Usually he stood and offered her a smile and a seat. She had become used to these offers, even put more on the tray when she was of a mind to accept.
    She didn’t often get the opportunity to watch him. Her days were too busy and in the evenings he was dedicated to the pub, serving and entertaining the customers. Regulars, mostly, all men. None came who expressed interest in needing a room; she had yet to clean the rooms again, for which she was thankful.
    Now as she stood here, looking at him, she wondered at the tiny ball of disappointment at how he barely glanced up and didn’t even smile at her.
    Louisa watched his hand running back and forth over his bare pate. She had run her hands through a man’s hair before, and she was curious about how her hand would feel in the same place as his now. Would his skin be soft? Smooth like the skin on her stomach or more rough, given the hair follicles that covered a human scalp? Would it be warm or cool? Would she be able to determine just by touch if he was naturally bald or if he maintained it that way?
    She imagined herself standing beside him and sliding her hands along that bare skin, down his neck to settle on his broad shoulders. She had never seen a man of his size. Serving in the pub, she noticed how the men instinctively cowered when near him, but she found it intriguing. Ever since the pot incident when he had effortlessly held her by the waist, a part of her longed for it to happen again. Her skin tingled at the thought of being held in his arms again where she could lean into him and learn his body, his heat, his smell. Her shoulders ached to be surrounded by him, her throat drying at the prospect of being able to lean into him and pull his head down for a kiss.
    She was not a maiden, having indulged with two footmen since becoming a governess. They had both been pleasant and attractive—she would have nothing less—and, most importantly, discreet. She never would have considered them if she had thought they would spread tales about her. The experiences had been enlightening, if dangerous. She gave a brief whisper of thanks she had never been caught with child. She was not a stranger to feeling lust, but the force of this particular lust for the giant sitting awkwardly at his desk took her off guard.
    She was torn between indulging her lust and denying it. She was unsure if he was feeling the same attraction to her and he was her employer; that alone could complicate matters. As a governess, she had never allowed her employers any possibility of a sexual relationship, but those gentlemen had all been married with children. Such an arrangement would have made her more than uncomfortable in regard to her dignity and having to face his wife.
    But her giant here was unmarried, no children in sight save for the