The Accidental Mistress

by Tracy Anne Warren

  “Nothing,” she denied.

  “Hmm, are you sure?” His warm breath flowed across her cheek. “Lovers can tell each other anything, you know.”

  Can they? What a seductively dangerous idea! What would he think if I told him I am a virgin? For a brief second she considered the idea, but decided she had better keep her secret to herself, since such a revelation might lead to explanations she would rather not make. Still, what if he finds out without me saying? Can men tell things like that? Hoping they couldn’t, she held back her confidence. Her thoughts softened when he cupped a breast in one hand and idly circled his thumb around her areola.

  “Go on,” he coaxed, “tell me.”

  Tell him what? Oh, that. She supposed she could share that. “You’re big,” she whispered.

  He paused and began to shift his weight. “Am I too heavy?”

  “No,” she said, reaching out to hold him in place. “You are fine, that way. It’s just your…you know…your—” Lord, what should she call it? “Your…thing is big. Huge.”

  “My thing? Oh,” he murmured in sudden understanding. The thing responded, improbably stiffening even more. His lips curved. “I suppose I am amply endowed in that area. Ladies generally profess delight at the prospect, however.” His hand stopped playing on her.

  Lily swallowed and forced her fears past her lips. “If you must know, I do not think you will fit.”

  Ethan almost laughed, swallowing down the reaction before the sound could escape. A moment later, he was glad he had, realizing she was serious—and a little afraid, despite her instinctively passionate nature. For the past few minutes—ever since he’d discovered how small and tight she was inside—he’d deliberately been holding himself back, pacing his movements so she would be fully ready when he entered her.

  From her reaction to his naked form, though, he could tell that her husband had not only been a tentative, unskilled lover, but had possessed a tiny penis as well. No wonder she hadn’t been satisfied in the past.

  “Do not worry,” he promised in a low voice. “I will fit. You’ll sheath me like a glove.”

  A faint gasp came from her throat.

  “Would you like to touch me?”

  “Where? There?”

  “Yes.”

  “No!”

  A silence fell.

  “It is only me, you know,” he explained, “a part of my body like any other.”

  Well, not quite like any other, he admitted, since his thing as she’d dubbed it was currently urging him to stop all the talking and bury itself inside the wet, pliant heat awaiting them both between her soft thighs. But he could control his urges and his needs—for a little while longer, anyway.

  Just when he thought she was going to stand by her refusal, her hand moved up and brushed against him. He bit his lip to hold back a moan. The edges of her fingertips feathered over him, sending his heart kicking hard beneath his rib cage, his breath shallow in his lungs.

  Forcing himself to hold still, he let her explore in that fashion for another minute. With her tentative touch driving him mad, he finally caught her hand and wrapped her soft little fingers fully around his shaft.

  A low groan sang from his throat.

  She stopped and started to pull back. Striving not to exert too much pressure on her hand, he held her in place. “Do not stop.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” he grated out from between clenched teeth. “I’ll let you know when you need to cease.”

  Emboldened, she caressed him, running her curled fingers up and down him in a velvety, gliding stroke.

  “Oh,” she sighed. “You’re so hot and hard, but sleek.”

  “And you are hot and soft and sleek. Let’s see if you’re wet, too.”

  Without waiting for her consent, he parted her thighs, then slid a pair of fingers inside her again, testing the readiness of her response.

  She moaned, her hand contracting on his flesh.

  Gently easing out of her grasp, he stroked his fingers inside her, working in a rhythm designed to bring her maximum pleasure.

  Her head rolled back against the pillow, her breath starting to come in tiny pants.

  Wanting her as slick as possible, since penetrating her might not be as easy as he’d suggested, he closed his mouth around a breast and began to suck, using his tongue and teeth in a way he knew would bring her to the brink.

  When she was literally writhing beneath him, her fists clenched into the bedclothes, her eyelids squeezed closed with wrenching desire, he pulled his hand and mouth away, then leaned up onto his knees.

  Parting her, he settled himself between her splayed legs. Widening her more with his knees, he stretched her fully open so he could take her in a few deep, penetrating strokes.

  Positioning himself, he thrust.

  He frowned at the resistance he discovered. Thrusting again, he gained an inch, then another. She cried out, palpable tension returning to her body. Perspiration dampened his brow, his body engulfed in a profound hunger he could not stop or deny. He thrust twice more, seating himself only halfway. And that’s when he realized the problem.

  His eyes flashed wide to find hers in the dark, words rising to his lips. But then she moved again beneath him and he forgot everything else but the overpowering need to take her.

  She shifted, bucking slightly as if she were trying to dislodge him; instead, her actions unknowingly helped him slide deeper. With a guttural groan, he curved his palms beneath her buttocks and angled her upward, urging her legs to lock around his waist. The change in position, and one last good thrust, drove him to the hilt.

  A single tear slid down her cheek.

  Softly, he kissed it away, then gave himself over to the moment as he began to move within her.

  Lily clenched her teeth and fought the pain and the intrusion of his penetration. Biting her lip, she prayed his possession would be over quickly. For nearly a minute, he barely moved inside her, his strokes shallow as though he were allowing her to grow used to the sensation of him within her. As he did, something began to change; her inner muscles, which had only moments earlier been complaining of their abuse, softened and relaxed, clasping him tightly, as if she were indeed a glove.

  An almost embarrassing wetness formed between her legs, the added lubrication allowing him to slide more easily back and forth. Desire unfurled like a fist low in her belly, gradually radiating upward until her whole body was consumed by flame.

  Groaning, he thrust harder, faster, his motions taking him impossibly deeper. Holding on, she gave herself over to the ride, pleasure beating like a drum in her system, blurring her thoughts, leaving her with no anchor save one—Ethan.

  She repeated his name in her head and on her lips, her mouth open as she struggled to find air. Clasping her arms around his sweat-slicked back, she surrendered herself to his hunger and found more of her own, drinking the sweet sensations in deep, greedy gulps.

  As earlier, bliss flowed through her bloodstream. Yet this time, when she came, the rapture nearly broke her, a wail of glory literally singing from her mouth while ecstasy flooded her frame.

  Shivering, her mind spun, Ethan pumping hard and fast, almost relentlessly until abruptly he stiffened above her. A harsh shout erupted from his throat as his body did the same.

  Both of them fell still, struggling for breath and sanity, lying satiated and exhausted as the world slowly tumbled back. Pressing her face against his neck, she let herself drift.

  At length, he slid out of her and rolled to lie at her side. She said nothing, content in the dark and the quiet, her eyelids beginning to droop with drowsiness. But apparently Ethan was not interested in sleep as he sat up, the mattress bouncing at his movements. Reaching out, he fumbled for a match on the night table and lighted a single candle.

  Her eyes were wide open by the time he shifted back around to face her, his gaze no more than a degree above frosty. “So, Mrs. Smythe,” he demanded in an implacable tone, “why don’t you
explain how you came to be a virgin.”

  Chapter Twelve

  LILY REACHED DOWN and drew the sheet up to cover her nakedness, as though the thin layer of material might offer her some vital source of protection.

  Damnation! she cursed. Apparently men can tell about these things—or at least Ethan could. Lying back against the pillow, she forced herself not to panic.

  “Well, have you nothing to say?” he pressed.

  She smoothed her fingers over the top edge of the sheet. “What would you like me to say?”

  His gaze bore into hers. “You might begin by mentioning the obvious. How is it you were married and yet never consummated your nuptials?”

  Count on Ethan, she thought, to go directly to the point.

  So, what to say? I certainly cannot tell him the truth, not the real truth—that I never had a husband at all!

  Although she liked Ethan, even trusted him—obviously enough to have just given him her virginity—she knew she could not afford to risk confiding everything in him. She had no way of knowing how he might react to the news that her very existence was based on a fraud. Should he choose to do so, he would have the power to destroy the new life she had struggled so hard to secure. And that she could not permit. No, she must continue to maintain as much of her story as possible, even if it meant fabricating a new set of lies to placate him.

  So what to say? Think quickly, he’s waiting!

  “There wasn’t time,” she said. “After our wedding ceremony, he was called away by his regiment and immediately embarked on the ship to Spain.”

  There, that had sounded plausible, had it not?

  Ethan’s golden brows drew close. “You married so quickly the two of you could not spend even a single night together?”

  She shook her head. “He…um…asked me during his leave, and in the time it took for the banns to be read, he received his orders. We…married on that very last day and had time for no more than a few kisses.”

  Clutching the edge of the sheet with her fingers, she closed her eyes as she prepared to finish the deceit, a tight lump of guilt lodging beneath her breastbone. “We thought he would return in a few months, but before he could, he was killed.”

  After a moment, Ethan’s large hand enfolded her own and gave a little squeeze. “I am sorry.”

  The pressure in her chest increased. She had lied to him before. Why was this troubling her so much now? Of course, before tonight she had not lain with him. Before now she had not known the full beauty of his touch, nor the great depths of his honesty.

  Lovers can tell each other anything.

  “Why did you not say?” he asked.

  She opened her eyes. “Say what?”

  “That you were a virgin. Did you not think I might wish to know? Might need to know?”

  She shrugged to give herself an extra moment to consider. “It…um…seemed an awkward subject, not something one generally discusses.”

  Raising his hand, he stroked his palm across her cheek in a tender glide. “We have discussed a great many awkward topics this night, it seems. You ought to have confided that one as well.” A fierce expression crossed his face. “God, Lily, I could have hurt you.”

  She turned her hand and entwined her fingers with his own. “But you did not—at least no more than could be helped given my untried state. I knew I was safe in your arms.”

  The last of the earlier coolness receded from his eyes, a flash of desire igniting deep in his amber gaze. Seconds later, however, the look was gone, replaced by something that appeared remarkably close to concern.

  Sitting up, he scraped the fingers of one hand through his disheveled hair, then rubbed a thumb across his forehead.

  “Does your head ache?” she inquired. “I suppose I forgot all about your illness while we were…” She broke off, strangely shy about saying the words. “So how is your neck? Does the sting still hurt?”

  “No, I barely feel it. The doctor’s remedy has proven surprisingly effective. And plainly I am well enough to have just made love to you.” He fixed his eyes upon her, his brows low and troubled. “Lily, you truly ought to have told me.”

  “Told you…oh, you mean about my being a virgin. Well, I did not and the matter seems of little consequence now. It’s done and cannot be changed.”

  Unless he wished it could be changed, and was even now regretting his impassioned haste in taking her innocence tonight, however unintentionally accomplished?

  Her heart pumped out an uncertain beat. “Do not worry, it is fine.”

  The fierce look returned to Ethan’s face. “Is it? I took something from you I had no right to take.”

  Her shoulders grew stiff. “You had the right I gave you when I consented to lie in your arms. You took nothing I did not freely give.”

  “You might believe that now, but I seduced you.”

  “From what I have observed, you have been seducing me for the past several weeks. You never before showed a bit of compunction in conducting your pursuit. Or were you only teasing about wanting me in your bed?”

  “Did this evening appear as if I was teasing?” he questioned rhetorically.

  “Well then, it would seem you achieved your aim. I should think you would be satisfied.” She paused as a new idea suddenly occurred, a notion she had to force herself to voice aloud. “Or is that the difficulty? That I failed to please you and you are now searching for a graceful way to exit the situation?”

  Keenly aware of her nakedness and a vulnerability she wished she did not suddenly feel, Lily sat up and reached for her shift. Keeping her eyes averted from his own, she slipped the garment over her head with as much speed as she could manage.

  “Where do you come up with such absurdities?” he murmured. Clasping a hand around her arm, he exerted a gentle pressure to angle her toward him. When she refused to lift her eyes, he set a bent finger beneath her jaw and forced up her chin. “You pleased me greatly, very greatly. Never doubt that for an instant.”

  “Then—”

  “I ruined you, Lily, and that I did not mean to do.”

  He grew silent for a long moment, as though weighing his next words. Drawing a deep breath of apparent resolve, he once more met her gaze. “Marry me. Let me give you back your honor.”

  Her lips parted on a stunned inhale. Marry him! Good heavens, of all the responses she’d considered that had not been one of them. A warm sensation spread inside her, a glow brought on by his gallantry, and yes, by the notion of being his wife. But just as quickly her emotions cooled, logic reminding her that his offer came not from any tender feelings on his part, but from a sense of duty and––lowering as the idea might be––guilt. Well, she needed none of that. Besides, she had no desire to be married. Not to Ethan. Not to any man.

  “So you believe marriage will restore my honor?” she stated. “Now who is being absurd?”

  His brows met on a sharp scowl. “I am trying to do the right thing.”

  Yes, I know, she thought, repressing a suddenly weary sigh. “And I am telling you there is no need. My honor is not ruined, not that I can see.”

  His jaw tightened. “I took your virginity.”

  “Yes, you most definitely did,” she retorted, shifting against the slight soreness that was already making itself known within her delicate inner muscles. “But that doesn’t mean we need to shackle ourselves to each other.”

  “You are not seeing this properly—”

  She pulled out of his hold, then tossed up an arm. “No, you are the one who is not seeing matters properly. Did you ever think that maybe I do not wish to marry—”

  “That is no longer an option.”

  “Of course it is. No one knows we are here together—”

  He laughed in clear derision. “Oh no, no one except for your household staff, who saw us drive off together yesterday morning. My staff, who knew my destination, and any friends or acquaintances in whom we may have confided our day’s schedule. No, no one at all.”

 
Her lower lip slid out in a little pout. “You do not have to be nasty about it.”

  “Merely pointing out the facts.”

  Reaching behind him for his pillow, he drove a fist into the center, then slid down into the bed to settle his head into the dent. A sudden expression of tiredness crossed his face. “I will procure a special license when we get back to town. We’ll be married by the end of the week.”

  The end of the week! Panic knitted a fuzzy lump inside her stomach. “No.”

  “Lie down, Lily, and get some sleep.”

  He closed his eyes as if the matter were settled.

  “I will not marry you.”

  “You will change your mind come the morn.”

  “Maybe I should rephrase that. I do not want to marry you.”

  His eyes popped open, a gleam she thought might be hurt shining in his gaze before it vanished. “I had not realized marriage to me would present such a burden. Once you are a marchioness, I am sure your qualms will disappear.”

  “Pray do not fly up in the boughs. I don’t mean that I do not wish to marry you personally. It is only that I do not wish to marry at all.”

  He quirked a brow. “Why not? Widows are generally eager for a new spouse.”

  “I am not one of them. Marriage is not for me.”

  “From the sounds of your first nuptials, you were hardly wed at all.”

  “I was wed enough to know I do not wish to be again,” she bluffed. “And if you would think about this logically, you would see there is no reason for a union between us. A union, I will add, for which you have no more desire than I.”

  A long pause followed. “Who says I do not?”

  “Your proposal does, since I would hardly call your earlier words an expression of undying affection and devotion.”

  “So you want love? If that is the cause of your refusal—”

  “No, Ethan. I merely wish to stay as I am, single and independent. And there is no reason I cannot. I am a…widow, and until tonight you thought I was a woman who had slept with at least one other man. The rest of the world assumes that as well and unless you plan to disabuse them of the notion, they will continue to see me as a woman of prior sexual experience.”