The Mistress Enchants Her Marquis

by Christina McKnight

  He took hold of both her hands, threading his fingers through hers once more.

  Sam could not take her eyes off them as Elijah began his story, his words soft, spoken in reverence.

  “I lived with my grandfather for as long as I can remember.” Eli squeezed her hand once more. “He was a loving man, an honorable man, an adventurer at heart, and he never shied away from bringing a boy along on his expeditions. I spent my first birthday in Rome, my fifth birthday in the Orient, and my ninth birthday trudging through the Amazon. He is the man I hope to one day be.”

  Elijah was wrong if he thought his story not a happy one—or that he wasn’t already as noble and pure as his grandfather.

  She looked up when he did not continue to see a single tear holding at the corner of his eye.

  “I mention those specific places because they capture my life on very special days—days that should be filled with family, home, love, laughter, and celebration. Instead, my grandfather, bless his kind soul, took me to explore the world so I would not dwell on the two important people who should be present in my life…but were not. One taken far too early, and one absent by choice.

  “The marquis did everything in his power to make sure I was not surrounded by an empty home—full with remnants of parents I had no memory of. He did not shower me with extravagant gifts or treat me as anything but a boy needing a proper upbringing. He taught me love, compassion, and loyalty.”

  “Loyalty…something my father knows nothing of.”

  “Is that true?” Eli asked. “He was loyal to his father, he was loyal to the Viscountship. I think, if anything, he lacked the ability to love.”

  Sam let go of an unladylike snort.

  “He is here now, is he not?”

  “Yes, but to what end?” Sam pulled her hands free and looked at Eli, his face etched in concern. “Why come to us after all these years?”

  “Does it matter so greatly?” he protested. “He is here—”

  “And will likely depart and disappear again as soon as he attains what he desires.”

  “That is a possibility, but allow me to finish my story.”

  “Your lesson about love, compassion, and loyalty was not the culmination of this lecture?” Sam’s tart reply did not deter Elijah.

  “Certainly not, Miss Samantha.” A soft smile settled on his lips, and her breath stuck in her lungs. “Your father returned to you of his own free will. I, on the other hand, was not so fortunate. I put someone who meant everything to me in jeopardy to gain something I thought was lacking in my life. And I suffered horrible consequences. I lost my grandfather, and the person I went halfway around the world to find, turned me away with barely a glance.”

  “Oh, Elijah, I—“ Sam reached forward, uncertain why, but knowing she needed to feel him—and he needed the same. “Tell me what happened to your parents…why you lived with your grandfather.”

  Her fingers grazed his cheek, but he didn’t pull away as she’d expected. Instead, he brought his own hand to hers, pressing her palm against his warm skin.

  “My father’s demise started long before he met my mother. You see, he was much like my grandfather, but prone to risk-taking of an extreme nature.” Eli turned his face and placed a kiss on the palm of her hand, sending a tingle through her entire body. “My mother, Alice Watson, loved my father for his adventurous ways. There was never a dull moment to be had with the pair. However, when my mother found she was with child while on a trip to Africa, my grandfather insisted she journey back to England to await my birth.”

  Sam suspected this was the part of the story that was in no way happy. “It must have upset him to send your mother away.”

  “My father or grandfather?”

  “Your father, of course.” It was similar to her love for her twin. It would be devastating when the possibility finally sank in it could be several months before she saw Jude again.

  “No, I do not believe either man was dismayed at the departure of my mother for England.”

  “What happened next?” Her question left her with a sigh of anticipation. “Did your mother arrive safely in England?”

  “Certainly, or likely I would not be sitting here,” he said with a sorrowful chuckle. “However, my father fell to his death from a high ridge when he and my grandfather quarreled over selecting a dig site. My father got so angry, he stalked off into the night…”

  “And the marquis never saw him again?”

  “Oh, no.” Eli shook his head, releasing her hand. “He was found early the next morning, or at least what the scavengers hadn’t eaten of him.”

  Sam gasped, her hands clutching her throat in shock. “That is awful!”

  “Perhaps, perhaps not.” Eli shrugged. “We cannot know what today would have held if my father hadn’t perished.”

  “And your mother?” The story could not be any worse. “Did she die of a broken heart when she found out?”

  “Not exactly. She gave birth to me, and shortly after, fled to America.”

  “She never returned?”

  “She sent letters—about twice a year—but a little over a year ago, they stopped arriving.” If possible, a far deeper sorrow shone from his eyes. “I feared she was in trouble and needed my help. I convinced Grandfather to accompany me to America—Baltimore to be exact—to find her.”

  The pit of Sam’s stomach dropped, suspecting no good news was to follow.

  “You both sailed to America?” She hadn’t quite known the extent of his travels until this moment.

  “Yes. Unfortunately, only I arrived safely.” Eli jumped to his feet, rubbing his palms down his face. “I am sorry, Sam. You are the first person I’ve told the complete story to. It has not gotten easier to speak of since my return.”

  “We do not need to discuss it at all,” Sam protested. “Your meaning is clear.”

  “No, it is not. You see, when I finally found my mother, she didn’t even recognize me—her only son. She told me to return to England and leave her be.” Eli pivoted toward the study door and strode to a nearby chair. He grasped the back, and his knuckles turned white. “I begged my grandfather to journey to America with me to collect my mother. He died because of me, because I needed more than he could give. Because I could not be grateful for all I had. I had to discover more about the woman who’d birthed and then abandoned me. The marquis died, and it was all for nothing. I am completely and utterly alone in this world.”

  “We are not so different, you and I,” she mumbled through the heartache she felt on his behalf.

  “That is true. However, if my mother were to return to England—show up unannounced on my doorstep—I would not turn her away. I would not wonder what her ulterior motive could be. I would open my arms and welcome her.”

  “It is not that simple, my lord.” Sam stood and crossed the room to stand before him. “I truly wish it were, but…” Her lips pressed together, conflicting feelings coursing through her. Sam was uncertain if she were capable of forgiving Beauchamp.

  Eli set his hands on her shoulders, gently kneading them.

  Sam’s gaze dropped to their feet, afraid he’d see the reasoning in her stare.

  “How does one begin to forgive a man who allowed his children to grow up in impoverished circumstances while he dined at his club, traveled around England, and wore coats worth more shillings than our yearly food staples?”

  “The way I would push aside the fact that my mother would rather live as a woman of loose morals in an American saloon than return home and have all the pretty gowns she could dream of…have an entire estate and London townhouse…and receive invitations into every home in England.” His hands moved from her shoulders up her neck, and he leaned close. “One does not need to forget in order to forgive.”

  Their lips were almost touching. “What if I do not want to forgive?”

  “Then happiness and contentment will be forever out of your reach.” His warm breath fanned her lips.

  Happiness and contentme
nt—those were both things she longed to achieve…someday. She had never suspected they’d be permanently out of reach. How had Jude attained what might always be denied her?

  “You are not a woman to allow such a thing to slip away, are you, Miss Samantha Pengarden?”

  He didn’t wait for her answer but pulled her closer; every inch of their bodies touching from breasts pushed against his solid, muscular chest to their knees, her skirts the only thing preventing his warmth from touching her in places she hadn’t known were frozen.

  Sam tilted her chin upwards slightly to look into his eyes, her response at the ready.

  She expected to see pity and sympathy, but his gaze held neither.

  Desire. Not lust, but affection mixed with adoration.

  Eli’s lips parted before settling against hers.

  She ached with the need to touch him, explore every curve of his body as his hands did the same. It was as if Eli’s kiss—his kiss alone—was the only thing that could restore life to her, make her believe forgiveness was possible. That healing from her deep wounds was not only possible but also immediately attainable.

  This kiss was far different than the one they’d shared—in this very spot—the night before. Sam moved her hands up and down his back, pulling Eli closer still. Every part of her screamed if he let her go, if he pulled away, it would mean the end for Sam. He was the only reason she breathed.

  He set a demanding tempo, first arduous as if he too would cease to be if their lips parted, but then the pace lessened as the kiss turned from need to a slow, building craving. A longing with no end—a yearning that no amount of passion could quench.

  A warmth spread through her, settling between her thighs as her desire built. Her body knew what she needed, even though Sam did not.

  Eli pushed his fingers into her hair, pins falling to the floor when her long tresses fell about her shoulders.

  A moan escaped her as his lips left hers, trailing a fiery path down to her chin and pressing light kisses down her neck—and lower still. Sam tilted her head back to allow him greater access to what he sought. His lips pecked a soft path along her collarbone and dipped to the swell of her breasts, just above her gown’s low neckline.

  Sam explored his backside, moving her hands lower and lower, and his mouth did the same to her front.

  Ecstasy.

  “Samantha,” he sighed. His fingers untangling from her hair as they grazed the curve of her neck to join his mouth at her heaving bosom. “You are exquisite. Every inch of you is pure perfection.”

  The beat of her heart thumped through her entire body as her legs quivered.

  His back tensed, and he pulled back ever so slightly.

  Sam wasn’t ready for the sensations coursing through her to end; nor was she prepared to withdraw her hands from their current exploration of his round arse.

  However, it appeared Eli was not ready for that either. He brought his lips back to hers, his tongue darting across her lower lip.

  The notion of living in this moment for all eternity would be the grandest fate Sam could wish for herself. With his body against hers, his lips possessing hers, and his hands caressing her from neck to waist…if there were a heaven, this would be it.

  She would give herself completely—and freely—to Elijah and the sensations he was causing within her. All he need do is ask, and she would give all to him.

  Sam had always imagined herself to be half a person, Jude the other.

  Never whole without her twin.

  But it was not true. Jude was not the missing part she needed to be complete.

  She needed this…this desire, this passion, this hunger to never cease, for she would perish without it.

  “Pardon, I did not mean—“ A familiar lyrical voice started, immediately cutting off. “Sam? Lord Ridgefeld? What are you…I should… What is the meaning of…” Jude’s voice rose higher with each word.

  Elijah’s back flexed, and Sam’s hands fell from his backside as they both took a step back—away from each other.

  Glancing over Eli’s shoulder, Sam noted the shock on her sister’s face, her mouth hanging open and her eyes wide as saucers. Part of Sam wanted to give her sister a smug grin, show her that even though she was abandoning her twin, Sam would fare well without her. But more importantly, she longed to share how much she’d come to adore Lord Ridgefeld with the only other person who’d understand.

  “It is not what it appears, Jude.” Her satisfied grin won. “I was upset, and Lord Ridgefeld found me in tears. He was only comforting me…”

  Sam kept her stare locked on Jude’s, afraid to glance at Eli, his back still to her twin.

  It was exactly as it appeared, and would have progressed further if they hadn’t been interrupted.

  Eli turned, taking a small step closer to Sam. “Miss Judith. I can offer no explanation for what you have witnessed. I—“

  Jude held up her hand, silencing Eli. “It is none of my concern what took place in this room. I am here to collect my sister. I must speak with her regarding,” Jude paused as if determining the correct thing to say in a situation such as they’d found themselves, “a delicate family matter.”

  “He knows of Lord Beauchamp,” Sam confessed. “Lord Ridgefeld, thank you for lending me a shoulder to cry on. It was very noble of you. Do give my sincere apologies to your valet if I have ruined your coat.”

  She hurried to Jude’s side, noticing for the first time how affected her sister was by their father’s appearance. Her eyes were red and swollen, her face flushed, and her hands clutched so tightly, her knuckles turned white—possibly to halt their shaking. Though, some of her upset was surely caused by catching her twin in a most indecent embrace with a man.

  The scandalous nature of their situation kept Sam from meeting Elijah’s gaze. She knew his burned a hole in her—she could feel it—and she could not lift her eyes from his knees.

  Sparingly, Elijah cleared his throat and shoved is hands deep into his pockets. “Ladies,” he said. “I will allow you privacy and return to the other guests.”

  He slipped past them and out the door before Sam could muster the courage to meet his eyes.

  They stood in silence for what seemed like an eternity before Jude turned to depart.

  “Jude, let me explain—“ There was not much for her to say unless she confessed everything. To do that, Sam would need to understand her connection to Elijah. Was he truly only a distraction to keep boredom at bay while she was in Derbyshire, or had their relationship turned to something far beyond friendship?

  “There is no need. Lord Ridgefeld is a very handsome man. He comes from a decent, respectable family,” Jude mumbled, matter-of-factly. “You could have set your sights on a far less desirable gentleman. You will want to fix your hair and straighten your gown before we meet with Marce.”

  Jude stepped to the side, allowing Sam to flee for the safety of her room.

  Chapter 16

  The morning dawned clear and bright, not a cloud on the horizon and no chance of showers ruining Lord Cartwright and Miss Judith’s special day. Below his window, Eli watched as servants hurried to and fro; carrying large floral arrangements, massive trays of meats and cheeses, and chairs for all the guests. A long table had been arranged upon the lawn to accommodate all the guests after the nuptials were complete.

  Eli spied Lady Marce and Lord Cummings directing servants in and out of the house as the garden was transformed into a whimsical fairy tale of gold and deep burgundy ribbons, flowers, and table decorations. He would be hard-pressed to remember a setting as perfectly beautiful as the one below.

  A gentle rap sounded at his door, and Mathers hurried from Eli’s dressing closet to answer.

  “Your master’s presence is requested by Lord Cartwright in Lord Cummings’ study.”

  Eli glanced over his shoulder to see his valet nod to the maid and close the door.

  “My lord—“

  “My ears work remarkably well, Mathers,” Eli s
aid with a chuckle. “I will make my way down now.”

  As he departed his room, Elijah wondered if Miss Judith had spoken with her betrothed about the compromising situation she’d found Sam and him in the previous evening. He’d half expected Lord Cartwright or Sam’s brother to be pounding on his door before midnight, calling for pistols at dawn—on the lawn. However, now he saw they would not seek a bloody mess where the guests would dine.

  The halls were empty at this early hour, many guests still deep in slumber or preparing for the late-morning wedding.

  Eli entered the room to find Lord Cartwright studying a large book spread open on the table.

  The sandy-haired man glanced up, motioning Eli to enter.

  Lord Cartwright stared at a large map of the Americas, lightly trailing his finger across the paper in a grid-like pattern.

  “I can return later if that suits you better,” Eli said.

  “Later I will be tying myself to the most beautiful, cunning, imaginative woman I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet.” Cartwright finally glanced up from his intense study of the map. “My apologies. My sister brought this blasted map to me a few moments ago. Says there is an error somewhere on this page and bounced out of the room. Imagine, challenging me when I should be meeting with you and then preparing to shackle myself to a fiery-haired woman for all eternity.”

  When Eli made no comment, Cartwright continued, “You know several scientists have explored the topic of monogamy among warm-blooded creatures. They found every indication mammals are meant to secure a life partner and spend their days completely devoted to that one creature.” He looked to Elijah for comment, but flapped his hand instead, dismissing the topic. “Ah, well, that is neither here nor there, as it were. And Theo’s map challenge will also have to wait. Is now an optimal time to discuss what your grandfather wished to bequeath to the museum?”

  “If the time suits, but I can also wait until the morrow, if you prefer.” They’d planned to meet today; however, it was rather unconventional—in Eli’s way of thinking—to expect a man to conduct business on his wedding day. “I also do not mind putting this off until you return from your wedding travels.”