by Multi-Author
“Are you not worried your children might suspect? They are old enough.”
“The children adore you. They think of you only as a family friend, so you see our ruse is working perfectly.”
“Good, then we have many more years of sneaking ahead of us,” she said.
Adam chuckled. “Only while we are at Long Leaf.” He took a final bite of his dessert and sighed with appreciation. “This was fabulous, Eloisa. You really haven’t said if there was a celebration or not.”
“I wanted to do something special for you.”
“While we are at Long Leaf, I will return the favor.”
Chapter 2
ELOISA STARED AT Adam—her strong, handsome and generous lover. He was the eldest of the infamous Foresters, though his title prevented him from enjoying the same notoriety of his brothers.
The last four years with Adam had been a dream, one in which she had been the recipient of untold physical pleasures.
She had learned long ago to ignore the fact he was a duke—his title had nothing to do with him as her lover. When they were together he was Adam, and she might have been Eve.
She was fortunate her aunt had never judged harshly. Though no one spoke of it, the subtle snubs spoke louder than words. Outright rejection was impossible because, after all, she was a powerful duke’s mistress.
“Shall we take a bottle of wine upstairs with us?” she asked.
He pushed away from the table and reached for her hand. When she was in his arms again, he said, “I want you.”
“You have me.”
The words sounded sincere, but her heart was as cold as the London night and as calculating as the duke’s man of affairs.
He led her up the stairs, his hand at the small of her back. Adam was always warm but even his heat could not penetrate the steel she’d had to erect.
How had it happened? How had it come to this? Being a mistress to a powerful man came with its own set of problems. There was the good. There was the bad. For her, it had happened fourteen months ago, with the realization she carried his illegitimate child.
She had waited to tell him. Waited until he returned to London. And then the child was gone. Telling Adam would have been foolish, maybe even a bit desperate.
It had taken all of the past fourteen months to make her decision. One-sided love was never enough.
Once the bedroom door was closed, Adam wrapped her in his arms again and lifted her off her feet, twirling her about as if he were a boy enthralled. “Ah, my pet, how I have missed you this past week.”
“You should not stay away so long. Don’t tell me it is a hardship to be a duke.”
“No hardship. Not when I know you are waiting. And now we will have over two weeks together.”
He kissed her quick and set her to her feet. Eloisa reached for his cravat. “Are you not overly warm, my lord?”
“With you? Always.”
“Then let us get you from these clothes.”
“I would rather you shed yours.”
“All in good time.”
“No. Now.”
He gripped her shoulders, turning her about and then set to work on the buttons down the back of her gown. When he pushed the sides apart, he bent and pressed his lips to the skin between neck and shoulder. She shivered a bit at his thrilling and purposeful touch.
Adam continued working at her dress, sliding the muslin down her arms. “I was barely able to concentrate while Lord Harding discussed the perils of abolishing the income tax.”
“I would think he’d be more concerned with heating for the citizens of London.”
“You have enough coal to keep you warm through a hundred winters. And you have me.” She smiled as he turned her, gazing down at her with those dark, piercing eyes that gave away none of his true feeling.
But then, he didn’t have feelings for her.
Nellie. His beloved Nellie got all of his devotion.
Eloisa fingered the black band he wore on his jacket. She’d taken it off so many nights only to see it securely in place the next morning as he prepared for his departure, kissing her at the door and whispering, “I’ll see you tonight.” Or tomorrow. Or next week.
Whenever he had time for her.
He worked at his jacket, shrugging out of it, and then fingered the buttons of his waistcoat. She wiggled from her skirts and toed off the Italian shoes he had gifted her.
She would miss the beautiful shoes. And the rings and bracelets.
And him. Oh, how she would miss him. A painful ache shot through her heart.
Eloisa tiptoed across the room, folded back the sheets and crawled into the bed.
“Everything, my darling,” he said, pointing a finger at her, indicating she ought to remove her chemise. “I promise I won’t let you freeze.”
She wrapped her arms about her knees. He stood at the end of the bed, pulling his linen shirt over his head before he started on his boots.
“I will if you stir the fire for me. I’ve given Grayson the evening off.”
“Only the two of us? Just how I like it.” He worked at his boots and when the second one landed with a thump, he stood again and padded across the floor in his stockinged feet.
He bent to his haunches before the fireplace and used a poker to work at the embers.
Eloisa laid her cheek against her knees to stare at him. The firelight played over his skin and his muscles moved with each jab into the fire. His expression was unreadable, his brow pulled hard, his lips in a firm line. Finally he chucked two more logs onto the fire before he stood, staring down into it before he glanced at her.
“What is it? You are thinking deeply upon some great matter?” she asked.
“I am looking forward to Christmastide, ’tis all. The children are anxious for me to arrive. And I am anxious for you and Lady Carvelle to arrive. It is past time we had some lengthy time alone.”
“We will hardly be alone.”
“We will be under the same roof. We will sleep in the same bed. I am ready for that bit of heaven.”
“You have too much responsibility.”
“As do other lords.”
“They do not have four children with no mother. I know you worry about them.”
Adam sat on the edge of the bed and worked at his trousers. He tossed them aside and then slipped from his small clothes.
“No more talk.”
“None, my lord?” she asked.
“Certain encouragements will be allowed.” He scooted closer and reached for her chemise. “You are still dressed.”
“Barely.”
“Bare. Yes, please.” Adam leaned to her and braced his arm across her lap, forgetting about her chemise. He brushed his fingertips over her face and through her hair, tucking a stray piece behind her ear.
“What is it about you? I find you endlessly fascinating.”
“Because when you see me, I am usually naked?” she asked.
He laughed, a sound that could make her soar because she had elicited his reaction. Tonight, she measured each response, knowing it might be the last time she would hear his happiness.
She sighed. “I should feel put out. I must be the veriest bore when I am fully clothed. It is a wonder you find my door at all.”
He shifted, coming over the top of her and forcing her to the bed. “While blindfolded, I could find your door. Amongst other things.” He traced down her side and thigh, slipping his hand beneath her chemise and coming back up between her legs. “Oh and look what I’ve found.”
She kissed him. “It wasn’t lost.”
Gently probing, he searched between the wet folds and circled the distended, sensitive nub, stirring her pleasure as easily as he stirred the fire.
She arched upward, gulped a deep breath and closed her eyes.
Adam knew what he did to her physically.
He did not know how, with each gentle stroke of his finger, he shredded a piece of her being. Her heart he had stolen long ago, and she knew she would
never get it back.
Only a small part of her heart understood she would never have him. Not completely. But in her mind she was resolved.
Soothing strokes led her along, pleasure coming easily with his touch. If she opened her eyes, he would be watching. He was near, his breath caressing her skin. When his lips touched hers, a shaft of pain shot through her chest. How could anyone kiss so tenderly and yet have only affection in his heart?
How could there be such sublime joy in the act but such heartbreaking loneliness when he walked out her door?
How could he not feel profound and eternal love? Oh, but to have some of the love he held for his Nellie.
Adam moved his leg, spreading her beneath him. She lifted her legs around him, feeling his power as he pushed into her body with swift, breathtaking urgency. He groaned with satisfaction when he felt her tighten around him. She couldn’t stop herself. She craved him. Her body reacted to him with a hunger that left her weak and insatiable.
That’s why she would need to be fully clothed and in her right might when she told him the truth.
But tonight Adam was hers.
Thick strands of his hair were bunched between her fingers. Her other hand stroked the round of his shoulder, sweeping down his muscled back. He was masculine perfection. Much like the statues at the British Museum. And his hard nakedness such a poignant reminder of the day they had accidentally run into each other amongst the nudes and busts and strolled side by side. Not touching. Only talking. Knowing that each grew hungry for the other as they viewed the sleek beauty of chiseled marble.
Adam had found a private place and taken her, shuddering into her with furtive strokes while she remained composed and watchful over his shoulder. That night he took her again, providing the pleasure she had missed out on during their insane, risqué liaison.
There weren’t enough of those days.
Because he would never claim her in public. Not when he proclaimed to the world his love for Nellie.
Eloisa was only his mistress, after all.
She bit his lip.
“Merde!” His tongue lapped across his lower lip. She turned her head and sank her teeth into his neck.
“Vixen,” he said with a half laugh. He clamped her wrist and held her arm to the bed. He thrust a few times, bringing her attention back to his strong shoulders and the heat between her legs.
With her free hand, she clawed into his back.
He lowered his mouth to hers and devoured her lips and tongue. She tangled with his, answering him with both love and anger.
Would she remember his taste—always a hint of wine—when he was gone? Would she remember how, when he walked in the door, he was always clean-shaven and smelling of some new cologne from Floris? Even now the scent of sandalwood and vetiver wafted around her as though they were hid in a wooded copse. Just the two of them.
He rolled with her, their kiss broken and their bodies separating for a moment. With easy strength, he positioned her and pulled the covers to her shoulders.
Between them, his manhood pressed into her belly. His hands swept in slow passes from her bottom and up her back, bringing her chemise up and over her head until she lay over him fully naked and her breasts flattened against his chest.
“That’s better,” he said, husky and low. “Are you warm enough?”
“Mmm. Perfect.”
Adam clutched her bottom and lifted her. Another gentle surge of his hips and he slid deep into her wet sheath. He thrust his hips, working his manhood with gentle in-and-out movements. Nothing to indicate urgency. Everything to indicate he knew how to draw out the pleasure.
He brushed his hand over her face and pressed another affectionate kiss to her lips. One of his hands soothed her with soft passes along her waist and bottom.
She tucked her head beneath his chin and let him work his sorcerer’s magic. The surge of his heartbeat sounded in her ear, the thrust of his manhood propelling her higher.
Endings were sad affairs—this one particularly painful because she knew they could go on as they were until she was no longer attractive to Adam.
But thanks to his generosity, she would never need to take another lover. Would she want to though? No. Adam was the last man. The only man.
“You are quiet tonight,” he said, stilling his movements except for his hand that caressed the curve of her waist.
She lifted her head and then pressed her palms against the bed, settling over him. With a shift of her hips, she took him deep and, once seated, started a deliberate up-and-down motion that earned a groan and a smile.
“Do I need to speak to give you pleasure?” she asked.
“Not while we’re in bed.” He touched a finger to her lips.
She squeezed on the upstroke, earning another deep groan. After four years she knew him, she knew how to arouse him, shock him. Love him.
When his hands landed on her hips, she knew he wanted no more talk. She spread her palms on his muscled chest and rocked over him. He was full inside her, her enjoyment enhanced by the blunt width that never seemed to go soft.
He reached for her breasts, kneaded with slow purpose and brushed his thumbs over her nipples. She threw her head back, wanting to remember this last night and wanting to make it perfect for them—perhaps so that he would have some difficulty finding pleasure in another, though she knew it was only a hopeful delusion that she was somehow more memorable than any other.
Each time he stroked upward she clenched against his cock. Heat suffused her being, and with each of his groans, she thrilled at the power she held over him.
His hands smoothed down her sides and settled at her waist, lifting her and lowering her with more force. He locked his gaze with hers then he rolled with her. When he started fierce in-and-out thrusting, Eloisa clenched her eyes and allowed the building pleasure to consume her.
Tight pressure built in her back and soft pulses began between her legs.
And her unpleasant thoughts threatened to spoil this last time with him.
“Eloisa?”
Her eyes popped open to see him close. He pressed his lips to her cheek, the side of her mouth, her lips.
A strange urgency swept over her. She wrapped her arms about his neck and returned his kiss, needing to take him in, realizing the hold he had over her was complete.
All she had was his.
And she couldn’t live that way any longer. Because she was only his when he needed a thorough bedding.
His kiss deepened. Adam reached between their bodies, his fingers stroking her.
She broke. The pleasure came hard and quick. She arched up and he plunged deeply. Ascending upward, she arrived too quickly in a place she could not stay.
Eloisa cried out then, her body contracting, hard beats surging through her and then quieting while Adam groaned. After a few final thrusts, he rolled from her and closed his eyes without saying a word. His hands somehow found hers and squeezed gently.
With a few deep breaths, he was asleep.
She did not sleep, instead rising from the bed to wash. With each squeak of floorboard or cupboard door, she glanced over her shoulder at Adam, resting so peacefully in his bed.
It was all his. This house. The food she ate. The servants who cared for her.
She belonged to him too. And it was all she wished for when she’d first agreed to be his mistress. He’d cared for her and in return, she’d fallen in love with him.
Was it wrong to wish for more when she’d been given so much?
After she’d styled her hair and dressed in one of her best gowns, she strolled to the bed and pulled the covers to his waist, barely earning a soft moan at the light disturbance.
She checked the fire and then sat near the window, staring at a lone gas light burning on the distant street. The snow was coming down heavily now and the halo made by the light cast a sad and gloomy beacon.
There was no sunrise that she could see, only the pallid change from snowy illumination to cold, cloudy mise
ry.
What would she tell him in the morning? I’m leaving? I’m leaving because I love you desperately and I’m not going to humiliate myself another moment while you pine for a dead woman?
No. She would be civil and kind and assured. He would believe her because he had never considered the possibility of loving another woman. And he would let her go.
Chapter 3
“ELOISA, COME BACK to bed.”
Adam had swept his hand through the covers expecting to find a warm body. “Eloisa?” He rolled to his side and braced on his elbow, blinking his eyes against the irritating light of morning.
She sat in a chair on the far side of the room, but stood when he called her name.
“It’s early. Why are you dressed?” he asked.
“Adam.”
“It’s still snowing? I hope the roads aren’t impassable. I had not planned to spend another day in London.”
He threw back the covers and stood, the chill in the room greeting him with the hardiness of a Siberian winter. His robe, brocaded silk with a flannel lining, lay on the edge of the bed where Eloisa had placed it. She’d made the robe for him too—a gift she’d given to him privately two years ago.
Once covered, he strolled to the fireplace and stirred the embers. “I would feel better if Lady Carvelle’s carriage followed mine to Long Leaf. Can you be ready if we leave at noon?”
“Adam.”
She hadn’t moved, standing as still as a statue, probably from the cold.
“Adam. We won’t be going to Long Leaf this year.”
He jammed the iron into the embers one last time and then straightened before throwing more logs to the fire. “Nonsense. If we travel together there will be no possibility of danger. And it makes stopping at a roadside inn more tolerable if I know you’ll be sleeping with me.”
He laughed a little and turned to gaze at Eloisa again. She looked down.
A sharp pain stabbed through his chest. “There is something wrong. I knew it. Has something happened with Lady Carvelle? Her health?”
