Always the Mistress (Never the Bride Book 11)

by Emily E K Murdoch

  No, Fitz had been insistent that she rest. His care for her, his gentle ministrations yesterday as they returned to Tidgley Manor…

  He was so innocent, so naïve, yet she could not help but like him. He was far more understanding than any gentleman she had ever met.

  After their lovemaking, they had spent time talking, and what conversations, what vulnerability they had shared. Emma flushed a little to think of it. She had not bared her soul to anyone since…well, not even Marnmouth had asked the questions Fitz had.

  He wanted to know her, not just make love to her but understand her. It was intoxicating, feeling so desired.

  When words had run out, their fingers had known how to share the intensity of their feelings. Emma shook her head. To think, that had been the first time he had made love!

  There was something about doing the most natural thing in nature that made the world spin.

  Emma closed her eyes, her fingers brushing the sheets pulled close around her. They were softer than anything she had slept in for months. Far more expensive than those adorning the scrap of bed in the room she was renting.

  But even they could not divert her from the rush of emotions soaring through her mind, tangled and woven together in a mess she could not yet understand.

  When was the last time she had…well, liked someone? Liked a gentleman as a person, rather than a way to secure herself the finer things in life?

  Marnmouth, probably.

  She shivered. It felt wrong, somehow, to even think of Marnmouth while in Fitz’s bed. As though she was betraying him with her thoughts, if not with her actions.

  Yet the searing heat she had felt for Marnmouth at the height of their…understanding. It had not been like this. Even when she had visited him a few months ago, the desire was gone, and so was the connection.

  The only thing connecting them were memories––memories, and that damned ring.

  If she had that ring back, sheets like this would be her norm, rather than her treat. But she could not think about that, though she must get it back eventually.

  Marnmouth was not hers anymore. If she was careful, if she played her cards right and gave him everything he expected and perhaps a little more, Fitz would become hers.

  That did not mean she was out of the woods yet. She would have to be careful. She was not here to make Viscount Braedon fall in love with her; she had to secure his protection.

  Marnmouth had his faults, plenty of them, but he had never loved her. While she had desired it once, she could look back with clarity now and see his lack of affection had kept their relationship professional. It did not really matter that she was in love with him. There needed to be one of them with a little distance, a little objectivity.

  It had been painful, but it had worked. She could not have Fitz falling in love with her, not completely. It would certainly make things easier, that was true, but she was not a monster, no matter what Mrs. Marnion attempted to tell people.

  Using Fitz for his money was one thing, but playing with his emotions? No, she just wanted to play with his wallet.

  A door slammed, and then raised voices followed, echoing up the stairs.

  Emma smiled. Mrs. Loughton was giving someone a difficult time this morning. It was time to get up, then. She could not just allow the rest of the household to stir and stay here, though it was a rather tempting thought.

  Fitz. After such a wonderful day yesterday, the need to be close to him was great.

  In fact, there was a small part of her that was surprised––or was it disappointed?––he had not been in bed with her this morning. After all, it was where she had last seen him. Those wild hours they had spent, exploring each other’s bodies, giving and receiving pleasure until they became exhausted and had fallen into each other’s arms, Emma holding him tight, Fitz stroking her hair.

  Emma’s smile faded. It had been wonderful. So where was he, and why had he not stayed?

  She had become expert in dressing herself when she had first been forced to leave Marnmouth’s protection. Her small amount of savings––why bother saving when she had been so sure she would be living with Marnmouth for the rest of her days?––had not stretched to a lady’s maid or a maid at all.

  It took her about twenty minutes to carefully step into, pull up, and lace herself into her gown. Was it early? Was she late? What customs were kept here?

  She would have to find out.

  The hallway was empty of servants or Fitz as she came down the staircase, and Emma could not quite remember where the breakfast room was.

  Looking around, there were five doors going off the hallway, or four if one did not count the front door. Taking a deep breath and guessing the breakfast room would be facing east, Emma strode forward and opened a door.

  It was a small but beautifully apportioned library. Books lined from ceiling to floor, all along three walls, with large bay windows and two window seats adorning the fourth.

  Emma gasped. She could barely remember the last time she had seen such an elegant room. She stepped inside and started to wander, running her hands along the leather spines of the books. The air was still here. The room was perfectly designed for hiding away and losing oneself in a book.

  Tidgley Manor never ceased to amaze her. There was so much to discover here, despite the modest proportions, and every inch had been carefully created to give pleasure.

  Living here would be…Emma dropped into the bay window and looked out over the garden, and sighed. Living here would be truly incredible––an honor, really. It was astonishing that Fitz ever made it to London. Even with no one else to share it with, she was almost certain she could live happily here for many years.

  She swallowed. Perhaps she could. Perhaps this could be where Fitz stowed her away, out of the sight of prying eyes. He could be here whenever he wanted her, it was only a few hours’ drive from London, and whenever he wanted company, he could go away, leaving her here. In paradise.

  But perhaps not. It felt a little too much like taking advantage, and Fitz was one who could easily be convinced into anything. He was too trusting, Emma knew that firsthand, but that did not mean she was ready to test those limits.

  It was with great reluctance that Emma closed the library door behind her and leaned against it. She took a deep breath.

  Someone was getting ahead of themselves, she thought wryly.

  All she knew was Fitz wanted her to be his mistress.

  “Ready?”

  “No. No, I do not think I ever will be. But I want you. Love me, Emma.”

  A smile crept over her face. They had been lost in each other. She had rather lost her head, and that was unlike her. She should have got everything agreed.

  What was this arrangement for? How long would it last? Fitz could have intended it to be for the weekend, it could be forever––but she needed to keep her head.

  Emma smoothed down her gown and attempted to collect herself. What was her next move?

  To encourage Fitz to agree for her to live here. That was what would give her the most pleasure, the most security. Why, it would almost be like being pensioned off for a retirement!

  That was what she needed to focus on. Emotions, yes, they had interfered yesterday, distracted her from what would be most beneficial. She liked Fitz; she really did. She was not here to scam him or steal from him––but she did need to secure a few things before she could completely relax.

  Finally sure she had a grip on herself, Emma tried the next door and immediately saw the breakfast room. Though a little on the small side, the circular table had a matching sideboard in the same wood and an elegant carved finish, covered in different foods.

  Seated at the breakfast table, plate full and cup of tea in hand, was Fitz.

  Emma’s heart missed a beat.

  “Ah, Emma!” Fitz stood up hastily, his napkin dropping to the floor and his cup of tea slopping over the rim. “I am afraid I started without…did you sleep well?”

  Emma could not h
elp but smile as she took in his embarrassed face. There was something so…innocent was the only word she could think of, yet it did not make complete sense. No innocent man kissed like that.

  “You look a little startled to see me, Fitz,” she said calmly as she shut the door behind her and stepped into the room. “Are you about to tell me that I did not perform adequately yesterday?”

  Her words had her intended effect. Fitz’s cheeks colored, and he put the cup of tea down carefully to ensure he did not spill another drop.

  “Quite the contrary,” he said honestly. “I…well, I have never experienced such…”

  Emma swept past him, ensuring her hips swayed just a little more than was necessary, and helped herself to a cup of tea. It appeared that her movement had the effect she had planned. Fitz was once again out of words.

  “I am pleased,” she said quietly as she sat in the chair beside him. “I had hoped you would enjoy yourself.”

  Fitz sat down slowly. “Enjoy myself? I do not know how I will keep my hands off you the rest of the weekend. It was the best way to lose my innocence I could ever have dreamed of.”

  It took a moment for Emma to take in what he had said. “Lose your…lose your what?”

  There was a strange look on Fitz’s face as he blinked. “Well, I explained yesterday. In…in the grove. You said you understood.”

  Lost his innocence? Did that mean––surely that did not mean Fitz had never…that she was the first woman he had made love to?

  Emma tried to remember precisely what had been said, but it was all mingled with pleasure, ecstasy…

  “You said,” she murmured quietly, “you said that you had never––that this was your first time making love in the outdoors.”

  She glanced up at Fitz, whose cheeks were now red.

  “Not exactly,” said Fitz awkwardly. “I said…well, that would explain why…I said this was my first time. My first time, Emma.”

  Emma did her best to ensure her facial features did not display what she was thinking. When Fitz had told her that he had never made love before, like they were about to do, she had assumed…

  After all, few people who were not adventurous ever bothered to attempt lovemaking in the open air.

  But really, what he had meant was…was that he had been a virgin. He had never made love before. That was his first time––she was his first.

  She had taken his innocence!

  Abraham Fitzclarence, Viscount Braedon, had never lain with a woman before, and what did she do to introduce him to the delicate lovemaking that a man and woman could enjoy together?

  She had ridden him! She had taken her pleasure time and time again, refusing to allow him the moment of ecstasy until she had had her fill!

  “Please, do not concern yourself,” he said quietly. “Honestly, it was perfect. I do not believe I could have experienced any better, and I am glad that I shared it with you.”

  Emma felt her shoulders start to relax, but she could not entirely absolve herself. Not yet. Not until she could understand just why he had allowed her to do that, to take complete control…

  Well, he obviously liked a woman with a little leadership! She had utterly taken charge, and that had fired him up even more, by the look of it.

  “I must admit I am surprised,” she said quietly, appreciating the contact his hand gave her. Like an anchor, pinning her to solid ground. “A shock, I suppose, after thinking…well, it explains a few things.”

  She was too much of a lady to detail them, but Emma knew she would smile about them later. The way he had begged for release, his inability to control himself––the wild, passionate way he had looked at her…

  “I am honored,” Emma said quietly, her eyes meeting his stormy gray ones.

  Fitz smiled and squeezed her hand. “The honor is all mine.”

  They sat there in silence for a few minutes, and unlike the quiet she had experienced with other gentlemen, Emma was not uncomfortable. It was as though the silence between them only bound each other more closely.

  “You know,” said Fitz eventually, releasing her hand to take a sip of tea, “I still cannot believe it. After all this time, that I would be chosen to make love to…to you. ’Tis a dream that I have wandered into, and I have no wish to awaken.”

  He was bashful but did not look away. Emma smiled encouragingly. She had been correct then when she had surmised he had a crush on her. He had noticed her years ago, he had already told her that, but the fact that he had desired her all those years––had perhaps kept himself for her?

  No, surely not. No gentleman of Viscount Braedon’s looks and position in society would wait around for a mistress, would he?

  “I am more than happy to be a part of this dream,” she said quietly. “Sometimes I think this house is like a dream––like a paradise. I am very happy here. With you.”

  Where had those words come from? She needed to get a grip on herself if she was going to successfully end this weekend with a promise from Fitz that he would have her as his mistress for the foreseeable future.

  That was what she was here for. She could not lose sight of that and forget she was here to secure him.

  She had to be detached. Feelings, emotions for Fitz? Yes, up to a point. She had to admire and respect the men she spread her legs for, that had always been her rule for herself since Marnmouth.

  But this? This was different. Fitz stirred something inside her that she did not understand, and she must not allow it to continue.

  This was a business proposition, nothing more.

  Emma glanced at Fitz, who was starting to tuck into his breakfast once more, and her heart skipped a beat again––most irritatingly.

  How could she continue, knowing she felt more for him than was required? Was she about to lose her heart to another gentleman who would use her and then set her aside?

  “Please, do help yourself to whatever you want on the sideboard,” said Fitz hurriedly, as though suddenly remembering his role as host. “Apologies, I do not have guests at Tidgley Manor that often. In fact, I do not think I have ever had…no, you are the first. If there is anything you would like for breakfast that is not there, please do ring the bell. Mrs. Loughton will be happy to––she will get anything you need.”

  “Thank you, Fitz,” Emma said demurely and gratefully took the excuse to rise and look away.

  Looking at the spread of food available for her––three kinds of eggs, sausages, potatoes, buns, late autumn apples––she thought instead of the cold, empty room she was renting for a pittance back in London.

  This was the life she wanted. If she was serious about securing it, she needed to be strong, firm on what she wanted. It was time to start seducing Fitz a little more, securing his devotion more than she had already.

  She had to think of herself first. She could not worry about his emotions. If he lost his heart to her, that was his affair. She would keep her own safe.

  “You know, I can only think of one thing I would like, and it is not here,” Emma said decidedly, turning back to face him.

  Fitz’s face fell. “Blast, I am sure I thought of everything. What is it?”

  Emma stepped elegantly around the table and dropped herself into his lap. Fitz’s face broke into a grin as his arms swiftly moved around her.

  “You.”

  He laughed. “I should have guessed––but as I am halfway through a meal, I think we should finish it first. Toast?”

  Emma nodded, allowing herself to be fed bits of toast from his plate. A discomforting and overwhelming emotion flooded through her, absorbing everything else in its path and settling somewhere in the base of her stomach.

  Happiness. She had not felt like this for years.

  “Well,” she said with a smile. “Other than eating toast and making love, what are we going to do today?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Braedon raged silently at every second bringing his carriage closer to London. Where had the weekend gone? How was it possible
that three days could disappear into a haze of lovemaking and…

  He could not help but smile at the memories flooding his mind every moment that he looked at her. Emma was seated beside him, her head on his shoulder.

  Yet, despite his silent raging, the carriage moved closer and closer to their destination. Emma’s rooms. That was where the dreadful separation would occur, and then he would be bereft of her company until he could reasonably concoct an excuse to see her again.

  His gaze drifted away from her perfect form to the window. Already he recognized the streets they were trundling down, his heart twisting painfully. They were not far away.

  It was awful to think that each tick of his pocket watch, each heartbeat, brought him closer to the moment when he would have to say goodbye.

  It would not be forever, of course, but it was still heart-wrenching. Having Emma at Tidgley Manor was like playing house together. She fit so perfectly. Whenever he looked up and saw her there, it was as though she had been destined to be there.

  As though the house had been waiting for her all these years.

  Braedon swallowed.

  He had still not managed to ask Emma about what he desired. What he knew would make him the happiest he had been in his entire life.

  He had not asked her to become his mistress. Or his wife. He was still not sure.

  And he needed to. Braedon knew he would not be complete until he knew he could be sure of her company for the rest of his days.

  Glancing down, he saw a woman totally at peace. With all his blustering and foolishness, they had spent three perfect days together. Days filled with laughter, with lovemaking, and with those little moments that Braedon had only believed possible between––well, soulmates were not a belief he had ever ascribed to.

  He was less sure now.

  He had to say something. He owed it to himself, to Emma, to formalize whatever this was. She deserved to know where she stood.

  As Braedon swallowed, trying to gather his words to ensure he could share his deepest hopes without looking pathetic, Emma glanced up and dazzled him with a smile.