His Lady Mistress (10 page)

‘An agreement?’

‘Of course. That’s how these things are done.’

‘Oh. Is it? What would have to be ascertained first?’

He smiled and set down his glass on the bedside table. ‘Whether or not you can please me in bed, my dear.’

Watching her closely, he wondered if she were about to flee. God knew he’d been blunt enough. He could see the tension in her body and longed to ease it, to take her into his arms and kiss all her fears away, but it had to be her choice. Faringdon might have taken her innocence, but he would have no part in forcing her any further down this road if she did not wish it. She had refused him very plainly. Perhaps she had meant it, perhaps not. He had to be quite sure.

‘You…you do not really want me, do you?’ The question ripped into him and he saw her turn to the door. Belatedly he realised that his attempt to warn her, to ensure she knew exactly what she was doing, had shamed her.

‘Selina!’

She stopped and looked back, her cheeks scarlet. ‘My lord.’

He fought for the right words. ‘It’s not that. I want you, but when I asked you before, you refused. I won’t force you. You must come to me. Of your own free will.’

She took one step towards the bed and halted again.

‘That’s it,’ he said softly. ‘Come to me. I will not touch you until you lie naked beside me in this bed.’

A shudder went through Verity as she heard his invitation and understood what it meant. She would have to strip in front of him. Take all her clothes off and walk naked to his bed. And in doing so she would cross the line from respectability to the
demi-mondaine
. She would be an outcast from decent society.

What will have changed? You are already outcast. You’re little better than a servant. Worse, in fact, since you don’t get paid.

Still she hesitated. She could feel his eyes on her, knew that the choice, and responsibility, were hers and hers alone. No one would be hurt or injured by her actions except herself. And this way she would wrest back control of her life.

Her hands shaking, she fumbled with the first button of her bodice. Her fingers seemed made of wood. They slipped and
fumbled, but at last it was undone. Swallowing, she looked down. There were a lot more buttons. A small sound from the bed caught her attention. Fleetingly she looked up and her fingers froze on the second button. He had stripped off his waistcoat and was engaged in hauling his shirt off over his head.

Verity’s mouth dried at the sight of his heavily muscled body. Firelight slid and gleamed on the hard curves. She had never realised that a man’s body was so different, so very beautiful. Fascinated, she stared at the broad shoulders, the powerful chest with its dusting of curling hair. That was startling enough, but what really surprised her was the sudden urge she felt to touch him and discover all the textures of that magnificent body.

A soft chuckle shocked her eyes back to his face as she realised she had been mesmerised. Her mouth dried out even further as she met his hot gaze.

‘Don’t forget your own buttons, my sweet.’ His voice was full of heated intent. ‘I had no intention of distracting you.’

She couldn’t do it. Not with his eyes on hers like that. Temptation and warning in one fierce blaze, they threatened to consume her. She shut her own eyes and forced her fingers to obey her. A second button, then another, and another. Button after button, until the dress hung loosely about her. She stood, uncertain what to do next, agonisingly conscious of the unseen presence on the bed, aware of his gaze still burning into her.

‘Push it off your shoulders, let it fall to your waist.’

She wouldn’t be naked. Quite. She still had her chemise. And a petticoat. Shivering, she obeyed, feeling her nipples tighten in the sudden chill. The dress fell about her hips, caught by their gentle swell.

‘You won’t be cold for long,’ came a murmur. ‘I’ll warm you.’ It sounded like a promise. A moment’s taut silence. Then, ‘Now push it off your hips. To the floor.’

The heat in his voice sent tremors rippling through her.
Eyes still tightly closed, she hesitated a moment, then drew a deep breath and obeyed. Never had she been so aware of her underclothes. Her skin shivered into life, conscious of every seam, the position of every carefully sewn patch.

‘Untie your petticoat.’ Abrupt and harsh, his voice froze her fingers and she struggled with the tie, but at last it was done. Yet she hesitated, clutching it in place. She couldn’t quite believe that she had stripped off her dress at a man’s command and was about to remove her underwear.

‘Let it go.’

She opened her eyes slowly. He had stripped completely and lay propped on one elbow. At least she assumed he had stripped completely. She gulped. He had the bedclothes pulled up to his waist and she couldn’t imagine that he had his evening breeches on. His eyes were on her, hot and intent. And there were his breeches on the floor.

Oh, dear God. What had she agreed to?

‘Let it go,’ he repeated.

You have agreed to be his mistress. In a moment you will lie in that bed with him and become his.

Shaking, she released her grip and felt the petticoat slide down her legs to pool around her feet. Her chemise was next. Taking a deep breath, she reached for the drawstring…

‘No. I’ll deal with that.’

Swallowing she met his gaze. ‘But…’

‘Come to me now.’

The space between them gaped. She had no idea how her trembling legs would get her there, but she was certain the gap was not nearly wide enough. Or much too wide. She shut her eyes again. At least she still had her chemise.

Wildly aware of soft carpet cushioning her cold, bare feet, she went to him. One momentous step at a time. Until her thighs hit the bed. A large warm hand touched her, curved over the soft skin of her hip, shaping it, learning it. She stood and shivered under the touch of his caress. Then she felt the
hand slide over her bottom, drawing her inexorably closer, until, to avoid falling on to the bed, she knelt on it.

‘Open your eyes again, my darling,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t hide from me. Come. Trust me.’ His hand continued to stroke, teasing her to life, demanding nothing.

Trust me.

Slowly she opened her eyes and looked into his.

Chapter Five

M
ax thought he might break apart at what he saw there. Fear and desire warred, but behind them both he saw a blinding trust. Not otherwise would she have made herself so vulnerable, stripping in front of him, obeying his hoarse commands and finally coming to him.

Beautiful women had stripped for him before with an expertise calculated to inflame a man, but nothing had ever stirred his blood so much as seeing those slender, shaking fingers struggling with her buttons. The sight had left him burning, consumed by the urge to get out of the bed, sweep her into his arms and finish the job for her. He hadn’t been able to wait for her to get the chemise off.

He lowered his gaze to her mouth. Soft and pink, the underlip was gripped between her teeth to still its trembling. He doubted she even knew she was doing it.

God help him, but she was lovely. The chemise was old and worn, its washing soft fabric clinging lovingly to her delicate curves. Her breasts lifted against the thin material and his blood heated at the sight of the darker, tightened nipples. So sweet. Soon, very soon, he’d have her under him, have that soft flesh in his mouth. Desire became a savage ache in his loins, screaming for release. Unable to help him
self, he reached out and cupped the underswell of one breast, passing his thumb over the hardened peak.

He felt her shivering and understood. Fear. Not passion. Not yet. Grimly he reminded himself that she had probably lost her virginity in pain and terrified humiliation. Even if Godfrey
had
forced a
yes
from her, what had happened amounted to rape. The thought sickened him.

His conscience made one last stand. ‘Selina, you’re sure?’

Huge dark eyes met his. ‘I…yes.’ Then, a shaken whisper. ‘Yes. I want this. I want
you
.’

Max felt every breath shiver through her. She had come to him willingly, trusting him. His own need could wait. It wasn’t going anywhere. And it was as nothing beside the need to please her, to give her the tenderness and gentleness she deserved.

‘My lord?’ Her breath broke on her lips as he continued to stroke and caress her breast. Yearning shimmered through her in response, a rippling tide of need that spread out from his knowing fingers in a wave of aching heat, melting her very bones.

The hand stilled and she shifted, pressing herself against it pleadingly.

‘Max,’ he corrected her softly. ‘Here, in bed, I am Max. Your lover.
My lord
has no place here. Only Max and his sweetheart. Come to me.’

His smile drew her heart from her breast, yet behind the tenderness she could sense something tightly leashed. He had asked for her trust. And he had forced nothing on her. She knew that, if at any moment she had changed her mind, she could have fled. He would not have lifted a finger to stop her. Godfrey, she knew, would have stripped and taken her in the time it would take for her to unbutton her dress.

He sat up and reached for her. Hard arms closed about her, drawing her down against his body in an intimate embrace. She lay half under him, surrounded, caged by his strength. Her vulnerability should have terrified her. Yet now she was
here she felt safe, protected. Instinctively she put her arms around him, pressing herself closer and lifting her mouth to his.

He took it gently, completely. His tongue traced her lips in a velvet caress even as she sighed and opened her mouth to him. He deepened the kiss, exploring the sweetness of her mouth, tasting, devouring, even as his loins shifted against her in barely controlled urgency.

Breathing hard, he lifted his mouth from hers and pulled away a little. If he didn’t…When had it been like this? So wild with need that he felt as though he were on fire with it. She lay beneath him, soft breasts lifting under the chemise at each breath. Slowly her eyes opened.

‘My…Max? Is…is something wrong?’

He stared at her, speechless for a moment. Then shook his head. Nothing had ever been so right. He stroked a vagrant curl back from her temple. ‘You’re too lovely,’ he murmured, kissing her gently, revelling in the hesitant response. ‘That’s all. Just relax.’

Her hair was still confined in the rigid bun. Desperate to slow himself down, to reassure her, he removed pin after pin, releasing the dusky cloud of curls to fan out over the pillow. Smiling, he drew his fingers through the tumbled silk. Cool fire caressed him. ‘Beautiful,’ he whispered.

With shaking fingers he released the drawstring of her chemise and pushed it down to expose her breasts. Then he lowered his head and did what he had been fantasising about—drew the velvet soft flesh deep inside his mouth.

He felt the shock jolt through her, heard her startled cry. Shuddering with the need to take her, he forced himself to be gentle, tender, patient. His hands shook uncontrollably as he removed the chemise and explored her trembling body, caressing every curve, waist, hip and sweetly rounded thigh.

Urgency exploded inside her as his hands shaped and learned her. All she could do was hold him to her as he lavished pleasure on her with mouth and hands. His hands.
She couldn’t think, couldn’t begin to comprehend the power they held as they stroked and caressed.

Gentle, deft fingers trailed fire over her thighs, brushed over the soft curls that shielded her secrets. She gasped at the sensation, fire and need blossoming up from his touch, and felt him smile against her neck. Those wicked fingers returned, probing lightly.

‘Soon,’ he whispered. ‘Soon. Let me touch you.’ His hand cupped her and his fingers pressed lower.

Aching, burning with need, she shifted her legs apart slightly. The teasing, searching fingers slid between her thighs, probed further and found soft, wet heat. Lightning lanced through her as he stroked with shattering intimacy. She cried out, twisting against him, frantic for more, hardly knowing what she wanted, only certain that she must have it, or die.

Max did know what she wanted. Dizzy with his own need, he resisted the urge to give in, to roll her beneath him and spread her thighs wide so that he could take her. Now. Groaning, he reached for control. He took her mouth again, drinking her cries as he slid one finger into the entrance of her body.

Sweet honey spilled over his fingers in searing welcome, tearing at his restraint. Again and again he stroked, torturing himself. He could wait no longer. She felt so good, so hotly welcoming.

Releasing her mouth, he said hoarsely, ‘You’re so sweet, so hot. Open to me.’ His hands were on her thighs, urging them apart, even as he rolled on top of her, taking her mouth inexorably.

Shock held her motionless as she felt his weight, his strength, felt the hard, urgent pressure of his hunger against her and understood the fierce promise of his kiss. He stopped instantly and his hands rose to frame her face.

‘Sweetheart.’ He released her mouth and his lips feathered
over her face. ‘It’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you. I swear it.’ Then, in a hard, strained voice, ‘Do you want me to stop?’

He would have stopped.
Even now. The knowledge dissolved the last of her fears. ‘No. No. Please don’t stop,’ she whispered.

A little of his weight eased off her and he reached between their bodies again, touching her, teasing her, whispering her sweetness against her lips. She cried out wildly, lifting against him in desperate pleading, all her doubts drowning in the rising wave of passion and in the certainty of his gentleness.

With a groan he positioned himself, took her mouth in ravishing possession and thrust deep into her body.

She lay quite still, clinging to him, dazed at the sudden shocking pain of his penetration, dazed at the feel of him sunk deep inside her, stretching her, impaling her. But even as she choked back a sob, the pain eased. His strength and heat possessed her, protected her, inside and out. A gentle hand framed her face as his mouth plundered hers and the blinding pleasure returned as he slid one hand under her hips to tilt her towards him. She gasped in delight as he sank further into her. Shuddering, he pressed even deeper, claiming her completely. Then he began to move powerfully, rocking rhythmically and her body melted, joy searing the memory of pain.