The Master's Mistress

by Carole Mortimer

  All in all, Rogan decided he liked it.

  Although he still wasn’t sure about being in Elizabeth’s apartment with her. Especially an Elizabeth who somehow seemed far less prickly and defensive than she usually was…

  Elizabeth eyed Rogan quite openly as the two of them sat either side of the breakfast bar and began to eat. Rogan slouched slightly even as he shot her looks from beneath long, dark lashes that were guarded to say the least.

  Had she unnerved him by bringing him to her apartment?

  She certainly hoped so!

  ‘So, I was thinking of maybe giving my father some of the Britten money,’ she said brightly. ‘What do you think?’

  Rogan straightened his back, dark brows raised. ‘I think that’s your business and no one else’s,’ he finally answered.

  She shrugged. ‘I’m asking you for your opinion.’

  He frowned. ‘Why don’t you get back to your numbers while I have a think about that?’

  Elizabeth continued to look at him for several long seconds before slowly nodding. ‘Okay. We had got up to number three, I believe…?’

  Rogan gave a hard smile. ‘Both you and your methodical brain know that we had.’

  ‘Yes.’ She smiled. ‘But I was just checking to see if you knew too.’

  ‘I know, okay?’

  Elizabeth’s smile deepened. ‘Right. Number three.’ She held up her third finger, her expression once again serious. ‘You were in the army, transferred to Special Ops eight years ago, but became sickened by the whole thing when most of your unit was wiped out five years ago, during a mission that went terribly wrong. You resigned from the military after that, along with the five other men who survived. The six of you moved to New York for a while, but moved back to Washington three years ago.’

  ‘You were listening to me in the car earlier, after all,’ Rogan acknowledged softly.

  ‘Oh, I was listening to your every word, Rogan,’ she assured him. ‘Your scars…’

  ‘A little memento of that last mission,’ he confirmed.

  She nodded. ‘What happened?’

  ‘I’m really not allowed to talk about it. But what I will say,’ he added, as Elizabeth grimaced, ‘is that mistakes were made. Bad intel, maybe. Whatever the reason, we were ambushed, and half of my men were killed before we got anywhere near completing our mission.’

  ‘And the other half, Ace, Grant and Ricky included, now work for you in Washington?’

  ‘You really do have a methodical brain, don’t you?’ Rogan murmured admiringly. ‘They work with me, not for me.’

  ‘At RS Security.’ Elizabeth nodded. ‘Ricky is number four on my list.’

  Rogan’s brows rose. ‘Ricky is? Why?’

  ‘You care enough about him to try and stop him from chasing after a woman you know is bad for him.’

  ‘It’s what any friend would do.’

  ‘No, it isn’t,’ Elizabeth contradicted gently. ‘People don’t care about other people in that way any more, Rogan. It’s all me, me, me. But you care about Ricky.’

  ‘He’s watched my back on more than one occasion,’ Rogan said.

  ‘And now you’re watching his.’

  ‘Move on to number five, Elizabeth!’

  ‘The woman who was trying to contact you through Grant a few days ago…’ Elizabeth was willing to let the subject of Ricky go if that was what Rogan preferred. If it made him uncomfortable to admit he cared about the men who he worked with. But she wasn’t going to give up on the rest of this conversation. ‘I thought she was—Well, I assumed she was some woman you’re involved with in New York. When I thought you still lived in New York, that is,’ she added.

  ‘You mentioned something like that before.’ Rogan shook his head. ‘Meg Bailey is a piranha who’d stab you in the back rather than stop you from drowning. I’d as soon bed a crocodile as I would her!’

  ‘I get the picture, Rogan,’ Elizabeth assured him with a soft laugh. Relieved beyond measure that Meg Bailey wasn’t what she had thought she was. ‘So who is she, if she isn’t your girlfriend?’

  ‘She works for Langley, the company who issued our assignments.’

  ‘She’s one of the people who let you down five years ago?’

  ‘She is,’ he confirmed grimly.

  ‘And she’s still trying to contact you after all this time?’

  ‘We still do the occasional private job for them, okay?’ Rogan told her. ‘Maybe one or two a year. I was out of the country when your letter arrived, which is why I didn’t get here as quickly as I should have.’ He shrugged. ‘What can I say? The guys enjoy keeping their hand in,’ he defended, as Elizabeth gave him a pointed stare.

  Her brows rose. ‘The guys do…?’

  ‘Okay, I do too,’ he accepted dryly. ‘But now we do it on our terms, at our convenience, no one else’s, and we gather our own intel,’ he explained.

  Elizabeth moistened dry lips. ‘What sort of jobs?’

  ‘Usually kidnappings and hostage situations that are too sensitive even for Langley to handle. Satisfied?’ he wanted to know.

  Elizabeth was far from satisfied, and felt a deep fluttering of unease in the pit of her stomach just at the thought of Rogan putting himself and his men in danger in that way.

  Except…

  Her mother, instead of accepting the man she was married to as he was, perhaps becoming involved in the things he did and going with him when he travelled on business, had instead tried to change him, to make him into the sort of man she wanted: a stay-at-home husband who worshipped dutifully at her feet. The sort of man Leonard Brown could never hope to be.

  That was another thing Elizabeth had learnt today: people could change themselves if they wished to, but another person never could, or should, try to do that changing for them.

  Rogan was the man that he was, danger included.

  In fact, he was danger with a capital D!

  And Elizabeth loved him so much she ached with it!

  Rogan watched the changing expressions on Elizabeth’s face. The shock at learning what he did. The unease. The trepidation. Was there slight distaste there too…?

  ‘Still think I’m not really a bad-ass?’ he mocked, pushing his plate of food away half eaten.

  What the hell had he been thinking, making love to this woman? Dragging a woman like Elizabeth Brown—smart, sassy, so courageous and very much the lady—into the lowlife world he was occasionally forced to inhabit? He had to have been out of his stupid mind!

  He stood up abruptly.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Elizabeth demanded sternly as she also stood up.

  Rogan raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, somewhere in my decision to drive to Surrey with you I forgot that I was going to need transport back to Cornwall. As it’s too late now to get a train back, I thought I might look for a hotel to stay in tonight.’

  ‘You can stay here.’

  He smiled humourlessly. ‘I don’t think so, Elizabeth.’

  Her chin rose challengingly. ‘Why not?’

  Why not? Because if Rogan stayed here there was no way he was going to remain on the couch Elizabeth would no doubt consign him to. Not with her in bed only feet away…!

  His mouth thinned. ‘To answer your earlier question, about giving your father money—’

  ‘I totally agree with you. If I did that it would unbalance the life he and Cheryl now have together,’ Elizabeth put in.

  Rogan’s eyes widened. ‘How did you know I was going to say that?’

  ‘The same way you know that the two of us are going to be sharing my bed in just a few minutes,’ Elizabeth answered matter-of-factly. ‘I know you, Rogan,’ she continued, as his expression darkened thunderously. ‘For instance, I know that right now you just want to get out of here. Away from me. Away from any temptation to go to bed with me again.’

  He folded his muscled arms across the broadness of his chest as he regarded her closely. ‘Think a lot of yourself, don’t you,’ he taunted.

&nb
sp; ‘No. No, I really don’t,’ Elizabeth said shakily. ‘I know you want me. But I have no idea what else you do or don’t feel for me. And it doesn’t matter.’ She gave a rueful shake of her head as she stepped closer to him. ‘It’s enough for the moment that you want me. And that I want you,’ she added softly.

  Dear God, Rogan groaned inwardly. No woman should have such deep, mesmerising blue eyes. Or such a poutingly sensual mouth that begged to be kissed. And she certainly shouldn’t have the sort of toned and curvaceous body that a man would kill to possess.

  That he would kill to possess just once more!

  He closed the distance between them, his arms moving about her waist like steel bands as he pulled her into him and his mouth fiercely claimed hers.

  He was hungry for her. Ravenous. Needed her, wanted her, with the same desperation a drug addict needed his fix.

  Even as he devoured her mouth he was curving her body into his, loving the way she fitted so perfectly against him, and his hands were everywhere as he touched her back, her breasts, her hips, finally cupping her bottom to pull her into the hardness of his thighs, groaning as the softness of her curves cupped and held him there.

  He kept her that way as he broke the kiss to rest his forehead on hers. ‘What am I going to do with you, Elizabeth?’ he groaned huskily.

  ‘What do you want to do with me?’ Her voice was breathless with need for him.

  He drew in a harsh breath. ‘I want to kidnap you and take you back to America with me. I want to lock the two of us away naked in my apartment and become your sex-slave until you tire of me!’

  ‘And…?’ she choked.

  He gave a hard laugh as he released her to step back. ‘And you would probably run screaming if I even attempted to so much as take you out of here.’

  Elizabeth faced him unflinchingly. ‘Try me.’

  ‘Elizabeth—’

  ‘Try me…Rogue.’ She deliberately used the name she knew he preferred. She was fighting for what she wanted and she would use any means within her power to get him. Maybe only for a week. Or a month. But what a week or month it would be!

  His throat moved as he swallowed before answering her. ‘What if there’s a condition to taking you back to America with me?’

  She eyed him warily. ‘What sort of condition?’

  ‘One you’re not going to like very much,’ he said.

  ‘What’s your condition, Rogue?’ Elizabeth asked. ‘I guarantee in advance that I’ll agree to it.’

  ‘The sex was that good, hmm?’ he teased.

  ‘For me, the sex was fantastic,’ she came back without hesitation.

  ‘Me too,’ he admitted huskily.

  ‘Thank you for that.’ She smiled. ‘But I feel more for you than that, Rogan.’

  His lids narrowed. ‘How much more?’

  ‘A lot more.’

  ‘Enough to marry me?’

  ‘Enough to—?’ Elizabeth stared at him, searching the darkness of his eyes, the grim set of his mouth, the rigidity of his jaw, for any sign that he was teasing her. He wasn’t. ‘You don’t have to marry me, Rogan.’

  ‘I know I don’t have to marry you!’ he exclaimed. ‘I don’t have to marry anyone. Least of all the Britten heiress!’

  ‘I’ll give the money away,’ she vowed.

  ‘I couldn’t care less what you do with your money, Elizabeth. Keep it. Give it away. Put it in trust for our kids—’

  ‘Our kids?’ Elizabeth squeaked, incredulous, but delighted that he wanted children with her.

  ‘Kids.’ Rogan nodded determinedly. ‘I’m sure between the two of us we could do a better job of parenting than our own parents did.’

  Elizabeth was sure they could too. ‘I’d like that, Rogan.’

  He grinned teasingly. ‘The trying for them or the having them?’

  ‘Both!’

  Rogan chuckled. ‘Me too. As for your money…Elizabeth, even before my father died and left me everything I’d earned more than enough these last five years to keep the two of us, and anyone else who comes along, for the rest of our lives.’

  Elizabeth looked up at him quizzically. ‘Then why were you so angry when you realised who I was?’

  ‘I wasn’t angry, I was…It’s a male thing, I guess.’ He shrugged uncomfortably. ‘Not only are you extremely successful in your chosen field, but you’re rich as Croesus, too! What could I possibly have to offer that you would want?’

  ‘You!’ she assured him vehemently. ‘I just want you, Rogan,’ she repeated more softly.

  ‘I’ve wanted you since the first night we met,’ he admitted honestly.

  Her eyes were wide. ‘You have?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he acknowledged. ‘You crawled under my skin then, Elizabeth Brown, and I can’t shake you off. Hell, I don’t want to shake you off. I even went to Surrey with you today to see your father because I couldn’t bear the thought that you’d leave and I’d never see you again. Never be with you again. But God knows what a tutor of history is going to find to do in America…’

  ‘I have absolutely no doubts that the Britten heiress could donate an obscenely large amount of money to one of the colleges in Washington and secure herself a place on the faculty at the same time.’ Elizabeth quickly disposed of that particular problem, her heart thundering wildly in her chest. ‘I think a more pressing question might be what is Rogue Sullivan going to do with a wife?’

  ‘Oh, that’s easy,’ Rogan said, with the sexy smile she loved so much. ‘I’m going to love her for the rest of our lives, of course.’

  Elizabeth swallowed hard, that wild thundering of her heart ceasing abruptly as her breath arrested in her throat. ‘You love me?’ she finally said haltingly.

  ‘I’d better—or what’s the point of marrying you?’

  ‘Rogan, please!’

  Rogan closed his eyes briefly, knowing he was making a complete hash of this. But he had never done this before. He was never going to do it again, either! He would either have the courageous, the loyal, the strong, the kind and caring, the lovingly perfect Elizabeth as his wife, or no woman at all.

  He opened his eyes, drawing in a deep breath before speaking gruffly. ‘I never wanted to fall in love. Didn’t believe that I ever would. But I knew I was in trouble that very first night when you attacked me.’

  ‘I thought you were a burglar!’ she excused, with an embarrassed laugh.

  ‘Even more reason for me to admire you,’ Rogan assured her. ‘I can’t think of too many women who would have tried to attack a burglar single-handed. You then proceeded, despite your fractured relationship with your own father, to upbraid me for my behaviour towards mine. Criticised my way of life. The way I dress. Just about everything about me, in fact,’ he recalled ruefully. ‘But then you made love with me like a wildcat!’

  ‘Rogan!’ Elizabeth gasped, and the colour deepened in her cheeks.

  ‘Oh, believe me, Beth, I loved it,’ he told her huskily. ‘I loved every moment of it. So much so that I hope you’ll make love with me like that every night for the rest of our lives. So there you have it.’ He grimaced at this complete baring of his soul. ‘I love you very much, Elizabeth Brown. Will you please marry me, come back to Washington with me, and spend the rest of your life at my side?’

  Those blue eyes blazed with emotion, and a becoming blush coloured her cheeks.

  Elizabeth knew that they were an oddly matched pair. A woman who had chosen to immerse herself in academia for most of her adult life and an ex-military man, who still dressed like a commando and who, by choice, still lived on the edge of danger some of the time.

  Yes, on the surface they were an oddly matched pair. But inside, where it really mattered, Elizabeth knew they fitted together perfectly…

  ‘Oh, yes, Rogan Sullivan, I’ll marry you,’ she told him happily. ‘I’ll marry you because I love you very much too!’ She launched herself into his arms, laughing and crying at the same time.

  Rogan kissed her very thoroughly, before
picking her up and carrying her out of the kitchen and through to her bedroom. He placed her down on the bed and then lay beside her. Reaching up, he cupped either side of his face with his hands and looked down at her with intense dark eyes. ‘I promise that my love for you will last for ever, Beth.’

  ‘For ever sounds perfect, Rogue.’

  For ever with Rogan was absolutely all that Elizabeth could ever want or need…

  All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

  All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II B.V./S.à.r.l. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

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  First published in Great Britain 2009

  Harlequin Mills & Boon Limited,

  Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

  © Carole Mortimer 2010

  ISBN: 978-1-4089-1868-5