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The Governess

January 4th, 1886

Ravenswood Estate, Dartmoor, England

She was late. The wolf drummed his fingers against the arm of his chair, and realized he had read the same paragraph in his book five times already, without having taken in a single word. His children sat nearer to the fireplace in the drawing room. His eldest, Charlotte, was engaged in reading a history she had been assigned. His youngest, Amelia, was drawing a crude picture of the snow-covered landscape outside the parlor window. His middle child, and only son, Edward, lay on his stomach in front of the fireplace, the seven-year-old wolf cub engrossed in a book about historic battles. His father had given up arguing with the boy to sit in a proper chair over an hour ago. The boy hardly listened to him anymore anyway.

But Lord Robert Alastair merely sighed at this quiet moment of domestic bliss, which felt like anything but. He pulled his pocket watch out by the chain and checked the time. The bloody train should have arrived by now, as she had said she would take the eight-thirty morning train, and was expected to arrive by early afternoon. Lord Alastair had sent his carriage down to meet her at the station.

Suddenly Edward sighed theatrically. "Papa, when will Miss Sinclair be here?"

"Any minute now," his father replied.

"You said that an hour ago," the cub whined.

"No, that was the answer I gave you twenty minutes ago. Clearly you have not paid much attention to your studies on how to tell time." Robert inwardly winced. He had not meant to be so curt with his son and heir, but he was just as anxious for her return as the children.

Suddenly a knock came to the parlor door, and the head housekeeper, Mrs. Hughes, a terrier of indeterminate breed, entered the room clad in a thick shawl.

"Begging your pardon, Milord," she said, "But I realized the time and wondered if you all may want some tea?"

Grateful, the wolf nodded to the terrier. "Yes, please, Mrs. Hughes. It is nearly suppertime."

"No word yet from the station, then?" she asked. Clearly even the servants missed her.

The wolf simply smiled ruefully at her. "No, not yet."

"Well, I imagine she'd have a time getting back, what with all the snow. 'Twas a true White Christmas."

None of the wolves said anything, and the housekeeper curtsied and excused herself to fetch the tea. Now Robert sighed and checked his watch again when in the distance, he thought he heard the faint sound of sleigh bells. But he hadn't imagined it, as the children heard it too. Charlotte and Edward jumped up at little Amelia's shout and ran to the window. Robert let out a sigh of relief. She was here.

Before he could say anything, the children ran for the great house's front door, where the butler was already unlocking and opening the door for the returning member of the household. The sleigh sent to pick her up at the station in the deep snow and cold pulled up right in front of the house. Footmen rushed to grab her luggage as Mr. Bateman, the bloodhound butler, stepped forward to assist the woman out of the sleigh.

"Welcome back to Ravenswood House, Miss Sinclair," the hound said.

Shaking snow from her cloak, the gray vixen smiled warmly at the butler. "Thank you, Mr. Bateman. Oh dear, I do believe we have company..." she said, looking to the doorway at the excited children. Edward almost ran forward to meet her before she stopped him: "Now Edward, really, you'll ruin your clothes and catch your death with cold. I'll come to you!"

As soon as she stepped inside, all three wolf cubs wrapped their arms around her legs and gave her great hugs, so that the poor hapless vixen nearly toppled over. Lord Alastair's steady hand on her shoulder was the only thing keeping her from falling.

"We missed you terribly!" Charlotte said first.

"You were gone so long, we thought you were never, ever coming back!" Edward cried.

"I made drawings with my oils you must look at!" Amelia, at age five, demanded.

"For heaven's sake, I was only gone a week!" the vixen said. "And the Christmas Holidays are not yet over; I came back early because I missed you so!" She smiled at her employer and nodded to the wolf; she could hardly curtsey with three eager cubs hugging her knees. "You look well, Milord. I trust you had a good Christmas?"

"Indeed, it was a quiet one," he said, shooing the children away. "But our governess was greatly missed."

The vixen blushed beneath her gray fur, for once standing out from her gray wool frock. "Really, Milord, you do spoil me so. I doubt I should ever find an employer half as kind as you have been to me."

"If it were up to me, you should never leave my employ. You have much improved the children's knowledge, and eagerness to learn. Their last governess..." had been chased away by the little terrors, he wanted to say, but then, Olivia Sinclair already knew that. But the little Maid from Manchester was made of hardier stuff than their higher-born French governess had been. No-nonsense approach to discipline, yet imaginative and exuberant in her love of learning, she had quickly increased the children's knowledge in all the areas they needed, and even a few they didn't.

Amelia had barely known her ABCs, Edward had hated reading, and Charlotte was the only one who seemed to take after their late mother, who had loved reading and books. That had been Lord Alastair's wedding gift to his late Countess: one of the largest and most diverse libraries in England. But the poor woman had died three years ago, after a sudden fever.

Olivia Sinclair was a ray of sunshine to a dismal house, and even Lord Alastair couldn't believe his luck. She had advertised in a London newspaper, but had severely underplayed her knowledge and abilities. Somehow, in Manchester of all places, she had taught herself three languages, and was working on learning Latin, was proficient in drawing, writing, knowledgeable of history and interested in politics. He offered her free reign of his library for the purposes of educating his children, and for her own pleasures, but while he expected her to go straight for the novels, as young ladies were wont to do, she surprised him instead by picking out "Fall of the Roman Empire" and the works of Plato and Aristotle for her amusement.

Now she was back where she belonged, he was certain, and glad for it. She had visited her family for Christmas, and returned just before Epiphany, probably to draw up lesson plans for the return to the schoolroom.

"We've just ordered tea, and you are welcome to join us."

"That's very kind of you, milord, but I should probably get settled in first. And of course pay my respects in the servants' hall."

He managed to hide his disappointment. "Yes, of course." Before she walked away however, he caught her arm and whispered in her ear, "After you put the children to bed, I would like to speak to you privately."

A shiver went up her spine. She knew only one reason why he would wish to see her in private. But she only said "As you wish, milord" and carried on her way to settle back into Ravenswood House.

Much later that evening, Olivia made sure the children were safely tucked into their beds in the nursery and fast asleep before she retreated to her own quarters to undress for the evening. She had not forgotten that Lord Alastair had requested her presence for a private audience, which really meant she had no choice in the matter. Still, undressing would make this easier. She slipped off her wool frock and hung it in the wardrobe, and unlaced her corset, breathing a deep sigh as the restricting method of torture (as far as she was concerned) was finally free of her body. It wasn't like she even needed it, slim as she was. Finally she threw her nightdress over her head and smoothed it across her body. Grabbing a thick gray wool shawl she had knitted during the Christmas break, she took a lamp and slipped out her door. As she tiptoed down through the halls to His Lordship's room, she remembered how they had gotten to this point.

It had started innocently enough. Over a year ago, Olivia's former pupils came of age and were sent away to finishing school for young ladies. Rather than take her chances with an agency, the vixen had advertised in several newspapers, hoping that at least one of the responses would be a better situation than the one she was leaving; she hated to think ill of any student of hers, but those girls were truly nightmares made flesh.

Thank God for Lord Robert, Earl of Alastair.

He was one of the first to respond. His offer was almost too good to be true: nearly double the average income for a governess! Olivia considered other offers, until she finally decided to follow her instincts and agree to take on the position at Ravenswood House.

Her welcome was much warmer there than at her previous employer's. The servants were all kind (with a couple exceptions), the children little cherubs, and Lord Alastair himself, well... Her first impressions were of a stately, yet melancholy man. She quickly learned that he was a widower, and still greatly mourned his loss. His children had been too young to remember their mother, and had only a nurse and the housekeeper to look after them. The children were not spoiled, but they had no drive to learn; Olivia quickly changed that. When she put her mind to something, it got done, come Hell or high water.

As her success in the classroom began to show in her pupils, Lord Alastair began to pay more attention - and compliments - to her. She welcomed the praise; she had received it so very infrequently at her last post. He gave her free reign of his library, something her last employer would never have done. He gave her little gifts here and there, mostly for the school room: a new globe, chalkboard and chalk, other supplies she needed for the children's education. Last winter he had given her a new pair of gloves for Christmas, after seeing her old ones had several holes and had been haphazardly patched up.

After last Christmas, his kindnesses became more apparent. What had once been furtive glances became fervent stares, what once were small, sad smiles warmed up considerably in her presence. Olivia kept telling herself this meant nothing; Jane Eyre may have been her favorite book, but she was by no means Jane Eyre, and Lord Robert Alastair was in no way Edward Rochester. She was hired help. Lord Alastair, if he ever remarried, would likely marry another lord's daughter, or perhaps one of those American heiresses, which seemed to be so common these days. Try as she might, she couldn't fight her feelings forever. One night, she realized, her feelings were perhaps not as foolish and unrequited as she imagined.

It had been a dinner party. The children were dressed in their finest clothes and paraded in front of the guests, other noblemen and aristocrats and their wives and daughters. No doubt several of the daughters would try to vie for His Lordship's attentions that evening. The Dowager Countess, Lord Robert's mother, who had insisted on showing off her grandchildren, also insisted on Olivia staying to see some of the evening's entertainment. So there in the furthest corner the vixen sat, minding the children, while finely dressed ladies played the piano and sang merry songs of love and eternal devotion. No doubt an attempt to send a message to His Lordship, she'd thought at the time, glancing over at him periodically. He seemed just as bored as she felt. After a time, Olivia tried to excuse herself so she could put the children to bed when one of the ladies in the party began talking of her own governesses - for she had had many, scaring most of them off until a "horrid unpleasant Welshwoman" had no more of her shenanigans. Whoever that Welsh woman was, Olivia was sure she'd like her.

While this lady continued to abuse the poor woman who was not present to defend herself, Olivia bit her tongue and set her jaw, quickly ushering the children to the door. What was it about governesses that made them such easy targets for the privileged and spoiled? The longer the vixen stayed in that room, the less likely she was to hold her tongue. The sooner she left, the better. That is, until the Dowager Countess stopped her.

"...I dare say Miss Sinclair can play and sing as well as any of you - better, I should say, don't you, Miss Sinclair?"

_ _

_Damn the old woman! _Olivia straightened up and respectfully responded, "I can play and sing, but I would never call myself as accomplished as any lady."

"Nonsense! Come, play a tune or two for us, and do sing! She has a lovely voice," the lupine matron said as an aside to a guest sitting next to her. "Like an angel. I overheard her teaching the girls to play, and oh! What a talent she is!"

Olivia immediately glanced at Lord Alastair, hoping he could see the plea in her eyes, Please don't make me do this. Please overrule her...

"Come, come," one of the haughty ladies said. "Let's not keep her Ladyship waiting."

Resigned to her fate, heart thudding inside her chest, Olivia dropped her gaze and sat behind the piano. Her mind raced; what on earth would she play? She finally settled on a tune that refused to leave her head, and began to move her fingers across the ivory keys. She began to sing...she sang of longing for a lost home, grief, desperation to hold onto what little mementos of the past she could grasp. She didn't think she had a necessarily pretty voice, or even a strong one, but once she finished her song, she chanced a look towards His Lordship, and found he was staring unabashedly at her, utterly astounded. So was the rest of the party. The only one not totally shocked was the Dowager, who only smiled smugly.

"What did I tell you?" the matron said in the middle of the silence. Olivia quickly made her exit and closed the door behind her, not wanting to hear what comments would come after her performance.

Hours later, long after the children had gone to bed, and after the guests had all left, Olivia tossed and turned in bed, her mind in tumult. Of all the songs to sing, why did she choose that one! She felt ashamed, wondering if perhaps she had shown her own impertinent, improper feelings to her employer. Damn, damn her foolish heart! Finally, she gave up trying to sleep, grabbed a shawl and a candle, and decided to find a book in the library to help lull her to sleep.

The house was dark and completely silent. She tiptoed down the stairs to the library and entered, breathing in the comforting smell of old books, leather and wood polish. Here, yes, here...she felt most at home, most at peace. Feeling better already, she set her candle down and began to peruse the titles for something that might help. Her eyes finally settled on one book in particular: "Jane Eyre". Clearly, someone in Heaven was mocking her.

"Oh, very funny," she muttered.

"What's funny?"

Olivia yelped and jumped back against the wall. Clutching her heart, she inwardly cursed. Lord Alastair was sitting there in the dark, watching her, dressed in his nightclothes and dressing gown. She felt her face grow hot with her embarrassment. He was undressed, and there she was standing in only her nightdress and a shawl! Scandalous wasn't a strong enough word to describe it!

"M-Milord! I-I didn't see you there! Please, forgive me for taking advantage..."

"What do you mean?" he asked, setting his own candle down onto a shelf. "I told you that you were welcome to any of the books in here."

"At any time?"

"Of course." He paused, still staring at her. "Couldn't you sleep?"

She shook her head. She was desperate to get away, feeling very uncomfortable being so...exposed. Neither of them were decent. This meeting was in no way decent at all! Yet still he persisted.

"Which book were you choosing?"

"I...wouldn't say I would choose it," she said. "Entertained, perhaps, but I'm not sure..."

"Please give me a direct answer, Miss Sinclair."

She sighed and admitted, "Jane Eyre, sir. I was choosing Jane Eyre."

He paused again. "You like it?"

"It is my favorite book."

"I see." Just as Olivia was hoping he didn't read too much into her answer, he responded, "That was a particular favorite of the Countess, as well."

"Oh." Now she hesitated. "Is that her portrait, in the hall? The lady in the periwinkle gown?"

"Yes."

"She is beautiful."

"Yes. Yes, she was very beautiful." He was still staring at her.

Still uncomfortable, Olivia said quickly, "I see a lot of her in your daughters. Charlotte especially. But, if I may, the Countess's portrait shows...a bit of fire behind her eyes. I see that same spirit in Georgiana. Edward takes after you, of course..."

"Yes, Violet was very spirited," he finally said of his late wife. "I'm not sure whether that spirit will do Georgiana any good."

Olivia finally smiled. "Would you rather a complacent daughter who questioned nothing, having no thoughts of her own, or a precocious one who can keep up with the best of them?"

He finally smiled as well. "The latter, of course. I will raise no simpletons."

"And simpleton she most certainly is not," she assured him. "She'll be running circles around me before long; she's very bright. All three of them are."

"They take after their mother."

"Not their father?"

"No, their father is a fool."

"You mustn't be so hard on yourself, Milord. I don't think you are a fool."

"But I am," he confessed. "I am the worst kind of fool. There are two types of fools, did you know? I believe it was an American that said it: 'There are fools, and then there are damned fools.' And I am most certainly a damned fool."

She didn't know how to answer, or if she should say anything. As much as her mind screamed at her to leave, another part of her told her to stay.

Lord Alastair coughed and cleared his throat. "I must apologize for Mama, earlier this evening. She should not have ambushed you as she did."

"No apology is necessary."

"Nonsense. You should never have been put on the spot. If she wanted to put those society ladies in their place - which I wouldn't put past her - she should have done it in a way that didn't involve giving you any discomfort. That said...she was right. You do have a lovely voice."

Olivia flushed again, grasping the shawl tighter around her. "Thank you, Milord."

"Tell me: why did you choose that song?"

_ _

Oh, if only you knew! she thought. "I don't know. It was the first one to come to me, and my mind wouldn't let me settle on another one." And now, she was desperate to know what everyone thought of her performance. He didn't disappoint:

"Whatever the reason, you should know...Lady Ingram said not another snide comment about you all night. None of them did. In fact, a few of the gentlemen asked me what I paid you: evidently you made such an impression, they all want you to teach their children. I've been congratulated on acquiring such an accomplished governess for my children."

There it was. He saw her only as a governess. That was it. She had to live with that and move on from that silly idea she had harbored. "I have no offers?" she said with a teasing smile.

"The price was too steep for them - and only a fool would leave a position that paid one hundred a year to work with little terrors like the ones I know. And you are most certainly no fool."

"I should hope not." Then she remembered... "Milord, why are you out of bed? You never said."

He hesitated, and said haltingly, "I...my mind has been...plagued this evening."

"Plagued?"

"Yes. Unwelcome thoughts keep me awake."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I wish there were a way I could help."

"That's the trouble," he said, stepping so close to her she was backed up against the shelves with nowhere to go. "My thoughts have been all about you."

They said very little after that. They let their lips and roving hands do most of the talking. Lord Alastair had gripped her so hard she thought she might break, his kisses so searing she felt she might burn up inside. The way he held her in his arms left no room for interpretation...and what occurred soon after, on one of the couches in that library, left no doubt at all.

His weight on top of her, the scent of his musk and sweat, his hot breath on her neck as she ran her fingers through his fur...she relished that memory. It was the first of many wonderful nights, stolen moments, secret kisses, and forbidden trysts. She knew she was ruined for any other man...but no other man could quite measure up to Robert anyway.

It was late enough that the servants were also in their beds, so her trip down the stairs from her room to her master's was unimpeded. Meetings such as this required the utmost discretion.

When she arrived at his door, she knocked softly, and only entered when she heard a brusque "Come in." She slowly opened the door, and a familiar shiver went through her body.

Lord Alastair was clad in nothing but his dressing gown, sitting on the edge of the large bed and sipping a glass of claret. He offered her a glass, which she politely declined. She closed the door behind her and locked it, setting her lamp on a nearby table.

"Are the children asleep?" he asked her.

Olivia nodded meekly, clutching the shawl closer around her shoulders. She shivered in her nightgown and bare feet. He was unmoved, giving her a hard stare.

"You were gone longer than you promised."

"Forgive me, milord."

He finished the claret and set the empty glass aside. "That remains to be seen. Come here."

Olivia dutifully padded over to the bed, standing a respectful distance away from him. He reacted with a snort, reaching out with a flash, grabbing her wrist and pulling her closer towards him. "If you want my forgiveness, you will have to earn it."

"Yes, my lord."

"Ah-ah, what do we say at times like this?" he asked leadingly.

Olivia swallowed hard, meekly lowering her eyes to the floor. She felt a thrill, and managed to hide her excitement. They were about to play one of their favorite games, and she had to play her part just right. "Yes...Master."

"Good girl."

His arm encircled her waist and pulled her closer. Then his hand groped her backside through her nightgown. Her gasp of alarm was cut off when he pulled her down onto the bed, covering her mouth with his. His hands pinned her wrists to the coverlet and his tongue probed between her lips. At first she resisted, but as she had so many times before, she unclenched her hands and relaxed her jaw, allowing him to plunder her mouth. When she returned his kiss by timidly rubbing her tongue against his, he moaned loudly, amorously, and pulled away from the sloppy kiss to look down at her.

"You see what you do to me? Do you see what you do to me when I am denied?"

"I will not deny you tonight," she said softly, with lidded eyes, and panting with passion. "Master, my body is yours to do with as you please."

He stared at her a moment longer and shook his head, but the smile tugging at his lips almost betrayed him and broke the spell of this fantasy. "I think you're enjoying this. This won't do. I shouldn't reward you when you've been naughty enough to ignore my orders. You need to be punished."

A flash of excitement shone in her eyes a moment, but she quickly recovered and played her part, as he wanted her to: "Yes, Master."

"Good. Now get up and take off your clothes," he said, taking her hand and pulling her up. He sat back down on the edge of the bed, loosening the belt of his dressing gown just enough to show her that he wore nothing underneath. She drank in his smooth chest and stomach and she could, just barely, see the pink tip of his member sticking out of his sheath, and she blushed to see it. This was why she kept coming back: he made her feel desired more than any suitor she'd had before, and he gave her more than any of those suitors combined.

Olivia let the shawl drop slowly from her shoulders, down her arms, until it hit the floor. She reached for her neck, drawing her fingers up to wrap around a curl at the base of her ear before her other hand moved to the first button of her high-collared gown. Slowly, one by one, she undid each button, never taking her eyes off him. His member grew harder the more she revealed, until the buttons were undone down to her navel. She cupped her breasts through the fabric, running her thumbs over her fabric-covered nipples, which were perky and hard. She felt the familiar welcome wetness between her thighs, knowing what he had in store for her. With one last coquettish look in his direction, she let the nightgown slip from her shoulders and pool on the floor.

She was long past covering herself out of shame and embarrassment. Instead she stood as confidently as she dared, and teasingly asked, "Does my body please you, Master?"

He was already breathing deeply. "Not yet it doesn't. Get over here."

She stepped out of her gown and approached his side. He bent her over his lap, exposing her rear to the room. As she lay across his lap, she could feel his erection growing and pulsing against her stomach.

"Lift your tail," he said.

She obeyed.

_ _

Smack!

She gasped and bit her lip to hide a shout; if anyone had heard her scream, the two of them would be discovered.

Usually he warned her, or at the very least massaged her before spanking her. Perhaps this was the "punishment" he had spoken of. Or, much more likely, he had missed this as much as she had, judging by the erection now almost painfully poking against her.

His hand hit her backside again, and it hurt less now that she was expecting it. Her wetness felt cold now, which was how she knew she was getting exceedingly turned on. Another slap hit her rump and she bit back on a moan. He alternated the spanking, first one cheek, then the other, until her flesh burned pink below her gray and white fur. The last smack fell across the exact middle of her backside and lingered there as she let out a little groan and wiggled a bit.

She moaned louder when he ran one finger between her legs, up the length of her slit, bringing her juices with it. He sucked her juices off his finger, relishing the taste and scent. "Mm...naughty girl...look how wet you are."

He slowly inserted a finger inside her and she responded with a louder moan, clenching her legs together and bucking her hips back to meet his hand. He began fingering her, torturously slow, moving his finger in and out of her warm, wet cavern, which only became wetter when he applied his thumb to her clit.

This time she gasped louder. "Oh, Master!"

"Yes, my dear?"

"Oh Master, this is too much. I'm sorry I was gone for so long. Please, can you forgive me, now that I've been punished?"

"Oh, I'm not done with you yet. I suppose you want to come, don't you?"

"Ooh...so much!"

He took his finger away and she whined piteously. He pushed her off his lap and to her knees. Olivia knew she was so wet she was practically dripping on the carpet. He untied his belt and opened his robe to show off the throbbing cock that would - she hoped - soon be plowing deep inside her. "You don't come until I let you," he said. "If you want me to let you come, you'll have to prepare your master so he can finish punishing you."

Ah, so that was the kind of punishment he had in mind. She was fine with that.

She crawled closer, wrapping her hands around the base of his cock and running her tongue up the underside. A satisfied groan from above spurred her on, as she wrapped her hand around the base of his member and closed her lips over the flared tip, sucking gently.

The wolf grabbed a fistful of her hair and tugged gently, willing himself not to buck his hips. He didn't want to gag the poor girl. What she was doing with that wicked tongue felt too good for her to stop now. What a marvel, that she had been a complete novice, and now under his careful tutelage, she could suck his cock better than any whore. God, the sensations from that wicked, clever tongue!

Olivia was enjoying listening to the sounds he was making, the gasps, moans and groans. His hand running through her hair, gripping it during waves of ecstasy, spurred her further, bobbing her head up and down his pole, pausing at the tip to swirl her tongue around the head, and gently lick his slit.

"Ohh God, woman," he swore.

The vixen smirked and took him whole in her mouth again, straight to the base, and sucked hard. His grip on her hair tightened, he hissed, then suddenly yanked her off his member and ordered, "Get on the bed. Now."

Anticipation fluttered through her, the throbbing between her thighs was almost excruciating now. Without answering, she scrambled onto the bed, on her back, and spread her legs to show him her sopping wet folds. He leaned in and licked some of her juices, making her shudder and moan, gripping her own hair in ecstasy. She bit her lip to stop the more wanton sounds from escaping, but there was nothing she could do to stop them when he finally positioned himself between her legs and forcefully entered her passage.

"Ahh! Ah, Robert!" she panted, forgetting their game, as he began a punishing pace. She missed his cock, God help her, did she miss his cock. Visiting her family had been torture as she had laid awake those nights, her body aching for Robert's touch, her pussy throbbing a protest for not being filled with his glorious cock. Now that he was inside her again, it felt like she had really come home.

He held himself up on his hands, angling his hips to reach deep inside her. Olivia raised her hips to aid him, and gripped the sides of the pillow, nearly tearing them apart from the pleasure. The wolf lowered himself to his elbows, never missing a beat in his thrusting, stealing her lips for a quick, deep kiss.

"Good God, Olivia, I've missed you!" he panted.

"Oh Robert...ah! Robert! Yes!" she gasped when he hit the spot inside her that sent shockwaves through her body. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck. She dug her nails into his shoulders, making him hiss and quicken the pace even more. Clearly he had been as deprived as she was. Had he not touched himself once since she left? She most certainly had...

She moaned softly, mewled and bit back on a squeal. "So - oohh - so much better than ahh I remembered!" She could barely string a sentence together, that's how she knew she was close. But she was losing the battle to keep as quiet as a churchmouse.

And so was her lupine lover.

Robert groaned and growled in her ear, nibbling and kissing her neck. He reveled in hearing her gasp at his sharp teeth raking across her skin. "I will never get enough of you," he whispered in her ear. "Your heat...the tightness...the wetness...listen to those lewd noises you're making," he said, emphasizing each point with another hard thrust. By now the vixen was holding on for dear life.

"Christ, Robert...!"

"Yes, love?"

"Let me come, please, let me come!" she squealed. Her whole body shook, tightening up. Her legs tightened around his waist, fingers digging deeper into his shoulders. He couldn't deny her, he wouldn't!

When she moaned and squealed again, he raggedly whispered in her ear. "Come for me, Olivia. Go on, darling, let me see you come...come all around me..."

That was enough. She captured his lips to muffle her wanton cry of release as her whole body shook violently beneath him, seizing and tightening. She tightened so much around his cock he came shortly after, filling her with a torrent of his hot seed.

Olivia lay back on the bed, completely breathless, holding him on top of her. His arms shook from holding himself up over her, his fur matted with a sheen of sweat. He panted, resting his forehead against hers as he pulled out. She groaned in protest. He had never knotted with her, which she had always hoped he would. Perhaps another night...

For now, she relished the warmth of him on top her, his seed seeping out of her and onto the sheets, the closeness she felt to him at moments like this. They were so often short-lived, she took pleasure in them as long as she cold.

"Please hold me like this," she said as he started to roll off her.

"I'm afraid I'll crush you," he breathlessly replied. "God, what you do to me..."

She nodded and shifted to the side so that he could flop over, taking hold of her hand. She rolled over to face up, pulling up the sheets and blankets over them against the cold night. When he opened his arms to her, she immediately scooted closer and closed her eyes.

It seemed mere minutes later when he was gently urging her awake. "The servants' bell will ring soon."

Olivia groaned and wrapped an arm around him. "Just once I'd like to wake up naturally, without an alarm."

"I can make that happen."

"Don't tease, sir."

He chuckled and let her sit up. She sat still a moment so he could let his eyes rove over her body. He was the only one who ever made her feel truly beautiful.

He sighed. "I never want you to leave again."

"I should be happy to stay as long as possible," she said, but then reminded him, "But the children will eventually have to go away to a school. Edward will certainly need to attend school in a few short years, and the girls will soon need to attend a finishing school to become proper ladies."

He snorted. "Why bother? You've already made them proper ladies as far as I'm concerned."

"And have them scorned in Society because they don't know the right way to drink tea or engage in conversation? The society you live in is one I know very little about," she said sadly. "I would prepare them poorly."

The wolf lay in silence for a long moment, just staring up at the bed's canopy, deep in thought. Olivia left him to his musings as she swung her legs off the side of the bed and padded over to retrieve her gown.

"Must you go now?" he asked suddenly, sitting up. The sheets pooled around his waist, barely hiding what lay beneath. Truthfully, the vixen didn't want to leave at all. Their most recent mating had hardly sated her desire for him, and she wanted more, as much as he could give her, as often as he could give it. But she had to be realistic.

"I must, or the servants will suspect, and rumors travel quickly," she said as she slipped the nightgown back on. She could feel his eyes on her back as she buttoned the garment again. She sighed unhappily. She really didn't want to leave.

"Marry me."

She whipped her head around, slack-jawed. "What?"

He sat up on the bed. "Marry me."

"My lord..."

"For God's sake, woman, call me by my Christian name. I think we are far beyond the formalities by now."

"Robert," she said hotly, "You cannot be serious in this proposal. I am your governess!"

"It may not be very common, but I would not be the first widower to marry his children's governess, and Lord knows I won't be the last."

"I would never be accepted. I'm from a mill town for Heaven's sake!" she protested. Do you think the society ladies would invite me over for tea? The daughter of a common mill owner?"

"Who cares what they think?" he said, grabbing his own robe and tying the belt around his waist. "They don't think at all, most of them...haven't a brain between them. I have it in good confidence from their husbands that they are the silliest of women, and those men regret their choice of wife, simply because they were a count's daughter or some such nonsense. Olivia, darling, I don't care where you come from, your past, family background, none of it."

"But your wife..."

"Has been gone these three years, and though I loved her, I also love you," he said, taking her hand and kissing it. "I love you most ardently."

She was silent, staring up at him with wide, questioning eyes. "How long have you...?"

"Perhaps longer than is proper, but love you, I most certainly have."

"I am no Jane Eyre, Robert."

"And thank God I am no Rochester."

"But what will people say?"

"Say indeed, against an Earl? Let them dare. I love you, the children love you, even the servants love you - no small feat for the average governess, who never interacts with them! But most importantly," he looked deeply into her eyes. "Do you love me?"

She hesitated, then slowly admitted, "Yes. God help me, but yes, I love you very much. I never said a word, lest you cast me aside..."

He looked aghast, almost insulted. "And why on earth should I do that?"

"For impertinence?" she replied with an arched brow.

He chuckled. "Olivia, darling, it's your impertinence that I most admire about you. That, and that _brilliant _mind."

She allowed a small smile, but she still had her doubts. "How do you know I would even be a good wife and countess? Or a good mother?"

"You've proven yourself with the children, and we both know you've proven yourself to be quite adept at keeping me happy..." he said with a satisfied smirk.

"Robert!" she chided, blushing furiously.

"But can I make you happy, is my next question," he finished.

"Of course you can," she assured him. "You already have!"

"Then what makes you hesitate? I love you, and I want you to be my wife. I want to make an honest woman out of you, God knows. I've been wracked with guilt since our first intimate time together...me, taking advantage of a young, impressionable governess..."

"I wanted that surely as much as you did; you are guiltless in my eyes. No, what worries me are the horrible things people are bound to say about me."

"Again, who gives a fig?" he angrily asked. "I defy them to say such things to my face, and if they don't, they are cowards. Why should this family associate with cowards? Part of being your husband would be protecting you from the worst, and I intend to do just that. I have not been idle in the time you've been gone. I have thought over all these things, and decided none of them mattered...as long as I had you, and your love." He paused. "Will you give me an answer?"

_ _

December 25th, Christmas Morning, 1887

Ravenswood Estate, Dartmoor, England

Edward opened his next box and tried his best not too look disappointed. "It's...a book."

"It is a very good book."

"What do you say to your mother?" his father chided.

The wolf cub glanced at the new Countess Olivia Alastair, his stepmother, and forced a smile. "Thank you, Mama."

Olivia grinned. "You are quite welcome, love. But I'm not the one who gave you the book. My gift to you is still under the tree." She, Robert, and her mother-in-law the Dowager all laughed to see the cub pounce back under the tree.

"A toy train!" the cub exclaimed after he had ripped off the paper.

"A toy train, indeed!" his grandmother said. She leaned over to her new daughter-in-law. "I say, that was a good call on the book. I suppose his Grandmama shouldn't spoil him too much."

"We both know he'll like it," Olivia whispered back. "You watch: it will become one of his most prized possessions one day."

"Let's hope I'm still alive to enjoy that."

"Lady Catherine, please, you'll outlive us all..."

"And how many times must I tell you to call me 'Mama' like everyone else?"

"It hasn't yet been a year that I've been married to your son, Mama."

"That's more like it. Oh goodness, what is this?" the matriarch asked as the three cubs brought over their gifts for her. "For me? Oh dear, you shouldn't have."

"Open it, Granny! Please, please!" Georgiana pleaded.

Olivia sat back, reaching out for Robert's hand. He gave it a gentle squeeze before he leaned in and whispered, "Are you ready to make the other ladies jealous with your singing and playing tonight?"

"That depends, will they hold their tongue?"

"After the tongue-lashing Mama gave them when our engagement was announced? I doubt even the Devil himself would tempt them to utter a word, to our faces or in private. How do you like your new dress?"

The vixen smoothed out the skirt of her morning gown, and cast a grateful glance at her husband. He had given her a silk and taffeta evening gown the color of holly berries, in order to offset the jewels she would wear as countess to that evening's soiree. "It's lovely."

"You're not even looking at it."

"I know. But I didn't mean the dress." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek while the children played with their new toys (and books, of course), and their grandmother looked on. "I meant everything. Everything is just lovely."

He captured her lips, fighting the urge to deepen it. He would celebrate the holiday in a way both of them would enjoy, one way or another, at some time before the party.

"Merry Christmas, darling Olivia."

She squeezed his hand again, smiling secretly, knowing exactly what he wanted later...and she was only happy to celebrate the Yuletide as he intended later on.

"And a very Merry Christmas to you, dear Robert."