The Mistress Enchants Her Marquis

by Christina McKnight

  Eli shoved his hands deep into his pockets, frustrated that he’d allowed such a mess to develop.

  His grandfather hadn’t embarked on any journey that did not suit his needs and wants. The old man had wanted to see Africa, and so he did. Longed to travel along the clear beaches of Greece. Felt inspired by the ruins in Egypt. He’d traveled near and far because it gave him pleasure, happiness, and purpose.

  The late marquis would want nothing less for his grandson.

  That Eli’s happiness lay with a woman should not make it less important.

  Happiness was happiness, no matter the form it took.

  However, the evening had shown Eli one very important thing: Sam appeared happy without him. While his future depended on her, Sam’s may not be contingent on him.

  “I should leave now, depart—return home,” he mumbled. At some point, he’d stopped pacing and stood stock-still, his eyes unfocused as his mind swirled. Certainly, it would injure him far less to never voice his deep affection for her as opposed to speaking out and having his feelings thrown back in his face when she informed him that she’d chosen another. “It is ludicrous to think matters of the heart are worth all of this—“

  A sharp inhale and the groan of an opening door had Elijah spinning around, an explanation on the tip of his tongue. Dreadfully embarrassing to be caught mumbling to oneself in a darkened, deserted hallway in an unfamiliar house.

  “My apologies—“ He could not bring himself to utter another word through his tightened throat. His eyes widened as a gowned figure stepped from the room down the hall.

  His eyes focused on her feet as she walked toward him, her muddied, slippered toes peeking out from below her long, satin dress. As she came near, his gaze traveled to her narrow waist, a sash tied about it, and farther heavenward to her daringly low bodice. As much as he tried, Eli could not keep from taking in the beauty of her face, her auburn hair piled high atop her head with a ribbon pinned within her curls, and the teardrop earbobs that only brought attention to her long, graceful neck.

  How much of his ramblings had she heard?

  The only question overshadowing that thought was where the raven-haired lord had disappeared to. Did he await Sam’s return in the dark recesses of the room she’d exited? The thought of another man having impure thoughts about Sam—touching her, kissing her, holding her—caused spots to invade his vision.

  “Miss Samantha!” Though he’d kept watch on her from afar all evening, up close, she was exactly as he remembered. His mind’s wandering over the long six weeks had never veered far from the truth: her delicate, unblemished skin was that of a proper English rose; her straight back and lifted chin showed her confidence and trust in her own worth.

  She was elegance personified. She was demure, yet commanding. She was well-spoken and poised.

  What her narrowed eyes, and silent perusal of him said was a mystery.

  Her lips pulled back in a smile, a grin he’d never witnessed before though it was familiar, sparking memories of a long ago time…in a place far from London.

  Her assessing glare, solid yet unassuming movements, and the hypnotic sway of her hips kept him focused solely on the progress she made toward him. He was helpless to look away. Unable to say a word.

  Powerless to run, yet incapable of screaming for help.

  She was the lioness of the African safari…ready to attack.

  And Eli was her prey.

  As she bore down on him, he noted the fury in her eyes, the anger in her steps, and the solid set of her shoulders.

  Yet, he was too weak to break eye contact, too fragile to even know he should run.

  He was caught in her snare, entranced—so much so he truly believed he would revel in her wrath.

  Chapter 21

  Her gaze flashed red as she stopped before him, and he instantly reached out for her, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

  How dare Elijah show his face tonight—of all nights—at a ball thrown in her sister’s honor? After everything he’d done—or not done, as was the case—to waltz into Lord Chastain’s home and pretend he had any sort of tender for her. Ridgefeld could not be so foolish as to think she would believe anything he said.

  Sam flinched at the contact before stiffening to resist his hold. Her arms hung loosely at her sides as she waited for him to release her. The urge to accept his warmth, to melt into his embrace and give in to her desires for him was strong. No matter what delusions spun through her mind, she always returned to the bottom line: he’d left her.

  Without a backwards glance, without a note of parting, without a final word.

  Elijah Watson, Lord Ridgefeld, had elicited emotions from her Sam never dreamed possible. He’d stood by and listened to her family’s darkest secrets, comforted her during a difficult time, and pledged to be at her side until she departed for London.

  Instead, he’d proven that every man was as she’d feared: the same as her father and Lord Proctor. Their intentions were to lie, cheat, and steal until they gained exactly what they desired. Elijah was no different. His actions had proven it to be fact.

  He released her and stepped back. With that movement fled the smell of him: sandalwood and musk. As if he’d spent his day hard at work in a stable.

  She needs must remind herself she was in the right and that Elijah had been in the wrong.

  “Miss Samantha,” he stammered. “I was preparing to look for you.”

  “Is that so, my lord?” Sam crossed her arms when he made to step toward her once more and leveled her stare on him. “Whatever for?”

  “Yes, it—“

  “Ironic, because I searched for you at Hollybrooke the morn of my sister’s wedding. Imagine my surprise when I discovered you’d left…without so much as a parting word to me.” She would not express how much it had injured her that day. His abandoning her had cut deeper than any wound her stranger of a father could inflict upon her. “Envision my feebleminded appearance as I argued with my brother over the misconception. You, Lord Ridgefeld, had made a promise to me. There was no way you would turn tail and run.”

  “That was not the way of things.” Elijah held his arms out to her, begging her with his eyes to step into his embrace, but Sam only took a step back, increasing the distance between them. “I have much to explain.”

  “Unfortunately, I have no wish to listen.” Hear his excuses, his rationalization, his need to explain away the injury he’d caused her. “And even less desire to be standing here with you.”

  “I do not understand…” His eyes widened. “Sam, I would do you no harm, ever. You must believe me. It was not my idea to depart Hollybrooke. I would have stayed if it were an option; however, it was not. The decision was not mine to make.”

  Sam focused on her anger on him, allowing his words to wash over her, unheard. She’d believed him once and had been made a fool. That would not happen again.

  “Miss Samantha,” he continued. “Let us return to the ballroom. I will fetch you a drink. We can stroll about the terrace and talk.”

  “No.” One word, but it tore at her heart to utter it. She needed him to hear her and walk away…before her resolve crumbled.

  “Then tomorrow. I will call on you. We can spend the afternoon at Hyde Park.”

  “That will not be happening.”

  His eyes went vacant, and he wavered where he stood. “I have journeyed all this way.”

  “To deliver your family treasures to the museum.”

  “But that is not the only reason,” he rushed. “I could have arranged the transport without seeing to it myself.”

  “Your comings and goings are of little concern to me,” she muttered. It would be wise to turn and return to the ballroom, pray he didn’t follow her, hope he didn’t continue to spout his words of defense. “I bid you good eve, my lord.”

  He grasped her arm but quickly loosened his hold and settled his hand lightly on her forearm. His touch didn’t prevent her from departing; it was his eyes that kep
t her frozen in place. They held the softness she was used to seeing, but there was something more there. Something reaching farther than the storm clouds that waited just below the surface. It was exactly what she’d noted in him that first day: something within struggling to break free of the sorrow that shrouded him.

  Sam shook her head to clear her thoughts and push down her body’s treacherous betrayal.

  “Please, Sam,” he whispered. “Allow me to escort you back to the ballroom, and I will explain everything. But you must know that I care for you deeply.”

  She shuddered to think how he would have treated her if he didn’t care for her deeply. Her heartbeat spiked as her thoughts turned even more treacherous; his arms around her, his lips pressed to her throat, and the hard length of his arousal unmistakably pressed against her, creating a longing, a desire she’d only dreamed of in recent weeks.

  “I will remain in London…fulfill my promise to you,” he said, running his hand through his hair, disheveling his locks. “I will stay as long as you think it will take for me to satisfy our previous bargain. Or any new arrangement that suits.”

  She wanted to believe he spoke the truth, longed for him to stay in London, but instead she asked, “What leads you to believe I am in need of your company now that I’ve returned home to London?”

  She raised a brow as he remained silent, forcing him to speak.

  “I, well—” he started before pausing to take a deep breath. “If you are spoken for or find yourself enamored with another gentleman, I will do the honorable thing and step aside.”

  “I did not say anything about another gentleman.” Could Elijah know of Lord Proctor, have seen their intimate embrace? Certainly not. “It is only…”

  “What?” he prodded. “Sam, I will do anything to prove that my devotion to you is pure.”

  Sam tapped her chin as she thought over his proposal. There was the fiasco with Proctor to consider. The man thought her in search of a benefactor. It was appalling and insulting. And she could not forget Gunther’s continued interest in her. As one of Lord Cartwright’s friends, it would be hard to dissuade Marce and Garrett if Gunther sought a true courtship. The man was titled, wealthy, and would provide for Sam in a manner befitting her needs.

  “You swear you will not leave again?” Hurriedly she added, “—until I say your promise is fulfilled?”

  “Of course, you have my word.” The tension seeped from his shoulders, thinking he’d won their battle. There was much the man need learn. “Do you accept?”

  Why did she sense that more than his stay in London hinged on her answer? “I have not decided as yet.” She would not give in so readily…and maybe… “However, I fear our original agreement will no longer suit.”

  He frowned, and his brow furrowed. It was the first instance of unease she’d noted since she’d confronted him. If he suspected she was assessing how to use his offer to her greatest advantage, he didn’t speak to that fact.

  “Then I will bid you a pleasant evening,” he said with a curt bow. “Do accept my apologies for interrupting you.”

  He made to walk past her without so much as offering his arm to escort her back to the ball. Yet, that was exactly what she’d wanted him to do only a moment before.

  Now, she wasn’t so sure.

  Two could play at this game. She turned swiftly, setting her arm on his sleeve, falling into step beside him.

  “May I propose a new agreement?” she asked, not daring to glance up at him. As much as Sam would have relished allowing him to walk away, making him to feel a small measure of the pain she’d felt, she admitted to herself that she needed him. No…she wanted him at her side. It was preposterous to contemplate. He’d abandoned her, but only after burrowing into her heart. He’d taken a piece of her with him. It was only proper she return the favor.

  His steps faltered. “Certainly. I owe you at least the opportunity to set new terms.”

  Sam couldn’t help but wonder why he cared if she pushed him away. He’d left her, not the other way around. What did this change in him signify? Why seek her out at all?

  It made little sense to her.

  However, if she could lead Proctor and Gunther to believe she was spoken for, then it would serve her purpose. “London is far different than our time in Derbyshire. Society standards dictate something far different than the blasé nature of country house parties. There are appearances to uphold. Places to be seen. People to charm. Is this something you are willing to navigate with me?”

  They approached the ballroom, and with it their freedom to speak freely.

  “You have my attention, Miss Samantha.” He halted before they joined the other guests.

  A sense of victory filled her. It would not be difficult to ensure that Elijah fell head over heels in love with her. She was stunning, charming, and a diamond of the first water. Only then would she do to him what he’d done to her.

  Sam risked a glance at him from the corner of her eye.

  She inhaled sharply. Certainly, his smirk did not mean he thought he held the cards.

  Chapter 22

  Eli pulled Sam as close to his side as propriety allowed as they stepped through the open double doors and into the ballroom. Many people turned in their direction—some expressions filled with surprise, others with envy, and many with indifference. On the surface, he and Sam were only another pair of finely dressed people entering a room filled to bursting with other extravagantly adorned couples. Yet, he knew there was much more to his and Sam’s connection.

  How far he’d have to go to prove that point was still to be determined.

  Surveying the room, Eli located Lord Gunther and then the raven-haired lord.

  Never once did he allow his smile to falter, though envy clawed at his insides. On his arm was the most enchanting woman in the room. Her cunning only added to her allure. Eli dared any man to disagree.

  From the raw, jealous stares sent his way, not a single man—spoken for or not—would argue with his assessment.

  “I am yours to command,” he reassured her. “You only need say the word.”

  “Firstly.” She stepped down into the ballroom. “You shall attend me at all social functions.”

  “That is much as it was at Hollybrooke.” He nodded his agreement.

  “Secondly, you will escort me when I wish it,” she paused, smiling to a couple as they passed. “Good eve, Lord and Lady Michaelson. I do hope you enjoyed the meal.” She returned her focus to him. “Wherever I wish to go.”

  Eli nodded to the unfamiliar pair as they passed, noting the way the man kept a close watch on Sam, and the lady narrowed her eyes as her husband gawked.

  “We did, thank you,” Lord Michaelson said as the couple moved on.

  Sam leaned toward him and whispered. “They are unsure if I am me or Judith.”

  “A pity.” He steered her toward the far wall that led to the refreshment table, and away from Lord Gunther. The raven-haired lord had disappeared into the card room. “Do enlighten me on where exactly you would have me escort you.”

  She waved her hand, as if to say it wasn’t important. “I have yet to decide, my lord.”

  “And the third condition to our agreement?”

  “If I become entangled in a conversation I wish to be rescued from, I will give you a signal, and you will come to my aid, no matter who I am speaking with.”

  It sounded simple enough, and much in line with what Eli had hoped for them. She was asking him to court her…in not so many words, but her meaning could not be any clearer. He would oblige her until she was able to admit she too felt attraction for him.

  “Am I allowed a question, or two?”

  “Certainly, my lord.” They reached the refreshment table and accepted flutes of champagne from a servant before turning. He maneuvered her toward the terrace. However, she seemed agreeable to his intended destination. “I might even allow three.”

  He took a sip of his drink to hide his smile before clearing his thro
at. “In our previous agreement, I was also reaping a benefit. With these new terms, what will I gain?”

  “The same, of course,” she retorted. “I will keep the marriage-hungry maidens at bay.”

  “And…”

  “And what?”

  “You are now asking for more in this arrangement. It is only fair that things continue to be mutually beneficial to us both.” He knew he risked having her walk away, call off the arrangement altogether; however, he could not allow her to treat him like her own personal lap dog. He longed for nothing more than to continue their relationship, but at the expense of his manhood? That was not an option for him.

  She remained quiet as they stepped out onto the terrace. The nightly breeze had subsided, and the cold had turned to a mild chill, though not many braved the elements in the outdoor area. It served Elijah and his need for privacy.

  Sam gave a short laugh. “My lord, it is you who owes me, not the other way around.”

  “Be that as it may,” Eli continued, “I haven’t any notion what exactly you expect from me.”

  Sam touched her fingertip to her lip in thought. “A kiss.”

  “A single kiss?” A single kiss would never be enough to satisfy the ever-increasing need within him.

  They paused at the terrace railing, and she removed her hand from his sleeve, placing both gloves on the cold rock wall. “A kiss is a most generous offering.”

  “I did not say it was not.” He matched her stance and stared out into the dark night beyond. “However, no contract is legally binding nor in good faith if both parties do not receive mutual satisfaction.”

  “And what do you suggest to make this arrangement more…mutually beneficial for us both?”

  “A kiss for each time I escort you. A kiss for each task I complete.” In a way, he knew this new proposal played greatly in his favor. If anything were to spark a deep desire in her, it was another kiss. Many more kisses, if he were lucky. “Simple and uncomplicated.”