Her last statement echoed in her ears and a deep, fearful sorrow filled her. Even to just think it might happen— Tears slid down her cheeks.
This was not her.
She was a reasonable, rational woman.
She rarely cried and certainly never in front of anyone else. And usually her tears only came at moments when frustration or rage overcame her, never over such maudlin things as this.
He cradled her against his shoulder. “Oh my love, oh my darling.”
Strangely, the sympathetic note in his voice only increased the flood of her tears. They soaked into the luxuriant velvet that covered his hard muscles.
“It is all over now.” She gulped back a sob. “How could you ever love a woman who betrayed the mother who needed her? If I could not love her properly and be what she needed, how could you ever trust in me? You love your sons so much, you would never betray them. How can you love me now that I have in a way betrayed my duty to my mother?”
“Hush, hush, hush!” The firmness in his voice cut through her rapidly escalating emotion.
Brought back to her senses, she held herself stiffly, taken aback at her outburst.
“It is all right now.” He sounded so certain.
Again, she wanted to believe…
“Things can never be all right again.” She sniffed. As the loud, nasally sound echoed, she cringed inside.
No elegant courtesan should ever allow herself to be seen in such a condition. Especially not by a noble gentleman.
He brushed her hair off the side of her face. “Tell me something, Miranda. Why did you feel so free to reject Froster’s new offer?”
His question completely befuddled her.
She should never, ever have rejected Froster’s offer. It was the kind of offer the fashionable impures of Mayfair dreamed of.
Adrian cupped her face and looked deeply into her eyes.
Those beautiful blue eyes, they transfixed her. She could drown in them and never regret it.
“Tell me the truth,” he said.
She gaped at him. “I don’t know how I could do that. That’s what I am saying.”
“No, tell yourself the truth.”
She caught her breath. Her heart’s beat began to quicken.
“Go on, now,” he said. “Here in this place with me, you can admit it, surely.”
He wanted the truth.
She would never give anyone such leverage over her.
But as she stared into his gorgeous eyes, the light of tenderness pierced her to the heart. She saw not only the beauty of those eyes but also by the affection that shone there.
Affection that mirrored her own.
“I suppose I couldn’t stop thinking of you.” She heard the anguish in her tone.
The words had been wrung from her.
Now she felt stripped bare.
He stroked her cheek. “And did you think about what I told you?”
She stared at him, still at a loss over her vulnerability to him.
“I told you to trust in me to protect you against Froster and Winterton.”
“Yes, you did.” Oh, how she had struggled with the desire to believe in him and her natural course to trust in only herself.
“And did you think about as the moment of final decision with Froster approached?”
“How could I forget it? I have longed to believe that you could protect me against them.”
“And in the end, haven’t you believed it? Haven’t you thrown all your caution aside and believed in me and rejected Froster?”
The truth of what he said burst upon her, like light in the darkness.
“Yes,” she said, filled with wonder. “It does appear that I did trust in you after all, doesn’t it?”
A smile curved his sensual lips. His eyes were still alight with affection. “And why do you sound so surprised, love? I told you I would fix everything.”
Fix everything?
He had fixed everything?
“How? How did you fix things?”
He took her hand and cradled it within his own. She looked at their two hands together. His was so much larger than hers, capable of such a powerful grip, yet how gently he cradled hers.
She had always prided herself on her strength, not just emotional strength, but she also worked hard to keep her body strong and fit. She had been stronger and taller than Mama or Aunt Cassandra. More fit than her kind, jolly-natured Carrville.
She had feared men with strong, determined natures and physically powerful bodies.
But Adrian’s muscular build and virility made her aware of her own femininity, frailness in comparison as never before.
“I went to your father.” Adrian’s deep voice cut through her bemusement.
She caught her breath and glanced back at his face.
He had actually seen Winterton?
Though he still held her hand with such infinite gentleness, his expression was fierce, his blue eyes all the more vivid as they burned with emotion.
Hatred.
Hatred for Winterton.
Hatred for her sake and for the things the mighty duke had done to her.
The strangest sensation began to hum within her.
A sensation she had certainly had not felt in years.
But there was a piquant bittersweet note to it. Like a memory she couldn’t quite recall…
A feeling of being completely safe.
Protected.
But there was something more. Carrville had certainly protected her and kept her safe. He had done so with his wealth and the reputation he had earned as a younger man on the dueling field.
But never before had she felt so emotionally supported as well as protected. Carrville had disapproved of Winterton’s treatment of her and had warned her sire off.
But he had not displayed the utter of emotional loyalty of this fierce hatred that shone in Adrian’s eyes.
All the insults and abuse that Winterton had directed at her, Adrian took personally.
“I threatened to reveal certain matters from his past.” Despite his fiery expression, Adrian spoke so matter-of-fact, as though he didn’t realize that Winterton was a powerful force. A force that couldn’t be reasoned with—couldn’t be stopped. As though Adrian were not suffering through all the indignity of genteel poverty. As though he didn’t work hard at cards and taking chances with the exchange in desperation to rebuild his family fortune. As though the former Earl of Danvers had not so carelessly made so many powerful enemies that his son must also work hard making new connections.
But, of course, Adrian had never been anything if not arrogant.
Yet, now she perceived that arrogance as unshakable confidence. It was impossible not to take comfort from such rock-solid self-assurance.
With her lungs aching, she exhaled, slowly, softly, feeling as she did, the weight of the world seem to slide off her shoulders.
“I told him he must sell the land to me for the same price as he bought it.”
“You what?!” The words exploded from her before her brain really had time to process the full import of his words.
What cheek he had shown Winterton!
The duke must have dearly loved that and laughed in his face!
She could feel the heat in her cheeks and her breath came so fast…
Adrian stared back at her with that same unshakable confidence. “I have purchased the deed to the land, the estate house and your mother’s cottage. She is secure now. You needn’t ever worry again about where she—or you for that matter—will live.”
“Oh my God!” She pulled away and gaped at him. “Oh my God, I cannot believe it!”
“I will sign it over to you, just as soon it can be arranged.”
The deeper implication of what he must have done, how deeply he had dug into his own pockets, hit her. “But you have spent your sons’ inheritance for me?”
“I can earn the money back.”
“But you said—”
“I was over
cautious. I told you to have faith in me. Well, I must have faith in my love for you.”
Suddenly, the import of everything else he’d just told her evaporated.
Only those last few words mattered.
“Your what?” she said, hearing the trembling in her own voice.
“My love for you,” he said.
She could only gape at him, as though he spoke a foreign language.
“I love you so much and I need to make you happy. I need to protect you.”
She sat there, stunned. Yes, they shared a grand passion but could he really love her? Just so recently he had seemed to despise her.
She tried to keep a reasonable perspective but her heart leapt ahead of her, wanting to believe…
He took her hands. “Let me purchase you a house of your own. Let me give you a coach-and-four and living expenses each month.”
Yes, there was an undercurrent, a treacherous, wild surge of joy that threatened to overtake her better sense.
The intensity of it made her mouth dry at the equal amount of fear that surged through her with each thudding beat of her heart. She could taste the metallic flavor of that fear in her mouth.
He was offering her everything she wanted.
More then she had ever dared allow herself to even dream of.
Such things were too good to be true. Such things could leave an unwise courtesan broken hearted.
A courtesan did not allow herself to fall in love her own protector.
A courtesan certainly did not allow herself to love anyone with the passion that warmed her blood for this man.
She had fallen in love with him when she had not been paying attention. She’d been distracted by her mother’s needs and the Winterton’s threats and her own fear and disgust over what Froster had expected from her.
She hadn’t had time or the presence of mind to think clearly about the whole situation with Adrian and her having fallen in love with him.
She should say no.
She should turn and run and never look back.
“Be mine, Miranda.”
The longing in his voice called to her.
Tore into her.
She swallowed back a moan and resisted the urge to shake her head.
She should run… She must, but sincere affection and adoration in his eyes— those breathtakingly beautiful eyes—continued to transfix her.
She couldn’t have taken her gaze from his to save her life.
“Please be my mistress, mine and mine alone.”
Chapter Two
Miranda let her gaze linger over the elegant, chiseled features.
Adrian had made a challenging enemy.
Now, he made a formidable lover.
He promised everything she had ever wanted.
And all that she really needed…
A slight smile still curved his mouth, accentuating his full yet firm lips.
How utterly delicious those lips had felt on her own.
God, she wanted him more than was wise.
Cared for him more than was prudent.
A wise girl wouldn’t take such a risk. But then again, who could possibly be prudent in the wake of such feelings as were coursing through her?
“Oh yes—” The words startled her. “Oh Adrian.” She attempted to press her lips together but she couldn’t hold back. “I have loved you and been too afraid to admit it. Even to myself.”
Craving overwhelmed her. She couldn’t wait. She leaned up and put her mouth to his.
He grasped her shoulders.
The suddenness, the strength of his grip sent thrills through her. His mouth moved over hers, strong, firm, with just the right touch of lushness.
As delicious as she had remembered.
She opened her mouth.
The taste of brandy overwhelmed her.
He had been drinking?
Concern welled within her.
But the sweetness of his tongue sliding against hers swept the thought away.
He groaned in his throat, the sound rumbling into her own chest. He pulled her closer.
She thrilled at the sensation of contained male power he displayed. She pressed her herself closer and grasped at his shoulders fiercely.
Heaven help her.
She couldn’t touch him enough.
Couldn’t get enough of his touch in return. How she burned to feel his bare flesh on hers!
She released his shoulders, reached up and took the edges of his banyan and pulled them apart. With hands that trembled with her hunger, she caressed the hard-muscled expanse of his bare chest.
He clasped her wrists then held her hands immobile. He pressed one to himself. His heart beat strong, rapid beneath her palm.
She licked her lips.
He stared down at her, his eyes glittering with desire a moment before he leaned forwards then he gave her the briefest of kisses on her forehead. ”I want you to stay here tonight.”
“Of course I am going to stay tonight.”
“I’ll have a chamber readied and a meal sent up. Tomorrow I shall have my man of business visit and draw up a contract that will entitle you legally to all the things I have promised you.”
She barely comprehended his words. Then she frowned. Why must he talk so much? “I don’t want to take a bath and then sleep in some cold guest chamber.”
And in her current state of shaking arousal and anticipation, she couldn’t have choked down more than a bite.
He studied her, his expression so tender, so serious. “What do you want, my love?”
My love.
How his voice had caressed those last two words.
No two words had ever sounded so beautiful.
“I want to sleep with you, in your bed.” She heard the softness increasing in her voice, it sounded like a stranger. A different Miranda. A younger, less hardened Miranda. “I want to feel your body against mine. On mine.” She paused, her voice becoming huskier now. “In mine.”
His hands tightened on her wrists. “Miranda.” His voice had deepened, grown hoarse. “You make it hard to remain honorable.”
“Honorable?” She couldn’t have been more surprised.
“I don’t want you to think that you must submit yourself to me immediately just because I have promised to protect and provide for you.”
A peculiar twisting sensation centered in her heart, not exactly unpleasant, just unfamiliar. Her throat began to burn and tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She blinked, hard and swallowed against the burning.
She would not cry again.
Surely she wouldn’t.
To cover her treacherous emotions, she forced a laugh but the sound came out strangled.
His face wrinkled with concern. “What love?”
“I don’t want you to behave in such an honorable manner. I just want you.” She swallowed again. “Here. Now.”
He groaned and tightened his grip on her hands. “God, Miranda, God.”
“I just want you.”
He released her hands. Then he touched her beaded bodice, caressing her breasts through the tight fabric.
Kissing her neck.
Thrills shot through her. She had hungered for his presence. His touch. The pleasure of his attentions filled her with warmth that rivaled the sunshine in the South of France.
She wanted more. Now. Immediately.
She wanted to feel his hands on her bare flesh. She reached behind herself, arching her back and pulling at the fastenings of her gown. Each time she arched and shifted, she pressed herself more firmly into his hands. But she only had two fastenings undone.
On a frustrated groan, he released her breasts then reached behind her. She felt him unhooking the gown, his hands moving with stunning nimbleness.
Her dainty sleeves fell down her arms and the glittering bodice fell away. Her breasts sprang free and she gave an exhalation of relief. She wore no stays, no chemise under this gown, there was no room for extra bulk that might create unsightly ripples
or lumps. And it also gave her the added benefit of displaying a subtle hint of her nipples.
Adrian leaned back, his gaze falling. She followed his stare then watched him run his palm over her aroused, vividly pink peaks. Pleasure sparked from where he stroked her and spread into her belly.
“God, Miranda.” His voice rang with reverence. “You must, surely, have the most beautiful breasts in the world.”
He bent forwards and put his lips to her skin, just to the side of her nipple. So he couldn’t see her smile. Warmth filled her and not just from his kiss.
She loved hearing this man speak of her beauty.
So many noblemen had paid her outrageous compliments. She’d even had poems written as a testament to her attractiveness. She’d grown weary and then bitter hearing men’s accolades for there had always been an implication in their words as though she owed them something. Owed them sexual favors just because she had been born a commoner who also happened to have grown to be a beautiful woman.
But no man’s praises made her spirits sing like Adrian’s did.
He behaved as though each time she shared her body with him, she gave him the most precious of gifts.
How strange that this man who had once despised her so intensely would be the one to make her heart soar.
She touched his head and threaded her fingers through his coal black hair.
Mine.
The word rocked through the entirety of Adrian’s being as though he had shouted it aloud with all the emotion and sense of possession that he experienced here, now, touching the beauty he had coveted for so long.
He hadn’t intended things to go this way.
He couldn’t think. Couldn’t call on one ounce of self-restraint.
He could only touch.
And feel.
Emotions overwhelmed him. Not only lust. Or possessiveness. But love.
He would do anything to bring this woman happiness. To keep her safe.
Anything.
But he couldn’t restrain his own passions.
Just like all the other men of his family, he was weak.
Consumed by fascination with the fairer sex.
A Most Demanding Mistress (Fashionably Impure Book 2) Page 2
