The Mistress Wager: A Risqué Regency Romance (The Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington Book 4)

by Sahara Kelly

  “Thank you, Deery. I’m thrilled to be here.” She turned in his arms. “You can put me down, you know.”

  “Yes, but I don’t want to.” He glanced at her. “I’m quite happy with the way things are.”

  “Oh.” She thought about that. “Very well, then. Carry on.”

  “I intend to.” He smirked. “Deery, if you would lock up? We will be retiring immediately and will not need anything else tonight. My wife’s maid can deal with all the arrangements in the morning.”

  “Very good, sir.” Deery bowed.

  Turning, Max eagerly headed for the stairs. Then he paused. “Oh, Deery? Would you make sure my sister joins us for breakfast, and send an invitation around to Sir Peregrine’s first thing. I’d like him here too if it’s not too early.”

  “As you wish, sir.” Deery bowed again.

  “Good night.”

  “And to you, sir. Madam.”

  Max was almost at the top of the stairs and barely heard his butler’s last words. He was too intent on his wife—and the way she was looking at him.

  *~~*~~*

  Welcome home.

  Deery’s words rang in Kitty’s ears as her husband carried her upstairs and down the corridor to his rooms. She looked at him, his face so strong and determined, and yet—when he glanced down at her—an expression of something like hunger flickered in his eyes.

  She felt desire sweep over her, followed by heat and a desperate need to touch him. To run her hands over his skin, to smell his fragrance, to learn every inch of him over and over again.

  She licked her lips. “Hurry.”

  He nearly tripped over the threshold to his bedchamber, and she laughed as he stumbled them both to the bed and dropped her on it with a grunt. “I am.”

  She slid off the quilt and kicked her slippers off, reaching for the ties at her knees to release her stockings. He tore off his jacket and waistcoat, cursing when his cravat refused to unravel immediately.

  Her stockings joined her slippers on the floor, next to Max’s boots. He threw his cravat on the bed and his shirt fell away in seconds.

  Kitty purred at the sight, went to him and turned her back, lifting the heavy curls of hair away from her neck. She jumped at the sensation of his teeth grazing her skin as his fingers went to work on her lacings. In moments her dress was a pile of shot silk on the carpet, and his hands were on her body, pulling away the delicate silk undergarments, leaving her naked and breathless.

  “My necklace,” she said, keeping her back to him.

  “Just a second…”

  She heard noises and realized he’d shed his breeches. Then the clasp of her necklace loosened and she reached up to catch it in her hands.

  “Wait.”

  She froze at the command, shivering a little as she recognized the sound. “All right.”

  “Leave the necklace where it is for a minute. Put your hands behind you.”

  Doing as she was bid, Kitty jumped as she felt his cravat—linking her wrists as he firmly tied them in place. “Max?”

  “Sssh.” He tested the bonds and apparently found them to his satisfaction. “Now. Turn around.”

  She did, eagerly, although frustrated that she could not touch him. She pulled a little at the fabric binding her wrists.

  “Not too tight?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No, but…”

  He put a finger on her lips. “You promised to obey me, wife. Obey.”

  Her head lowered in silent assent, and she waited for his command. It came quickly.

  “Onto the bed, please. Head on the pillow, lying on your back.” He helped her mount the tall bed, and made sure her hands were as comfortable as possible, given her position. “Good. Good girl.” He leaned over and kissed her, a long deep mingling of tongues and lips and breaths.

  Kitty’s heart swelled at the embrace, and she took a deep breath as he finally took off her necklace and held it up to the light.

  “This could have been made for you. My grandmother would be proud.”

  A sting of unshed tears made her blink, and then she jumped as the diamonds touched her nipple. He was dragging the gems over her skin, each one a cool, unyielding, sharp-edged bite of arousal. The moan crept from her throat and she could not hold it back. But it seemed to please him as he played with her nipples and her jewels with equal pleasure.

  Each caress sent shivers of sensation darting low in her body and eventually she could no longer keep still. The moisture was dampening her thighs and she ached with the emptiness between them.

  “You are needy, my sweet.”

  She glared at him.

  “Perhaps my fingers would ease your need.” He stroked downward, over her belly, to find the soft curls at the junction of her legs, letting the necklace slide away. “But that would leave your breasts untended. That will never do.”

  His head lowered, his mouth opened, and he sucked, strongly, eliciting a cry of pleasure from her throat. At the same moment, he slid a finger inside her, moving it around, teasing honeyed liquid from her inner darkness.

  It was sensual torture, and her hips responded by lifting from the bed toward him, an unmistakeable plea he was apparently going to ignore. At least for now.

  He withdrew his hand and gave her swollen sex a tiny, sharp slap.

  She gasped. “Ow…” Then subsided, breathing hard, as the area he’d punished heated and grew incredibly sensitive.

  He suckled her again, hard, nibbling at the hard nipple as he delivered one more slap to her pussy. “Mmm.” His murmur resounded throughout her body, stoking the fire that was already burning, hot flames licking down her limbs as she moved restlessly against the onslaught of his desire.

  He climbed up onto the quilt, pushing her legs wide. She parted them with alacrity, hoping that now he would put his own hard flesh inside her, rather than his fingers.

  He paused, looking at her, sprawled helpless before him. “My wife.”

  The words surprised her, since they were more of a whispered thought than a command.

  She nodded. “Yes. I’m your wife.”

  He reached for her hips as he knelt above her, pulling her forward, lifting her and finally thrusting his cock deep within her slick folds. “My wife.”

  She struggled, her bound wrists an annoyance that was becoming a severe cause of distress. She wanted to touch him, to join with him on equal terms. This night of all nights should be filled with mutual pleasure.

  He smiled as he saw her fighting to free herself. “Wait.”

  She eased, wondering what would come next. But instead of some new punishment, he leaned forward and lifted her into a sitting position, tucking her legs around him as he moved his to a more comfortable position. Kitty found herself sitting on her husband’s lap, his cock inside her, and their chests all but touching. His arms went around her and untied the cravat.

  “Oh thank God,” she whispered, slinging her arms around his neck. “Better.”

  Catching on to this new position, she tightened her legs around him, working their bodies into an embrace that locked them together.

  Thus joined, she stared into his eyes, knowing the fire would explode before too long. “I must tell you something.” She breathed the words into the inches of space between their lips. “I love you, husband.”

  His arms tightened around her and he leaned his forehead against hers. “I love you too.”

  Then he moved, as did she, and it was passion, whispered sighs of limbs moving faster and faster to a crescendo, and finally cries as both Max and Kitty let themselves go and clung to each other as the raging inferno claimed them.

  They collapsed in a heap, caring not which leg ended where or whose hand was trapped beneath whose shoulder.

  “Ouch.” Max groaned and shifted, reaching beneath him. “These are pretty, but I think they just stabbed my arse.” He extracted the necklace cautiously from the tangled linens.

  “They weren’t designed to be treated so cavalierly, you know,
” observed Kitty as she settled herself between the covers.

  “Everything is designed to be treated cavalierly, if you know the right way to do it,” answered Max, with a tired grin. “Even wives.”

  “Especially wives.” She cuddled close, knowing he’d turn her and pull her into his arms.

  They were quiet for a while, regaining their breath, and simply enjoying the calm after the storm.

  “I meant what I said, Max.” She pulled his arm more tightly around her. “I can’t put my finger on the moment it happened, but today…there it was.”

  “Yes,” he murmured. “That discovery hit me over the head with a brick today as well. We are well matched, love. Fate put us together, perhaps knowing we were already half-enamored of each other.”

  “Possibly.” She sighed. “Shall you like having a wife?”

  He chuckled. “I think so, yes. And I will try and make sure you like having a husband.”

  She smiled into the pillow. “Just keep doing what you did tonight, and I will like it very much indeed.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The next morning began a little behind schedule, due to some quite understandable occurrences between a couple so newly married. However, they managed to drag themselves to the parlor for breakfast only an hour later than usual. Something which, given their morning activities, might have been considered quite speedy.

  “You two look like…” Grace hid a laugh in her napkin. “Well, let’s just say you look married.”

  Perry, who was finishing off his toast, nodded. “Agreed. I was rather surprised to get your note this morning. I’d assumed, mistakenly it would seem, that you would both be recuperating from yesterday.”

  “We were.” Max poured tea, and helped himself to eggs.

  “Hmm. I’ve not heard it called that before.” Grace raised an amused eyebrow.

  “Grace.” Kitty sat down. “I’m shocked.”

  “Enough,” sighed Max, knowing this banter would continue unless he put a stop to it. “I wanted you both to be here, not because I can’t get enough of your witty comments, but because I have information I think you’ll find quite surprising.”

  “Oh yes,” Grace sat up. “The ball. You were going to find Miller-James’s mistress, weren’t you?”

  “We did,” said Kitty. “I’m not quite sure what to make of her, but I think she was genuinely distressed at his death.”

  “We managed to get her talking,” added Max. “She confirmed Dancey owned the carriage company, but that he wasn’t a business man of much repute. He left most things to his managers.” He sipped tea. “However, she let on that he was extremely competitive about his company being the best, and so on. She commented on his association with some people who were not of the first stare. Did she know they were sabotaging other carriages? I’m not sure.”

  “I think she had a strong suspicion, Max,” Kitty put in. “She might not be brilliant, but she’s not stupid either. And there was no surprise when you mentioned the accidents happening to Whetstone and Frank’s carriages.”

  “So you think these other people were doing the actual sabotage?”

  “Probably yes.” He stood and fetched more eggs, returning to the table and seating himself before continuing. “Dancey wouldn’t want his hands dirty, and I doubt anyone who took pride in what they made would deliberately then make it fail. So that eliminates the workers. Whether the manager knew or not, I have no idea. But I wouldn’t put it past Dancey to buy him off if he had to. The man had a goodly sized fortune and could have done so without a blink.”

  “All well and good, Max,” said Perry, his expression serious. “But none of this helps us understand why Miller-James took your carriage. If he was behind these heinous acts, or had the remotest idea they were going on—which is pretty obvious that he did—surely he wouldn’t be stupid enough to actually use one himself?”

  “I have the same question, Max. Something is wrong with the picture you’re painting.”

  “You’re right, and I have to say that caused me no end of frustration.” Max looked at the three faces staring at him from around the table. “And I was unable to come up with an answer until I put two small pieces of this puzzle together.” He paused, simply because he couldn’t help himself. They were hanging on his every word and he was enjoying every minute of it.

  “Max…” threatened Kitty.

  He grinned. “All right. Remember we’re dealing with two carriage makers, newcomers, both of whom have excellent and similar designs.”

  Perry sucked in air and sat back, but said nothing. Grace and Kitty both frowned.

  “We detoured last night on the way home, back to the DuClos mansion, where all this began. It took me quite some time and more than a few shillings, but eventually I found a boy loitering who remembered my carriage, and the couple who took it. Your sister, Kitty. She is somewhat of an angelic presence, according to this lad, but his description was close enough. He remembers Hecate.”

  “He saw them take the carriage?”

  “More than that,” answered Max, his face sober. “This lad was finally persuaded to reveal what he was doing hanging around the carriages at that hour. It took several shillings for him to tell me the man had paid him to saw through a couple of spokes earlier in the evening.”

  “Which man?” said Kitty, “Which man, Max?”

  “None other than our own villain, Dancey Miller-James.”

  Silence fell around the table as they digested this impossible statement.

  “Wait…” Kitty held up a hand. “He paid a child to saw through the spokes of a carriage he knew he was going to ride in? That makes no sense…”

  “Did he know it was your carriage, Max?” Grace was looking confused.

  “I believe he did, Grace. I also believe, thanks to Lady Weston, that Dancey himself had made a huge mistake…”

  “Oh,” cried Kitty. “He thought your carriage was a Kanehall. He told her so, didn’t he…she boasted of that last night.”

  “Yes. Exactly.” Max smiled at her. “Dancey took his sabotage technique and applied it to my carriage. It was really quite clever.”

  “But to what end?” Perry posed the question. “To make it look less like an attempt to undermine Whetstone and Frank?”

  “Possibly,” answered Max. “But I think it far more likely Dancey was just looking for an excuse to leave the carriage. I’m willing to wager there’s a small inn or posting house a bit further on that road. A broken wheel would necessitate them putting up for the night.”

  “Which is just what he wanted in order to get his hands on Hecate.” Kitty ground out her conclusion between clenched teeth. “Damn. I wish he were here right now. I’d kill him all over again.”

  “He killed himself, in other words,” reasoned Grace. “By sawing through a carriage that was already half-damaged, he created not just a minor inconvenience, but a major tragedy.”

  “Yes. A broken spoke or two can be risky, without doubt. But a wheel with more than that, or two wheels or however many they sabotaged? It wouldn’t take much speed or too large a bump to topple the damn thing over.”

  “Which is pretty much what happened, I suppose,” finished Perry. “This has all the attributes of a Shakespearean quote. ’Tis the sport to have the engineer hoist with his own petard.”

  “Well put,” agreed Grace. “Well put indeed.”

  “Miller-James was a greedy idiot with no thought for anything but his own pleasures.” Max looked at his wife. “He didn’t care one jot about Hecate or her safety. He wanted to take her, and that was the only thought on his tiny little mind that night.”

  “And it’s only by the grace of God that he didn’t get to accomplish his loathsome goal.” Kitty sighed. “He has paid his price. Hecate is still paying hers.”

  “Will you check on the inn, Max?” Perry glanced at him.

  “It’s a loose end, so yes, you can be sure I’ll tie that one up.”

  Silence fell for a few moment
s, and then Kitty pushed her teacup aside. “I’m relieved to know the truth about that night,” she announced. “For my sister’s sake as well as everyone else’s, especially Max. I’m relieved he wasn’t the target, of course. But I’d also like to see this sabotage stopped. Any idea how we can accomplish that?”

  Perry gave a slow nod. “Leave it to me. I believe I know some ears who would like such information. There are those who gobble up tidbits of such things as they pertain to organizations in London that prey on the weak. Should any of them have links to Kanehall, they will be ferreted out and dealt with.”

  “It’s in your hands then. I’ll back you up if need be, my friend.” Max rose and clapped him on the shoulder. “In the meantime, my wife and I will be leaving Mowbray House for a few days.”

  “We will?” his wife blinked in surprise. “Where are we going?”

  Max walked around the table and stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders. “You and I, my love, are going to pay a visit to Ridlington Chase.”

  “Oh dear.” She glanced up and over her shoulder at him. “You’re not going to punch my brothers, are you?”

  “Ask me when we get there.”

  *~~*~~*

  “You punched him?” Rosaline, Baroness Ridlington, stared at her husband in shock. “You actually punched your sister’s husband?”

  “He did,” said Kitty.

  “Left a mark too. If you look close you can still see a bit of the bruise.” Max touched the spot where Edmund’s punch had landed.

  “Oh for heaven’s sake.” Edmund’s fierce eyebrows met in a terrifying frown aimed at his wife, who ignored it. “The man had compromised Kitty, and he wasn’t her husband at that point. I was defending her honor. The Ridlington honor.”