He thrust with his cock and at the same time withdrew his finger a fraction. Lysandra cried out at the friction of his finger and his cock rubbing against each other through the thin barrier between the two entrances.
He grunted. “Should…I…stop?”
She shook her head. “No, no please. Don’t stop.”
He laughed low and then thrust again, keeping the motion of this cock and his finger at opposing directions. Lysandra found herself driving backward, rolling her hips in a circle and clenching against his invading body as he took her in every way. Her orgasm hit her, doubled in intensity by the fact that he was inside of her so completely.
His strokes quickened as she arched and cried out through her crisis and then he joined her in release, pulling from her body to splash his seed across her bare back before he flopped down on her bed and pulled her against him, panting.
She stared up at him in the dimness. He had never ended a lovemaking session by holding her. He’d made it clear, so many times, that he couldn’t and wouldn’t ever allow her so close.
She snuggled into the crook of his shoulder and slipped her arm around his bare, sweaty chest. In a few moments, a few hours, he would remember why he pulled away from her and go. But until then, she was going to enjoy this closeness and try not to think about what would happen when it was over once and for all.
Chapter Fifteen
Andrew wasn’t feeling particularly good about himself as he sat in the carriage rumbling across London as a cold rain streaked down the windows outside. In fact, he was feeling quite like a shit.
After a night where Lysandra had given herself in every way he asked, he had slipped from her bed as soon as she fell asleep and left without a word of goodbye. No doubt, that departure would wound her. It seemed that was all he was capable of doing, but how could he talk to her after what they had shared? Emotionally, as well as physically.
He had never wanted a woman more. He kept thinking that, though he never said it out loud. And every time the thought wedged its way into his mind, he hated himself for it.
Shouldn’t he have wanted Rebecca the most? Didn’t he owe her that, alive or dead, after everything she had sacrificed to marry him and give him what he desired?
And yet, he didn’t. He didn’t honor her. Truth be told, he had hardly thought of her since touching Lysandra.
Not that he could ever allow Lysandra to know that. He kept that wall between them, refusing to let her near, refusing to give her anything. All he could do was take. Take her body and take her story, as he had last night when he all but forced her to tell him about her family. It had hurt her to talk about them, to spill the painful details he would wager she had kept secret for years.
He knew a little about that.
And yet now the carriage stopped in front of a middle-class home in a neighborhood he had never visited before. He stepped down before the driver could assist and looked up with a sniff of disdain.
There was one thing he could do for her.
“Wait for me here,” he said. “I won’t be long.”
“Yes, sir,” his drive said with a smart bow, standing at the wait beside the horse’s head.
Andrew straightened his jacket and strode up the door. He rapped and smiled when a servant opened it and stepped back in surprise and respect even before he gave over his card.
“M-may I help you…my lord?” the servant said, guessing correctly that he was titled.
There were few times when Andrew enjoyed throwing the weight of his family name and fortune about. Normally it only brought him attention he did not seek and gossip he did not desire. Today, however, he loved every moment of it.
“Indeed. Tell your master that Viscount Callis is here to see him.” He pushed into the foyer. “Now.”
The servant stammered as he took one of Andrew’s gold foil-trimmed cards. “Yes. I shall. Immediately, my lord. Allow me to show you to a parlor to wait for Mr. Ingram.”
Andrew followed the servant into the room and as the door shut behind him, he looked around. The parlor was the gaudiest display of new money he had ever seen. From the gold-trimmed everything to the overly stuffed chairs to the mismatched “art” on the walls, it was all designed to scream rich. In the end it failed. All Andrew saw was a lack of taste and decorum.
And he liked the man he had never met even less for it, if that was possible.
Within moments, the parlor reopened and a fat, sweaty man burst through the door.
“Lord Callis,” he said, reaching out a hand with a disturbingly wet palm that Andrew ignored. The man stammered and then lowered his hand. His face got even redder. “I beg your pardon for making you wait. Damn servants.”
Andrew pursed his lips at the idea that August Ingram would blame a poor footman for the very brief wait. It only made him angrier and angrier.
“It was nothing,” he said as he took a seat and glowered up at the man.
“What an honor it is to have a man of such importance in our home,” the man continued to gush as he staggered into his own seat. “Though I don’t know what I could have done to earn the honor. Have you heard of my shop?”
Andrew shook his head. In the research he had done into the man since the night before, he had learned he owned a somewhat successful bookshop in the same neighborhood where he lived. Nothing spectacular, but he did a decent number of sales each month. Enough to live more than comfortably.
Without Lysandra’s pittance coming in for her mother.
“Your shop is none of my concern,” he drawled evenly. “In fact, you are none of my concern, sir.”
The other man cleared his throat in discomfort and shifted his fat frame in the overstuffed chair. “I see.” He hesitated and then shook his head. “No, I don’t see. What—what do you want of me, then, my lord?”
“I’m here about Lysandra Keates and her mother,” Andrew snapped.
To his great pleasure, Ingram swallowed hard and dug into his pocket for an embroidered handkerchief with which to mop his sweaty brow.
“My aunt,” he said. “And her daughter, yes. My dear aunt lives with us, we took the poor thing in after some great misfortunes in her family. A pleasure for us, I assure you.”
“A pleasure,” Andrew repeated, clenching his fists. “I see. A pleasure, you say. Is that why you charge her daughter an exorbitant amount of money each month for your dear aunt’s room and board?”
Now Ingram began to struggle to get to his feet, but Andrew was much faster. When he rose to his full height, Ingram stopped making the attempt to stand and sank back into his chair with a meek shiver.
“See here, my lord. You know nothing of the circumstances,” he argued, though his tone was quite weak. “I only want to cover my expenses when it comes to my aunt. She is unwell. You cannot imagine what a burden that is. One we take willingly, of course, but should we not be compensated for all we do? Now may I ask you, what do you know of my cousin and our arrangement that you would come barging into my home with such an attitude?”
“I’m a friend of Miss Keates’,” Andrew said coolly. “And I’m here because I will be removing your aunt from your home today and moving her into a better situation. And I will expect you to return all monies given to you for her care by Miss Keates. Do you understand what I’m saying? All monies. With interest.”
“Interest for what?” Ingram sputtered.
“For being a bastard,” Andrew responded. “And a pig.”
Now Ingram managed to get himself to his feet. “I don’t have to put up with this, sir. Not in my own home. I can see now how Lysandra has convinced you to act on her behalf. She must be repaying you on her back, but—”
He didn’t get to finish. Andrew swung on him, hitting him squarely on the jaw and sending him staggering back over the top of the chair he had just vacated and sprawling across the living room floor as gaudy trinkets that had been set along a side table shattered around him.
“Say anything disparaging about Lysandra agai
n and I will do much worse than hit you,” Andrew said softly. “Mr. Ingram, I can destroy your business within moments if I choose to do so. Your livelihood, your life, could trail down the drain as easily as piss does on the street outside.”
Ingram crouched on the floor, clutching his already-bruising jaw and nodded. “Yes. Yes, my lord.”
“You will now have your servants pack Mrs. Keates’ things. They will be ready in an hour and they will be packed with as much care as if they were my possessions, because if Mrs. Keates is missing anything or any of her belongings are broken, I will destroy you.”
The fat man clutched at the toppled chair and got to his feet. “Yes, my lord.”
“As for the money, you may send it to my solicitor, Mr. James Gladwell, under Lysandra’s name. It will arrive within a week, or I will destroy you. Do you see the pattern here, Mr. Ingram?”
Ingram nodded, blinking at what Andrew realized were tears. “Yes. Yes, my lord.”
“Good, now run along to make the arrangements.” He waved off the other man, dismissing him like he would dismiss a disliked servant. “And send in Mrs. Keates. I will see her now.”
Lysandra stepped from the carriage and wrinkled her brow. Another vehicle was parked in front of her cousin’s home, half-blocking the drive. She shrugged as she moved to the front door and knocked.
As she waited for a servant to answer, she sighed. This was the first time she would see her mother since she had begun her affair with Andrew. Her mother knew her better than anyone. Would she sense a change in Lysandra? And if she ever found out what lengths she had gone to, would her mother still love her?
She shivered and then stared at the door. It had been a very long moment since she knocked and no answer. She rapped again, this time harder. Inside she heard a rushing of feet and the door flew open to reveal her cousin’s manservant, Clarence. His jacket was cockeyed and his brow sweaty.
“What?” he bellowed, the cockney accent he normally was forced to cover bursting through in whatever upset he was experiencing. Then he shook his head and corrected himself back into a more normal tone and accent.
“Miss Keates. It’s you.”
His voice was cold, and he actually glared at her. Not that he was ever nice to her, but he had never been so outwardly hateful, either.
Behind him, Lysandra saw flashes of servants running up and down stairs and heard muffled shouts and conversations.
“Yes, it’s me,” she said with a shake of her head. “What in the world is going on in there?”
He motioned her inside. “Come with me.”
She followed him down the hall, still utterly confused by his behavior, the fact that every servant in the house seemed to be in an uproar and that all of them stared at her as she passed by.
He opened the door to her cousin’s office. August was sitting at his desk, jacket tossed on the floor, cravat loosened at his neck. He was sweating profusely and leaning over a register making furious notes and swearing under his breath.
“Mr. Ingram, Miss Keates.” The servant all but spat her name.
Her cousin froze and then slowly looked up from his papers. Lysandra tensed. She had no idea what was going on, but it clearly had something to do with her. She braced for the worst, but was surprised when he came around the desk and grabbed her hand.
“Call him off, Lysandra,” he said, squeezing tight to her fingers until she could scarcely feel them anymore. “Tell him not to destroy me.”
She shook her head as she yanked her hand free. She rubbed the feeling back into it as she said, “What are you talking about, August? What in the world is going on here?”
“You must know!” her cousin sputtered. “He’s here. He hit me—”
Lysandra drew back. Her cousin did have a rather ugly-looking bruise on the side of his jaw. She almost smiled, but was still too confused to enjoy his pain even in the slightest.
“Who hit you?” she asked.
“And he said if I didn’t give you back the money you just gave me, he’d make sure everything was taken from me,” her cousin rambled, utterly ignoring her question.
Lysandra froze. Give back the money? Only one person knew that she had just given her cousin a large sum of money.
She swallowed, her hands shaking. “Are you saying that Andrew…Lord Callis came here?”
Her cousin nodded swiftly. “He’s still here, Lysandra. Waiting to take your mother away. He’s in the parlor. Call him off, Lys—”
She spun away without letting him finish his plea and rushed down the hallway toward the parlor. Blood rushed in her ears and made her dizzy. Andrew was here? With her mother? This was a travesty!
She burst into the parlor and skidded to a stop. Andrew and her mother sat at the small table in the corner of the parlor with a pot of tea and a plate of cakes between them. They were smiling and turned to see who had intruded when she entered the room.
Andrew got to his feet when he saw it was her, and his smile increased. Like he belonged here! Like she should be pleased to see him like this.
“Lysandra. I was just enjoying your mother’s most delightful company.”
She stared, unable to look away. Her mother looked very…light. Like she had shed ten years away since the last time Lysandra had seen her. Her smile was real and the light in her eyes was bright.
“Mama,” she whispered.
“Hello, my dear,” her mother said. “How nice that you could join us. Lord Callis said nothing about that.”
“He didn’t know,” Lysandra said, glaring at him.
Andrew tilted his head, with the gall to look confused at her pointed stare. “Are you well, Lysandra?”
She motioned him to come across the room with a jerk of her hand. “Excuse us, Mama,” she managed through clenched teeth. “I have something of importance to discuss with Lord Callis on the terrace.”
When he was close enough, she grabbed his arm and stormed out the terrace doors. Once she had closed them, she spun on him.
“What the hell are you doing?” she asked, forcing herself to keep her voice low so that her mother wouldn’t hear her inside.
He shook his head. “Having tea with your mother.”
She folded her arms. “What are you doing here, Andrew? Why did you punch my cousin? What is this nonsense about money and taking my mother away?”
Her head spun as she asked each successive question. Saying the words out loud made her realize what a tenuous position she was in.
Andrew patted her hand. “Calm yourself. I will explain everything once I have your mother off to her new destination. Now, take a deep breath, and let’s rejoin your mother before she begins to ask questions, since it is clear she has no idea of our relationship.”
Lysandra’s mouth dropped open. “Of course she has no idea of our relationship—”
But he was already heading toward the house.
“Andrew,” she called after him, rushing after him. “Andrew—”
He opened the door, and Lysandra shut her mouth. She followed him in, seething, and forced a smile at her mother.
“My dear, when were you going to tell me that you had gone into Lord Callis’s employ?” her mother asked.
Lysandra squeezed her eyes shut. Was that how Andrew had explained this? She supposed, in a way, it was true. Though she was hardly cleaning his parlors.
“I was just coming to tell you,” Lysandra said with a shrug. “I am surprised that Lord Callis would come all this way to tell you himself.”
She glared at him, but he ignored her. “Of course,” he said. “After all, you have such an important role in my household. And since we’re arranging for your mother to be moved to her own home…”
“Such a surprise,” her mother said with a wide smile. “Of course I appreciate my nephew and his wife’s generosity, but I have intruded long enough, I think. How lovely that your position will allow me a place of my own, Lysandra.”
Lysandra stared at her. She looked so alive, so relaxe
d. What kind of hell had she been going through that she was so happy to have a new home, or that she could be blind to the fact that the arrangement Andrew was describing made no sense? Why would a woman hired to work in a gentleman’s home inspire him to visit her mother?
It was ridiculous.
“Yes, Mama,” she said, surrendering to the foolish story they were all pretending was real. “It was kind of his lordship to arrange for your move.”
There was a light knock at the parlor door and it swung open to reveal August. He bowed slightly.
“Lord Callis, the carriage is loaded with Mrs. Keates’ things, as you requested.”
“Good,” Andrew said, offering his arm to Lysandra’s mother. “Then we shall be off.”
August stepped into the hall to allow them to pass, and her mother hesitated. “Thank you for your hospitality, nephew. And thank you wife, as well.”
He pursed his lips, and Lysandra could see he wanted to say something nasty. Yet Andrew’s presence kept his fat mouth shut. And for the first time, she actually enjoyed this moment.
“It was our pleasure, Aunt. I hope you will call on us soon, as we will all miss your company.”
Her mother’s eyebrows lifted in disbelief, but she said nothing as they passed through the hall and outside.
“Two carriages?” her mother said as they exited onto the drive.
Lysandra shot Andrew a look. How would he explain this?
“Ah, yes,” he said. “One was for your things, Mrs. Keates. We will ride in Lys—in the other carriage.”
He motioned for the drivers and spoke to them softly before he opened the door to Lysandra’s smaller rig and helped first her mother and then Lysandra inside.
Lysandra clenched her fists at her sides. There was no way she could have this out with Andrew in the carriage with her mother sitting beside her, smiling like she had just escaped a prison. But this wasn’t over.
Chapter Sixteen
“Your mother likes the new home,” Andrew said as he settled back against the carriage seat and sighed.
An Introduction to Pleasure: Mistress Matchmaker, Book 1 Page 13