by Sahara Kelly
“You and I will return to my home for this evening. Tomorrow we shall discuss how this matter is to be best handled.” He accepted his own cloak and walked Kitty out into the cold air.
“You’re very dictatorial.” She glanced up at him. “Are you angry at the way this evening turned out?”
He shook his head. “Not at all. Quite the contrary, in fact. I’ve never actually won a formal, publicly-announced mistress before now. So I look upon this as a challenge. I have to set the standards for those who follow in our footsteps, you know.”
She smiled at his somber pronouncement. “A heavy burden, I have no doubt.”
“Indeed.” He frowned as he looked around. “Where the devil’s Harris got to?”
“Your driver?”
“Yes. He should be here. A servant was notified we were leaving…”
They looked either way, but there was no sign of the Seton-Mowbray carriage at all. The road was lined with a variety of conveyances, but not one belonged to Max.
After a few moments, a breathless servant ran to the bottom of the steps. “I’m sorry, sir. Your carriage isn’t here. T’other lad says it was borrowed by a friend of yours.”
“Damn it all to hell,” cursed Max. “This is why I try not to have friends.”
“Never mind,” said Kitty, patting his arm. “It’s only a few miles walk. We can get to know each other on the way. Do you prefer tea or coffee in the mornings?”
Her tone was light and social and Max stared at her. “You are quite close to a line I wouldn’t recommend crossing, dear Kitty.”
“A mere jest, dear Max.” She smiled up at him, an innocent gaze that she must have practiced quite a bit in front of her mirror.
“There will be retribution.” He couldn’t help but smile back. “I don’t need a few miles walk to know that you are incorrigible and in serious need of discipline.”
“Really?” She challenged him with her tone.
“Oh yes. And it will be my pleasure to administer it.” He sighed in exasperation. “If I can ever find a bloody carriage to take us home.”
“Trouble, Max old lad?”
A new voice sounded behind them, and Max turned, recognizing the owner. “Sinjun Forrester, by God. I didn’t know you were here.”
“That’s the way I like it. Pop in to these things, catch the latest on dits then move on to the next one with tidbits to share. And I should thank you most specifically, because I’ll be dining out on yours for quite some time.”
Max said nothing, just let his glare speak for him.
“Quite,” grinned his friend. “Coming on to White’s?”
“Not this time. I’m searching for a carriage, since some ex-friend has absconded with mine.”
“Well there you are then. What a stroke of luck. You can take mine, since I’m going with the Marchmains.” He leaned toward Max. “I think Alicia might be changing her mind about me. You and Miss Ridlington here have done a lot to open some previously closed…er…minds, shall we say?”
Torn between distaste at that particular notion and gratitude for the loan of a carriage, Max merely grunted.
“Send my man back, won’t you? They’re good horses, but yours are better, I’ll be bound.” Sinjun’s wave was the epitome of style as he left behind another group that had walked curiously past the conversation.
Max turned to see Kitty in the shadows of a column. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. I’ve had more than I can stand of London Society this evening.”
Kitty sighed. “I think they may have had all they can stand of us, too.”
Chapter Eight
The Forrester carriage was well up to the task of transporting Max and Kitty out to Mowbray House. There were blankets, which Kitty appreciated since the night was cold and damp, and the springs were clearly of the best quality.
Max, it seemed, was brooding. He remained silent, gazing from the window at nothing in particular, irritating Kitty who was battling her own demons and would have appreciated the distraction of civil conversation. She wasn’t sure why she had done what she’d done. Nor why Max had done what he’d done. She was now the prime topic of conversation in a great many London salons, would most likely be all over the newspapers within hours, and for the rest of her life she’d be wearing the scandal as an accessory to whatever dress she chose.
What had she done? The enormity of their actions this evening crept up and tapped her on the shoulder. She didn’t like that one bit.
“A pleasant evening.” She turned to Max, determined to engage in conversation.
“Kitty, that was a fatuous and ridiculous statement.”
She persevered. “Max, you are an oaf.”
“What?”
“At least that got your attention.” She tried to make out his expression in the darkness of the carriage. “Here I am, your new mistress—who has never been a mistress before and is completely in the dark about her duties—and you’re sitting next to me in brooding silence.”
“I’m not brooding.”
“Well if you’re not, you’re certainly giving a praiseworthy imitation of it.”
That produced a silence for a few moments. She wondered if he was brooding again.
“As my mistress, feel free to remain quiet whenever the urge takes you. One of the things I do not require is a stream of inconsequential babble.”
She sucked in an angry breath. “I never babble.”
“Then you have achieved success in the first rule of being a mistress.”
“You’re being quite unpleasant.” She sighed. “You are regretting this evening, I suppose.”
A smothered oath emanated from the shadowy presence beside her and suddenly she was seized in a grip of iron, her skirts pushed roughly upward and a cold hand thrust between her thighs. “I am not regretting this, Kitty.” He fondled her, his hands determined and powerful. “I am only regretting we’re not in my bedroom.”
She gasped as a finger slid its way into her sex. “Max…”
“Hush.” He pulled her closer and managed to undo her cloak with the one unoccupied hand. She bit back a cry of surprise as he tore her bodice as if it were tissue paper, baring her breasts to the icy air of the carriage.
She shivered, as much from what his finger was doing as from the bitter cold blast making her nipples tighten painfully. Then his hot mouth found one and she was lost.
“Oh my God…” His tongue caressed and sucked and teased her tender nub, sending fiery bolts of lightning downward toward where his finger was probing, stroking, withdrawing and entering her again. Closing her eyes, Kitty made a conscious effort to let go of her tension, to relax into Max’s touch. She was his mistress now and he could use her as he wanted.
She hoped he would want a lot of this…
“This is how I want you, Kitty,” he breathed, his lips scant inches from her throbbing breast. “Bared for my eyes, writhing for my hands, my lips…my pleasure, and yours too.”
“Yes,” she moaned. “Oh yes.”
“You will be on fire tonight. I promise.”
He withdrew from her, leaving her bereft and gasping for air. “Why did you stop?”
“Because we’re almost there.”
She had to struggle to regain her balance, to recall that they were in a carriage on the way to Mowbray House. Just those few moments beneath Max’s sensual assault…and she had lost herself.
It should have been frightening, and would have been to a well-brought up and proper lady. Pulling her clothes into some semblance of order, Kitty shrugged at herself. Obviously she was none of those things, because she wasn’t frightened at all. She was intrigued, aroused and—yes—ready for more.
“I apologise for the dress. I will, of course, provide you with another at the earliest opportunity.” He didn’t sound sorry at all.
She sat up, straightening her spine against the squabs. “I would expect no less from my new protector. The finest silk, I assume?” She kept her voice light.
&nbs
p; “If it stays cold, you might prefer flannel.”
“You have a valid point. But I doubt flannel would rip quite so readily, even under your strong grasp.”
Max chuckled. “Well played, Kitty.” She felt rather than heard him turn his head toward her. “We’ll do, you know. We’ll do well together.”
“I hope so. But we’ve certainly come a long way from a mildly shocking breakfast to…this.”
“We have. But then again, are we run-of-the-mill people? The decorous and unwed Miss Ridlington? The permanent bachelor Mr. Seton-Mowbray? Should we have met at the library and exchanged books? Or perhaps taken a daring stroll around the Elgin Marbles without a maid in attendance?”
She shook her head. “No. No, you’re right. We are definitely not those people.”
“Well then, dear Kitty.” The carriage slowed. “I have no hesitation in welcoming you to Mowbray House as my mistress. You will have a room of your own next to mine, and my staff will see you settled comfortably. And within the hour I shall expect you to be naked and awaiting my summons.” He paused for an instant. “Pleasure awaits.”
She couldn’t answer him. Unformed words trembled on her lips, but she could not find her voice. Which was a good thing, since they had arrived and a servant was already opening the door. It would not have done for the man to have overheard his master’s guest whispering “yes, I’ll be naked. Take me, Max”.
No, that would not have done at all.
*~~*~~*
Mowbray House had always prided itself on its ability to welcome anyone at any time. The staff understood the family’s needs; those who did not…well, their tenure was brief.
Deery was already at the door awaiting their arrival, and there wasn’t one flutter of an eyelash when he discovered his master was not alone.
“Good evening sir, Miss Ridlington,” he said. “I trust your journey hasn’t chilled you overmuch. There is a fire going in the small salon…” He relieved her of her cloak.
Max noted the death grip she’d developed on the edges of her purple domino. It was probably the only thing concealing her ruined gown. The thought of those breasts increased the painful hardness of his cock beneath snug breeches. A change of topic was in order.
“Deery, my carriage was appropriated by somebody at the DuClos masquerade. Sinjun Forrester loaned me his. Can you make sure it’s returned? Feed the horses and the driver beforehand, of course…”
“Indeed, sir. I will make sure it’s taken care of.”
“And let me know if my carriage shows up, would you? I’d like to know who the devil thought it was all right to take a man’s carriage without letting him know.”
“Completely inappropriate, sir.”
Max nodded. “Well, since we’re on the topic of inappropriate, you should know that Miss Ridlington has done me the honor of accepting the position of my mistress.”
“Really, sir?”
The man was amazing. One raised eyebrow greeted a statement that would have sent most of the Ton into a twitching fit of astounded horror.
Max nodded. “Yes, really. Quite publicly, too.”
Deery turned to Kitty. “In that case, you are most welcome, Miss Ridlington. Please let myself or Mrs. Garnet, our housekeeper, know of your needs?”
He wanted to laugh as Kitty’s jaw nearly dropped. But she managed to keep it in place long enough to smile and murmur her thanks.
“Right then. Obviously Miss Ridlington has no luggage at the moment; we’ll take care of fetching her belongings tomorrow. She will have the Bluebell room, Deery. I think that will be best?”
“I shall have a fire lit in there immediately, sir.”
“Excellent. I think perhaps a few of m’sister’s night things will suffice for this evening.”
“As you wish. One of the maids will attend to it. Would you care for a nightcap while the staff sets matters to rights?”
Max glanced at Kitty, pale now, and probably more than a little on edge. Then he nodded. “I believe a brandy would work well for us both. It’s been a long and unusual day.”
“So it would seem, sir.” Deery’s eyebrow rose by a scant quarter of an inch. “I would venture to say that’s an understatement.” He nodded across the hall. “You’ll find your brandy and the fire ready for you, sir, Ma’am.”
“Come, Kitty. I need that drink.” Max put his hand beneath her elbow and led her across the dark and shining floor to the small salon, where they had breakfasted only a few days before.
Deery hadn’t lied—the fire was a cheerful blaze and Max sensed Kitty relax as the heat percolated their limbs.
“I’d offer to take your domino, but I know your gown has been sadly torn.” He grinned. “I won’t apologise. It was worth it.”
She lifted her chin. “Indeed it was.”
“Liked that, did you?”
She turned her gaze to the fire. “Should I lie, or evade, or pretend? I’m not that kind of person. Yes, I liked it. And although I would apologise for my bluntness to anyone else, I don’t believe such things are necessary between us.” She looked back at him. “Am I correct in my assumption?”
He neared the fire and stood beside her. “Yes. You are correct. In fact, you have said something upon which I insist. Absolute truth between us, Kitty. No lies. Ever. You belong to me now, for all intents and purposes. I will care for your well-being and your pleasure.”
“Thank you,” she said, confusion in her eyes. “I am not sure about how to go on as your mistress.”
“Don’t worry. I shall make sure you know. As you are my mistress, I am now your Master. Do you understand what that entails?”
She bit her lip. “We shall share a bed…”
“In time.” He smiled. Here was his challenge; to introduce her to his world. “We shall do all the things you’re probably thinking about. The only difference is that you will give yourself to me freely and without restraint. When we are alone, Kitty, you will follow my dictates.”
“You want me to obey you?”
“Yes. Without question. Can you trust me enough to do that?”
She looked at him, her gaze direct and intense. “I want to.”
“Good. That’s the first step.” He sighed. “I will earn your trust, I promise you. Being your Master means you are my possession, if you will. And my responsibility is to ensure your well-being, your safety, and yes, your pleasure, at all times. If you are unhappy or uncomfortable or afraid for any reason, I have failed.”
“I doubt that you fail much, Max,” she tried for levity. “It’s not in your character.”
“You’d be surprised,” he chuckled. “But with you? No. I won’t fail.”
“I will do my best to be a good mistress, Max. But you understand I’m unsure of how to accomplish that goal. With that in mind, I trust you to forgive the many mistakes I will doubtless make…”
He saw a tiny shiver cross her skin. “Sit.” He urged her into a chair by the fire. “I’ll bring you a brandy.”
“Shouldn’t I be doing that?” She turned her head as he walked across the room.
He poured the liquor and returned with two glasses, handing her one and taking the other with him to the opposite chair. “You’re my mistress, not my servant.”
“Ah.” She sipped and closed her eyes. “This is lovely.”
“Yes, it is.” He let the liquid burn its way down his throat. She was right. The fire, the gentle silence…it was lovely.
At that moment, Max knew he’d made the right move. It might be tumultuous as far as the world was concerned, but for him? It was simply right. He vowed to make sure it was right for Kitty as well. There was a kind of comfort to be drawn from her presence; something he’d not known with any other woman, except occasionally his sister.
This was how he wanted his life to be. Full of warmth and quiet contentment, an excellent brandy, and a woman across the hearth who matched his desires in so many ways. Training her to match them all might take a lifetime….
And that was a thought Max could honestly say he’d never ever had before.
Chapter Nine
Kitty found herself with a stomach full of energetic butterflies.
The room she’d been given was beautiful, furnished with exquisite taste, and exactly what she would have expected to find in Mowbray House. There was a lovely pair of double doors leading to the corridor outside, and others leading to a large clothing cupboard, and possibly what might be another suite. She didn’t know.
The fact that she was sitting in the middle of such luxury didn’t mitigate the feel of her silk robe next to bare skin. Max had reminded her—no nightgown. She was to await his summons with no clothes at all.
It was all well and good for the master of the house to issue such dictates, but he clearly had no idea of how many times a maid might pop her head around the door to see if she had everything she needed. He would have to be informed that such a dictate was going to be almost impossible to obey.
But until that moment, all she could do was sit, stare at the fire, and try to quell those butterflies, who had gone from a quadrille, to a cotillion to a fast-paced, triple-time waltz.
Tonight would be her first true experience with sex. Lovemaking. Complete naked intimacy with a man.
The thought was somewhat frightening.
She knew the basics, of course. But in spite of her limited history with sensuality, the magnitude of the sensations Max had elicited in the conservatory had shocked her beyond belief. She’d daringly experimented when alone, and found some degree of pleasure as a result of her own touch. But again, compared to Max? A mere ripple on a quiet pond.
He had taken her to the middle of a raging river and turned her loose to be battered from rock to shore and back again.
And that was when she was fully dressed, in someone else’s conservatory. Here? Alone in his chamber? The butterflies commenced a violent Spanish fandango, which she recognized from a performance she’d seen at the theatre not long ago.
She could leave, of course. Just stand, dress, and write a note to Max. Although she had not known him for long, she believed he would let her go with a nod. He was not holding her hostage, or keeping her in this room under duress. That was not his style.
