The Accidental Mistress

by Tracy Anne Warren

  An eruption of heat burned low in his belly, desire striking hard and fast. He stared for another long moment, then broke eye contact, his hands turning to fists at his side as he fought to compose himself.

  Damnation, he cursed, this is going to be a very long evening.

  He fixed his gaze upon her again, where she was now standing in conversation with her friend Davina Coates.

  On the other hand, the evening doesn’t necessarily have to be long.

  Striding out of the ballroom, he located a pen and paper, then dashed off a note. Finding a footman, Ethan passed him the folded missive, along with a coin to ensure prompt delivery. He waited only a moment more, then turned and made his way outside.

  Half an hour later, Lily glided down the front steps of the townhouse and crossed to the closed coach waiting not far away. A footman opened the door and assisted her inside.

  From out of the waiting darkness emerged a hand, reaching out to enfold her own. The door closed just as she was tugged forward, the vehicle springing into motion as she tumbled onto a pair of powerful, masculine thighs.

  The evocative scent and sensation of the man on whose lap she sat reassured her even as being in his arms increased the speed of her racing heartbeat.

  “Ethan,” she murmured. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Without preamble, he gathered the skirt of her lilac silk evening gown in his hands. Sliding the material upward, he stroked the bare flesh of her legs in a tantalizing caress.

  “What does it feel like I am doing?” Bending forward, he placed his lips against her neck and nuzzled her with a skill that made her arch in instinctive delight. “I am making love to you.”

  “Is that why you sent that note? I thought perhaps something was wrong.”

  Leaning back, his gaze locked with hers. “Something is wrong. I have need of you.”

  “Carnal need, you mean. But surely we can wait. The party will be over soon.”

  “Not soon enough. I want you now,” he said on a near growl.

  “Are you going to turn autocratic on me?”

  “About this, yes. You are my mistress and I will have you. Wherever and whenever the both of us please.”

  Claiming her mouth, he swept her into a realm of passion and possession, his kiss demanding her surrender as well as her unbounded response. Not for an instant did she think to resist, his every touch perfection, his embrace branding her with a sizzling passion that made her melt and moan. Only when she lay trembling against him, breath soughing from her lips in little gasping pants, did he ease away.

  But not for long. His broad palms slipped higher on her skin so that her gown bunched around her waist. Shifting her, he positioned her astride his lap, her legs settling naturally on either side of his hips, her stockingclad knees pressing into the plush, velvet-covered seat.

  Reaching between them, he opened the falls of his black silk evening breeches. His flesh sprang free, thick and more than ready.

  “But we’re in your coach,” she whispered, half-scandalized, half-excited.

  “We were here once before, if you will recall, but we were interrupted that time. I’ve been waiting for a second chance ever since.”

  “But surely we can’t—”

  His teeth flashed in the dark. “Of course we can. My driver will circle the park until I tell him otherwise. Hold on, love, I promise you’ll enjoy the ride.”

  Spreading his thighs apart, he widened her in a way that left her fully exposed to him. Wet heat coiled low within her, a quiver tingling through her extremities. She barely had time to react to the sensations before he grasped her hips, raised her upward, and brought her down onto his straining shaft.

  She cried out, his length seeming to fill her even more than usual, if that was possible. Holding on, she met his vigorous thrusts with ones of her own, the sway and bump of the coach heightening every stroke.

  Needing his kiss, she tunneled her fingers in his hair and captured his lips in a torrid, tumultuous joining. He groaned and plunged higher and harder, burying himself even deeper inside her as he increased the pace of his thrusts.

  Teetering on the edge, she knew she needed only the slightest push to topple her over into oblivion. A moment later, the coach hit a rut, the shock bouncing both of them up, then down hard on the seat.

  The motion drove him deeper still, the joyous friction shooting a climax through her that literally stole her breath. Pressing her face against his neck, she let herself shake, joy pumping like a drug in her veins, ecstasy leaving her floating as if buoyed atop a cloud.

  Sliding his strong arms across her back, Ethan arched her slightly away and quickened his rhythm, plunging harder, deeper, faster. Then he was shaking too, his release long and satisfying for them both.

  Collapsing against the seat, he cradled her in his embrace, stroking her back as he trailed his lips across the hot, flushed skin of her cheek. Long minutes elapsed before he lifted her up so she curled against him on the seat, his arm cradling her to his hip.

  “If you want,” he murmured, “there’s probably still an hour of the party left. I could take you back.”

  “In this wrinkled gown? If I did return, I fear everyone would know what we’ve just been doing.” Leaning up, she kissed him. “Let us go home to bed, Ethan. It’s the only place I want to be.”

  “Ooh, he’s a pretty boy,” Lily declared the following morning as she and Ethan strolled the stable yard at an estate not far from London. The former owner had recently passed away and his son—a lord known more for his love of gaming than of horses—was auctioning off the animals to the highest bidder.

  Ethan sent her an indulgent glance. “That gelding may be ‘pretty,’ but I suspect he will not be well-suited as a carriage horse. I am given to understand there are a few teams available, including a pair of matched grays.”

  “That sounds promising, and I must admit that gray would go well with the sky-blue phaeton I am going to buy,” she suggested, flashing him a wide smile.

  A laugh burst from his lips. “Indeed it would, but as you well know, there is far more to a horse than his color. Once we ascertain the conformation and temperament of the available steeds, then we shall consider how well their color will match your new black curricle.”

  She swatted him on the shoulder as punishment for his continued teasing, a harmless blow that elicited yet another robust chuckle. Laughing still, Ethan captured her hand, tucked her gloved palm securely into the crook of his elbow, and led her forward.

  Thirty minutes later, they’d narrowed their selection down to two teams: a pair of bay high-steppers with beautiful black points and the grays, their soft dappled coats as gentle as their spirits. Not wanting to broadcast interest in either team, and possibly drive up the price, she and Ethan were circumspect in their comments, whispering between themselves while taking care not to openly praise either set of animals.

  They had moved on and were standing not far from a pair of jet-black geldings whose regal lines and bearing were drawing significant interest when a tall, aristocratic gentleman sauntered up.

  “Hello there, and how goes the horse hunting?” The Duke of Wyvern stopped and executed an elegant bow. “Vessey. Mrs. Smythe, a pleasure.”

  Lily gazed up at the duke, struck as always by the saturnine beauty of his countenance and the sex appeal that radiated off the man like an intoxicating cologne. Of course she preferred Ethan’s golden good looks and tawny eyes, a mere glance from him having the power to send her heart careening in a crazy zigzag inside her breast. Nonetheless, that did not mean she wasn’t capable of recognizing and appreciating another devastatingly handsome man when she saw him, even if her interest might be of an empirical nature.

  She and the duke were virtual strangers in spite of having been introduced during the course of the Season. Nevertheless, she was aware that he and Ethan were close friends. Until today she had not given much thought to Ethan’s associations. Now, as she found herself under the public s
crutiny of the duke, she wondered what, if anything, Ethan might have revealed to the other man about her. Had he told the duke she was now his mistress? She stiffened slightly at the notion.

  Obviously aware of her unease, Ethan laid his hand over her own to keep it in place on his arm. Moments later, though, she met Wyvern’s gaze, relaxing when she found nothing more than warm cordiality in his smile.

  “I assume you’ve narrowed the field to the bays and the dappled gray pair at the far end of the stalls,” the duke remarked in a voice lowered so it would not carry.

  “What makes you think that, Your Grace?” she asked, wondering if she and Ethan had unwittingly signaled their preferences, after all.

  He quirked a raven brow. “They are the best of the lot, and Ethan knows a silk purse from a sow’s ear when he sees it. None of the other teams are worth having, and pairing individual horses can be a precarious endeavor at best. Sometimes the grouping works and sometimes it does not. When it does not, your two horses can suddenly turn into an investment of three or four animals, and I doubt you are looking to lay out those sorts of funds, even if you could resell them later on.”

  She blinked, never having considered such a thing.

  “Personally, I’d go with the grays if I were you, ma’am. A brother-and-sister team out of Pegasus, a horse of exceptional lineage,” Wyvern volunteered. “Either pair would do, however.”

  A smile limned Ethan’s mouth. “Lily has already expressed a preference for the grays. She says their color will complement her new carriage.”

  The duke grinned.

  “They all seem like fine steeds, whatever their color,” she defended. “I have yet to decide.”

  But they all knew she wanted the grays.

  Had the duke noticed Ethan’s use of her given name? she wondered. If he had, he offered no reaction. From the way Ethan was holding her hand cradled beneath his own, though, everyone seeing them had to suspect an intimate relationship.

  And if people did guess the truth?

  Then and there, Lily decided she would quit fretting over the matter. She had no wish to sneak around, trying to hide her liaison with Ethan. She wanted to be with him, and so she would be. Society considered her a widow, and as such would turn a blind eye to the affair, even if there might be an occasional whisper behind her back.

  Word must already be spreading, she assumed, since he’d spent the night at her house again, staying to share breakfast with her this morning before leaving to attend the sale. The damage, as it were, was already done.

  “And which horse has captured your eye, Your Grace?” she inquired.

  “Oh, one or two.” He said nothing more, obviously preferring not to reveal his hand. “Shall we adjourn to the auction block? I believe the bidding is about to commence.”

  Flanked on either side by the handsomest men at the auction—and likely in all of England—she strolled forward.

  Two hours later, Lily was smiling from ear to ear, the team of matched grays now hers, bought at a price Ethan and Wyvern both agreed to be more than fair. The duke had bid on and won three horses, including one of the black geldings she’d been admiring earlier in the day, along with a pair of broodmares he believed would add greatly to his breeding program at Rosemeade’s stable.

  As for Ethan, he’d surprised her by bidding on the team of bays, jumping in at the end to take them for a fraction of their true value. After the auctioneer declared Ethan the winner, she tossed him an inquiring look, to which he shrugged.

  “Seemed a shame to let good horses like those go to someone else,” he remarked. “If you decide you prefer them to the grays, you have only to let me know.”

  His eyes met her own, his sensuous mouth sliding upward into an easy, intimate smile.

  Warmth spread through her center, radiating outward like a glowing sun, her limbs turning soft. Leaning imperceptibly closer, she watched his amber irises heat with an expression she was beginning to know well, and despite being in public, she knew she would not have turned away his kiss. But he was a true gentleman, contenting himself with nothing more than a gentle squeeze of her hand.

  Soon after, Wyvern excused himself, moving away to take care of his purchases.

  Adopting a more leisurely pace, she and Ethan ambled arm in arm across the yard.

  “If you’ve the energy,” he commented, “shall we visit the carriage-maker and pick out that curricle for you?”

  She narrowed her eyes, enjoying their game. “Yes indeed. Let us go choose my new phaeton.”

  “Good. Then afterward you can give me a ride.”

  “But surely the carriage won’t be ready so quickly.”

  “I wasn’t talking about that kind of ride.”

  Her eyes widened. “Ethan!”

  A hearty laugh burst from his mouth.

  “Has anyone ever told you, Lily, that you are a prize?”

  The glow spread again inside her belly. Pulse jittering, she tamped down her sudden anticipation, realizing the days ahead with Ethan were going to be unlike any she’d ever known.

  With a new smile on her lips, she let him lead her forward.

  Chapter Fifteen

  THREE MONTHS LATER, Ethan sat at his desk in Andarton House, dark ink flowing as he drew his quill pen in a hasty scrawl across the paper in front of him. Finishing one letter, he sanded the missive and handed it to the young man who served as his secretary. Efficient and well educated, Cooksey sealed the paper with wax, then applied the address and the Vessey frank, leaving Ethan free to move on to the next piece of business correspondence.

  Eager to be done, Ethan was rushing through his work, anxious to finish the duties and demands required by his title so he could return to the pleasure of being with Lily.

  Without quite realizing when or how, the pair of them had drifted into a comfortable routine ever since they had become lovers. At first, he’d tried to restrict himself to spending a few hours of the evening in her company, acting as her escort to a ball or dinner party where they would usually separate for a time so as not to invite too much comment. Afterward, he would take her home, often accompanying her inside and upstairs to her bedchamber. Later, he would force himself to leave, making the journey to his townhouse in the early hours of the morning when no one but weary lamplighters and the occasional overeager milkmaid was about.

  But as July came to an end, so too did the Season, most of Society leaving the heat of the city behind to retreat to the comfort of their country estates. And once Parliament recessed in early August, even more of the Ton withdrew, London growing thin of aristocratic company.

  Even Rafe and Julianna, who spent a great deal of their year in the city, removed the knocker from their door, packed up their servants and little Cam, and made the journey to West Riding, where they would spend the rest of the fall. Rafe had told him they might even remain in the north through the spring since Julianna’s confinement was drawing near, the baby now due in little more than a month.

  As for Tony, he often traveled to and from Rosemeade—the three-hour trip to Town an easy one. But although Tony made an occasional appearance in London, Ethan didn’t expect to see much of him, the duke having already accepted two separate invitations to country-house parties with other friends.

  Ethan had been invited as well, but had refused, preferring to stay in the city so he could continue seeing Lily. She’d been given the opportunity to depart as well, Davina Coates asking her to spend the rest of the summer in Middlesex. Lily had declined, however, waving good-bye to her friend several weeks ago.

  With the city quiet, he and Lily had taken to spending more and more time together until he rarely left her side. Today, in fact, was the first time in a week he’d been to Andarton House, returning to collect a fresh supply of clothing and toiletries, and to see to several pressing matters of business—such as the stack of correspondence he was currently answering.

  His steward, with whom he would normally have met at Andarley weeks ago, had written for
instructions on everything from the purchase of new bed linens for the servants to his agreement to plant a new variety of winter wheat in the northwest fields. Moving rapidly through all the queries, Ethan finished his reply, sanded the paper, and once again passed it to his secretary to prepare for the post.

  Soon after, the younger man stood and began a concise recitation of each remaining letter, making notes of Ethan’s answers so he could compose appropriate responses. Ethan swallowed a sigh, knowing that he would have to return again soon to sign all the letters drafted by his secretary.

  He tried not to give much thought to the fact that never in his life had he wanted to spend so much of his time with a woman. Certainly, he’d never before stayed in Town through the summer for one of his mistresses. Though Lily was far more than a mistress; she was also his friend.

  Honestly, he’d expected the fire between them to have burned out long ago, roaring hot and quick before dying a natural death. But as the weeks passed, his desire for her had only deepened.

  Amazing as it might seem, he hungered for her more now than he had when he’d first been pursuing her, making love to her with a pleasured intensity he hadn’t imagined possible. As far as he could tell, she seemed to feel the same, trembling with delight in his arms and smiling dreamily afterward.

  Beyond physical desire, though, was the simple enjoyment of being with her—a fact that should probably alarm him, but strangely enough did not. In bed and out, she never failed to charm him, her smile alone enough to brighten even the gloomiest of days.

  He still remembered weeks ago when her cerulean-blue phaeton arrived. Exuberant as a child on Christmas morning, she’d pulled him out to share her first ride, seemingly oblivious to the eye-popping sight they must have made with her perched high in the driver’s seat, him at her side, while she drove them around the city.

  The outing had created a minor scandal of sorts, the tale repeated in tones laced with equal shares amusement and admiration. There were many men incapable of handling such a precarious equipage; for a woman to do so, well, that was truly outstanding. But more than her accomplishment was the way she handled herself, her manner displaying an easy grace and style that set her apart from all the rest. He’d been proud of her, as he continued to be, content to let her shine and to revel in her reflected light. In his whole life, he’d never known another woman like Lily. Thinking again of her now, he knew he never would.