A Proper Mistress

by Shannon Donnelly

  He raised his voice, his tone a touch stiff, "Of course, my sweet Sweet. Anything you wish! Just allow me to press my lips to yours."

  With a click, he shut the door. Molly shook her head. "Your father's not half fooled by any of this, you know."

  Theo strode across the room. Leaning against the carved post at the foot of the bed, he grinned. "Nonsense. He may be fishing the waters to see what he can catch, but his bait won't take. I've already been to see the local vicar and his spectacles just about fell off when I told him what I wanted. I also encouraged him to take his reservations to my father, so he'd stop bleating at me."

  Theo frowned at that. Bad enough to have his father trying to manage his life—and Terrance's—but it was beyond bearing for Vicar Meers to try to stick his long nose into this. Particularly when the fault for everything lay at his daughter's door.

  Molly shook her head again, her red curls tumbled loose and glinting in the candlelight. "At least he cares about you. And I can't imagine that many would welcome the likes of me as your wife."

  Theo grinned. "Lady Thorpe seemed to like you—or so I heard from the gossip at the inn today."

  The blush rose from her bare throat and spread into her cheeks. Not a hot red, but a becoming pink that gave that white skin of hers vibrancy. He decided he liked making her blush, so he unfolded his arms and came closer, sitting down on the edge of her bed.

  "Word does travel fast around here," she said. She tucked her knees up to her chest, and sat there, mouth prim, almost as if she had never had a fellow sitting on her bed.

  Or as if he planned something utterly immoral.

  Only they had business to discuss. Of course, her sitting there with a frill of lace peeking out from a rather fetching dressing robe which showed the tempting valley between her breasts did stir other ideas, but that would have to wait. Only the image of those lovely legs of hers kept intruding as well.

  "Yes, but I didn't come here to talk to you about Lady Thorpe. I'm going to need more from you than I thought I would."

  She offered a skeptical gaze from the corner of her eyes. "Your father already didn't act as you thought he would, so I don't know what more we can do."

  "Leave that to me. Your part is to be quite vulgar—remember. Make it clear you'd strip me and the estate clean if you got your claws into it."

  The skepticism in her eyes deepened. "If I'm that awful, how could anyone think you enamored of me? And, anyways, if you wanted all that, you ought to have hired a real actress!"

  Put out by her criticism, he frowned at her. "Don't you think I tried? I had one of 'em turn me down because she'd been offered a role in some nonsense called Czar of the Docklands or something at Sadler's Wells—just like an actress to think that more important than a fellow's life! And the other—well, let's just say that Sallie seemed a more reasonable person to deal with. But none of that has to do with us—you're the girl I hired, and if my father sees there's a hot-blooded infatuation between us that's utterly addled me, that's why you can be grasping as the devil...." he offered a grin. "...for I am besotted!"

  "Addled more like! And just how much 'hot-blood' did you have in mind showing him?"

  His smile warmed. "For a start, you'll have to stop glaring at me as you are doing now. And if we're seen kissing and with my hands on your...."

  "Now, just a minute, I'm a good...good business woman," Molly said, hastily amending her words. She had been about to say she was a good girl, but that wasn't what she was supposed to be. And what with him sitting so close to her the pleasantly masculine scent of him winding around her, she was having trouble remembering just what she was. "We made our bargain in London. And now here you are wanting extras—extra time, and extra....extra liberties."

  "Liberties!" He glared at her, blue eyes darkening. "As if I've take a single one with you—and the bargain you made was to get me disowned. You'll not do that acting standoffish."

  "Well, I...."

  "Oh, come now—it's only a few kisses. That's all you need agree to."

  "Nothing more?"

  "Look, I'll demonstrate. That is if I may have your permission, madam?"

  He didn't wait for her permission, but rose and took her hands, pulling her to her feet. She glared at him from the corner of her eyes, but as he had a firm grip on her, she had no choice but to stand up or fall into him, and she rather suspected he was hoping for the latter.

  Settling his arms around her waist, he abruptly dragged her close and asked, his tone all innocence, "Now, is this so bad?"

  Her pulse skittered, but she tried to stare up at him as if she'd been held so close by dozens of gentlemen. Even if she had, however, she suspected her heart might still be racing in this particular case.

  Since she had nowhere to put her hands, she braced them on his chest—and found the strength of hard muscle under her touch delightful. No wonder Sallie's girls found it hard to keep hearts and heads untangled. She knew she ought to act the cold jade, but she didn't feel cold. Heat surged through her, spreading from where his body pressed against hers, and from her palms up into her arms and across her chest.

  A tingling spiraled loose inside her.

  "You can do that much," she allowed, her voice almost steady and level.

  Leaning down, he brushed his lips across her neck and asked, his words half muffled by her skin, "And this?"

  Her knees softened, loosened along with the rest of her. She tried to stiffen them, but her body seemed to have other ideas just now. "I don't think I...."

  "Oh, for....blazes, but I'm paying the bill here, and if it's a few kisses it takes to get my father to turn me out, then it's a few kisses you're going to have to allow, my girl."

  She stared at him, wide-eyed. His eyes looked almost black as he glared at her.

  Without warning, he bunched her hair in one hand and with the other he captured her chin. And his mouth lowered to cover hers.

  CHAPTER TEN

  She tasted of apricots. Blazes, but that's just what she was like—lush and ripe and soft and round. She folded into his arms with a soft whimper—only this was no muffled cry of resistance, but a warm, welcoming sound of pleasure.

  Her arms came about his neck, pulling him to her. Yet, for all the experience she must have, she kissed like a girl—awkward with where to fit her nose, her lips closed. Nibbling gently on that lush mouth, he teased his way deeper, his own desire rising as her lips parted.

  He wanted more. But he had no right to take without asking.

  Pulling away, his breath uneven, he stared down at her. Her eyes seemed enormous—and thick, red-tinged lashes swept down over the green, veiling her gaze.

  He still had hold of her chin, so he nudged it up, and wounds the fingers of his other hand even deeper into her curls.

  Voice thick, and with her fingers playing with the strands of his hair at the back of his neck, she said, "Well, I supposed we could do a little of that—just for show mind."

  The corner of his mouth quirked. "And might I not perhaps brush my fingers across your cheek?" He matched action to his words and said, the words dragged from him, "You've skin fine as silk."

  She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch for a moment before she straightened and pulled back. "Ah, now, this is all going to lead to more."

  He damned well hoped it would. Fitting his hands to her trim waist again, he dragged her closer, pressing soft curves against him. "Such as to my holding your body like this?"

  Lowering her hands from around his neck, she braced the heels of her palms against his chest and stared up at him, sharp reason returning to her eyes.

  "You can't afford this, ducks."

  "How do you know? Name your price for how much to cup my hands around your naked breasts and feel their softness?" Lifting his hands, he ran them down her sides, brushing his fingertips against the outside swell of her breasts before he tightened his hold on her waist again.

  Color stained her cheeks almost as if she were embarrassed by such int
imacy, but her breath quickened to match the pounding that had started in him. Yet, still she held him back.

  She could drive a man to think of marriage—or anything else to get her into his bed.

  Voice not quite steady, but with a disapproving amusement, she said, "D'you think I'll sell my favors piecemeal? Like bargains at a street fair?"

  He grinned. "Oh, you're a bargain—a fair, sweet bargain. We fit well together—you can feel it, too. I know you can. Come, let me spend the night with you, my sweet Sweet."

  She shook her head, and said again, "You can't afford it."

  "Then name something I can afford? Perhaps to undress you? Just to see you stand naked in the firelight? Or how much to slip my hands along the length of your leg and trace the lines from ankles to the backs of your knees and up to those delicious round hips? Or to lay kisses each place where I touch? How much for all that?"

  She wet her lips. He could see the pulse pounding in the hollow of her throat. "Two hundred pounds."

  He grinned. "And how much more to lay with you?"

  "A thousand," she shot back.

  "What!" He pushed her back. "Not even a discount for what I've already paid?"

  She shook her head, and the red of her curls danced. "I told you—I'm a good business woman."

  Frustration pooled in him. Almost he blurted out that he'd pay her price—any price—to lay with her now. Only he fought to cool his senses. He'd feel a damn fool in the morning to have promised so much for what he could have from any tavern wench for a few shillings. Only she wasn't a tavern wench. No, there had been times over these past few days when he had almost forgotten she was a woman for hire. She had the manners to fool almost anyone into thinking her more a lady than a Cyprian. Blazes, no wonder she commanded such prices, for she had the best skill he had ever seen—or tasted—of pretended innocence.

  He would swear that kiss had stirred the same passion in her as she ignited in him. But he could not really judge with her what was real. And a thousand to satisfy his curiosity about that seemed beyond any sense.

  He still wished he had the money to throw away on her.

  With a crooked smile, he let her go. He was still half-tempted to take her up on paying two hundred to see her stripped bare, but she had pegged it right—it wouldn't stop there. So he would try to content himself with the kisses and stolen touches she had agreed to give.

  Either that or mortgage his soul.

  Stepping away, he said, "You set a fierce price."

  For a moment, he could swear she almost looked disappointed. Which meant he had some hope that he might yet charm more from her—without the pounds spent. Well, he would leave her tonight—and he would see what tomorrow brought.

  He flicked her nose with one finger. "Good night, my sweet Sweet."

  He started for the door, but as his hand touched the cool, brass knob, her voice stopped him.

  "I've never been kissed like that—I mean, that is...well, I just want you to know it was special. I mean that."

  Glancing back at her, he saw that she stood with one arm wrapped about the bedpost, her head tilted and that glorious red hair spilling loose.

  Lord, but she tempted. However, he had hold of himself again. He sketched a bow. "I'll have sweet dreams tonight, my Molly."

  Theo let himself from the room, shut the door behind him with a quiet snick. And Molly hugged the bedpost even tighter, as if it might keep her standing upright and not melting into a sizzling puddle.

  She was the one besotted to allow such liberties. She pressed one hand to her hot cheek to where his fingers had touched. And then to lips still tender from that kiss. Oh, and to have told him it was special.

  She put a hand over her eyes.

  All just to see him smile.

  But, well, she had wanted him to know that he was special. Folks needed to be told that, and if his father had ever told him that, Theo and his father probably wouldn't be at loggerheads now.

  Only that was nothing to do with her, either.

  She would just have to be more careful. Far, far more careful. He had the experience she lacked. If she allowed him too many freedoms, he would soon know her for a fraud. She ought to keep him at arm's length and not let him guess her as a virgin who knew about as much as love-making as a nun.

  But not one bit of her wanted to heed such sensible thoughts.

  She knew what went on between a gentleman and a hired woman—it had been impossible to avoid seeing what went on in Sallie's house, or hearing it. She knew the bad of it, and the good.

  Who was to say she couldn't have just a bit of fun with Theo? After all, she knew her way around a hot stove and an open fire, so there was hope that she might play a bit with both and not get burned.

  And if that's not wishful thinking, Molly-may, I don't know what is!

  #

  Theo came downstairs early, whistling, only to be met by his glowering father in the breakfast room. Theo broke off his tune. The squire glared at him from over the top of The London Times. At least the dogs offered a good morning to him, tongues lolling, panting happily and ready to lick his hand or lean against his legs.

  He gave his father a nod, and the squire snapped his newspaper straight and disappeared behind it. With a shrug, Theo took up a plate and set to filling it from the sideboard with buttered eggs, Wiltshire bacon, and smoked kippers. After pouring himself a tankard of ale from the pottery jug, he settled himself at the table, the dogs tucking themselves at his feet.

  "So what did you think of Miss Sweet?" Theo asked.

  The squire lowered his paper, offered a scornful glanced at Theo, and raised it again.

  Theo went on talking between bites. "I spoke to Meers. He'll start calling the bans this Sunday—all that nonsense about asking anyone if there is any reason we should not marry."

  The paper snapped again and a grunt came from behind it.

  His temper starting simmering, Theo glared at the front and back page of The London Times. However, he had to keep control of himself, or he would say too much, or too much of the wrong thing.

  And then the idea struck him.

  That was exactly what his father wished to do—goad him into revealing too much. Well, that trick wouldn't work. No, indeed. He would not be the first one to blink here. Let the old man think again on that!

  Stretching, he manufactured a yawn. "Blazes but that Molly can snore." His comment pulled no reaction, so he added, "I swear I'm half starved from all that exertion last night! Lord, she'll wear me to the bone before the wedding day's half here."

  Still the squire said nothing, but Theo felt certain he had at least made it clear just what sort of woman he had brought home for a bride. That cheered him and gave him reason to wolf down his food. Finishing his ale, he rose. The dogs rose as well, coming out from the table to see what sport waited.

  "I'm off for a ride."

  At that, the squire glanced over his paper. "Not waiting for your intended to come downstairs?"

  "Oh, she's not one for early hours," Theo said, knowing that his father despised laziness more than any other sin. "I swear, she'd stay in bed all day if she could."

  This drew a disgusted snort and the squire disappeared behind his paper again.

  With a ruffle to each set of floppy ears, Theo strolled from the room and headed for the stables. But his food lay heavy in his stomach and his shoulders did not relax. Blazes, but his father could be a damned uncomfortable man. Frowning, Theo wondered if perhaps, just to be on the safe side, it might not be bad if he found a reason to stay out of the house for the day. And it wouldn't be such a bad thing if that forced Molly and his father to spend some time with each other—particularly if Molly set out to do her worst.

  With that, he made for the front door.

  And he told himself he wasn't escaping—he was just following a wise course of avoiding too much time with his father.

  #

  Washed, with her curls caught up in a green ribbon and her stripped gown
freshly pressed, Molly found her way through the maze of the house. Its path, she decided, were as confusing as her feelings this morning. Part of her argued for a hard-headed stance of allowing no more intimacies such as last night. But that was not what she had agreed upon, nor was it really very helpful to Theo in losing his inheritance. Most of all, while it might be sensible, it did not fit with what she wanted.

  So perhaps she could just think of her fifty pounds whenever he kissed her.

  She doubted she would do that.

  When Theo had had his arms around her, she had not felt a level-headed business woman. She'd felt floaty and warm and all soft in a way that had nothing to do with any sort of business. It seems she'd been wise to avoid Sallie's trade, but would she feel this way with other gentlemen? She did not think so, for she certainly had not felt anything for the gentleman Sallie had first tried to use to stir her interest. But something about Theo stirred her.

  She had lain awake last night, thinking about him and about her reaction to his kiss. Was it just that he was so handsome? She could stare at him all day, really. Or was it that no one had ever smiled at her with such charm? Or was she vulnerable because she had never had a beau before?

  Not for lack of chance, of course. When she had left St. Marylebone's for her first position—as a scullery maid at Mr. Dillington's home at Number Seven, Great Queen Street—there had been a second footman who seemed quite taken with her. And there was the butcher in Knightsbridge now who added an extra quarter pound on her orders, and who kept the freshest sausage for her. Even Sallie had said that with her hair and figure she'd not lack for gentlemen if she wished it.

  Only she had never been particularly interested.

  Or had just been too particular. The second footman, even though he had had lovely blond curls, had also had the most off-putting braying laugh. And the butcher, a heavy-set man, carried with him the unattractive odor of blood and onions, which he seemed to eat raw.