A Mistress To Remember (Birds of Paradise Book 3)

by Eliza Lloyd

  After a few more kisses, and aroused by the ticklish touch of soft hair upon her mons, he turned to more serious matters. The roll to change positions was quick. He nestled between her legs, lifting one leg away and opening her completely. She was pliable and accommodating.

  He used his tongue, swiping over the small bud of her desire. She moaned.

  The tension in her body seemed to vibrate through him. She clutched her thighs about him and lifted her bum. He applied himself, licking and sucking and licking again until Katrina panted and tossed her head back and forth upon the pillow.

  She slid her fingers through his hair and cupped the back of his head, holding him in a rather domineering manner.

  When he stopped to watch this wanton display, she took a deep breath and bit at her lip. The tendons on her neck stood out; her free hand clawed into the bed covers.

  Mark reached for one exposed breast and toyed with her nipple, pulling and lightly twisting. He pressed a sweet kiss to the swollen bud between her thighs, then sucked it into his mouth. He suctioned the sensitive nub at the same time he tugged.

  Katrina flew to pieces in the metaphorical sense. She arched, let out a breathy scream and then slowly descended to earth again. She lay there panting.

  Mark moved again, working to free his cock. Sliding into her was a bit of heaven, slick and pliant as she was.

  She, still in a dreamy state, ran her palms down his chest. “Oh, Mark,” she said.

  They kissed again, and he encouraged it to go on with touches to her cheeks and eyelids and then a gentle lick around the curl of her ear. And all the while he contained himself with gentle but deep thrusting. From experience, he knew that she might enjoy a second release, and he wanted her to. He wanted her to forget, for a moment or two.

  Heat burst between them. His chest rasped against the soft cushion of her breasts. She hooked one leg around his waist; her nails dug into his back. She sank her teeth into his shoulder and bit down. Hard.

  He yelped, then rolled with her.

  The gown she wore billowed about them. She braced her hands against his chest while he gripped her thighs. With her head thrown back and her eyes closed, Katrina worked toward her own pleasure, riding him with slow, sensual motion.

  Her muscles clenched over his manhood, taking his breath for a moment. The pulses of her pleasure milked him until he was as weak as she was, softening over him and cradled in his arm.

  He jerked the covers over them, then pressed a kiss to her temple.

  “I love you, Katrina, and I promise, you will have your sons back.”

  * * * * *

  Katrina felt an enormous happiness that they had married while they were in St. Petersburg, with her remaining family surrounding her.

  Here? The vows were spoken quietly and reverently in front of Mark and his sister’s small family, including the marquess. Lucy blinked like an owl throughout, her head swiveling about at every unfamiliar sound. And Katrina marveled that such a man as the marquess held the child throughout, patient with her every squirm and attentive to her dribbles and shy half-words.

  Katrina smiled, a forced emotion in her expression.

  Peter had taken the boys to Kent for two weeks of hunting, leaving her alone for one of the most important days in her life. Even Mark had not been able to meet with Peter to air his displeasure.

  The marquess and marchioness hosted the wedding breakfast and there were another seven couples in attendance, all acquaintances and friends of the Compton family, plus some of Katrina’s neighbors. Katrina was seated next to Lucian Conover, the marquess. She had heard of his sullied reputation, but Mark had never spoken a word against the man in her presence. Katrina did not know him at all, other than as the devoted husband of her sister-in-law.

  “Thank you, my lord,” she said to him as they dined on several aromatic meats, various egg dishes, and hot rolls with fresh butter and honey. The cakes were stacked in the middle of the table and flowers were tucked into the cracks in between. “The breakfast was lovely. I wish to convey our heartfelt thanks for providing such a memorable day for us.”

  The breakfast had been rather late and the foods were more suitable to a lavish nuncheon, including a dozen bottles of wine direct from the marquess’s cellar.

  “And yet it is incomplete, is it not?”

  “Indeed.” She sighed, but smiled, trying to alleviate his concern. She didn’t know what Mark had told him “It is a bit of mess, caused by my own carelessness,” she said.

  “Most guardians with whom I am familiar are most negligent in their familial duties. Your brother-in-law seems most intent in his.”

  “Yes. I am fortunate.” He laughed, which caused her to laugh. She pressed her fingers against her lips. “I’m sorry. That was rather acerbic, and on my wedding day. Mark told you?”

  Katrina examined the marquess. He was a serious man, she thought.

  “Mark tells me very little, but he did mention something to Christina, and that is the same as telling me.” He lifted his glass. “To your marriage and the return of your children.”

  Katrina did the same. The slight tinkle of their touching glasses brought tears to her eyes. She couldn’t look at him, instead glancing across the table to see Mark watching her. One side of his mouth quirked up, offering a bit of understanding. Then he raised a questioning brow.

  She shook her head. No, there was nothing he could do in the midst of their breakfast celebration.

  The marquess had turned away to answer a question from Margaret Bell, and Katrina was surprised to hear, “It turns out our second marriages were the best for us all.”

  “Oh?” Katrina asked.

  Margaret leaned forward, “You see, I was married to Luc’s brother many years ago. And Christina is also Luc’s second wife.”

  The marquess tensed but was no less pleasant. “Fate has been good to each of us, in its own way.”

  “I did not know. My circle of friends and acquaintances is rather small,” she offered. Because she was Russian and an outsider, though she had tried the entirety of her marriage to increase the standing of the Klees. She was grateful for Mark and the opportunities he brought to the marriage. Who knew? Maybe they would have a child someday who would be the next earl. Or a daughter, she thought, a little too longingly.

  “You must never apologize, Lady Compton,” the marquess assured. “Better true and faithful friends than the lure of faux intimates, regardless of their perceived stature.”

  Mrs. Bell had turned to speak to the Reverend Samuels. Katrina glanced about the room. Aside from the marquess and Mark, there were no other titled families present. Was it by design?

  “When will your sons return from their hunting adventure?” Dane asked then.

  “On Saturday. At least that is what Peter’s note said. Unless they find their hunt bountiful.”

  “Hm. Mr. Klee enjoys his sport, does he?”

  “It’s his great hope my sons will be avid sportsmen as well. He might be lucky regarding Ivan and Claud, but Sergei, I’m afraid, is rather studious.”

  The marquess held a wine glass, swirling it a bit, contemplating some great matter. “And tell me, is Mr. Klee heir to the baronetcy?”

  “Well, he was. You see, a middle brother died a few months after Samuel and I married, so he would have been the baron, should such a circumstance have warranted, but then we had the boys one after another. Of course, Peter is still an heir, but seems unlikely to ever be the baron now.”

  “It is a rare guardianship that allows a potential heir to be the decision-maker. Your husband must have had complete trust in his brother.”

  “Oh, yes, he did.”

  “And you will pardon the impertinence, Lady Compton, is the baronetcy adequate to your needs?”

  “Um, yes, it has been…suitable.” Katrina wondered why he asked, but she did not have the sort of character that challenged such personages as a marquess, especially when said marquess was an extended family member. Her hope was that h
e wasn’t implying some inadequacy in the Compton family finances, as Peter had suggested a few weeks ago.

  “Are there properties to be maintained?”

  “Oh no, we did not have that sort of wealth. My ancestors likely had more assets than we Klees,” she said, smiling at the absurd thought, a thought that actually lifted some of her sadness. And then she remembered the beautiful set of silver napkin rings and wondered what it took to gift such a valuable set of seemingly simple kitchenware. The Angersteins must have been very wealthy at one time.

  But what did it all really matter? Was anything more important than Mark and her sons? Was being an acclaimed hostess something she should strive for above all? Yes, she wanted a good name, not just for herself but for her children. But she did not want it at the cost of her soul and her honor.

  She remembered the first night Mark had approached her. Had she thought about love and kindness and companionship? No, she’d thought about marrying an earl, to her shame.

  It had turned out well, but not because she’d deserved it, but because they’d become friends during their sexual trysts. Neither of them had thought about the future, but they had given all, one day at a time.

  The marquess had turned away again, this time to accept his daughter from his wife, Christina—Mark’s favorite sister, though Katrina was sworn to secrecy. Christina whispered something to the marquess and then addressed Katrina.

  “Are you enjoying your wedding day, Lady Compton?” she asked, while rubbing one hand over her bulging belly.

  “Most assuredly. I’m especially surprised how right your husband is on certain matters.”

  “I’m right about a good deal many things, if only I was asked for my opinion more often,” Dane offered. “Christina is the queen of our household, you see.”

  “Don’t let him fool you, Lady Compton. He is the master of the house and we his devoted acolytes.” Smiling broadly, Christina rested her hand on his shoulder. With his free hand, he gently touched her fingers.

  Katrina felt a smidgeon of jealousy and glanced at Mark again to see that he still watched her attentively even though he was talking to Mrs. Balfe, one of Katrina’s neighbors and a particular friend.

  Mark had traveled all the way to St. Petersburg to declare his love. He did such simple yet Herculean things as find rare family heirlooms for her, when she had none of her own. He loved her, for which she was immeasurably thrilled. It was a strange thing to love one man like Samuel, and only realize later that it wasn’t love at all. What she felt for Mark was something new and wonderful and shone so much brighter in comparison to her dutiful first marriage.

  She reached for the silver napkin ring that adorned her wedding fichu. It secured the lacy ends and remained tucked at the valley of her bodice. Something old.

  Something new was her friendship with the Marquess of Dane. Mark and Luc may not see eye to eye, but Katrina felt she had started a friendship with him that would last a lifetime.

  And her dress, both borrowed and blue, matched the morning sky, which on this day was only partly covered by fat, white clouds.

  “It is a good day, isn’t it,” Katrina said.

  Lord Dane raised his glass again, and made a toast in Russian, his accent perfect and the words meaningful.

  Katrina laughed, a little nostalgic at hearing her language again, and joined in the toast. “Yes, it is a good day to enjoy the wealth of friendship.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lucian Conover, the Marquess of Dane, retained his reputation as the dark marquess because he found it useful from time to time. Christina laughed at him when he claimed to possess such a wicked character, and then usually took him to bed to prove how wrong he was.

  However, such was not the case today.

  Since Christina had mentioned Katrina’s woes regarding her sons’ guardianship, Dane had fumed.

  And plotted.

  Mark Turnbow was perfectly capable of threatening Peter Klee and probably retrieving his stepsons in the process, if not by fear and force of will than surely through the law.

  That would create further bad blood between mother, sons and uncle, which Dane intended to avoid. However, Mark did not know what Dane knew.

  Dane had the weapons to destroy the man, and within a few days, he’d armed himself to the teeth for his short, day trip to Surrey.

  Once he descended from the carriage, he strolled to the door of the quaint country cottage. Behind the house, somewhere, he could hear the sounds of children screaming and playing.

  At least he would not have to believe Klee had abused his charges in any way. Dane accepted that three growing boys would love the time spent in the country riding horses, hunting and hiking. Doubtless Klee had used that to leverage his advantage.

  As a wedding gift, he would offer Mark and Katrina the use of Longford for a few months. Mark could become acquainted with the boys through shared activities, such as they seemed to enjoy. Katrina could tut and gasp all she wanted, but the boys would remain under her watchful eye, which was really all she needed.

  Once the front door was open and his card presented, Dane was escorted to a cozy sitting room at the back of the rather pleasing house. Through the windows he could see the three boys, running and pushing and throwing some object, led by the young baron. Ivan, he thought. He stood watching them, thinking of his Lucy and the sons he and Christina might have some day.

  Hearing Klee’s footsteps, Dane turned to face him.

  Klee stopped and bowed. The winged brows and the startled gaze reminded Dane that even Klee knew of Dane’s dark reputation, as he had hoped.

  “Lord Dane, how might I be of assistance?”

  Dane slapped his gloves in one hand and stared the man down. “A small matter, really. One we shall put to rights this afternoon.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Dane turned toward the window again and watched the boys. “When Lady Compton,” he said with emphasis, “returns to your door to collect her sons, you will release them to her without objection.”

  Klee chuckled. “I will do no such thing. And what business is it of yours anyway?”

  “I didn’t say it was my business,” Dane said, turning toward him. “I said you would release them to her without objection.”

  “The guardianship sets out my obligation—”

  “You and I both know you have perpetuated a fraud, Mr. Klee. Such a shame, taking advantage of Lady Compton’s lack of knowledge concerning English law. But then, that was the impetus behind your slimy idea, wasn’t it?”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

  “Be a man, Klee, and acknowledge when you have been caught. You were not named guardian. Perhaps your brother intended to make it legal, but he didn’t. We’ll never know why, nor do we need to know.”

  Klee strolled to a sideboard and poured a drink, rudely ignoring Dane in the process. The man was arrogant enough to think Dane had arrived with wet powder.

  “My brother made his wishes clear to me. That is enough. Besides, I am the most closely related person and the natural choice for such a duty.”

  “Ah, there’s the prick. You are also in line to inherit should something happen to the baron or his brothers.”

  “How dare you!”

  “Spare me your outrage. The Court of Chancery might view your ill-gotten attempt to influence the baronetcy as solely for your own benefit.”

  “The baronetcy was practically insolvent at Samuel’s death.”

  “In the strictest sense, but that didn’t include Katrina Angerstein’s—I mean, Lady Compton’s—original marriage contract. I can just imagine how the men in the family haggled over the marriage portion, all while the young, naïve bride had no idea what was being negotiated. And then ever so grateful to receive her monthly pin money.”

  Klee turned away and gulped the drink he’d been gripping with white-knuckled fury.

  “And if that isn’t enough to convince you and to obtain your full coopera
tion, I will ruin you,” Dane said with soft-spoken vehemence. “I wouldn’t have it said I didn’t give you options, but there you have it. The circle has been drawn. Stay inside, and you will continue to enjoy a familial relationship with your nephews. Step over it, and you will find yourself experiencing the seventh degree of hell. All of these truths will be revealed, plus all of those truths you wish to keep hidden. Those things you do in the dark of night at my old business haunts. I might mention there were young boys involved for the benefit of the gossips. Well, you get the idea. Truth and innuendo are often difficult to separate.”

  “You bloody bastard. You’re one to accuse me? Wallowing in your own pool of filth?”

  “There’s a difference, Klee. I have never tried to hide what I am.” Dane stared hard.

  “You give me little choice.”

  “No choice at all, really. But as an added incentive, I will give you four weeks or so to approach Lady Compton with the astonishing news of her tangled inheritance and its miraculous discovery. You might yet end up being Lady Compton’s champion.”

  “When should I expect her?”

  “I suppose once her new husband allows her to leave the marriage bed, wouldn’t you think?”

  “I was only doing what was best for my nephews.”

  “That is always the defense when one is doing what is best for oneself.”

  “And what am I to tell Katrina of this conversation? I suppose it was she who enlisted your help?”

  “My advice would be to pretend this conversation never happened, and you might yet end up with a satisfactory life.”

  Dane might be wicked, but he’d never let a debt go unpaid, and he owed Mark Turnbow his entire existence. This little intervention was but one small payment toward that debt.

  * * * * *

  “Mark, you don’t have to do this.”

  She pivoted at the top of the stairs, trying once again to release her husband from any obligation regarding her sons. Mark’s hand was firmly at her back and he smelled of some indefinable concoction that distracted her from her real purpose. Instead of performing her difficult task, she wanted to pull him into the nearest closet and press her nose against his neck…followed by anything else they might dream up.