The Marquis and the Mistress

by Dominque Eastwick

  Swallowing hard, she replied, “I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “I didn’t say I would have succeeded.”

  When she looked up at him, his deep brown eyes stared back.

  “I don’t understand,” she said.

  “That feeling I assume you just had, the one that took the glow from your eyes, as if hundreds of pounds of pressure are on your chest and someone was turning a knife in your gut; that was how I felt when I walked in tonight, knowing you were waiting for some stranger.” Anger radiated from him and when he moved away from her to climb out of bed, she pulled the blanket up to her chin.

  How could so much pain and anger be balled up in one man? He rarely displayed this side to her. And had never directed it at her, not even the night she’d rejected his hand. Closing eyelids heavy from weeks of strain and heartache, she allowed her mind to drift back to that evening as the memories flooded her.

  They had lain on the floor before the fire, naked, listening to rain hit the windows, and enjoyed the empty house. Simon had rested his head in her lap, his hand brushing up and down the side of her exposed breast.

  “You are insatiable.”

  “You wouldn’t have me any other way.”

  “I will take you any way I can get you.” She smiled down at him, running her fingers through his thick hair. “When can we meet again?”

  His sigh told her no time soon. “I have to make a trip up to the family’s northern estate. There are some issues which require my personal attention.”

  “Nothing serious, I hope.”

  “Serious enough for my estate manager to ask for my presence. Not ideal while the House of Lords is in season with laws on the floor that will affect my tenants and everyone on the border of Scotland. I can only hope Andrew and Wolfe can hold off the vote until I return.”

  “What can I do to help?”

  “Come with me?”

  “Be serious.”

  “I am serious. Come with me.”

  “As what? Your secretary? Your mistress?”

  “My wife.”

  Ice filled her veins. Dread ate at her soul. “That’s not funny, Simon.”

  Rolling up on to an elbow to better see her, he cupped her cheek. “I’m in earnest, Chandra. Marry me. Come with me and we can make a quick detour into Gretna Green and get married over the anvil.”

  “I can’t.”

  “So maybe the anvil was too much.” He gave her the same smile he had used to get her out into the garden on their first night. “If you prefer, I’ll have the banns read, and we can wed when we return.”

  “Simon, I can’t marry you.”

  “Would it help if I declared my love for you?”

  No, it wouldn’t help, her soul screamed even as her heart broke. If things had been different, if she were different, his offer would be everything she could hope for. A second chance at love. But life was a cruel maiden, and she didn’t allow one to be so happy. Shaking her head, Chandra tried to turn away. Simon wouldn’t let her.

  “We’ve never spoken of feelings before, but I thought it was perfectly clear how I felt for you. Am I wrong? Do you care nothing for me.?”

  “It isn’t that easy. Of course I care for you.” More than care; she loved him with every fiber of her being. But she wouldn’t marry him. Couldn’t bear it if his adoration died in their marriage bed. Then she would be trapped with a man who had every reason to hate her. “Marriage isn’t something I have thought much on since my husband died. To be honest, I thought I would live the rest of my life as a merry widow.”

  He sat upright to stare at her. “Are you rejecting my suit?”

  She nodded, unable to say the words, but by not speaking, she’d denied herself the one thing she wanted more than anything else. He shot to his feet and paced, before halting. And for the first time since she’d know him, he seemed unable to form a complete sentence.

  “Simon, let’s keep on the way we are. I am happy. But if you prefer, I could officially become your mistress.” One little lie wouldn’t kill her. Would it?

  “Please explain to me, Mrs. Mallory, why you would prefer fucking me in private to marrying me in public. Is the only thing you want from me my cock?”

  She frowned. “That was crude.”

  “And asking to become my mistress over wife wasn’t?” Piece by piece, he gathered his discarded clothing. “Forgive me for being unable to see past that.”

  “Are you saying you wanted all of your past mistresses for more than their bodies?”

  “You. Are. Different.” He ground out each word between clenched teeth. “And you damned well know that. We have a mutually beneficial relationship. I do not pay your living expenses, and you do not sleep with me for the depth of my pockets.”

  “I seriously doubt your mistresses’ only reason for sleeping with you was your money.”

  “I can’t believe we are talking about this at all.” He sliced the air with a hand, as if done with the whole conversation, and headed toward the door.

  “Simon, why do we have to ruin something so wonderful?”

  He paused, but didn’t look at her, his body radiating barely contained fury. “My apologies for ruining it with a marriage proposal.”

  “You know I care about you.”

  “I love you, Chandra. Do you understand that? I. Love. You. I want you with me every night, not only those when I can sneak in like a thief in the night.”

  I love you, too! Her soul screamed loud enough she feared he could hear it. “How am I supposed to respond to that?”

  “Forget I asked.” His sudden calm sent shivers down her spine. “I won’t make the same mistake again. Will you be staying, or shall I dampen the fire?”

  So cool, so cold. Yet the roaring fire did little to warm her. “As soon as I am dressed, I will leave.”

  “Do you require my assistance?”

  She shook her head, uncaring if she did. His demeanor was so frigid, she couldn’t bear the thought of him touching her again.

  “Very well. Should you need anything, you know how to get in touch with me. Shall I call when I return?”

  “No, I think—that is….”

  “You wish to end it?”

  No, I wish to grow old in your arms. “I think it’s for the best.”

  “A minute ago, you were offering to become my mistress. Now you wish to end things?

  She nodded, unable to meet his eyes or speak. How could he understand what she didn’t herself? But if they stayed together, with whatever title they chose to put on it, he would grow to hate her as George had. Oh, her late husband had never come out and said as much, but he’d stopped coming to her at night, and hadn’t joined her for many months before his death. At meals, he’d seemed distant, not speaking or making eye contact. She couldn’t bear the thought of Simon ever treating her in the same manner.

  “I see.” He strode to the window, never once turning from whatever he stared out at. She had broken him. It didn’t matter if she had done it for all the right reasons. She had hurt the man she loved and she’d never stop regretting it.

  Worse, he’d never seen it coming. The shock when she’d denied him couldn’t have been faked. His proposal might not have been as romantic as her first, but it’d had more heart. The idea had obviously never crossed his mind she might refuse his suit. Being his bed partner for as long as she had been, sharing what they had both physically and emotionally, it was to be expected under the circumstances that they might wed. As a widow, she had more freedom than most other woman, but he hadn’t been wrong to think she would accept. What wasn’t there to want about him?

  After dressing, she left before he did. He didn’t acknowledge her departure. She walked home in the rain, unsure which drops sliding down her face were rain and which were tears. She only knew she was drowning.

  Two weeks passed before word circulated that Simon had returned to town, amid rumors he was tearing anyone and anything in his path into pieces. She went to the townhouse and wa
ited for him, even though she had ended their affair. Returning every day for a week, she hoped he would come and prayed he would stay away. As she prepared to leave her house one morning, a messenger in Simon’s black and green livery arrived with a gift for the lady of the house. .

  Thanking the man, she took the package into her sitting room, her hands trembling as she opened the ornate box. A perfect set of diamond earrings and matching necklace lay in a bed of black velvet. She dreaded reading the card, knowing the jewels were meant as insult over affection. In the time they had been together, Simon had mentioned, on more than one occasion, how nice it was to be with a woman who didn’t expect or even want expensive jewels as a thank you for services rendered. Being with her was the first time he had been with any woman who simply wanted to be with him and not his money or title.

  Chandra, I knew when I saw these they would complement the ivory tone of your naked skin. As tempted as I am by your offer to be my mistress, I respectfully decline. May your next protector, as I assume you are now in the market for one, harden his heart better against your graces than I.

  S.

  Unable to stomach having the gems in her house, she called for a hackney and returned the gift to the store where Simon had purchased it. Upon orders from the gentlemen who paid for them, the proprietor had not allowed her to leave without taking the money the gems were worth. Surprised to find Simon knew she would return the set crushed her, but that he forced her to keep the money for it if she did was an insult beyond measure. As if she had spent two years as his whore. While contemplating how to throw his money in his face, she left the store and overheard two women speaking in hushed voices. One of them spoke about an evening she’d spent, set up by a Madame Eve.

  Begging the women’s pardon for eavesdropping, Chandra left a while later with a calling card and a plan. What better way to spend Simon’s money than on a date with another man? But, as soon as she sent her letter of inquiry to the matchmaker, she knew nothing ever went as planned.

  Coming out of her musings of their shared past, Chandra was surprised to find Simon staring at her, concern edging his noble brow.

  “You were deep in thought. What worries you?”

  “What doesn’t worry me, these days?” She attempted a smile, but it felt the way she did—terrible.

  “What bothers you, love?”

  Don’t be kind to me, not now. “I fear if we are together even for this one night, you will never relent. We can’t return to the way it was. You must marry and I know being here when you do will tear me apart.”

  “I will never marry unless you are the one standing with me before the minister.” The vehemence in his voice brooked no argument.

  “You must marry.”

  “Not unless you are my bride.”

  “You are the most thickheaded—” Without finishing the sentence, she grabbed the pillow behind her and hurled it at him in frustration. He simply stood, hands on his naked hips, and allowed the feathered sack to hit his chest and fall to the floor. Grabbing another, she threw it, too, repeating the action until nothing remained to lob at him..

  “Are you done, or would you like me to gather your ammunition, should you care to have another go at it?”

  “Stop trying to placate me!”

  “Who’s placating? I completely understand the need to take out some frustration. If you recall, I tore the damned sleeve almost clean off my tailcoat when I first arrived. My valet is going to have a fit. Yet, under the same circumstances, I would do it all over again.” He scooped up the pillows and tossed them on the bed. “Your weapons, my love.”

  He stood before her in all his glory, and she wondered what to do with him. Moving the cushions out of the way, she found the neckcloth he had removed earlier. Wrapping the silky tie around her hands, she knew exactly what she wanted to do.

  “Come here,” she commanded.

  His eyebrow rose at her assertive tone. Taking the two steps separating them, he gazed down at her. “I am here.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “With my heart.”

  God, he always had known the right thing to say. “Lie down.”

  “Very well.” He climbed into the bed and sprawled against the bolster. Lifting a leg over his hips, she straddled him and kissed him hard. He had always been the one in control while she’d taken on the more submissive roll during their previous lovemaking. But, tonight, she wanted to take the lead. “Put your arms above your head.”

  After a slight hesitation, he obeyed. “If I allow you to do this,” he said, starting to give her one hand, “I want something from you.”

  “If it is in my power, I will give you anything”

  “At the end of our lovemaking, you will tell me why you refused my suit.”

  “But….”

  “No buts. I have waited long enough.”

  “Very well. But if you at any time attempt to take control, I will leave this room immediately, and you will agree never to see me again.”

  “Are you insane? I can’t make that promise to you. Not after tonight.”

  She shrugged. “Mayhap that was a bit extreme.”

  “Mayhap?”

  “All right. If you take control without my permission, you will never again ask me to marry you.”

  “If I let you have your way, you understand I will continue to ask. I will never let up.”

  She nodded. Then, doing the one thing she’d never truly expected him to agree to, he placed both hands above his head and closed his eyes. “Do your worst.”

  As she moved up his body to secure his wrists to the thick wood post of the bed, her breast came within reach of his mouth. Never being one to miss the opportunity to suck her bosom, he took a nipple into his mouth. Oh, how divine. It took her a few seconds to come to her senses and remember she was in charge.

  “You haven’t earned the right to touch me quite yet,” she said.

  He arched one regal brow. “Earned?”

  Earned did seem a bit strong, seeing as she would gladly give him any part of her. She yearned for it, except then she couldn’t think, and she wanted him so filled with desire he could go mad with it. With no real idea how to proceed, she needed to have him at her mercy. Even for a few moments in time.

  “Are you comfortable?”

  He tugged on the restraint. “You must be joking.”

  Smiling, she understood why he balked. For Simon, a man in charge of all aspects of his life, to give her such power was contrary to every fiber of his being. Yet, he submitted to her will. Should he want to get free, he had the ability to do so in a matter of seconds. She couldn’t tie a knot to save her life, but it didn’t matter. He’d given her what she wanted—control. Perhaps, when she finished with him, he would acquiesce and allow her to become his mistress. She could never be his wife, but she would have him for her lover for as long as he allowed.

  After sitting back to admire her less-than-handy work, she brushed her lips over his and ground against his hard cock. He jerked his arms and gripped the silk fabric binding his hands. If he continued, she feared he might rip it. Running a calming hand down his chest, she savored every touch of the sculptured arms and chest, so perfect, as if he’d been chiseled out of marble from the heavens above. Every muscle jumped in response when she scraped her nails lightly up the underside of his arms, then over his shoulders and sides.

  “Are you trying to punish me?” His voice sounded deeper and harsher than normal.

  “What did you tell me once? Oh, let me think….” She relished his groan as he arched his back. “I believe your exact words were….” Bending forward, she whispered into his ear, ‘There can be unbelievable pleasure in punishment.’” She nipped his earlobe and increased the pressure of her nails on his abdomen.

  Taking her time, she kissed and tasted her way down the bare skin laid before her like a feast. As his groans deepened and his breathing hastened, she grew bolder. Moving until her mouth was level with his fully aroused cock, she g
lanced up at his face and met his eyes, so full of heat and lust. She wrapped a hand around his erection and, without breaking eye contact, took the tip into her mouth.

  He threw his head back and cursed, words that should have caused her to blush. But, at that moment, the same words drove her. Opening her lips wider, she worked down his shaft. When her eyes watered, she eased up until only the head of his cock touched her lips. She laved him, tasting the salty juices. Simon yanked at the bindings around his wrists and the bedpost creaked. Spurred on by his inner struggle and inability to escape, she took her time, reveling in the pleasure she gave him. He bucked his hips, but she doubted he had any awareness of the action or could have controlled it if he did. Finally, she repositioned herself until no part of her touched his body.

  His ragged breathing slowed and he opened his eyes. With a moan, he said, “Christ. You can’t leave me like this.”

  “What is it you want?”

  He yanked on the restraint again. “You.”

  “I need your words, Simon. I need you to tell me what you want me to do.”

  Glaring at her, he ground out, “I want that beautiful mouth on my cock again. I want you to take me so deep you can’t breathe.”

  Those are certainly some words.

  “Damn it, Chandra! Please.”

  She didn’t wait for him to beg again. When her lips replaced her hand around him, he rewarded her with another moan that vibrated through him. She tasted his arousal as more of his seed leaked from his cock. Licking her way from base to tip, she took him deep into her throat one last time and massaged his balls while she used her tongue to drive him to near bedlam. When his body tightened, she drew back.

  “Fuck.” He strained to lift his head off the pillow for a better view of her. “Chandra, allow me my release. Allow me to touch you.”

  She shook her head and returned her focus to his body.

  “God, yes—like that. Ah, hell.” The bed rattled under them as he jerked the ties. “Damn it, please, Chandra—finish this.”