Tempting His Mistress

by Samantha Holt

  He parted the opening in her drawers and velvety heat touched her folds. He gave her no time to tense or worry. Using one long, strong thrust, he drove into her. Sparks resounded through her mind and she let out a cry.

  She heard him curse roughly, though it sounded far away. All Lilly could do was grasp his shoulders and pray he did not stop.

  “Forgive me, Lilly,” he muttered.

  “Don’t stop,” she begged.

  The slight twinge dissipated with his every rocking movement. She needed more. To be filled so deeply was so foreign yet completely satisfying. It destroyed every memory of the pain of the night before or the awkwardness. It left a simmering heat that built in her sex. She didn’t know what to do with it so she simply hung on and let him take the lead—let him take all she had.

  Evan claimed her mouth and gripped her thighs around him. The desk creaked and his harsh breaths matched her own. Hot, searing pleasure gathered deep inside. Lilly tensed and dug her nails into his jacket. She thrashed, unable to control herself as it consumed her. He barely slowed as her orgasm took hold, unleashing itself upon her with such force it brought tears to her eyes.

  She trembled and tried to draw in breaths as Evan broke the unsteady kiss to gaze at her. His face crumpled and his grip on her legs tightened. Head still swimming, limbs warm and tingly, she stared on while his peak hit. He released a guttural sound and spilled himself inside her. Warmth filled her and he buried his head in the crook of her neck.

  Lilly brought a hand up to stroke his hair, his little jerking movements and uneven breaths making him seem oddly vulnerable. She fingered his silky locks and soothed him as if he were a child. Her heart stretched as she registered his length still in her. Joined as close as two people could be, she smiled. He had enjoyed that, had he not? Hopefully, that wouldn’t be a one off. Bedding the marquess would not be a chore at all if they repeated such a performance. Strange how they could seldom agree on anything yet for a few moments, their bodies seemed in complete agreement.

  Evan withdrew slowly and her heart sank as he broke away. She braced herself for one of his wry smiles or a cold look but when she drew her gaze to his she found him eyeing her tenderly. His lips did curl, but there was no bitterness or teasing to them. Evan fished out a handkerchief and handed it to her to clean up.

  Cheeks warm, she cleaned herself up, keeping her gaze down, then went to hand it back before pausing and fisting it in one hand. He chuckled.

  “I shall take it.” He took the soiled linen from her and repositioned her rent skirts.

  Lilly glanced down to see he had only caused a slight rip but she did not think it would be repairable. The give in the seams at the back definitely would not be.

  “It seems I owe you a new dress.”

  “You do indeed.” She failed to prevent a laugh. “I hope you will not be ruining all my dresses. It could cost you a small fortune.”

  “You’re saying you do not wish me to take you here, on the desk, again?” He peered over her shoulders. “In full view of the gardens?”

  She smacked his arm. “Lord Hawksley!”

  “You do, I can tell. Miss Claremont, it seems I had you read very wrong. You are not a proper lady at all.”

  “Well, that we both know. I shall never be a proper lady and certainly not after people find out I am your mistress.”

  “You are right. And I, for one, am grateful. There are enough proper ladies in the world. Who needs one more?”

  Lilly thought she ought to be offended. Her usual indignation refused to rise. He was right. She had never been that good of a lady no matter how hard her mother tried to instil the right values in her. Appearances only got you so far when the taint of your birth followed you everywhere. She had spent too long in her own company, away from proper society, to be overly concerned with manners.

  However, that didn’t mean she expected to enjoy such scandalous behaviour—not after last night.

  His amused expression dropped as he aided her off the desk. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked quietly.

  “No. Though I may have bruises on—” She stopped herself from pointing or saying the words, fearing she might swoon from more embarrassment. Evan took the hint and drew her into him to clasp her rear in both hands.

  “What do you do to me, sweet Lilly? I am growing hard again already.”

  “Must you always speak so bluntly?” she whispered.

  “Always.”

  “I am... I am not experienced in this,” she said, grasping the lapels of his jacket and staring at the fabric.

  “I am aware of that. But you do a very fine job. And there are few women with as blunt a tongue as you.”

  “A fine job?” She released his jacket but he did not let her retreat.

  “Ah, when will you learn I have no ability to flatter and sweet-talk women?”

  Lilly chuckled. She could not help herself. A buzz still fluttered through her veins and the softness in his expression, the nearness of his body prevented her from summoning any anger. A rarity for her in his proximity. But she was learning. She had learned Evan’s hard eyes grew soft when he was buried in her and that the most endearing, helpless look came across his face at the point of orgasm.

  “I wonder how it is you have got this far in life, Evan. You must have angered many women.”

  “I am rich,” he said smugly. “I can behave however I wish.”

  “I do not think for one minute you believe that.”

  He grinned, a wide, undisguised smile that stole her breath. The change in him made him more handsome than ever. Lilly longed to see that smile more often.

  “You read me far too well, Lilly.”

  “That is a bad thing?”

  His grin compressed and he eyed her. “Maybe.” Landing a kiss on her forehead, he released her. “I shall send Anne up to help you get cleaned and redressed.”

  Lilly fought the urge to bury her face in her hands. “What shall I say?”

  “Say you tripped and ripped your dress.”

  “She will not believe me!”

  “Likely not, but what else shall you say? That her master is so impatient to be buried inside you, he tore your skirts asunder?”

  “You are truly shocking, my lord.” And yet she couldn’t help cherish his mischievous tone. If his mood changed so vastly after love making every time, this year would not be so hard to bear at all.

  Chapter Twelve

  Nearly a week later, Evan had been tempted to retreat to his study and finish answering the letters that had piled up since visiting with Lady Stanley, but Lilly coaxed him into the drawing room.

  “Don’t leave me alone all evening,” she begged. “I shall die of boredom. This will be our last night together before you leave for London.”

  He arched a brow and suppressed a smile at her melodramatic tone. “Die? Really?”

  “Lord Hawksley, you didn’t bring me all the way here to ignore me.” She shoved her hands onto her hips. “Now come and read to me.”

  “Read to you?”

  Lilly ignored him and snatched his hand to drag him into the drawing room. She pushed him towards the chaise and motioned for him to sit. Evan shook his head and wondered how it was she commanded him so easily. Perhaps she had fried his common sense when she had exploded beautifully in his arms. He suspected he would never forget her breathy cries or the feeling of her tight around him. He couldn’t get enough of her.

  After their first night, he had to admit he had feared they would not find their feet together but the moment in her bedroom had persuaded him otherwise. Had she really let him take her on a desk? Even now his body heated at the thought.

  She handed over a book and planted herself next to him, hands in her lap. He glanced at the title and groaned. “This? Where did you find it? I don’t remember stocking any gothic novels in the study.”

  “I brought it with me.”

  He opened the first page and grimaced at the opening line. He had never heard of the a
uthor but he could tell they would never amount to much. Clearing his throat, he paused and eyed her. “You really want me to read to you?”

  She nodded, a teasing smile on her face. Her eyes glinted, and he suspected this was either a test or some ploy to embarrass him. Well, he did not embarrass that easily. He began to read, forcing himself to read slowly and seriously, even as he cringed inwardly at the awkward prose. Gradually, Lilly softened and eased into his side. His breath hitched and he stumbled over a few words.

  “This book is terrible,” he said finally, closing it.

  “I know.” She giggled.

  “Then why torture me so? Why do you have it with you?”

  “It was my mother’s.”

  Evan grimaced to himself. “Forgive me.”

  “It’s fine. She knew it was terrible too but loved it. I like having something she loved with me.”

  “You must miss her.”

  “It has been many years now. She died in her sleep when I was five and ten.”

  Evan recalled Claremont mentioning as much but let her continue.

  “It was a shock, but she was not the strongest of women. She often fell sick. I think my father had the greatest shock because he hadn’t been around to witness the times she had been unwell. For him, she always put on a show of strength.”

  “So you have been alone since then?”

  “Yes, though I had the staff at the house and Father visited whenever he could.” She straightened, and he missed the feel of her sweet body tucked against his. “He did his best for me.”

  “Many men would not have accepted you,” he agreed.

  “Too many.”

  Rubbing the back of his neck, he studied her. Did losing her only companion at such a young age explain her tendency to express her opinions so strongly? She likely had no one to counsel her against speaking out so. Not that he minded. For the most part, at least. Occasionally, he thought, it might be nice to have a biddable mistress, but he doubted that would ever happen with Lilly.

  A hand slid over his shoulders, jolted him from his thoughts. Her soft caress made his skin burn through his shirt. Was this how men spent evenings with their mistresses? He had to admit it wasn’t something they discussed in the gentleman’s clubs and there were certainly no books on the etiquette of looking after one’s mistress. For the first time in his life, he felt out of control.

  Actually, he conceded, he had not been in control since the moment he saw Lilly walking down the stairs at Oakholm Hall.

  “What are you doing?” he asked when she settled closer again and urged him to turn his back to her.

  “Helping you relax. You spend half your time looking thoroughly miserable, Evan. If I am to spend time with you, you had better learn how to enjoy yourself.”

  “I do not,” he grumbled.

  Did he? Perhaps she was right. His own father had passed away ten years ago, leaving him the title of marquess. Ever since then, he had carried the burden of managing his large estate and all his investments. While his brother enjoyed the freedom of wealth with no responsibility, Evan had no such pleasure.

  Her clever fingers pressed into his back, and muscles he did not even realise were tense gave way under her magical touch. Stirrings of desire tingled through his body and in spite of taking several deep breaths and trying to picture anything other than Lilly naked, he grew hard.

  “That is enough,” he said gruffly and tried to move away from her touch.

  Lilly placed her hands firmly on his shoulders. “It is not.”

  “Lilly, enough,” he snapped, jumping up and stalking over to the fireplace. He glanced back at her and saw the disappointment on her face.

  “I was only trying to—”

  “Relax me, I know.” He clenched his jaw and let out a hiss of air. “But the problem is, I don’t find your touch relaxing at all.”

  “I do not—”

  “Damn it, Lilly, I am as hard as a stone.”

  Her eyes widened, and Evan pinched the bridge of his nose. Now he had frightened her. Just because their lovemaking so far had been like nothing he had ever experienced didn’t mean she would be comfortable with such talk. Lord almighty, she was still practically an innocent.

  “I’m sorry. I did not realise.” She licked her lips. “Perhaps... perhaps we should have an early night?”

  He spun around to fix her with a bemused look. The twist of her lips told him he had not misunderstood. The damned minx wanted him in her bed. He chuckled. “An early night sounds like a fine idea indeed.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The train pulled into Paddington shortly after lunchtime. Evan’s stomach grumbled with the missed meal and he fought to ignore the weighted sensation in it. How was it possible to miss Lilly’s presence already? Yes, she was a wonderful distraction in bed, but he’d never intended to actually enjoy her company. Damnation, what was that woman doing to him?

  He stepped down from the train, smoke whirling about the station and the scent of it filling his nostrils—a far cry from the fresh aroma of the country. People hustled along, some with luggage in hand and Evan bit back a curse as a gentleman smacked his suitcase into Evan’s shin as he brushed past.

  Making his way out of the station, it only took him a few moments to find his carriage waiting for him and he reached Lonsdale House within half an hour. Evan sidestepped a pile of excrement and took the stairs to the door of the three storey building so swiftly that the butler had barely opened the door.

  “My lord,” Higgins greeted.

  “Higgins.” Evan handed him his hat and pulled off his jacket

  Higgins took them without comment but a hint of concern sat on the older man’s brow. His usual placid countenance seemed fraught with tension.

  “What is it, Higgins?”

  “You have a visitor, my lord. Lady Ashby. She is unaccompanied but would not leave. I thought it best to let her in rather than have her make a scene on the doorstep.”

  “Quite right, Higgins. Is she in the drawing room?” Evan had a niggling suspicion why she was here. He only prayed he was wrong.

  “Yes, Mary is with her, my lord.”

  “Thank you. Have some tea sent up will you?”

  “Already done, my lord.”

  Evan eyed the man who had been his butler since his father passed away and wondered where he’d be without him. Thankfully Higgins shared his views on the treatment of women and had been happy to aid him in these matters. At one and forty, the butler was not too old to get his hands dirty either.

  “Right, let us see what we can do about Lady Ashby.”

  The plush carpet of the hall gave way under his feet as he strolled past the various gilded portraits of long dead family members. He entered the drawing room cautiously, wary of adding to Eleanor’s distress.

  Eleanor stood as he entered. The young woman’s nose was red from crying and she dabbed a handkerchief to her eyes. “Lord Hawksley,” she exclaimed. “Forgive me...”

  Evan stepped swiftly over and nodded his thanks to Mary, who lingered in the corner of the room—not for propriety’s sake but she knew well that, while Eleanor might trust him, to be alone with a man could be more than the woman could bear.

  He paused a way in front of her, just enough so he could spot the mottled bruising on her cheek. His hand fisted of its own accord and he had to pry it open and relax his jaw so as not to scare the poor woman.

  “Eleanor, please sit.” He motioned to the cream chair she had been sitting on.

  With a shaky nod, she sat, handkerchief clutched tightly in one hand. Evan waited for several moments as the pretty young woman darted her gaze about, taking in the room and avoiding his gaze. With almost white blonde hair and a delicate figure, Eleanor was quite the beauty. Dressed in a teal gown of the highest fashion, she looked every inch the fine countess. But the bruising in her cheek—even hidden under some pale makeup—destroyed the image.

  Heat simmered under his skin, his muscles bunched and it took a
ll his control not to let it show. It was times like these he feared his anger would overtake him. And if that happened, surely that made him no better than his father whether he took the anger out on a woman or a man. Ideally, Eleanor’s husband.

  “What can I do for you, Eleanor?” he prompted quietly.

  “You said...” She drew in an unladylike sniff. “You said if I needed help, I could come to you... to... to get away from him.” She spat the last word.

  “He has hit you again,” he stated.

  “It only used to be when he was drunk but now...” More tears dripped down the woman’s cheeks. “It is not just one hit either. He took a cane to me. Oh, Lord Hawksley, I fear he might kill me one day.”

  Evan remained stiff in his seat, but nodded for Mary to sit beside her and hold her hand. Eleanor took it gratefully. From what Evan knew of her parents, it was unlikely any of them ever showed her affection. Mary’s touch was probably one of the few moments of comfort she had received in her several years of marriage to the depraved earl.

  Thankfully, Mary could be relied upon for complete discretion. She, herself, had suffered at the hands of her husband so she understood well what a battered woman might need. Evan had only been too glad to protect Mary from a man like his father. Eventually her husband had left her be and moved on. Evan only prayed his threats were enough to stop him from turning his anger on another woman. The law would never see him punished properly.

  He leaned forward. “Eleanor, I can help you, but you must make arrangements to leave. This means never returning to London or seeing any of your friends here again.”

  She nodded frantically. “Some of them know of his behaviour so they will understand.”

  “Do they know you intended to contact me?”

  “No. I did not breathe a word to anyone.”

  “Good. I have a large house in Scotland. You shall be very comfortable and well hidden there. You must start making arrangements to leave.”