A Mistress for Penndrake

by Tammy L. Bailey

  Kate breathed a sigh of relief, sure she’d win the conditions of the bet they’d placed, for, at the moment, not only did Claire show no signs of wanting to see Lord Wesley again, but she appeared to exhibit a heavy regret over the situation altogether.

  “Do you wish to remain in?”

  Lord Wesley’s soft, tantalizing whisper brought a delightful shiver to Kate’s spine. She nodded to say she did, for from where she stood, her playing hand appeared more than winnable.

  “Very well then.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Wesley’s confidence of rising to victory over the situation never faltered. He had met a dozen young ladies like Miss Claire Garrett, and he’d managed to bed them all without two words spoken between them.

  In regard to Edward Garrett’s sister, if she showed any signs of shyness or remorse, he believed them false. A woman of Miss Garrett’s boldness did not turn into a country…mouse in one day.

  Too eager to end the night and set the rest of it into motion, he called for supper earlier than usual and then excused himself from his party at half past nine.

  Once in his bedchamber, he waited an agonizing twenty minutes before Miss Holden’s modest knock sounded. His body tensed from the prospect of sampling her again. Impatient, he strode toward the door, his fists clenching and unclenching to steady his anxious nerves.

  Upon his doorstep, she stood before him, triumphantly humble.

  “Ah, I’ve been expecting you,” he said in a low whisper.

  She flew past him in a rush of vanilla and muslin. Unable to hide the smile rising from his soul, he shut and locked the door, then turned to strike a casual, unaffected pose a few feet away.

  His blood rushed with anticipated excitement. Since she’d touched him in the carriage this morning, all he could think about was her hands exploring and stroking him.

  “Then you know what I’ve come for.”

  He chuckled, more to himself in case she took offense. “What? No elegant curtsy? No formal refinement of how happy you are to see me?”

  She gawked at him for a few seconds, then took a deep breath. “Fine.” She dipped into a swift curtsy before coming back into a stiff stance in front of him.

  After a long moment, her impatience waning, she threw her hands to her sides and ground out, “It is most pleasant to see you again…my lord.”

  Since their excursion to the Autumn Festival, she’d changed into an evening dress of light green, her eyes reflective of the material and shining clear with annoyance and something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

  Through five courses, he could hardly keep his gaze from ravishing her. Unfortunately, he found himself competing with Arthur, who took great care to show her a rekindling of affection.

  As witnessed by everyone, the man placed, on numerous occasions, tiny, though lingering, kisses upon her ungloved hand.

  Now, however, she stood before him, the light from the fireplace placing a euphoric glow upon her rounded cheeks. He cautioned a step forward. She withdrew, her hand reaching out to touch his bed not a half a foot away.

  Unable to resist, he shifted his gaze from her to where her palm rested. As if burned by his blankets, she yanked it away.

  “What’s the matter, Miss Holden? Have you found yourself in the lion’s den?”

  “More like a dragon’s lair,” she whispered under her breath. “But I’ve not come to play a game on words. It should be perfectly clear to you why I’m here. Since it appears Claire has no interest in…” She paused to find the right words.

  He lifted his lips in a crooked smile. “Yes?”

  Her lids fluttered off her cheeks like the wings of a hectic butterfly. “You know quite well what I’m trying to say.”

  He shook his head. “Interest in bidding me…good night?”

  She let out a puff of genuine annoyance, so aware he was toying with her. “No, my lord.”

  He closed the small space between them, his hands longing to pull her against him. He breathed deep to quell the want, the exotic smell of her body weakening his strength to carry on this charade for very much longer.

  “Then say it.” He almost growled the words.

  With her eyes wide and her lips slightly parted, she whispered, “In touching you.”

  Yes, he had anticipated those words, but what he didn’t expect was the rush of pleasure in hearing her say them. With his body shuddering, he reached around and drew her against his hardening length.

  She melted like an autumn snow against him, spurring a need so deep and ethereal, he’d begun to place bets his merciless plans would unravel faster than he ever intended.

  As his mouth hovered above hers, her sweet breath coaxing him in, the door behind him shook with an obnoxious and impatient knock.

  Claire.

  In his arms, Miss Holden gasped and shoved herself away. “Oh dear God. You meant this to happen, didn’t you?”

  He turned to shield himself from Miss Holden’s mistrusting glare. He’d stepped toward the door when her frantic hand grabbed at his upper arm, and her lithe body tore into his path.

  “No! You cannot answer it,” she hissed under her breath.

  He knew she was near to begging him, but somehow, it didn’t bring him any satisfaction. Remorse for what he’d started gnawed deeper at his insides. Still, he carried on the pretense of wanting nothing but to destroy her life like her relatives had set about destroying his.

  “Out of my way, Miss Holden.”

  Her head shook, her mahogany curls bouncing across her flushed cheeks, her brilliant green eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You cannot do this. Are you not worried about the consequence of what opening that door might bring?”

  Her small hands grasped hold of his lapel, her slight strength slowing his progress. He clasped his own hands around her elbows, struggling with himself not to give in and send Claire away.

  The knock sounded harder, less patient.

  “I am a man of rank and title. The only person who stands to suffer any ruination from their actions tonight is you.”

  If he had reached out and slapped her across the face, he believed her reaction would not have been any less shocked.

  “I hate you,” she whispered, her lips trembling with anger, her words tinged with such loathing, he felt the stab like a hot knife. In a matter of moments, her tears broke like a weakened dam, wetting the corners and thickening her lashes. He had never endured more pain than seeing her like this.

  “And I take back what I said.” She sniffed and pulled away from him.

  Curiosity prompted him to ask. “And what is that?”

  “That heaven has a place for you, for I’m quite certain your selfish heartlessness has earned you a high position somewhere else.” Her voice broke on the last word.

  “Never forget that,” he said before going to the door to allow Claire inside his room.

  “My lord,” Claire cooed and sashayed by, turning around close to where he stood. He glanced around the room, noting the bulge and slight movement in the curtain at his bedpost.

  His heart, affected by Miss Holden’s words and presence, beat heavy and erratic.

  He blew out a breath and grinned down at the woman who stood before him. “And what has brought you here this fine evening, madam?”

  Wesley had presented the rules to Miss Holden in a fair manner. If Claire stayed to finish what she’d started in the carriage, then Miss Holden would be indebted to him. If not, he’d have to return her things and thus allow her to leave.

  Well, his conviction to go through with this began to sink like quicksand as Claire’s ice-blue gaze dropped immediately to his trousers.

  At any other time, her wonder would have caused a lustful response. It did no such thing. It didn’t even come close. He tried to tell himself his reaction, or lack thereof, had nothing to do with Miss Holden or her existence just a few feet away.

  Like a feline prowling after her prey, Claire slinked closer. He forced himself to
stand still, his gaze shifting for a moment toward the curtain where Miss Holden’s serene eyes peeked out with innocent curiosity…and loathing.

  “I’ve been unable to think of little else but what happened in the carriage this morning.”

  Wesley lifted his chin as Claire raised her arms toward him, her skinny fingers interlacing behind his neck and locking their bodies in place.

  Her voice, seductive and soft, felt harsh against his neck.

  “At first, I was mortified, embarrassed even, but I’m quite convinced you wanted it to happen.”

  “Did I now?”

  “Hmmm,” she said, her eyes twinkling with a provocative lure.

  Determined to follow through and ensure Miss Holden stayed at Penndrake, he reached up and cupped the back of Claire’s head. Lead poured through his veins as she pursed her thin lips within a whisper of his own. She smelled of mutton, sweat, and ruination.

  He lowered his mouth and, at the last minute, stopped. “Get out, before I take the means of throwing you out,” he replied.

  Shock fell across her face, leaving her speechless for a mere two seconds.

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “I…I do believe you’re making a grave mistake, my lord.”

  “It would not be the first,” he ground out and let her go.

  Left with no other choice, she dashed away, her skirts swishing in an angry rustle across the room. The door slammed shut behind her, and he wondered at what point he’d acquired a conscience.

  As he stood in tumultuous thoughts, Miss Holden stepped out of her hiding place, her face damp with her tears. He positioned himself between her and the exit, knowing damn well she’d try to rush past him. However, like a scared animal, she froze in mid-step several feet away.

  “You don’t intend to leave me now, do you?”

  It was a ridiculous question to ask after what he’d planned to do, with her watching. If he’d hoped to bring out a certain feeling of jealousy, he believed he’d failed. If he thought to establish their relationship as a means to an end, he emerged the loser.

  “No, I am not leaving. Not without the items you stole from me.”

  Her voice trembled and her fingers shook as they reached out for the things they both knew he would not relinquish.

  “I am truly sorry, Miss Holden, but, as you witnessed, you lost the bet we made.”

  “I did not! She didn’t kiss you.”

  “Because I didn’t let her.”

  Miss Holden opened her mouth only to slam it shut. She could not deny Claire would have kissed him if he hadn’t thrown her out. At an impasse, he inhaled and raised his chin higher, as if to act like he truly intended to think on the answer for more than a minute. “All right,” he said, unwilling to let her go just yet. “I will give you five minutes to find the objects you seek, for they are well hidden in this room.”

  She shook her head, he supposed remembering the last time they played this game. “And what do I give up this time, if I cannot find them?”

  He found hope in her question. “Nothing.”

  She cautioned a pace closer and brushed back a wayward lock of chestnut hair. “I’m listening.”

  He raised her step with one of his own, stopping short to spread his arms wide. “Their safety is secure, wherever I go.”

  …

  Kate, rattled and weary, stood before the marquess a heart-tangled mess. After enduring Arthur’s presumptuous advances and pretending Lord Wesley’s ignorance in the matter didn’t trouble her, she’d come to his room, ready to do battle. Be strong.

  Only she didn’t anticipate being entwined in his arms or peeking out beyond his bedroom curtains to find Claire in the same steely embrace she’d found herself moments before. Kate hated him for what he’d done. Then, he’d surprised her and kept her presence a secret, throwing Claire out without even stealing a kiss from her.

  Still, the entire episode left Kate deflated, and a spot queasy. One more night with Lord Wesley, and Kate knew she was in jeopardy of losing more than what he’d thus far taken from her.

  “All right,” she said again, succumbed by his haughtiness, and reaching out to search his clothes. His hazel eyes flickered in the firelight, full of mischief and want.

  “There is one catch.”

  She exhaled loud and hard. “Well, of course there is.”

  “You must wear the mask.”

  A shiver of forbidden excitement raced through her. “No!”

  “Then all bets are off.” He turned toward the door.

  “Wait,” she called. He stood with his back to her, and she would have given anything to know what he was thinking. “We’ll play by your rules.” How far could the items be inside his clothing, after all?

  He sidestepped to retrieve the mask from the bedside table before returning to her. She closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of his closeness as he reached behind her to secure the blindfold in place. “No, wait.” She suddenly remembered her fear of closed places and lifted her hand to push his arm away. Her heart pummeled hard inside her chest, growing wilder with each unsteady breath.

  “Miss Holden?” The concern in his voice made her waver, but only for a second.

  “Do I still have five minutes, or have you changed that rule as well?”

  His mouth descended upon her right ear. “You still have five minutes.”

  She shivered from the contact. As the darkness wrapped around her world, she concentrated on her goal. All she needed was to reach in, find his silk pockets, and pull out the items. Determined to follow through no matter the consequence, she brought in a steady breath, then turned and braced herself before him. She fumbled at first, her fingers walking up the hard wall of his chest.

  Moment by precious moment, her composure began to disintegrate. Before her, he remained stone-still, his warm breath falling easy and steady against her forehead. It irritated her how unaffected he remained while her legs threatened to buckle under her anxiousness.

  “Have you found them?” he whispered.

  Kate steeled her nerves and shook her head. She didn’t understand how she loathed the man one minute and wanted him to take her in his arms the next. “Not yet,” she grumbled back.

  Abandoning all her modesty while dredging up some much-needed courage, she yanked off his coat, taking it to explore inside pockets, only to find them empty and flat.

  Her heart dropped, but she refused to give up, moving on to the next garment. Her fingers struggled with the cumbersome buttons of his waistcoat, stumbling from top to bottom. When she reached the last one, she realized she had lost precious time on such an inconsequential item.

  She wondered now if he’d somehow tricked her again. Were his items closer to his skin, and not tucked inside some secretive place inside his clothes. In a panic, she forwent the unbuttoning, grasping his thinly threaded linen shirt and ripping it apart. The reckless gesture elicited a groan from Lord Wesley and made him catch her fingers as they glanced over the smoothness of his bare chest.

  In her altered state, her senses heightened. The sandalwood soap he wore smelled stronger and more sensual, and the fast, rhythmic sound of his breathing caused goose bumps to pop all over.

  “Times up,” he rasped.

  She shook her head. “No, you lied. You said they went with you wherever you go. They should have been in your pocket.”

  “But they are.”

  She held her breath as his hands guided hers along his unclad waist. She trembled, not knowing what he had in mind but not having the will to stop him, either. Floating on a wave of elevated sensations, he continued to coax her fingers downward, the tips glazing the hardened muscles of his stomach.

  “Why are you doing this?” she begged, growing dizzier by the second.

  Chapter Seventeen

  So soft and endearing, Wesley believed the longer he stood fighting Miss Holden, the tighter his body coiled and threatened to snap.

  “Because I want you to suffer,
like I have suffered,” he murmured on a rasped whisper.

  “But I’ve kept nothing from you.”

  Her words, both anguished and confused, sent a tidal wave of compassion through his hardened veins. She had no idea the torture she put him through. He closed his eyes and prepared to separate himself from her when she wrapped her arms around his back, her head lowering to lie against his chest.

  “Your heart beats like mine,” she whispered.

  “Damn!” he growled. Like a man deprived of earth’s sweetest nectar, he coaxed her head back and captured her mouth. Full and ripe as sugary plums, her lips melted under his. Testing the boundaries of her desires, he slid his palm along her spine, hauling her into his rigid arousal. She inhaled sharply, her trembling hands coming up to tangle in his hair.

  Powerless to slow down, much less stop, he swooped her up and carried her to his bed. Her small arms wrapped around his neck to ensure he didn’t break the intimate connection between them.

  He kissed her, again and again, his tongue dipping inside the warm recess of her mouth, drinking in her honeyed sweetness. When his gaze drew to her flushed face and swollen lips, he thought of how he’d wanted, from the beginning, to ruin and ravish her without thought or care. Moment by precious moment, he was hurtling her toward that outcome.

  When a spur of consciousness forced him to draw back farther, her hand curled possessively around his nape and brought him back to her. He fought with what to do, tormented between body and soul, between immoral and good. For now, the need surging through his veins trumped any sanctity he had left. Still, on a jagged breath, he tore his mouth away from hers.

  “You have five seconds to tell me to stop,” he begged.

  He unmasked her to see her answer, her eyes glistening with innocent fascination and wondrous longing. She blinked at him before her hands came up to touch his face. “You could give me thirty, my lord, and I still don’t think I could say the words.”

  “Then I have damned us both.”

  He crushed his mouth to hers, exploring every soft contour, every delicious curve. His half-naked body pressed hers into the mattress. His hand slid to her throat and then to the perfect roundness of her bound breast.