More Than A Mistress

by Ann Lethbridge

  She settled beside him and he immediately relaxed. Did he think she believed she was the cause of his dream? He probably didn’t realise what he had said. Why had he called himself Robert? And what had he feared in the dark?

  Blast him, he’d put paid to her questions by falling asleep. She peered into his face. Still flushed, but peaceful. Having given her word, she was trapped. And heaven’s above, she was dreadfully tired.

  The moment he knew she was sleeping, Charlie slipped out of bed. What the hell had he said? Damned laudanum. They’d given it to him in the army hospital. When he woke all he could remember was the terrible feeling of suffocation, a kind of heart-pounding panic with the stink of human filth and blood fouling his nostrils.

  He slipped off the sling, poured water from the ewer into the bowl and washed his hands and face, inhaling the clean scent of soap. His breathing steadied, his head cleared.

  Interfering bloody woman. He should have guessed she’d take it upon herself to follow the doctor’s orders. He should think himself lucky she hadn’t tried to bleed him, too.

  Moving quietly, he left the chamber and wandered past her room. He lifted the tapestry and tried the door. Locked.

  Logan never let the family down, no matter how much he disapproved.

  Beyond the window, the sky showed no sign of dawn, but he’d sleep no more tonight. He went back to his room and settled into the armchair. In the bed, her head pillowed on her hand, her breathing deep and even, Merry looked young and vulnerable. The urge to kiss her awake almost brought him to his feet. He wanted to taste her lips, feel life against his body and lose the presence of death. Lose the horror of his dark dreams within her arms. It wasn’t possible, because they weren’t dreams—they were memories.

  He forced himself to remain where he was. It wouldn’t be fair to wake her after such a gruelling day. Only a man lacking control would let such base urges get the better of him. Watching her was all the pleasure he needed tonight.

  Would asking her to be his mistress really be the answer to bringing her to heel? Or was reason driven by lust? Whatever it was, he had to find a way to ensure her safety. Tomorrow. He’d deal with it tomorrow.

  And with her lovely form tempting him, morning could not come soon enough.

  Charlie tossed his reins to the waiting groom in the stable courtyard and strode for the house. His breath hung before his face in a cloud. His cheeks tingled. A ride in the fresh air, despite grey skies, had cleared his head.

  The fever of last night had passed. He’d even managed to sleep in the chair until daylight awoke him and he’d carried Merry back to her bed. She’d felt good in his arms. Right. The compulsion to keep her safe as rampant as his desire, which was why he’d gone out riding. To rid himself of lust.

  With the light of day, some semblance of rational thought had resurfaced; given his purpose for coming to Yorkshire, the attraction he felt for Merry must be excised.

  While it would be impossible to woo Lady Allison with Merry under his roof, the less cause for gossip, the better. If one word of this reached his father, Robert would never be allowed home.

  His brother’s last piece of advice about having fun was the stupidest thing he’d ever said, because when Charlie had fun everything went to hell.

  The sooner he found out who Merry’s attackers were, the sooner he could send her home. He entered the house through the side door. The footman stood to attention.

  ‘Miss Draycott up, yet?’

  ‘In the breakfast room, my lord.’

  The thought of Merry eating brought a smile to his lips. He strode along the corridor and met Logan coming the other way.

  ‘My lord?’ Logan said, holding out a note. ‘A letter arrived from the duke, marked urgent.’

  Damn. He might have known he couldn’t be away for more than a few days before his father would start checking up on him. No matter how hard he worked or what he did, Father no longer trusted him.

  He broke the seal.

  His heart sunk as he read the cryptic message in his father’s scrawl. Robert is in London. Return by Saturday.

  ‘Bad news, my lord?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’ He couldn’t prevent a grin of relief that Robert was found, even as he realised what the request meant. The duke would expect Charlie to make good on his promise right away.

  And the urgent nature of the message meant Robert must be in trouble. Again.

  Damn it all. Why now? Right at this moment, after all his months of searching?

  Hades, Saturday was three days’ hence. He’d have to leave right away. What the hell would he do about Merry in the meantime?

  There really was only one choice. And she wasn’t going to like it. He opened the breakfast-room door.

  A frown creased Merry’s brow when she looked up and saw him. ‘Thomas is ill,’ she said. ‘Caro thinks it might be scarlet fever.’ Her voice hitched on the last words.

  ‘Send for Dr Wells.’

  ‘Do you mind? I will pay his bills, of course, but I could not bear for anything to happen to the child.’

  Charlie went to the sideboard and filled his plate with eggs and ham and a thick slice of bacon. ‘I, too, have news.’

  He sat down. Merry eyed his plate askance and returned to spreading marmalade on her single piece of toast.

  He frowned. ‘You should eat more than that.’

  She gave him a wan smile. ‘I’m too worried about Thomas.’

  ‘The boy will be fine,’ Charlie said. ‘I am sure it is no more than a touch of ague after the long journey. Children come down with them all the time.’ He hesitated. ‘It would, however, be best if you didn’t take him on another journey while he is unwell.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ She clung to his words as if they were a life line.

  This might work in his favour. ‘Positive, he said. ‘It happened with my younger brothers and sisters all the time.’

  Her tension eased and he felt unaccountably glad he had set her mind at rest.

  ‘What is your news?’ she asked.

  He glanced down at the letter beside his plate. ‘Urgent family business. I am needed in Town.’

  ‘Oh.’

  He saw the idea in her head the moment the expression crossed her face. She’d decided to leave.

  ‘You cannot go back to Draycott House.’ He spoke more sternly than he intended and she bridled.

  ‘Damn it, Merry, all I am thinking about is your safety, but this urgent business calls me away. You will stay until I return.’

  ‘Will I? Sir, you go too far. I choose where and when I go.’

  He wanted to hit something. He kept the frustration out of his face, curled his lip a little. ‘Think of the child.’

  Her shoulders slumped. He held back a triumphant smile.

  She stared at her toast and then glanced up at him. ‘How long will you be gone?’

  ‘Six days at the most.’

  She stared at him. ‘You will scarcely have time to get there and back.’

  ‘My business will not take long. My curricle is built for racing and there are fresh horses in the stable. I’ve done it in less.’

  ‘Not in the middle of winter.’

  ‘All right, give me two weeks.’

  She rose and went to look out of the window. ‘Two weeks is a long time to be away from Draycott’s. No one knows where I am, except Gribble, and we swore him to silence.’

  ‘Write to your manager.’

  ‘What am I supposed to do here for two weeks? I hate being idle.’

  ‘Ride. Read. Help Mrs Falkner with Thomas. Continue teaching your young…er…lady to read. There are all kinds of things to be done, but promise me one thing?’

  She swung around, a refusal on her lips and in her flashing eyes.

  He grinned. ‘Promise me you won’t play billiards until I return.’

  Shaking her head, she laughed. A smile stayed on her lovely mouth as she gazed at him. ‘My mill needs me.’

  If only he co
uld make her want to stay. Perhaps there was one thing that would keep her here. The only kind of promise he could make.

  He got to his feet, came to stand next to her. Her perfume rose around him. He dropped a kiss on the place where her pale shoulder met the elegant column of her neck. He put his hands on her waist, lowered his voice. ‘I want you here when I get back.’

  Desire darkened the clear blue of her eyes to misty dusk. Her eyes closed for a moment, her long black lashes hiding her thoughts. Deliberately cutting him off. She took a shaky breath. ‘Don’t do this.’

  He tipped her chin, searching her beautiful face for some sign she would yield. And deep in her gaze he saw secrets. Painful secrets. He didn’t have time to find out what they were and reach London in time. But he needed her to stay.

  ‘Merry, I beg you, please do not venture off the property while I am away. Before I leave I will speak to my steward. He will undertake some investigations on your behalf. We will find out what is going on when I get back. I promise.’ He put every ounce of persuasion he had in his voice.

  It wasn’t enough. He could see it in her stiff shoulders and her restless hands.

  ‘It is so very awkward for me to remain here under your roof in your absence. No matter how powerful your father, you will not stop the gossip.’

  Was this the true reason behind her reluctance? ‘I thought you cared naught for gossip.’

  She stepped away and waved an airy hand. ‘I don’t care for myself,’ she said. ”Tis your reputation, my lord.’

  He looked at her grimly. ‘No one will censure me. You are grasping at straws.’

  She flushed.

  Charlie pulled her close and smiled down into her face, willing her to listen, to hear him. ‘Wait for me.’ He kissed her lips, then took her mouth and kissed her hard.

  The kiss deepened to something far more sensual, an erotic tangling of tongues and breath, the feel of her soft curves against him, her encouraging moans. A kind of desperation overtook him, the need to keep her safe, to know she would be here waiting when he returned.

  He pressed one thigh between her legs and heard her intake of breath, a hiss of pleasure that heightened his arousal. He pressed her back against the wall, cradling her face in his hand, pressing against her, until she cried out with longing.

  He wanted her in the most primal way. To possess her, to bend her to his will. Roughly he lifted her skirts, slid his hand up the satiny flesh of her inner thigh and found the warmth and dampness of her centre. Lust. She wanted him as much as he desired her.

  He stroked her soft feminine flesh, felt her tremble and pant, her desire flaming instantly to his touch.

  She arched her neck, her head falling back. He kissed the hollow of her throat, licking and nipping his way to the rise of her breast. He cupped her buttocks, lifting her, pressing her against his erection. He growled low in his throat at the torment.

  Her eyes flew open. ‘Charlie, your wound.’

  ‘My shoulder is not what aches.’

  ‘What if someone comes in?’

  ‘I’ll murder them.’

  Her laugh was low and husky. It thrummed a response low in his belly.

  He lifted her, supporting her back against the wall, one hand beneath her luscious bottom. She brought her legs around his hips, clinging tight to his shoulder, nuzzling and licking at his ear, nipping the lobe until he thought he might lose his mind.

  Fingers tearing at the buttons, he unfastened his falls and guided his shaft into her heated depths.

  With a sigh she sank down on to him.

  Hot and tight, she enveloped his engorged flesh. He drove into her, hard, again and again, hearing her muffled cries of pleasure against his neck, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he pounded her against the wall.

  She was his woman. She might deny it, and resist his will, flaunt her independence, but in this he was her master.

  Her fingers ran through his hair, tugging with painful intensity. She flattened her palms against his jaw, lifting his face, and she took his mouth, delving her tongue, tasting him, as if she, too, wanted to stake a claim. Slowly she withdrew her tongue, and when he followed her retreat, probing the hot sweet depths of her mouth, she sucked.

  The sensation drove him to the brink. He would not go over without her.

  Desperate, he sought her centre with his hand, teased her with his thumb, felt her shiver and tremble and he drove home one last time.

  Not her master. She was his equal. The climax rode him hard and as she fell apart, against everything he wanted, he jerked from her body and finished within the tails of his shirt.

  Shuddering and gasping, they leaned against the wall, forehead to forehead, her legs lax around his waist. ‘You will wait for me,’ he ground out. She nodded.

  Slowly, he lowered her to the ground.

  She leaned back against the wall, her eyes closed, her lovely mouth rosy from kisses, her delicate cheeks reddened by his stubble.

  ‘Oh, my,’ she said. ‘I’m going to miss these encounters of ours.’ She laughed. But there was heartache in the sound. It touched a soft place in his chest, a tender place that had no place in his life.

  ‘Only two weeks,’ he whispered and pressed a kiss to her chin.

  He fastened his falls and led her to the nearest chair, pulling her down to sit on his lap. She snuggled down to rest her head on his shoulder. They sat quietly, their breathing slowing, the heat of bliss gradually fading.

  ‘Now give me your promise in words,’ he said. ‘Two weeks is all I ask.’ He kissed her temple.

  Eyes smoky, the lids half-lowered, she smiled. ‘I will be here when you return.’

  He trusted her to keep her word. ‘I will return sooner if I can.’ Slowly, he lifted her to her feet and rose beside her. He kissed her deeply, savoured her soft pliant body against his. He broke the kiss and left the room, before he lost the strength to leave her at all.

  The journey to London had been hell. Merry had been right about travelling at this time of year and Charlie had pushed the horses far too hard, changing them at every posting house and travelling without stopping. He’d made it as far as Hampstead, then one of his hacks threw a shoe and left him walking two miles to the nearest tavern.

  But he’d done the journey in two days. Only to arrive at Mountford House and be met with the news that the family was at church…for his brother’s wedding. Not only was Robert found, but he was getting married. Today.

  He still hadn’t absorbed the news.

  He scrubbed at a chin covered in two days’ growth of beard. His Grace would not be pleased to see his heir looking so disreputable, but what couldn’t be cured, must be endured.

  The hackney carriage drew up a short distance from St George’s, Hanover Square.

  ‘Can’t get no closer than this, gov,’ the hackney driver called out. ‘Some nob getting married. I hear he’s caught himself an heiress.’

  Charlie’s heart sank. If Robert was getting leg-shackled for money, things must be desperate indeed. He leaped from the hackney and tossed the man his fare. ‘I’ll walk the rest of the way.’

  An odd feeling emptied his chest as he strode through the throng of people on the footpath. Robert home and getting married after years of no word—how could that be?

  If Charlie had stood up against his father, Robert would never be in this fix. Perhaps he could stop it.

  He broke into a run past the carriages lined up and well-dressed folk mingling with London’s riff-raff, all hoping for a glimpse of the couple.

  Charlie pushed through them and received some dirty looks. He paused at the bottom of the church steps as the bells began pealing. A joyful sound. He was too late.

  The doors swung open. The people around him pressed forwards. A man and his bride walked out into the chilly London air.

  Robert. He looked well, if a little weathered. Indeed, he looked as dark as a gypsy, as if he’d spent a great deal of the past three years out of doors.

  Ch
arlie had feared seeing his brother starving and gaunt. Instead he looked…happy, even overjoyed, as he gazed into the eyes of the bride at his side.

  Standing on the bottom step, Charlie drank his brother’s happiness in with a sense of utter relief. The tiny fragile-looking thing beside his tall athletic brother had stars in her eyes and a big smile on her pixie face, while his brother looked positively besotted. Nothing like the jaded rake he’d been the last time Charlie saw him.

  The last time they’d met, Charlie had let his brother down. He’d supported Father against his twin, when they’d always stood shoulder to shoulder. At the time he’d thought he was doing the right thing for his brother. Robert’s shock, his sense of betrayal, had shown in his eyes. That look had haunted Charlie all these long years.

  Perhaps Robert still held a grudge. Perhaps he wouldn’t care to see him at all. It would explain the lack of any word. He drew back, unsure.

  As if sensing Charlie’s presence, Robert’s gaze searched the crowd. The moment their eyes met he grinned and waved.

  The welcome in his smile swelled Charlie’s heart to breaking. He tore up the steps and dragged his brother into an embrace.

  The next few moments were chaos. Father taking him to task for being late. His mother hushing Father. An incomprehensible conversation about Zeus with the bride and not a moment for questions.

  Somehow, Robert had found the path to happiness. He could see it in his brother’s face, but when Charlie tried to seek answers, his brother had sloughed him off.

  Apparently a ship to Italy awaited the bride and groom.

  Stunned, Charlie stood with his mother, father and siblings and waved as the happy couple departed.

  When the carriage disappeared around the corner, the governess gathered her charges and walked them to one of the several waiting carriages.

  Father and Mother remained, receiving the well wishes of members of the ton who had crowded into the church. Charlie ranged alongside them, shaking hands and muttering appropriate words of thanks.

  Finally it was over. Father frowned. ‘Glad to see one of my sons still knows what is owing to the Mountford name,’ he muttered.