A Woman Scorned by Liz Carlyle Page B

children, I shall teach Monday through Friday, and the occasional half-day on Saturday. I have no things ‘to be brought up.’ I do not plan to take up residence here.”
    Jonet suppressed a gasp. Her anger chased fast after confusion, with unbridled lust hot on their heels.
Good heavens, this Captain Amherst was a hard man to understand
. She felt her already racing pulse ratchet up another notch. Terror had been her constant companion for so long she had almost grown accustomed to it. Now, in the space of five minutes, it seemed as if the rest of her emotions had been set loose like a pack of ill-trained hounds.
    Only a severe twitch in Amherst’s chiseled jaw belied his temper, but unless Jonet missed her guess, it was a fierce one indeed. It had never occurred to her that he might prefer to reside elsewhere, and Jonet knew that she ought to be inordinately relieved that he would not be sleeping under her roof. Instead, she was quite vexed. “My advertisement stipulated that the tutor would be expected to live in,” she insisted, her voice a little more querulous than she intended.
    Captain Amherst spoke again in his same carefully modulated tones. “With all respect, my lady, I have not come in answer to your advertisement. I have come at my uncle’s behest. Moreover, I have come to teach, not to nursemaid.”
    “Oh, I daresay I know why James sent you here, Captain Amherst,” she snapped, swishing across the room as boldly as she dared. “What I begin to wonder is whether you do.”
    Crossing her arms over her chest to keep her hands from visibly shaking, she turned her back to him and stared out the window. In her agitation, Jonet had given no thought to how rude such a gesture might appear. Amherst, however, seemed to have grasped it rather quickly. Almost at once, she was shocked to feel the heat of his hand high on her arm, burning through the fabric of her gown. She whipped around to face him, a cruel reprimand dying on her lips.
    Amherst’s face was so close she could see the insolent curve of his mouth and the shadow of a surprisingly dark beard beneath his skin. He was so tall she could feel the warmth of his breath stir across her forehead. Like a heavy shadow falling, the man loomed over her. Jonet could smell him now, his angry heat edged with nothing but clean male sweat and a hint of soap as he pressed his fingers into her upper arm. His hands were powerful, and a little rough.
    A deep tremble ran through her, but whether it was outright fear or perverse lust, Jonet could not have said. One was as bad as the other. Amherst leaned another inch nearer. His lush, carnal mouth now looked tight and mean. “If I am as dangerous as you seem to believe, Lady Mercer,” he said in a soft, lethal undertone, “perhaps you ought not turn your back whilst I’m in the room. Moreover, if your children require instruction in drawing room deportment—and from what I have seen, I daresay they may—then I shall cheerfully add it to their curriculum.”
    Jonet refused to back down. “Why, Captain,” she softly retorted, staring straight into his eyes, “you are standing so close, one might imagine you are trying to seduce me.” To her undying mortification, she realized that she burned to kiss that hard, uncompromising mouth until it softened and molded to her own. For a moment, Amherst’s dark lashes lowered, and a hungry expression passed over his face.
    Almost at once, his fingers dug ruthlessly into her skin. And then, he shoved her roughly away. “Make no mistake, madam,” he growled, his eyes flashing sparks of gold. “When I try to seduce a woman, she is well aware of it. And I do it under my own roof. On my own time.”
    Before she could gasp at the insult, Amherst’s powerful stride had carried him halfway across the room, and he had snatched up his leather folio in one of his long, capable hands.
    “And just where do you think you are going?” Jonet asked with as much dignity as she could