Scandal's Mistress

by Bronwyn Stuart

  Antony Belluccini had been in the prime of his life when they’d met, whole, hale and hearty. He’d run, laughed, danced and enjoyed life to the fullest. Until the accident. After that, she’d watched him waste away until there wasn’t a drop of the man she loved left. Painfully, slowly, God had taken another person from her life, another price to pay for giving her love. Well, that wouldn’t happen with Justin Trentham. It was in the terms of their agreement. No love.

  It suited her just perfectly. She didn’t know him all that well but she did know she didn’t want to be responsible for his death. Like a walking curse, anyone who felt any emotion stronger than friendship for her ended up dead. From the moment she realized her love was tainted, she’d vowed to never let anyone get that close again.

  She did wonder what it was like to live one’s whole life in emptiness, to wake up every day and have nothing to look forward to, as Trentham must. What would happen when she woke the first day as Trentham’s mistress? A jumble of emotions bounced around inside her, distracted her from distant memories and the curse that hovered ever near.

  Carmalina was both terrified and excited. It had been too long since she’d been wanted by a man, too long since she’d been held the way he had held her. Even during Antony’s courtship, never had she been kissed the way Justin had, drinking of her lips and mouth. The ever growing unease in her stomach uncurled and warmed with the memory of his skin against hers, of his nearness.

  All too soon Carmalina found herself back in the carriage, returning to Trentham’s town house. Carmalina told the driver as he handed her into the conveyance that she wished to walk a while when they got close enough to home.

  Home. She already thought of it as such and yet she hadn’t even seen the room she would share with him.

  The walk should give her the time to sneak into the garden and retrieve what was left of her possessions. She also needed to clear her mind of all negative thoughts residing there. Forever the optimist, she didn’t want to lose that now. To stay strong was imperative.

  What was left of her life depended on it.

  * * *

  Justin was an equal bundle of nerves and excited energy later that afternoon while he waited for Carmalina to return. He wanted to see her gowned in a creation that didn’t have holes and patches. He wanted her to look like a princess and to feel like one.

  The rattle of wheels on the cobblestones outside had Justin at the window, hardly able to contain himself. He swept the curtain back to see if it was his carriage. Sending her out in his crested conveyance was surreptitious but she would be seen. It was about the only time he’d ever used the nuisance, but he had his mission, his purpose, and a pair of coffee eyes and sweet lips would not deter or divert him.

  As he neared the front door Newberry materialized and opened it. After jumping down the stairs he went straight to the carriage, planning on handing her down and claiming a kiss for his chivalry. When he opened the door and looked in he was surprised to find the interior empty. He leaned in further, narrowed his eyes, checked every corner.

  Empty.

  “Where is she?” Had she changed her mind? Had she fled?

  “The lady asked to walk the rest of the way home, milord,” his driver, Bruce, responded.

  Walk? Why the hell would she walk? “Did she say anything else?”

  “Only that she wanted to clear her head and would be along presently.”

  He supposed she would need some time to herself especially after the day they’d had. Hell, four more brandies still hadn’t righted his world. He’d gone to his study in a cloudy haze and hadn’t achieved a sentence or financial figure since she’d walked out the door. Justin pondered walking out to meet her, but discounted it. He’d promised her seven days and seven days he would give her. It would be the worst kind of torture to inflict upon himself but he would keep his word.

  He would not go to her bed for one week but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be there, in her bedroom, in her presence, as much as possible. He’d already cancelled his plans for the evening so they could dine together. There was a lot they could do in the next seven days that didn’t involve a bed.

  Going back inside the house, he glared at the amount of packages the footmen carried in and up the stairs to her room. He didn’t resent the money spent. He resented not being able to accompany her and give his opinion and wishes on what he would like to see her gowned in. Truth be told, Justin would rather she be gowned in nothing at all.

  Christ. He had to stop doing it to himself. There was only one reason he hadn’t accompanied her on her shopping trip. How would he ever keep his hands to himself while she was in her underthings? Justin knew seeking out female company would temporarily alleviate his current state but he’d meant it when he’d asked for her fidelity. He didn’t think any other woman would be able to satisfy him anyway.

  Calling forth impressions that wouldn’t raise his ardor, he stalked back and forth from the yellow room to the formal dining room across the marbled entrance imagining his mother’s frowns and his father’s cold stares. It worked perfectly and, after twenty minutes of pacing, he began to wonder where the hell she was. He didn’t worry for her safety. She was in a far better neighborhood now than she had been before. He was more worried that the longer he left her alone, the more time she would have to debate her decisions. To change her mind.

  Justin didn’t want her to change her mind again. He wouldn’t allow it.

  Back in the dining room, he lifted the edge of the curtain. There she was, on the footpath, a brief, piercing ray of sunshine a halo over her dark hair. In the rays, he realized her hair was not all black. Strands of red ran through it. He smiled. He would remember that for later.

  He was about to let the curtain fall and go out to meet her but the expression on her face, looking left and then right, then up at his front door had him intrigued.

  She was being furtive.

  Justin watched as she stepped off the path that led to his door and into the garden. From this angle, he couldn’t make out what she did. It was strange enough that she now stood in the soil under the window where he spied.

  Justin was not a patient man and he was about to storm from the room to catch her in the act of doing whatever it was she was doing when she reappeared, a battered case in one hand while the other dusted rich dirt from its surface.

  A grin lit his lips as a piece of the puzzle shifted into place. He’d thought her presence in his house that morning simply perfect timing and hadn’t dwelled on the whys—not to mention the fact he’d still been half-asleep in her presence. She’d had every intention of accepting his offer. She’d even brought her belongings in advance. But why hide them? When Carmalina had stormed out into the street, had she really intended to leave or was it just for show? The minx was cleverer than he’d given her credit for. His grin widened.

  Using the servants’ entrance, Justin left the dining room and went up the back stairs to his bedroom. He wouldn’t question her on the travel case. He had to find out a little more about his songbird, starting with why she’d made him think she still considered his offer when in fact her mind had already been made up. And after her obvious disdain and anxiety over dinner, what exactly had changed her mind?

  Until then she could keep her secrets, but he would have them eventually. There was nothing in the bargain about him not discovering everything about her.

  Chapter Six

  Carmalina breathed a long sigh of relief. She’d managed to get into the garden to get her bag without being seen. She hadn’t been enthusiastic to sneak out after dark to find it. The roses alone would have been her undoing. It was difficult enough by day and she now had a fresh new tear on her hem to add to the list of mending.

  Before she’d raised her hand to knock on the door—she wasn’t sure if she could simply walk in—it opened without a squeak or groan, revealing Newberry. Her heart thumped uncomfortably in her chest. He’d waited for her. Had he seen?

  “Good af
ternoon, madam.”

  “Good afternoon, Newberry.” How was she supposed to act with his servants? In effect she was a servant herself since Trentham would pay her to be there. Was she to treat the other staff as equals or was she above them because she would tarry in the master’s bed?

  Given a choice, she would treat them the same way she treated everyone else around her. As a person. Just because some were born into different lives didn’t mean she would rub it in their faces or lord it over them.

  “Is Trentham in?” She knew he was. She sensed his presence, the lion awaiting her in his den.

  “He is about the house, madam.”

  “Thank you.” Inclining her head, she took a step farther into the vestibule but then realized she had no idea where her room was.

  “I can show you the way, madam.” Newberry guessed her thoughts exactly.

  “That won’t be necessary, just give me the direction. I’m sure I can find it.”

  “Up the stairs, three doors down on the left, madam.”

  “You can call me Carmalina, Newberry.”

  “I’m afraid that is out of the question, madam.”

  So that’s how it was to be. She wasn’t just another servant. She was “madam.”

  Following the butler’s directions, she paused at the top of the stairs to admire the design of the house. It seemed the rooms were built only on two sides of the house leaving the front and back walls almost like a gallery of sorts. When she turned to see what lay behind her, she gasped.

  There, in the shadowy corner, Justin watched, waited and, if the look in his eyes was anything to go by, hunted.

  “You startled me.”

  “I apologize, bella. I merely stopped to admire the view.”

  A faint blush warmed her cheeks. Blast the man. He knew exactly how to get a reaction from her with his words, forever speaking in double entendres.

  “Is that all you brought with you?” He indicated the worn case she gripped tightly in her hands.

  “My rooms were robbed yesterday. This is all the thief left me with.”

  “Would you like me to show you to your room?” The predatory smile slipped for a moment but then slid smoothly back into place.

  Now she knew how a lost little lamb felt right before it was led to slaughter. Why did she have to feel like that with him? “I believe I know the way, my lord.”

  “Justin.”

  “Justin.” She liked the feel of his name on her tongue. The slight inflection her accent gave it rolled all the way to the tips of her toes.

  “Come, bella, I would hardly be a good host if I didn’t show you to your room.”

  “Very well.” She would have humphed, but he held her enthralled in a kind of sensual web. His very presence caused a shiver to penetrate her defenses and leave her open to the deep resonance of his voice.

  The third door on the left stood open but instead he paused at the first door. He opened it to reveal a masculine abode. From the midnight-blue draperies and bed canopy, the royal-blue carpet, the dark, heavy tallboy next to the door, the somber painting of a hunting scene hanging on the wall to the right of the bed, it was a man’s room, this one. His.

  If he thought to make her nervous again, he succeeded but she would not let it show. “Very nice,” she commented as she walked around the room. It was difficult not to inhale his scent into her soul. If she drew too deep, she would be more lost than she was already.

  “Through here is the bathroom.”

  Bathroom? That received her full attention. For years she had shared washrooms with others in boardinghouses. To only have to share with one man should have been a great relief but it wasn’t. How could she ever be naked when only one door separated her body from his presence?

  Silly girl. Carmalina shook her head. She would be naked with a lot less than timber between them before long.

  She stepped into the room. It was larger than the one she’d vacated before dawn. In the middle stood the largest bathing tub Carmalina had ever seen. Already she felt the seductive lure of relaxing in such a tub.

  “I will have the servants ready the bath after dinner.”

  “That would be wonderful, thank you.” She couldn’t meet his eyes, didn’t want to know what he thought, what had turned his smooth voice husky.

  She didn’t take the time to study the vanity or water closet as she followed Justin through to the next room. This one was much the same as his, with the heavy velvet draperies and canopies, only in this room, they were a deep ruby-red. The curtains, the coverlet, the carpet. It wasn’t feminine, nor was it overly masculine either. It was perfect.

  “This room will be yours.”

  He was close behind her; his breath whispered across her nape, his fingers wrapped around hers to take the travel bag. She didn’t want to let it go. It was her one lifeline in an unfamiliar landscape, in an equally strange house with a relative stranger. Once again she questioned her reasons for being there, summoned any stray thought so she wouldn’t lean back into his chest, his embrace, his life. Something about Justin Trentham called to her. It wasn’t the primal, basic need that drew them nearer—although that was part of it. There was something else, something infinitely more dangerous to them both.

  “I will leave you to freshen up, my dear. Dinner will be at eight in the dining room at the bottom of the stairs.” He bowed low over her hand, kissed her knuckle with the lightest of contact and then spun on his heel and closed the door behind him.

  Finally she was left alone to face her demons and doubts. Carmalina sank down on the thick carpet. Only then did she notice how she shook. Her hands trembled and her legs felt like lead. She had four hours until she had to be presentable for dinner. Enough time to take a short nap to restore her nerves—as if that were possible.

  The day had been so long already and steadily mounted to be an even longer week. A mountain of energy would be required to keep Justin Trentham at bay, when he was so close, when he kissed her, even when he didn’t touch her. She had a feeling it was going to take more than a monumental effort to avoid falling headlong into his arms.

  * * *

  How could he possibly do it? How could he have Carmalina in his house for seven days and not be able to touch her, to make love to her? He had to settle for social niceties and kisses on the back of her hand. Like hell! Justin had promised not to go to her bed. He hadn’t made any promises about the library, or the dining room, or his bed. Perhaps he could make her come to him? It was worth thinking about. He was good at plotting and scheming. It wasn’t a trait he should have been proud of, but he was.

  After he’d seen Carmalina to her room, imagined her lying naked beneath the covers, on top of the covers, in the bath, he was fit to burst. For a long time he stood, his back against the adjoining door, and listened for her sounds.

  He’d tasted a small amount of triumph when she’d agreed to live with him, yet victory was still beyond his reach. Until he and Carmalina consummated their relationship, he could not take her out on the town as his mistress. His friends would know immediately that he hadn’t bedded her, but worse still, his father wouldn’t hear the gossip if they weren’t seen or at least heard.

  How easy it would be to forget the scandal and simply enjoy his songbird, but he needed both. He had to have both. To decide between one or the other would be impossible. He fervently hoped it never came to that.

  Justin startled from his reverie when the big clock in the hall chimed eight o’clock. Where was she? He’d paced the dining room for half an hour wishing she would come down early but instead, it seemed she stood him up again. In his own home.

  He decided to give her a few more minutes and if she didn’t come down, he would go up. Did she issue another challenge? If Carmalina didn’t want to have dinner with him, she should have said so when he’d asked, or she could have passed a message on through one of the servants. Was she a coward, a siren or a tease?

  He swore one of his favorite oaths as he left the dining r
oom and took the stairs two at a time. He had to skid on the carpet to keep from barreling through her door.

  Justin unclenched his fists, breathed deep, rapped twice. “Carmalina!”

  No answer.

  “Carmalina, it’s Justin. I’m coming in.”

  As soon as he opened the door, he could tell she wasn’t in the room. Her scent lingered but the bed was empty, as was the chair near the cold fire. The stool before the vanity was also void of songbirds.

  “Carmalina?” Surely she hadn’t changed her mind and left the house?

  “I’m in here,” her tentative voice called from the bathroom. The door was slightly ajar, a fact he’d missed when he’d first entered the room as his panic clouded common sense.

  “Are you coming down to dinner?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?” Justin had to stop from grinding his teeth with frustration. He felt rather like the beast from the fairy tales. The urge to roar with displeasure sped through his veins.

  “I’m not dressed.”

  That stopped him in his tracks. He gulped. Was she undressed? “Well, get dressed and come down when you are presentable.”

  Silence.

  He softened his voice before he called through the crack in the door, “Bella, what is the problem?”

  “I—I—”

  The door opened all the way and, looking like a lost sparrow, she emerged holding a dark silk dress against her chest while it gaped at the shoulders and back.

  “Is there something wrong with the dress?” Justin asked. From his perspective the only thing wrong with the garment was that it shielded her body from his hungry gaze.

  “I can’t fasten it.”

  “Why not call for help?”

  “Because I would appear as silly as I do now. How do women do this?”

  “I imagine their lady’s maids do much of the work.”