Tempting His Mistress

by Samantha Holt

  Pausing at the railings outside the house, he gripped the cool iron for a moment and glanced up at Lilly’s room. He almost expected her to be standing there, looking out for him, but the window was empty.

  Would she still be angry with him? He scrubbed a hand across his face and put his foot on the first step only to pause at the sound of a horse and carriage barrelling down the street. Evan swivelled and noted it was his own carriage that was careening carelessly over the cobbles. When it came to a halt, the driver leapt down and something pulled at his heart.

  Unable to fathom why dread churned in his stomach, he dashed over to meet the driver on the pavement. “What in the devil is going on, Andrew?” he asked the harried-looking man.

  “It is Miss Claremont.” He paused to bend double and catch his breath. “She is in danger. She went to help someone. A woman.” Andrew straightened and motioned to his cheek. “The woman was hurt. Had a bruise here. So Miss Claremont intended to help her. I was to take them to the train station after they collected something.”

  “Damn it all! And you let her?”

  “My lord—”

  Evan waved away his protest. “It is well enough, Andrew. I know you were only doing your job and I had asked you to do whatever Miss Claremont wanted. But tell me, man, where is she and why is she in danger?”

  Andrew pulled a missive out from his jacket and handed it over. “A gentleman gave me this and told me to bring it to you with great haste. He warned me if I did anything other than deliver it, he would kill Miss Claremont.”

  The air vanished from his lungs, replaced with searing pain. This man had Lilly and intended to harm her, but why? He tore open the letter and the agony nearly forced him double when realisation hit. Lord Ashby had her. All because of Evan, she was in danger. The man clearly had some petty revenge in mind. First Henry and now this.

  “My horse,” he demanded, not even looking at Andrew as he scanned the letter once more.

  The address was in King’s Cross—a derelict house if he remembered correctly. What had she been thinking trying to help this woman? He pinched his nose. Would he have expected anything else of her? Lilly might be the most stubborn and infuriating woman he knew, but she was also kind and charitable.

  And now he might lose her for good.

  Evan shook his head and shoved the missive in his jacket. The mild fog of drunkenness had vanished and he saw everything clearly now. He had to go to Lord Ashby and negotiate her release. He might die. A fair sacrifice, he reckoned. Lilly’s life for his. Evan thought it unlikely Lord Ashby merely wanted a civilised discussion with him.

  “Your horse, my lord,” Andrew prompted.

  Evan snapped his head up and snatched the reins. Uttering his thanks, Evan mounted the horse and urged her into a gallop. He rode her hard, cursing cyclists and carriages and forcing several pedestrians to shout at him. He cut through Kensington Park and across the river into Hyde Park, trying not to recall a time when Lilly had been pressed against his arm.

  If Ashby hurt her... He bunched the reins in his hand until the leather hurt his palms.

  The journey took too long. It gave him time to consider what Ashby could be doing to her, time to worry what he might do if he had already harmed her and the chance to regret every harsh word he had ever uttered to her.

  When the old house came into view, Evan eased the horse into a canter. How did he intend to handle this? The truth was, he had no choice but to do what Ashby asked. While he had Lilly, he also had Evan at his beck and call. A shudder wracked him as he eyed the gloomy house. Was she terrified? Did she think he might not come? He muttered her name over and over in his mind as if he could somehow transmit his thoughts to her to reassure her.

  He pulled the gelding to a stop, dismounted and wrapped the reins hastily around a nearby lamppost. Taking a breath, he took the stairs up to the door and considered knocking. Smirking at himself, he twisted the knob and the door eased open. Before he took stock of the gloomy entrance hall, the door slammed shut behind him and he felt the jab of something in his back.

  Evan stiffened and lifted his hands slowly in surrender. “Ashby.”

  “Glad you could make it, Hawksley.”

  “Where is Miss Claremont?”

  “Patience, patience.” Ashby began patting down Evan’s jacket. “You weren’t foolish enough to bring a weapon, were you?”

  Inwardly, Evan groaned. He hadn’t even considered grabbing his pistols before he left, but it seemed Ashby was prepared for that in any case.

  “I was not,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Excellent,” Ashby said.

  He prodded what was almost certainly a pistol into his back once more and urged him forward and into an empty drawing room. There, to the left, in one darkened corner sat Lilly. His legs almost gave way from beneath him when she sobbed his name. Fury boiled through his veins and made the pulse in his temple throb. When he neared her side, urged on by the metal in his back, he noted she was bound to the chair and marks marred her face. One of her beautiful eyes was partially closed.

  It took every ounce of his control not to whirl around and punch Ashby until he was nothing but a bloody pulp. However, the knowledge that he couldn’t help Lilly with a hole in his back or his gut made him uncurl his fists and concentrate on breathing deeply.

  “Stand next to her,” Ashby ordered.

  Cautiously, he edged over to Lilly’s side. The desire to put a hand to her shoulder and reassure her ate at him but he kept his mouth shut and his hands to himself lest Ashby take objection to it and shoot them both.

  “You have me now. Let Miss Claremont go,” he urged as he faced Ashby.

  He hadn’t seen the man in many months but even in the shadows of the large room, he saw his features had grown sunken and dark rings lingered under his eyes. Even with the extra weight he still carried, he had a gaunt appearance to his face. Good. Evan felt some kind of smug contentment. Perhaps it meant Eleanor’s death haunted him.

  “Untie her,” he ordered.

  Evan sank to his knees without question. His hands shook as he fought with the knots at her wrists. They were slick and nausea rose in his throat when he realised it was her blood. She must have rubbed her wrists raw trying to escape.

  “All will be well,” he murmured to her.

  “Be quiet!” the earl bellowed.

  Unwilling to aggravate the man who still had them both at gunpoint, Evan said nothing else. Lilly’s ragged breaths and shaking hands tore at his heart, but she controlled herself admirably, not even whimpering when he tugged the ropes from her damaged wrists. He ground his teeth together. Ashby would have to pay. Somehow, he would make him pay for ever touching her.

  “Now, you sit, Hawksley, and you tie him up, Miss Claremont.”

  She stood and shook her head. “No,” she said quietly.

  Ashby lifted his pistol, and Evan quickly took her seat. “Just do it, Lilly,” Evan pleaded.

  She lifted her chin defiantly. “I will not.”

  Taking a moment to consider them both, Ashby moved quickly. Evan readied himself to leap to Lilly’s defence but he had not been prepared for an attack on himself. Ashby swiped the barrel of the pistol across the side of his head, making his ears ring. He sagged against the chair and heard Lilly’s cry—though it sounded distant.

  “Tie him up,” Ashby ordered, “or I shall break his knees.”

  With shaking hands, she began to bind his hands. Evan realised she was not tightening the knots as much as she could. It was a dangerous game she played. If Ashby realised, they could be in increased danger. She met his gaze as she finished tying his hands together and he saw the determination there. Was she going to do something foolish? Damn the impetuous woman. He feared it might be so.

  “What is this about?” he asked Ashby. He doubted he could talk the man out of whatever he had planned but he might give himself some time to consider a plan or at least ensure Lilly got out safely.

  “Don’t play
the fool with me, Hawksley. I know you intended to take Eleanor from me. Wanted her for yourself, eh? Were you not content with having just one whore in your bed?”

  “You’re wrong, Ashby. I never intended to take her away from you.”

  “You made me hurt Eleanor.” The gun shook in his hand. “I never wanted to kill her. It was all your fault.”

  “No, it was your fault for laying a finger on her. You should protect the woman you love, not harm her. You’re a coward.”

  Lilly shifted marginally to one side and Ashby swung at her. There was a crack and she crumpled.

  “Coward, am I?” He laughed manically. “Who has a woman trying to fight his battles for him?”

  “Damn you, Ashby,” Evan roared, fighting against the chair.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lilly lift her head but even the knowledge she was yet alive didn’t cool the fire in his veins. He twisted his hands and felt the ropes loosen further. He wrenched and pulled and rocked the chair with all his might. Wood splintered.

  “Keep still.” Ashby thrust his pistol out. “Keep still or I shall shoot!”

  The deafening sound of the blood in his ears all but drowned out the threat. Only Lilly dragging herself up from the floor, her face battered, registered in his vision. He ignored the threat of the barrel bearing down on him and the chair cracked again.

  “I warned you.” Eyes wild, Ashby pulled back the hammer and its click echoed through the room.

  The explosion of the gun mixed with the sound of the chair disintegrating as Evan pulled his hands free. Lilly screamed at the same time, creating a deafening concoction of noise. A blur of lilac shot past him and pain struck his chest. It was no bullet wound though. Lilly had leaped in front of him. She fell to the ground.

  Ripping away from the chair, wood crashed around him and he barrelled toward Ashby. The man let out a yowl and clutched his hand, dropping the pistol. It was only then Evan realised the gun had misfired and exploded in his hand. He glanced back to see Lilly pushing herself up to sitting.

  The relief refused to dampen the simmering wrath inside of him. For Eleanor and for Lilly, Ashby had to pay. Evan thrust a fist into his face first, relished the crunch of bone and splatter of blood. When the earl fell back, Evan threw himself on top of him and smashed his face again. The man tried to lift his hands to defend himself but the bloodied stump of a hand offered little protection and Evan ploughed through them. He landed blows all over the man, felt the sticky heat of blood spray his face and hands.

  A hand curled around his arm and he whirled, fist raised, snarling like a beast, causing Lilly to stumble back. He dropped fully to the floor, a chill replacing the heat and put his head in his hands. His body shook as the anger deserted him. All he was left with was utter shame. He had let Lilly down, placed her in danger and nearly harmed her himself. He really was no better than his father.

  And what had she done? Nearly sacrificed herself for him. He snorted to himself. She had been willing to throw herself in front of a madman for him and he hadn’t even been prepared to look past her illegitimate birth.

  Damn, he hadn’t even been capable of admitting he might love a woman who was not of equal rank. Now, it was clearer than ever he didn’t deserve her.

  Evan glanced at the unconscious Ashby. The man’s red stained suit provided proof enough of Evan’s brutal nature. When Lilly crawled over to him and pressed his head to her chest, her tiny sobs tearing at his heart, he flinched.

  “Get away from me, Lilly,” he said hoarsely.

  “No,” she said quietly. “I shan’t leave you. Not ever, do you understand?”

  “You must. I cannot be the man you need and deserve.”

  Her gentle hands cupped his face and lifted it so he could look into her eyes. Though one stayed swollen and the bruising in her cheeks had darkened so much that even the gloomy light of the room did not hide it, she could never fail to be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

  “I need you,” she said softly.

  “I am no better than my father,” he replied bitterly, unable to look away. “I couldn’t live with myself if I ever hurt you.”

  “Why should you hurt me?”

  “My father hurt my mother. She died when he pushed her and she cracked her head on the fireplace. I saw it all when I was eight years old.”

  It was odd how tonelessly the words came out, how they didn’t twist him into pieces anymore. Telling Lilly felt like he had expelled a great breath that he had been holding onto forever. Even his brother didn’t know what had happened. He had been too young to understand why their mother sometimes had bruises on her face or why she winced when he hugged her. But Evan understood all too well.

  “Oh, Evan.” Lilly pressed her forehead to his. “No boy should have to witness that. But you are not like him. You’re a good man, you help women.”

  “I nearly hit you.”

  “But you did not and you would not. That man tried to kill us. I don’t blame you for being furious. I was too. I wanted to tear and rage at him for trying to shoot you.”

  “I love you too much to keep you,” he said sorrowfully. “I cannot subject you to a life with me and my temper.”

  “You love me?”

  He nodded.

  “Is this why you tried to send me away? Because of your temper?”

  He nodded again, his throat trapped with lingering fear and grief.

  “Your temper is terrible,” she said with a smile as she drew back to view him, hands still clasping his face. “But mine is quite awful too. I should like very much to spend the rest of my days arguing with you, Lord Hawksley.” Lilly dropped her hands and glanced down at them. “If you would have me, I should like to be your permanent mistress.”

  Evan let his brows dart up. “Like your parents?”

  “Yes, like my parents.” She continued to stare at her lap. “They were happy, you see. I understand that now. For so long I resented them for their choice but I had more love being an illegitimate child than many other children and my mother never regretted it. In a way, I was quite lucky, I believe, to have parents so deeply in love.”

  Evan shook his head. She believed in him that much that she was willing to give up her dreams for him and become his mistress for the rest of his life? He could hardly believe he deserved such a sacrifice but then again, when had Lilly ever been wrong?

  “You’re a good man,” she persisted. “You tried to help Eleanor when no one else would and you have always tried to do your best for me. Look at him.” She thrust a finger towards Ashby’s limp body. “Do you really believe yourself like him?”

  He considered the man—the wild rage he had seen and his obvious thirst for pain and suffering. No, he didn’t truly believe himself like him. If he worked hard enough, could he be the man Lilly deserved?

  Well, first there was one thing he had to put right.

  Taking her hands, he pressed a kiss to each of her fingers and the inside of both wrists. Then he clasped them in one hand and lifted her chin with a finger. “I am afraid, Miss Claremont, I must decline your proposal. I cannot have you as my mistress.”

  “Oh.”

  “You are, however, still contracted for—what?—ten more months to do whatever I ask of you. And I...” He had to push the words through a dry throat, “ask you to be my wife.”

  Lilly’s mouth dropped open but she remained silent. His heart threatened to break free of his ribs.

  “It appears I’ve done the unthinkable and silenced Lilly Claremont,” he said, with a twisted smile, mostly to hide the unease beating in his chest. “You will remember that you are under contract and cannot say no.”

  She shook her head and a smile broke gradually across her face. “You, Lord Hawksley, are the most arrogant man I have ever met.” She inched closer and wrapped her arms around his neck. “But if I cannot say no, I suppose I shall have to say yes.”

  “You shall marry me?”

  “Yes. I have little choice.” Lips fl
attened to his, she whispered against them, “I love you very much, you see.”

  “I love you.”

  And when he took her lips with a kiss, he almost believed that maybe he could be deserving of her. He vowed then to work every day to prove himself worthy of the irritating, beautiful, frustrating woman who had stolen his heart.

  Epilogue

  “You can put her down, you know?”

  Evan turned from the window where he had been staring out at the elegant gardens at the back of Hawksley Manor and listening to his daughter’s soft breaths. He couldn’t bring himself to return her to her crib and risk waking her.

  He eyed his wife, who was clutching her sketchpad in front of her and he noted the dark pencil stains on her fingertips. “I dare not,” he whispered.

  “If you spend forever holding Elizabeth, she shall never learn to be independent of you.”

  He shook his head with a grin and paused to study the two month old. She had his dark hair but thankfully took after Lilly with her delicate features. “With a mother like you, my dear, I have my doubts she will be anything but fierce and independent.” He nodded at the sketch pad. “Have you been drawing?”

  A beautiful blush tinged her cheeks and she rotated the pad to show him a sketch of him and Lilly sleeping together. His heart swelled at the image of Elizabeth in his arms. Sometimes he still couldn’t quite understand how he deserved so much, but he no longer feared his temper. Most days, he found himself quite placid.

  “When did you sketch this? This was last night, was it not?”

  Elizabeth had been particularly fitful last night so they had taken her into their bed. He concluded it was because they were not in Oxfordshire where Elizabeth had been born. They were all happier there but it seemed many of the Hampshire families wished to visit them and their new child so they had come to Hawksley Manor until the interest had died down. With the birth of their child, it seemed any lingering gossip about their marriage was silenced. Lilly had always bore it with great stoicism, but he loathed to think of her subjected to the bitterness of other women. His wife just smiled and reminded him that few of them were as lucky as they to have love in their lives.