Fascinated

by Bertrice Small

  She swallowed, hard. "Perhaps we should try again…"

  He stopped in mid-step. "Excuse me?"

  "I said, perhaps we-I-should try again."

  "Try…?" He wanted to make this as hard as possible for her.

  "… kissing…"

  "Kissing. Kissing? You who quaked and trembled and rubbed your lips as if you had kissed a frog, you want to kiss me-again?"

  "Jeremy-don't…"

  "My lady wants to humiliate me yet again?"

  "Jeremy…"

  "You don't know your own mind, Regina. If you can't bear to kiss even me, however are you going to deal with Raulton?"

  How, indeed, Regina thought mordantly, watching him warily. She couldn't tell just which way his sentiments lay or how he would react if he knew Raulton was beside the point altogether.

  "That is what I want you to teach me," she said, reasonably, she hoped.

  He wasn't feeling reasonable-or responsible, even. He was feeling primitive, brutal. Male. "High-strung virgins don't ap-peal to me-or to any man," he growled. "You wonder why men keep mistresses. Here is a case in point. Mistresses freely want a man, and never shrink from any sensual experiences with him. A mistress welcomes him and offers herself to him for his pleasure.

  "Why would any man waste his time and energy coaxing and coddling a cowering innocent when his mistress will willingly give him everything he wants? Things you can't even imagine, my lady. Things that would put you in a dead faint for a week if they were demanded of you."

  Oh, that was cold-blooded. He had shocked her, as he had intended, and more than that, even. She was as still as a statue, her eyes blazing, and some devil in him pushed him to elaborate further.

  "And that's the reality of it, and something that can't be taught. Raulton must keep a half dozen mistresses with whom you cannot hope to compete. Give it up now, and eventually some dandy with exquisite sensibilities and no animal desires will ride up on his white horse and carry you off and immure you in the castle where no one will ever have to touch you-or kiss you."

  She felt as if she had turned to stone. She hated him. She hated the game. All she wanted in that fraught moment was to be a mistress, a woman who was versed in the erotic arts, and who knew exactly how to fascinate and keep a man.

  "Do you have a mistress?" she asked tightly.

  "I think that is none of your business."

  "Do you?"

  He turned away. This was the last thing he thought he would have to confess. "What if I did?"

  "And yet you consented to teach me…"

  "A game, my lady. Men play it all the time."

  Didn't they just? she thought furiously. They did the dirty with some delicious and willing woman, and they put every other woman up on a pedestal. But not her. Not her.

  "Then let's play, Jeremy." Her voice was strung as taut as a bow. "I have too much at stake and too little time. I want you to kiss me."

  "Do you take me for a fool?"

  "Kiss me, Jeremy."

  Was he a fool? What man would turn down Regina, even at the cost of some wounded pride?

  But then-there was his promise to Reginald to distract and divert, and they were at a convergence of wants and needs. It was just amazing how a man could find an excuse to do anything he wanted to do.

  "Then come to me, Regina."

  She almost thought she couldn't move. Her body felt stiff and awkward, but it was fueled by a new unexpected resolve, one that had nothing to do with Raulton or revenge. And so she put one foot after the other and went toward him, at his command.

  "And now what, Jeremy?"

  She looked as though she was going into battle with her blazing eyes and challenging words. He had a latent urge to conquer her, to subdue her, and make her beg.

  Could he? The thought intrigued him. Would he?

  He reached out and cupped her chin. "You're very beautiful, you know."

  "That's not what I want to know," she said sharply.

  "No. You want all the secrets, now. Things learned through my life's experience bedding women. You had better lower your sights, my lady. You can't know everything and you can only take one step at a time."

  But she wanted to jump in headfirst and mire herself in a swamp of sensuality. "Then take the step, Jeremy," she said, her voice husky. "I'm waiting."

  The magic words. I'm waiting. She could see it in his eyes. A man liked to have a willing woman waiting. One secret to stash away and examine when she was alone.

  He tilted her head, holding her head immobile between his hands. Big hands, she noted distractedly. Warm hands.

  He lowered his head. "It's more elegant this way; we won't bump noses. And then, as I approach you, you must open your mouth to receive me." He came closer and closer still, his gaze hooded, watching her response and reaction, and the emotion warring in her eyes.

  I'm waiting. Every part of her must be waiting no matter how she felt. Another secret. Oh, how quickly these secrets revealed themselves in the heat of the moment. Another thing to analyze when she was alone.

  She closed her eyes, opened her mouth, and felt him swoop down into her, the movement even more shocking for the total domination of it.

  His tongue enveloped her, probing, seeking, stroking. She felt inept under the onslaught, but at least she held her own; she didn't recoil at his touch. She didn't pull away. She leaned into him, inviting more.

  But she hated her own passivity. How did a woman respond to such a kiss? What did a woman do?

  A mistress knows what to do.

  Hadn't he made that oh so clear?

  A mistress welcomes a man and freely offers herself to hint for his pleasure.

  A mistress willingly gives him everything he wants…

  Secrets.

  Mistresses never shrink from any sensual experiences…

  More secrets.

  Her body constricted. Never shrink.…

  Offers herself…

  Her body arched; she moved her tongue against his and felt the faint jolt of his body.

  Another secret.

  Willingly gives…

  This isn't so bad.

  Her body seemed to be responding all out of proportion with the observations of her mind. She liked this kiss. She liked the feel of him deep in her mouth, eating away at her. She liked dueling with him, and discovering that she could nip and lap and play with him. She liked holding on to his strong hard hands as she moved into the kiss.

  He tasted good, tasted sweet. He was by turns gentle and masterful, and she found she could meet him halfway, either way.

  Amazing where a little determination could take one.

  Another secret.

  He nipped at her tongue, before taking it between his teeth and sucking at it.

  She almost swooned at the pulling sensation, giving herself to it willingly. Freely, willingly….

  All she could do was hang on and offer him all he wanted.. • all he could take… for his pleasure-

  He sucked at her more insistently, harder, deeper, harsher. She felt a deep twinge in her vitals, felt as if she were melting somewhere between her legs.

  A mistress willingly gives a man everything he wants. Things you can't even imagine…

  What things? A mistress knows.

  Everything.

  This?

  She felt him tense, his hands tightened, and then the gorgeous heat of his mouth slowly, slowly, slowly eased away from hers, erotically pulling at her lips before he finally disengaged from her.

  She made a little sound at the back of her throat. Don't… •

  Don't what?

  Don't leave me…?

  No-

  Don't stop.

  Her body contracted somewhere deep within. / want more.

  More.

  He did too.

  Her breathing constricted. They could be alone in the house for all Reginald would interfere with them. He could stay with her and kiss her like that all day. The whole long, long day.

/>   Yes…

  Stay with me.

  He read every emotion in her eyes, every nuance of her body. The virgin in bloom. There was no more dangerous flower, no more poisonous dew than an innocent newly aroused.

  He was susceptible, too. Just for a moment, he forgot who she was and where they were, and he had lost himself in the erotic heat of her mouth, and pushed aside all caution, all restraint.

  Oh, a luscious mouth could positively destroy a man.

  But not him. He understood the dangers now that she had tasted her power. It was merely a matter of harnessing his, and mastering her long enough to keep her away from ruin.

  He was the man for the job. And the tightness in his groin-well, any woman could arouse him to that kind of pitch. It wasn't Regina; it was the driving heat of a succulent kiss. Any man would respond to that.

  And yet, as he gazed at her soft mouth and shimmering eyes, all he could think was, I want more.

  Not so indifferent, he thought wryly. But then, what was the harm? He would teach Regina what she wanted to know, enjoy what little she would give, and keep her out of Raulton's bed.

  And in my own.

  He shied violently from the thought. This wasn't what it was about, damn it. It was about obstructing her pursuit of Raulton. And teaching her a few things. That was all. Nothing more, nothing less.

  The fact he was still breathing hard had nothing to do with anything. But if he stayed any longer, it would.

  He could not make himself move. The tension escalated, along with her expectations. He wanted to, he did, and she wanted him to. It was just another step, and he could take her.

  He could do anything with her he wanted; he saw it in her eyes. Willing. Waiting. Mirroring everything any man could want, everything a man could desire.

  Damn damn damn… he couldn't let this get out of hand.

  He thrust her away. "Enough, my lady."

  She shook her head. "Let us take the next step."

  "My next step is out the door, Regina."

  "Why?"

  "Because my taste does not run to foolish virgins," he snapped, out of patience with her-with himself.

  She stiffened. How could he? After that voluptuous connection between them, how could he?

  But that was a man. That was what he was trying to tell her, and what she had already seen: it was nothing to him and everything to her.

  And that was the reason why she must cultivate a different sensibility. A man did not like to be tethered and cobbled. A man wanted to walk away and never regret anything-but who was to say a woman couldn't feel the same? It was just a matter of learning how.

  Oh, it was making so much sense, so much sense. But she had to ensure he would not go back on his promise to teach her.

  Blast him. "We will continue with our lessons," she said, keeping her tone expressionless.

  "If you will," he answered in kind. God, it was getting complicated. If only Raulton were not in the picture.

  "Excellent. Do remember, Jeremy, it is not you in my lowered sights: it is for Mr. Raulton that I must be on the mark."

  His body tightened, just thinking of it. "As you say."

  "And today, I performed well, did I not, for a foolish virgin?"

  "No man could complain." And no sane man would walk out on her either without taking advantage of what she so obviously wanted to give. How did that first lesson take so well?

  "Then we are all right and tight, and we will go on."

  "I said we would."

  "When?"

  "When your delicate sensibilities dictate, my lady."

  Oh, but her sensibilities were delicate no longer. She knew what she wanted now and exactly what she had to do.

  "Do you go to your mistress now?" She had to know, and she would know, if not today, then tomorrow or next month, but she would know.

  He grit his teeth. "I fail to see how it is your business."

  But it will be, dear Jeremy. It will be.

  "Friday will do," she said insolently, dismissively, ignoring his sharp tone.

  He cringed. Lady of the manor now. She knew how to play that role very well. What had Reginald gotten him into? What had he gotten himself into?

  "Friday, then," he agreed curtly, and she turned away from him to hide her triumphant smile.

  She followed his progress out of the room by his footsteps, through the hall, a pause for his hat, the slam of the front door, and she watched him covertly from behind the library curtains as he took the front steps and signaled for his horse.

  Dear, dear Jeremy… you've taught me so much already. You have no idea. In one afternoon, you have turned everything I thought I wanted inside out. And now, I will keep up the pretense of chasing Raulton for one purpose and one purpose only, as the means to get what I want.

  And what I now know I want is to be your mistress.

  Chapter Three

  So this is the secret to enslaving a man: think like a mistress, act like a mistress. Know what a mistress knows.

  All the carnal secrets. All the feminine tricks. All the male vices.

  She mentally ticked off the points one by one as she stared at herself in the bedroom mirror.

  Be welcoming. Be willing. Every part of you must be willing with all that means. Offer yourself freely for his pleasure. Never ever shrink from anything he wants of you. Act as if you crave it, too. Be determined you will do whatever he asks of you.

  An excellent bargain for the reward of a man's loyalty and carnal fidelity, and wealth and freedom besides.

  Who was Jeremy's mistress? Who among all the beauties had attracted him and even now was giving herself to him willingly? The thought was not to be borne. Not after that kiss.

  She would find out. Tonight, at Almack's, among all those women there would be seductive mistresses, known only to the lovers who kept them. She would try to discern who they were and how they behaved to better understand what she must do to take Jeremy away from his mistress.

  And she would further the pretense that Raulton was her mark.

  There was a full plate for one evening, she thought, and she must dress the part besides.

  Nothing pleased her. Every dress she took out of her closet seemed insipid and virginal, and for this evening, this moment, she wanted something much more daring.

  She might be turned away because of it-it didn't do to cross the patronesses at Almack's-but tonight was one night she would take the chance.

  She pulled out a dress of blue satin with an extremely high waist and low-cut neck and blond lace trim at the hem and sleeves. Here was some sophistication. And she liked the way the knots of cream-colored flowers on a rouleau of blue ribbon fitted tightly to her midriff, shaping and emphasizing her breasts. There were matching faux flowers to entwine in her hair, which was styled a la Grecque, and matching shoes, gloves and shawl. To finish, she chose to wear a pair of pearl earrings and a long pearl necklace.

  She motioned her maid to one side, and stood away from the mirror.

  Ah, this was more like it. This was not the reflection of a green girl. This was a woman, whose body tantalized from beneath the sensual drape of her dress, who was covertly, seductively on the hunt.

  Was she really this daring, this foolhardy? Or was it just the game?

  "Time to go, Regina." Her father knocked at the door. "You look lovely. New dress? Very becoming. I'm so glad you changed your mind."

  "No one should miss a moment at Almack's if they have the entree," Regina murmured. "I was remiss not to have considered my good fortune this afternoon." The irony was lost on her father, who believed every social event was a command to attend.

  He was just as happy to have her company, particularly during the long wait to debark from their carriage at the door, and then again inside during that first awkward moment of greeting friends and acquaintances.

  Everyone was there. The crowd was six deep by the velvet cordon. Regina could barely pass, and she felt a distinct irritation that she wouldn't be abl
e to see, or to carry forward her plan. And she was hoping Ancilla had chosen not to attend be-cause she did not need a Greek chorus naysaying her every move.

  But that was a faint hope, blast it. There Ancilla came, in her usual turnout of white muslin, long white gloves, and, a new fashion trick, a matching demiturban in her hair confining her pale curls.

  "Always a crush," Ancilla murmured. "How are you?"

  "I'm well to do given we saw each other only yesterday," Regina answered in kind. "And you?"

  "As ever. Marking time. Observing the absurd behavior of those around me. No, no, not you. But take note that your Mr. Raulton is here already and in fine fettle. I daresay he has his dance card down and is busily deciding which of the Untouched he will touch tonight. I do wish you would give over your fascination with him. He is not worthy of your consideration."

  "He is still the most interesting man here."

  "And what about Jeremy Gavage? There he is, scowling as ever."

  "Does he look our way?" She hoped.

  "He scowls our way."

  "I ought to greet him, even if he had the bad manners not to come to me last night. Do you wish to come with me?"

  "No. There is nothing for me there. But do you go acknowledge him."

  Perfect. Now it remained only to find Mr. Raulton. Tonight she did not want to dance with him. She wanted, rather, to be seen talking with him, or perhaps pretending to follow him to the garden for a private moment.

  Which meant he must always be in her sights, and she must try to be sure that Jeremy was watching. Although how she would manage that, she did not know.

  Blast it. Why couldn't a woman control these things?

  "Well, don't you look-different tonight?" Jeremy was behind her, where she least expected him to be.

  She curtsied. "Do you like it?"

  "I think your father should not have let you out of the house wearing such a dress," Jeremy said feelingly. He didn't know quite what it was: the low-cut bodice that molded her breasts, or the way the dress shimmered against her body with her every movement.

  Or the look in her eye. He didn't like that the most.

  "Is your mistress here?" she asked, all wide-eyed and innocent.

  "Dear God…!" Jeremy exploded under his breath. He grabbed her arm and pushed her to a corner where they could have more privacy. "And just what is your interest in my mistress?"