A Duke For All Seasons (4 page)

    
“No, this isn’t . . . “ He yanked himself away, taking a deep breath, obviously bridling himself. “I don’t usually conduct my affairs in this manner.”

    
“I thought it was a grand beginning myself,” she said with a chuckle. “How do you usually conduct
your affairs
?”

    
“In a thoroughly civilized way. Before we proceed, it is important—”

    
“Proceed to what?”

    
“To . . . become better acquainted,” he said, neatly sidestepping the obvious. “I have a contract I should like you to look over and sign.”

    
“Indeed?”

    
“It’s all quite standard, I assure you and generous to a fault, I’m told.”

    
“What sort of contract?”

    
He walked over to the escritoire, unlocked it and pulled out a sheaf of papers. Then he returned to the table. “It’s all here, laid out neatly. You will receive a liberal stipend for each of the three months we are together and at our parting, a pension to be drawn out for a number of years. I enjoy giving my mistress gifts, so if you prefer emeralds over rubies, be sure to let me know.”

    
“You expect me to become your mistress?” She leafed through the contract in awe.

    
“I should think that's obvious.”

    
“And the contract is for a predetermined length of time?”

    
“Yes, three months is optimal for—”

    
“No.” She laid the contract on top of her brandy-soaked cake. A ring of gooey moisture soaked through the paper and made the neat script run together.

    
He couldn't have looked more surprised if she'd slapped him. “No?”

    
“No, I won’t sign this contract. I won’t become your
mistress
.” Then she rose, stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “I can't promise to stay with you for three months. I might be hopelessly bored with you before that time is up, but . . .”—she walked her fingers down his chest to the buttons of his trousers—“I will become your
lover
.”

 
   
His breath hissed over his teeth. “When?”

    
She kissed his lips. Bella liked men. She liked Sebastian. And she needed more time to look for that envelope. “Right now.”

 
“The first physical encounter with a prospective mistress sets the tone for all future interludes.

A wise man makes his expectations clear.”

~ A Gentleman’s Guide to Keeping a Mistress

    
Sebastian knew it was the height of foolishness to engage in love play with a woman without benefit of a contract. She might decide to make more of their relationship than it was. She might make demands upon him he was unprepared to meet. An intimate encounter with a woman was not something a prudent man stumbled into without protecting his interests.

    
And his future freedom. 

  
  
But at the moment, Bella's mouth on his made any thoughts of prudence flee away. 

    
He loved the way she tasted, sweet with a hint of raisin wine and a splash of brandy. Her scent engulfed him, warm and musky. Her body pressed against his, her softness melding into his hardness. She didn't kiss like any woman he'd ever known. Usually his mistresses passively accepted his attentions. They took their cue from his level of passion, matching him surely but unwilling to initiate anything.

    
Bella took the lead, teasing him with her tongue and then withholding it. She kissed his cheeks, his jaw, his neck. A playful nip on his earlobe sent his groin into pleasurable agony.

    
“Bella,” he murmured, not sure his voice would even work.

    
She pulled away and looked up at him, her lips kiss-swollen. “I like the way you said my name just then. It sounds as if you want me. Need me.”

    
Her words were a dash of cold water. The 8
^th
Duke of Winterhaven didn’t
need
anyone. He cleared his throat. “I do want you.” He plucked a couple pins from her hair and ran his fingers through the length that uncoiled. “That’s not in dispute.”

    
She caught up his hand and pressed a lover’s kiss on his palm. He fought the urge to groan with wanting.

    
“But you don’t need me?” she asked.

    
“Bella, I . . .” He clamped his lips shut. A duke, a man for that matter, ought not admit to need.

    
“Well, that’s something of a challenge for me then,” she said with a sly grin. “I shall have to make you need me.”

    
The thought amused him. As if anyone could make him do anything he didn’t wish. She wrapped her slender arms around his neck and turned her face up to him again. He claimed her mouth without further invitation.

    
“No, no,” she said after a few moments, sliding her hands down so her palms pressed against his chest. “You’re kissing me by rote.”

    
“What?” No woman had ever complained of his kisses.

    
“Don't misunderstand. Your kisses would turn most women to water. When you kissed me before, it certainly weakened my knees, but this one was too practiced, too predictable. So many seconds slanted this way, so many turned the other. In another moment, I’ll be presented with your tongue.” She cocked her head at him. “A lady could set her pendant watch by that kiss.”

    
He pulled away from her. She was either the most intriguing woman he’d ever met or the most infuriating. He wasn’t sure which.

    
“Don’t take it badly. I see so much potential, so much to hope for in you, Sebastian.”

    
That’s what he was afraid of. She was angling for more than the post as his mistress. It was inconceivable that anything beyond a light dalliance could exist between a peer of the realm and an opera singer. But he’d lost total control over this encounter the moment she refused to sign the contract.

    
“Do you know what I think?” she said.

    
“Have I any reason to hope I can persuade you
not
to tell me?”

    
She laughed musically while her gaze flitted around the room. Again, he was struck by the odd sensation that she was looking for something in particular. Then her dark eyes settled on him.

    
“I think,” she said as she walked toward him with the sinuous grace of a she-leopard, “you’ve been spoiled by the intimate acquaintance of too many women.”

    
“No man would see that as a detriment, I assure you.”

    
“Probably not.” She shrugged. “But the trouble is, when a man has bedded an abundance of women, we all run together for you. We become a homogenous entity, expendable and interchangeable.”

    
To be fair, she understood him. Those were his exact thoughts. A woman was a woman, some more pleasing than others, but for all intents and purposes, the same. “And I suppose you expect me to believe you haven’t bedded a great many men.”

    
“No, Sebastian. I have too much respect for your intelligence to try to claim otherwise. I've had more lovers than most, I’m sure,” she admitted. “But not as many as you think. And let me assure you they all stand out in my memory as unique.”

    
“And what makes you think it’s any different with me?”

    
She ran her fingertips along his arm, up to his shoulder and then teased the hair that curled behind his ear. “Prove me wrong. What color were your last mistress’s eyes?”

    
For the life of him, he couldn’t remember. When she wasn't trying to wheedle diamonds and pearls from him, Celeste favored  . . . sapphires. “Blue,” he blurted out.

    
“Too slow.”  She put her other arm around his waist and pulled him close. “The point is when we kiss, I want you to kiss
me.
Not those others.
If you cannot give me an honest kiss, you may as well call for your driver and equipage to be brought around because I must go home.”

    
“And what constitutes an honest kiss?”

    
“An honest kiss is a shared breath. Our souls mingle. It can’t be reduced to words.” She stood on tiptoe to nuzzle his neck and run her parted lips across his cheek. “It’s not something I can explain, but I’ll know if you do it. Kiss me as if you want to
know
me, not merely see my bosom.”

    
He nearly trembled at the thought of her breasts. It was ridiculous. He was the 8th Duke of Winterhaven. He'd seen plenty of breasts.

    
But he burned to see hers.

    
“That’s not really fair, you know. Any man would want to see your bosom. You can’t hold that against me.”

    
“I’ll do better than that.” She rubbed herself against him, catlike, and her bodice drifted downward almost baring the pink tips. His ballocks clenched. “I’ll hold
them
against you."

    
None of his other women had spoken so frankly about the act of love. Her voice was like a caress to the groin. Just when he thought this trousers couldn’t fit any tighter.

    
“But only once I’m satisfied that you want to see them because they are
my
breasts."

    
Bloody hell!
He didn’t just want her breasts. He wanted all of her. He bent to kiss her, tentatively this time, fearful he’d hopelessly muck things up. He kissed her closed eyelids. He ran his lips over her temples. Finally, he brushed her lips with his. She opened softly to him and he explored her mouth like the treasure it was.

    
The kiss was sweet.

    
God help him,
needy
. 

    
“Mmm,” she purred when they surfaced for air. “That was altogether lovely. And now I think you should send for your driver.”

    
“But I thought you said—”

    
“Do you need me yet, Sebastian?”

    
He bit his tongue to keep from admitting it.

    
“That kiss was as honest as anyone could wish. I tasted your heart, and you've sampled mine,” she said. “But if you can't admit you need me, we’ve had all the honesty you can stand for one evening.”

    
He stomped across the room and pulled the bell cord. “You said you’d become my lover.”

    
“I have,” she said. “But a lover is not like a mistress, at your beck and call, always available, always a sure bedding. Sometimes, a lover says 'no.' For now.”

    
He knew he ought to cut her loose and seek a less infuriating female for his next mistress. But for the life of him, even though he was frustrated with her, he couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt more challenged, more intrigued by a woman.
For now.
His body latched onto those words of hope.