He jolted and she forced herself not to look away from him in embarrassment.
“I don’t understand how such an emotion should make a marriage less palatable,” he said, his voice unreadable. “I would think it would make you desire such a union between us all the more.”
She forced a smile. “Almost dying today made me want to live. It made me want a future. But with you…with you there would be no future. What you have proposed would become a prison to us both. To you because you do not love me and to me because I do.”
He stared at her. “And that is your only reason for refusal?”
She nodded. “Yes, of course.”
“And what if I could offer you a future, rather than a prison?”
She stared at him. His handsome face was virtually unreadable and she struggled to decide if he was serious or not.
“How could you do that?” she asked. “I doubt either of us could change our feelings.”
“No,” he admitted and her heart sank. “My feelings are set in stone, I’m afraid. But I can tell you they are not what you believe them to be.”
“I—I don’t understand,” she said, unable to bring her voice to a level above a scant whisper.
“No, I have made sure of that over the past few weeks, hell, over the past few years. But I want to correct that. I…” He hesitated. “I love you, Mariah.”
Her mouth dropped open and she stared at him. She was dreaming. Except when she pinched herself, she remained just where she was, only with a sore spot tingling her arm.
“I do want a wife,” he continued. “To protect me as much as I protect her. To be a partner. A friend. A lover. That wife is you. It could only ever be you.”
She rose to her feet and backed away, still uncertain that what was happening was real. “Please don’t say these things if you do not mean them. It will only make everything worse in the end.”
“I mean what I say,” he promised as he got up and wrapped his arms around her waist. “You should know that to be true, if nothing else. I love you. I shall love you until the end of my days. And I want to marry you.
Now
.”
She stared at him. There was nothing disingenuous about what he said. He looked her straight in the eye. And in his face she saw something she never would have expected or hoped for.
She saw love. Love for her. Hope for their future.
She cupped his cheeks. “When did this happen?”
He laughed. “I have been trying to track that very answer,” he said. “And I believe I fell in love with you the first moment I saw you. I was only too daft, too stubborn to admit it. But now that I have, I wish to scream it from the rooftops, to announce it in the middle of the street. But you have not yet answered my question.”
“Your question,” she repeated, still stricken by this shocking turn.
“Marry me,” he repeated gently.
“I will,” she whispered. “I will very happily.”
And he leaned down to kiss her and swept her away.
About the Author
Jess Michaels is the award-winning author of more than ten erotic romances. She lives in Arizona with her fantastic husband and two adorable cats. While not writing about sexy gentleman and wicked ladies, she can be found doing geeky things like playing video games and performing aunt duties to two nephews. You can find her online at
www.authorjessmichaels.com
, on Facebook (Jenna Petersen) and on Twitter
@jennaromance
Look for these titles by Jess Michaels
Now Available:
Mistress Matchmaker
An Introduction to Pleasure
Coming Soon:
Mistress Matchmaker
Her Perfect Match
The Pleasure Wars
Taken by the Duke
Beauty and the Earl
An innocent lady’s education could be a gentleman’s wicked seduction.
An Introduction to Pleasure
© 2012 Jess Michaels
Mistress Matchmaker, Book 1
Lysandra Keates is running out of options. Her father is dead, her mother is ill, and her efforts to find respectable employment have ended in failure. With her small savings bleeding away, she swallows her pride—and her terror—and turns to Vivien Manning, an infamous courtesan, to match her with a wealthy protector.
For years, Viscount Andrew Callis has lived a monastic existence at his country estate, hardening his body against the snobbish, lazy young man he once was, hardening his heart against grief over the deaths of his wife and infant son. When Vivien asks him to spend one month training a young woman in the ways of a mistress, his mind resists…but his body responds with an ache he thought long dead.
As Andrew begins his gentle tutelage, he finds himself falling under the spell of Lysandra’s innocent charms. And as they give in to the powerful hunger, the last thing Andrew ever expected, or wanted, forms between them. An emotional connection that could carry them well past the training period—if only Andrew can open his heart to the possibility of love.
Warning: Includes training in all kinds of sexual positions and delights, as well as an emotional romance. May produce swooning.
Enjoy the following excerpt for
An Introduction to Pleasure:
“Good afternoon, Miss Keates. I’m Carlsworth, your butler.”
Lysandra’s head was spinning. She hadn’t had the advantage of servants for…well, she could scarce remember how long. And even in her father’s house, it hadn’t been a butler! There had been a cook, a maid she and her mother had shared and a man her father used for all kinds of duties, but that was all.
“Are you quite all right, Miss Keates?” Carlsworth asked as he took a step toward her. “You are very pale.”
“I’m sorry, Carlsworth,” she said, breathless. “I didn’t mean to alarm you. I find I am a bit overwhelmed.”
“Of course,” he said, his tone as kind as could be. “You must be quite tired. Lord Callis has sent word that he will be calling within the half hour. Would you like to wait for him in the parlor while we ready your room? I’ll call for your tea.”
Lysandra blinked. So she was to be waited on like a princess?
“Miss?” he asked.
She shook her head. The servants would think her a daft princess, indeed, if she continued to stare at them like a fool.
“Thank you, that sounds very nice.” She followed his indication of one of the open doors in the hallway and stepped into a parlor.
Immediately, she fell in love. The parlor wasn’t imposing like Andrew’s was or ridiculous and showy like her cousin’s, but it fit her perfectly. It had been painted in warm greys and blues, with fine furniture that seemed as comfortable as it was pretty. There were very few decorations beyond a handful of paintings and a clock on the mantel, but the lack of décor didn’t bother Lysandra. She was too busy being utterly mesmerized by the fact that, at least for a little while, this home was hers to enjoy.
Behind her, there was the clearing of a throat, and she turned to watch a maid come inside with a serving plate of tea and a few sandwiches.
“Cook wasn’t certain what you liked,” the girl explained as she set the entire platter on the sideboard. “So she gave you a few selections. When you meet with her, you’ll have to tell her your favorites.”
Lysandra blinked in disbelief and stared at the girl. “H-hello.”
She smiled. “I’m Candace, miss. I’m your downstairs maid.”
“M-my downstairs maid?” she repeated, once again daft in her confusion and disbelief.
The girl nodded. “I do the cleaning and tidying. Your ladies maid is Faith, and she is upstairs readying your room. Cook is Eliza, but we all just call her Cook because it makes her laugh. You’ve already met Carlsworth and Wilkes, of course.”
Lysandra continued to nod, regardless of the fact that her eyes were beginning to hurt from being so wide.
“We’re all at your service, Miss Keates,” the girl pressed. “Ring for any of us any time.”
“Thank you,” Lysandra breathed. “I shall do so.”
She said the words, but she could scarcely picture herself doing so. Ringing for assistance like the lady of a manor! When just that morning she had woken in the uncomfortable confines of one of the worst rooming houses in London.
“I’ll go now. Lord Callis will be here shortly.”
Lysandra forced both her attention back to the girl and a smile as Candace stepped from the room. Once she was gone, Lysandra sank into the closest chair and let her breath out all at once.
“Dear God, I am a ninny,” she said to herself. “They are going to talk and laugh about me below stairs.”
That
she knew for a fact. After all, she had done the same in her former employer’s home. Right before he…
Well, there was no use thinking about that. Not right now. Right now she had to prepare for Andrew’s arrival. She looked down at herself. Her worn gown didn’t really fit in this pretty home, but it was what she had and there was no use feeling badly about that.
She caught a glimpse of a mirror hanging above the fireplace and moved in front of it. She grimaced. But for the faint circles beneath her eyes that seemed to be a permanent fixture anymore, she looked well enough, she supposed. But would “well enough” be
good
enough? Wasn’t a mistress supposed to be outrageously beautiful and alluring? Seductive and sophisticated like Vivien was?
She pinched her cheeks until they had a bit of color and smoothed her dress. She was checking the status of her teeth when the door behind her opened and in the reflection of the mirror, she watched Andrew walk into the parlor.
She spun from the looking glass with a dark blush and shoved her hands to her sides. Wonderful, now she had been caught examining her teeth like she was a horse.
If he noticed, he made no mention of it. He only reached behind himself and shut the door to the parlor with a loud click. They stared at each other for a long moment, long enough that Lysandra shifted. Perhaps she was supposed to say something. To begin the seduction. But what?
“Hello,” she managed and then sighed.
Hello?
That
was the best she could do.
But as silly as it was, it seemed to break the spell. Andrew took a long step toward her.
“Hello, Lysandra. Carlsworth tells me you only just arrived yourself, but I hope what you have seen of your home thus far is satisfactory to you.”
Lysandra blinked. “You cannot be serious in that question. It is a beautiful home, no one could find fault with it.”
He tilted his head and there was a flash of something in his stare that she couldn’t properly read. “I ask because the home is a bit smaller than some mistresses require. I only thought that since we would only share an affair for a short time—”
He trailed off, and Lysandra wrinkled her brow. “Of course you wouldn’t invest in a large mansion for me. And if you had, I wouldn’t know what to do with it. Having so many servants and such a beautiful home to myself is almost too much as it is. Thank you, my lord, for providing it for me.”
He stared at her, but finally nodded. “You are welcome, but I would say that you shouldn’t be overly grateful when you take on a protector. You want them to pursue you, to be driven to give you more.”
Lysandra stared at him. “But if I’m provided for, that should be all I require. I wouldn’t be able to demand something from a person as you suggest. Why would I?”
“The chase, my dear,” Andrew said softly as he took another step toward her. “You must provide these men with a chase, otherwise they will lose interest. And since the chase will not involve the pleasures of your body, it must involve something else. Your comfort. Your company. Your approval.”
Lysandra shook her head. “I understand what you’re saying, but I have a hard time picturing being so demanding.”
One corner of Andrew’s lip lifted in a half-smile. “Then there will be much to teach. But first…”
He trailed off and moved closer, closer, close enough that Lysandra could smell the masculine fragrance of his skin and feel its heat. Close enough that when he reached out he could take her hand. Slowly, he drew her toward him and then against him.
Lysandra shivered as her mind flashed to the intimate kisses he had rained down on her quivering body just a few days before. The body that continued to react with both his touch and the memories, tingling as the area between her thighs grew wet and hot in anticipation.
“I didn’t kiss you the last time we met,” he said and his rough voice was even rougher. “At least, not this way.”
He gave her a wicked glance and then his mouth lowered to hers.
He’ll protect her with every vicious bone in his body.
Wayward One
© 2013 Lorelie Brown
During her ten years at the prestigious Waywroth Academy, Sera Miller clung to a strict code of propriety to shield herself from rumors that she isn’t an orphan at all. She’s a bastard. Now she wishes she had never allowed her friends to talk her into snooping into the mysterious source of her tuition.