A Most Unusual Mistress (Rogue Scandals) (4 page)

He espied her across the room, chatting animatedly to some of her friends. Including, he noted with satisfaction, two young women who were more than close friends to one of his cronies. Judging by the way three heads were leaning together, so was his...his what? He smothered a grin. What she
was
...was an interesting conundrum.

“What are they planning?”

He turned to see the speaker. “Ivo, I dread to think.”

Ivo Daranton grimaced. “When those three are together, trouble usually follows close behind. Can you not control your fiancée?”

“Can you not control your partners?” he retorted in a voice designed not to offend, choosing not to mention the status Ivo spoke of.

Ivo shook his head. “Nor do I want to. We are a partnership. However, I feel it is time to break up whatever they are plotting.”

Together, the two men made their way across the room, ignoring the many admiring glances thrown in their direction. Used to adulation from the debutantes—and their mamas—neither felt the need to acknowledge the languishing looks or fierce glares directed at them.

“Why, when it is known both our affections are engaged, do they still choose to prowl?”

“In the hope we succumb.” Ash was uncaring. Were his affections truly engaged? A stirring in his body told him the perhaps unpalatable truth. More so now than before. “They hope for nothing. I have no interest in untried, young girls.”

He received a quizzical look. “Are you impugning your fiancée’s virtue, Ash?”

“Hell, no. That’s a different matter altogether.” Ash replied. “I mean with regard to silly chits of girls and their mamas. Lud, if they knew my predilections, they would run screaming for their mamas, and their papas would be after me with a musket.”

“You believe Adriana is au fait with this? Or is she unaware?” Ivo asked, his tone interested.

“That is a question to which I must discover the answer.” Ash grimaced. “I rather think her knowledge is not only greater than I imagined, but her interest in pursuit of said knowledge is disturbing.” He pondered. “Or arousing. I have not decided which yet. Whichever, I feel my life is to change in no small degree. At least I will no longer be bored. Irritated, amused, angry, exasperated, I feel sure, but never bored.”

They had reached the ladies. It seemed Adriana had picked up on the last remark.

“You are never bored, surely?” she said in a mocking tone. “With all your interests and ah...
activities.
”

“Minx.” He took her hand and audaciously kissed her wrist. Behind her, he heard an astonished gasp.

“Offending the dowagers,” Ivo mocked. “My loves, shall we follow suit?” He proceeded to honor the other two in the same manner.

Adriana giggled. “So now we are all beyond the pale. How perfect. Does this mean we no longer have to attend events such as this?”

“Regretfully, no, my love.” Ash nipped the soft skin of her wrist, just hard enough to serve as a warning to behave. Adriana’s eyes narrowed, but she did not comment. “You will still behave and mind your manners,” he continued. “Ah.” The music began. “Our dance, I think.” He bowed to her curtsy and led her onto the dance floor.

They circled in silence. The waltz, only permissible on special occasions, was considered to be a very risqué dance. Feeling her body pressed to him as they circled, hearing her indrawn breath as he cleverly insinuated his cock against her cunt, Ash realized why it was so considered. There was something very erotic about choosing to almost make love fully clothed with your peers all around. Even more so when he considered each man was imitating him as much as his partner allowed, and each mama not realizing as they looked dotingly and fondly on their darlings in the arms of eligible men. The occasional sharp hiss and backward step showed who was overreaching the mark deemed permissible by their partner. He, however, had a partner who was eagerly accepting all he cared to offer.

“Minx. Behave or we will be the talk of the Ton for a sennight.”

Adriana looked up into his face.

“You called me that earlier. Minx. What on earth do you mean?” Her eyes were dancing, although her demeanor was demure.

He checked they were a little apart from other couples, that there was no chance of being overheard.

“If you continue to tease me as you are doing at present, the tabbies will have a field day when this dance ends. For my cock is demanding attention, and my breeches are hard-pressed to contain it.”

He moved purposely against her, making sure its rigid length pressed hard against her cunt, the material of his breeches and her diaphanous, muslin little protection against its throbbing hardness.

“Ah.” Her voice was thready. “I feel what you mean. A problem in the making, perhaps?”

In response, he swung her off the dance floor and through some open French windows he had earlier marked for that very purpose.

The scent of some garden flower or other drifted up to him. He neither knew nor cared what; all his senses were attuned to Adriana. Her scent was in and around him, overpowering all else. As he felt it should be. Once out of sight of all inside, he stopped and pushed Adriana to the wall, leaning into her, pressing her back. A sharp gasp told him the rough harling was harsh on her tender skin, but at that moment, he neither heeded nor cared.

His mouth met hers and plundered, his tongue insistent as he thrust into its welcoming depths, unforgiving, unrelenting, and uninhibited in his dominance. He demanded, not asked. And felt her response, as she met him thrust for thrust, her tongue meshing and dancing with his. His libido soared, and his prick responded, demanding attention. One hand unerringly found the top of her breast as it rose over the neckline of her gown. His impatient fingers began to lift it from its nest of muslin, to bare it for his taste. He could almost feel that soft orb between his lips as he imagined suckling, marking her, branding her as his own.

Ash could feel her impatience matching his as she boldly rested her palm over the rock-hard bugle threatening to split his breeches, pressing firmly before beginning to rub up and down the length.

“Damn, I need your hands on me,” he muttered, uncaring of where he was or even, he later realized, that he was enticing his fiancée to acts of decadence within a sphere they would certainly not be accepted. She began to fumble at his waistband, tugging at his shirt.

Later, all he could think was
thank God for Ivo.
At that moment, he could have sent him to perdition.

A loud male voice—Ivo’s—spoke from just inside the building not yards away from where he was ravishing Adriana with no care of propriety.

“I have no idea where your daughter is, my lady. Perhaps she has withdrawn for a moment? Would you like Lady Serena to check for you?”

“I think not. I will search until I find her.” The voice was female, strident, and jarring. Ash felt Adriana wince.

“Damn it to hell.”

Never had he expected to hear such words on Adriana’s lips and on an occasion such as this.

“What on
earth
is my mama doing looking for me?” Adriana asked in despair. “She has never bothered before.”

C
HAPTER
F
OUR

Riana heard the groan escape from Ashley’s throat, mirroring how she felt, as he swiftly returned her bosom to the confines of her gown, and, she noticed in the semidarkness, rearranged that telltale bulge in his knee breeches.

“Your mama’s sense of timing is always amiss,” he replied. After a swift check to determine they were both suitably attired, he steered her farther along the terrace, away from the ballroom windows and prying eyes. Behind them, she could hear her mama’s stentorian tones, now demanding Ivo seek out either Serena or Arabella to help her find her daughter’s direction “forthwith.”

Why on earth was she wanted in such a precipitate manner? She’d gone from unnoticed to demanded overnight. Something must be greatly amiss. Riana had a feeling she would not be happy to hear what it was.

“Where are we going?” she queried
sotto voce
as her elbow was firmly grasped. “Ash, slow down, these slippers are not made for a route march.”

He slowed his pace but ignored her question as he continued to move away from the light that spilled into the garden.

“One moment, ah, here.” He was fumbling at a door almost hidden by the ivy that curled up the wall. “My memory serves me well. Come along.” He stood back and ushered her into what looked like a cupboard.

Adriana looked around as best she could. There was very little light, although how the darkness was lifted, she knew not. As her skirts brushed walls and what—a table?—she hoped the surfaces were not dusty, or she would have the appearance of a ragamuffin. Definitely not suitable for an occasion such as this.

“Ashley, what is this? What are we doing?” she asked, bewildered.

He laughed, and she heard the sound of a tinderbox being struck.

“Impatient, my love?” The room was lightened, not to a great degree, but enough for Riana to realize her surmise was correct. It
was
a cupboard, and her wish was answered. There was no dust.

“Why are we in a cupboard? We are supposed to be at a ball, for goodness’ sake. My mama is searching for me, and you know my mama. She will stop at nothing to get what she wants.”

“Neither will I.” His voice was even. “Lift your skirts.”

“What?” She knew she sounded as flustered as she felt.

“You heard me, my dear. Lift your skirts. I wish to view and taste what I will soon be deep inside.”

Oh, my.
Her quim clenched, and she felt the wetness within her spread to her cunt. Not for nothing had she learned and partaken in that ancient art of removing her hairs. The sensations she now felt were manifest, her body was quivering, her thoughts agog due to what may follow.

“Ad. Ri. Ana.” His tone was stern, harsh. “Do as I say.
Now.
Or wish you to retract your avowal?”

So that was what this was all about. No, she did not. His cock was evident through his clothing. It obviously hoped she was not reneging. Peering under her lashes at his rigid stance, Riana crossed her arms over her chest, slowly fingered the hem of her gown, and began to lift the material inch by excruciating inch. Each movement was designed—she hoped—to push his patience to the limit. When she remembered his punctiliousness of the last few months, her blood boiled. She didn’t want scrupulous and proper; she wanted
unscrupulous
and improper! It seemed as if that was what she was going to get.

“Faster. You are a cock tease. My cock needs not to be teased, but its hunger to be assuaged.”

Her breath hitched at the picture he was painting. For a twelvemonth she had lusted after him, desiring not to be treated with that indifferent and punctilious correctness. Now a scant few hours after declaring her intention, she was on the cusp of an amazing journey.

She took her gown—as well as her nerve—in a tight grip and lifted. When her arms reached over her shoulders, he barked his next command.

“Stay. Do not move.”

In effect...blindfold herself. She waited, her anticipation making her shake. What was to happen she had no idea, except it would be different, interesting, and she was sure...infinitely arousing. She felt a breeze over her bared cunt. She jumped. Was that a long, male digit...rubbing over her clit? Sadly, yes; no hot, hard tool demanding attention and entrance—not yet.

“I told you not to move. Are you aching to be spanked, Riana? Want you to feel my hands on your arse? On your pussy, reddening that soft skin?” His palm rested firmly on each globe of her backside in turn; firm enough for her to feel its determination. When one hand moved back to her cunt and pressed, she nearly came. Did that mean she would like it?

Surely
,
he would not dare—not here with the prominent of the Ton but a shout away? However, she stilled her movement, holding her breath, feeling him touch those places only she had ever touched. She moaned and pushed against him.

“Be still,” he warned again, his flingers flexing both inside and outside her body. “You are asking for my hand to punish. Although, I warn you, Adriana, no punishment would be sweeter. For either of us. I could make you cry out for more as I heat your skin before I thrust into you. You will beg me to continue. This, I promise. If you do not heed me...” He paused, and she felt his lips touch the skin just above where her curls would be—if she had any. “Indeed, I begin to think, I promise ‘ere you
do
heed me.”

As his mistresses did? Would she like it? Would it sting, hurt, make her cry out—not in pleasure, but in pain? Did she want to find out? No, she decided. Not yet, at any rate. Now she wanted to experience only pleasure. She stilled.

He laughed.

“So you do not want all a mistress receives, then?” Still his fingers touched her, and then she would have cried out except that her face was covered with muslin, muffling her voice. There was a finger probing the entrance to her quim. She felt a short, sharp pain. This was not like her own furtive fumblings. This was so much more. More what, she could not assimilate. She was on fire, her senses reeling, on the verge of some great discovery hitherto unknown to her.