My Fair Mistress

by Tracy Anne Warren

  “Amply,” she agreed. “They’re already planning a short engagement. Once Maris is Mrs. William Waring, she will have nothing further to fear from the viscount.” Pausing, she frowned. “I only worry that he will attempt such an act with some other young girl.”

  Bending his head, he gave her a kiss of reassurance. “Word will get around and parents will keep their daughters from him. He’ll have a much more difficult time than before, I assure you.”

  And when my plan succeeds, St. George will find himself with far greater problems than running from scandal. Never fear, he thought. I will see to it he pays.

  “You’ve had a shock today,” he said. “Would you rather I drive you home?”

  Julianna shook her head and slid her arms around his neck. “Not unless you want me to go?”

  He tightened his embrace. “What I want is to take you upstairs.”

  “Then take me. We’ve already wasted half the day. Pray let us not squander the rest.”

  With a playful growl, he swept her off her feet and into his arms.

  Over the next couple of days, Rafe’s suspicions about Burton St. George proved correct. Vanishing like a wraith, the viscount fled the city, leaving a mountain of unpaid debts and a host of disgruntled creditors howling in his wake.

  As for the major, Julianna told Rafe of Waring’s unsuccessful attempts to find the viscount and see honor satisfied. Apparently the major had called first at St. George’s townhouse. When he’d been informed the viscount was not at home, he’d forced his way inside to search, but to his disappointment discovered the servants had been telling him the truth—St. George was nowhere to be found.

  Deciding to widen his search, the major next tried St. George’s haunts—his club, a few gaming hells, the theater, even the residence of the viscount’s latest mistress—but all to no avail. The following morning Waring returned once more to the viscount’s townhouse, only to discover the door knocker removed and the house closed up, the furniture looking ghostly, concealed beneath a multitude of white dust sheets.

  Earlier today when Julianna arrived for their rendezvous, she had told Rafe she was relieved by St. George’s departure.

  “With him gone,” she said, “he’ll be of no further threat to Maris. And once she weds, we can stop worrying. He will thankfully be out of our lives forever.”

  Rafe had held his silence, knowing nothing involving St. George was ever that simple.

  Now, with Julianna dozing in his arms, Rafe skimmed his gaze over her lovely features and wondered what he should do.

  I’ve put her in danger, he realized. Without question, St. George bore a grudge against Maris Davies and her family, Julianna included. If he should ever chance to discover her involvement with Rafe…

  A shudder ran through him at the thought.

  So far he and Julianna had managed to keep their affair secret, but one small slip, one tiny mistake, and everything could unravel in dangerous ways. Already, the two of them were growing careless. Despite having a sound reason, he’d broken the rules by going to Julianna’s home and spending the night in her bed. Without much convincing, he knew he could be coaxed into doing it again.

  His blood quickened at the idea of having her next to him at night, all night. Every night.

  I’ve let her get too close, he realized.

  If he were prudent, he would cut his ties now, before he fell irrevocably under her spell. Besides, their parting was inevitable, was it not?

  London was already turning steamy and oppressive with the heat of summer—only a little more than a month remained of their original agreement. Once the Season came to an end, she would do as the rest of the Ton and retreat into the country. He, on the other hand, would remain in London, going about his days much as he had always done, his affair with Julianna Hawthorne nothing more than an enjoyable memory.

  So why did he want more of her instead of less? Why wasn’t he ready to let her go despite all his arguments to the contrary?

  If not for St. George, he knew he would keep seeing Julianna. He might even have considered asking her to continue their affair once the six months were through. But so long as he and Julianna were together, the chance existed that St. George might find out about them, no matter how unlikely that chance might be.

  It was a possibility he could not ignore.

  In Pamela’s case, he’d had no way of knowing how vicious St. George could be. This time he was under no such delusions. If the viscount thought for an instant that he could harm him through Julianna, the blackguard would not hesitate to use her in any heinous manner he chose.

  Closing his eyes, he rubbed a hand over his jaw. For Julianna’s sake, he knew he must put an end to their liaison.

  Although he’d broken off relationships with women in the past, this time would be different, because Julianna was different. Of all the women he’d known, she was unique.

  Special.

  The kind of woman who would be impossible to ever forget.

  And as peculiar as it might seem considering the calculated nature of their original agreement, they now shared a bond.

  Which left him with a dilemma.

  Judging by the undiluted strength of her passion for him, he did not believe she was any more inclined to end their affair than he. Which meant that being honest with her about his concerns over St. George would not be enough to convince her they must sever their connection. Knowing Julianna, she would argue and try to persuade him that he was being too extreme.

  “Middleton has left Town,” she would say. “He won’t find out about us. But if it will ease your worries, we will both be more careful. I promise I will take every precaution and make doubly sure I am not followed.”

  But she couldn’t guarantee her own safety, and neither could he. Of paramount importance was keeping Julianna safe. If he had to tell her a lie to force her to go, then lie he would.

  But Christ, he realized, cutting her out of my life is going to be hard, one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.

  To protect her, though, he would do what must be done.

  Beside him she stirred, making a throaty little purr of contentment that never failed to rouse his desire. Her lashes fluttered open, her beautiful dark eyes lifting to meet his own. Slow and lazy, her lips curved into a smile.

  He tried to smile back but failed.

  Tipping her head to one side, she arched a brow. “What is it? You look troubled.”

  Scolding himself for letting his emotions show so plainly, he made a second attempt, managing the smile this time. “Just thinking, sweeting. Nothing over which you need be concerned.”

  Leaning up, she rested her forearms on his chest, causing the tips of her bare breasts to brush against his skin. He hardened instantly at her touch, his body throbbing with desire.

  So little time, he thought, so damned little time.

  Clamping a hand around the back of her head, he pulled her over him and plundered her mouth with a kiss that knew no bounds. She let out a muffled murmur of surprise, then began to kiss him back, matching his ardor with an eagerness of her own.

  Racing his hands over her lush flesh, he traced each curve, memorized every sensation, storing them away as if to keep something warm for all the nights to come. Then he could no longer wait, could not bear to be separate from her a moment more.

  Without preamble he positioned himself and thrust inside her, clasping her hips tightly as he drove himself as high and deep as he could go. When his penetration still wasn’t enough, when his senses screamed out for more, he rolled her onto her back and plunged deeper, harder.

  Her pleasured moans played like music in his ears, her hands delicate as the finest silk as they stroked over his heated, sensitized flesh. Soon, he felt the familiar contraction of her inner muscles squeezing around him as her body crested to release. And though his body urged him to take his pleasure as well, he held back, prolonging the moment, determined to make each sensation last as long as it possibly could.


  He brought her to climax twice more, leaving her weak and overwhelmed as she drifted on a sea of bliss. Finally he could wait no longer. Letting his body override his mind, he claimed his own satisfaction, her name a prayer on his lips.

  Lying above her, her sweet scent all around him, he wondered how he was ever going to bear her loss.

  Chapter Fifteen

  THE NEXT FEW days passed by in a flurry of activity. Maris was giddy in love and delirious over plans for her wedding, every third word out of her mouth William-this or William-that. And it was obvious Major Waring felt the same about Maris, now that his reservations had been overcome. Every time he gazed at her, love shone from his eyes bright as stars.

  Julianna heartily approved the match despite the major’s lack of fortune, and Harry had taken an instant liking to Waring, soliciting advice from him on a number of business and estate matters. The major might be a third son, but he came from a family of great landholders and knew far more on the subject of estate management than many titled lords.

  Waring’s parents sent a lovely note and a gift welcoming Maris to the family, together with an invitation to join them for a visit at their estate in Berkshire as soon as the Season was done. And more surprising, the major’s maternal uncle wrote, telling them he planned to give William and Maris a fine house in Wiltshire upon their marriage, along with a sum of ten thousand pounds.

  The wedding would be in September, forcing them all into a rush of preparations. But Julianna was glad, for once Maris was wed and off to begin her new life, Julianna would have more time to spend with Rafe. At least that is my hope, she thought as the hackney carriage drove her toward the house in Queens Square.

  Since realizing that she loved Rafe, she felt every bit as euphoric and fanciful as her sister. Often she would find herself daydreaming about something Rafe had said or done, or fantasizing about the last time they had made love. And she would long to be in his arms, repining about the fact that they must confine their time together to a few brief hours a week, hours that were no longer enough.

  Although he had made no specific mention of wishing to continue their affair past the original six months of their agreement, she didn’t think it would be too difficult to persuade him otherwise. If the ferocity of his lovemaking were any indication, she had nothing to worry about at all.

  She would perforce have to leave for a few weeks to assist Maris with the wedding, but afterward, she could return to London. With Society gone from the city, meeting Rafe would be much easier. Perhaps they might even go away somewhere to spend long, sultry nights and even entire days or weekends together. Richmond, she’d heard it whispered, provided a lovely rural setting where lovers could meet in discreet privacy. Considering Rafe’s vast holdings, he might even own a house there, another cozy property they could turn into a lovers’ nest.

  Beyond that she didn’t know. She loved Rafe and wanted to be with him, but anything permanent seemed impossible. Despite his fortune, he was not a suitable parti. To marry him would be to give up her place in Society. She would face social censure, and no doubt lose most of her friends and connections. Harry would likely disapprove of the match, and Maris…well, her little sister might be sympathetic, since nothing, not even Society’s strictures, would have kept her from William.

  But I am being ridiculous, Julianna thought as the hack drew to a halt. Rafe is not likely to make me an offer of marriage anytime soon, and I am not even sure I want him to do so.

  The idea of turning her entire life over to a man again was a frightening notion. She liked her independence and did not wish to be married. Although if Rafe truly loved her, she strongly suspected she would consent to almost anything he asked.

  Paying the driver, she approached the house, her shoes crunching quietly against the gravel drive. A familiar sense of excited pleasure trickled through her, a smile playing upon her lips.

  He would already be in the drawing room, she expected, his cravat loosened, his long legs stretched out in a relaxed sprawl as he read one of the books taken from the room’s expansive shelves.

  The moment she arrived, he would toss the volume aside, then draw her down beside him for a welcoming kiss, followed by a few minutes of desultory conversation. Lately some of those conversations had been growing longer and more involved, but she adored every minute of them. And he never failed to please her afterward, upstairs in bed…unless they didn’t make it to the bed. One thing upon which she could always count was the passionate inventiveness of Rafe’s touch.

  Letting herself into the house, she closed the door and started forward. She stopped abruptly when she saw him looming large and commanding in the drawing room doorway.

  She laid a hand on her chest. “Oh, you startled me.”

  “My apologies. I heard you come in and I…well, I am sorry.”

  Something is wrong, she thought.

  “What is it?” she asked, noting the serious, almost dour expression lining his handsome features. “Has something happened?”

  “Come in and we’ll talk,” he said, making no attempt to refute her statement. Stepping back into the room, he left her to follow.

  Her earlier cheerfulness faded, her stomach squeezing with nerves.

  Whatever this is, she thought, it cannot be good.

  Ignoring her sudden reluctance, she walked ahead and entered the room.

  Rafe stood near the window gazing out, a glass filled with what appeared to be whisky in his hand. Swirling the liquor, he tossed back a long swallow.

  “Would you care for a drink?” he inquired, glancing toward her. “A sherry perhaps?”

  She shook her head. “No, nothing, thank you.”

  On a nod, he downed the last of the alcohol, then set the glass onto a nearby table.

  “Why don’t you have a seat?” He gestured a hand toward the sofa.

  Swallowing past the tightness in her throat, she moved forward. Only as she sank down against the silk covered cushions did she realized he hadn’t kissed her.

  Rafe always kissed her. She couldn’t remember a time in all the months they had been together when he hadn’t immediately swept her into his arms and made her blood hum from one of his passionate kisses.

  But not today.

  “What is this, Rafe? What has happened? Have I done something wrong? Are you angry?”

  Clear surprise shone in his gaze. “No, I am not angry, not in the least. And why would you think you have done anything wrong?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know, but you don’t seem quite yourself. I must say you are setting me to worry.”

  “That is not my intention. I am handling this badly, my apologies.” He thrust his hands into his pockets for a moment, then just as quickly took them out again. “We’ve had a good time together these past months, have we not?”

  “Yes, of course we have.”

  “Considering how things began between us, our liaison has turned out to be very enjoyable. More than enjoyable…wonderful really.”

  Her head began to buzz.

  “There are still a few weeks remaining of our six months, but some…out-of-town business has come up—”

  Business? Oh, he has business.

  She let out a breath, relief sweeping through her. He is only going to tell me he has to be away for a while. For a moment I thought he was going to…

  “—which is why I think it would be best if we simply end things now.”

  Her gaze flew to his. “Y-You want to end things? You mean not see each other for a while?”

  A shadow passed through his eyes, turning them dark as a forest. “No, I mean not see each other at all. Julianna, I am breaking things off with you.”

  His words hit her like an icy slap, her extremities turning cold. For a long moment she couldn’t seem to catch her breath.

  “But why?” she said. “I don’t understand.”

  “If it is the unpaid portion of the debt that concerns you, rest assured I consider it paid in full.”


  Opening his coat, he reached into an inner pocket and pulled forth a sheaf of papers. Crossing to her, he held them out. When she made no move to take them, he set the papers onto the sofa next to her.

  “Your brother’s note,” he explained. “I have marked it as satisfied.”

  “But it isn’t the debt. How could you think that? How could you even mention our bargain? I thought…”

  “What did you think?” he asked, his tone quiet.

  “That you wanted me. Desired me. Only three days ago you couldn’t keep your hands off me.”

  “You are a beautiful woman and you were in my bed. Of course I desired you.”

  “Then there is no reason to break things off,” she said with forced optimism. “Go ahead with your business. I will be here when you return.”

  His hands clenched at his sides. “But I shall not. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

  “But you care for me,” she argued, a sudden burst of defiance burning like fire in her belly. “I know you do. Why else would you have come to my house and climbed into my window, fearful I might be in danger? Why else would you worry about me and confide in me, telling me things I know you did not share easily? You and I have something special, Rafe. Never have I felt such gentleness from a man, such caring, so don’t tell me I do not matter to you.”

  His hands curled into fists at his sides and he turned his head to gaze out the window. For a second she thought she saw an expression of pain flicker over his face. But when he looked at her again, his gaze held no such emotion, only a kind of indifferent calm.

  “I never said you didn’t. You have been a good lover, Julianna. A good mistress. I would care about any woman who shares my bed, but not in the way I believe you mean.” He glanced toward the floor, momentarily silent. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but the truth is I’ve grown a little bored lately.”

  “Bored?” She felt the blood drain from her cheeks.

  “Hmm,” he drawled. “It’s been coming on gradually for a while now. One of the perennial signs that an affair has run its course. When this…um…business of mine came up, I realized it was as good a time as any to say good-bye.”