She turned on her heel and left the room without a second look at either of them. Andrew stared at her, using all his self-control to keep his jaw from dropping open.
“I have to admit, I’m happy to see you so emotional,” Miles said as the door shut behind her and they were left alone. “Even if that emotion is anger toward me.”
Andrew glared at him as he picked up Lysandra’s abandoned glass and swigged her remaining liquor. He could see the mark where her lips had been and placed his own mouth there as the good-night kiss she had not given him.
“Look at me all you like,” Weatherfield said with a shrug. “But it’s clear you’d very much like to pound my face into oblivion right now. Though I don’t know why.”
“Don’t you?” Andrew snapped as he slammed the glass down on the table hard enough that a crack splintered up the side of the tumbler.
Both men stared at the broken glass, but then Andrew continued.
“You take my mistress out on the terrace, accost her as if I’m not standing just in the next room, and then send her off to bed like she’s already yours? How should I react?”
Weatherfield arched an eyebrow slowly. “Is this not why you brought me here? I thought you made that very clear to me today. You told me, point-blank, that you were finished with her and you thought we would make a good fit. Obviously, I must test that notion before I simply accept her as my mistress. We must have attraction. We must have some kind of connection beyond attraction.”
Andrew pursed his lips. Very true. Except that didn’t matter when they were talking about Lysandra.
“You could have been more discreet,” he muttered.
Weatherfield laughed. “A weak argument, indeed. Would you have preferred that I sneak up to her chamber tonight? I could. I heard her tell you to move her out of yours.”
Andrew squeezed his eyes shut to keep from seeing only possessive, red rage. He liked Miles. Or he had a long time ago. And he had called him here to do exactly as he was doing. But at this moment, he could not help but think of all the places he could bury the man’s body on his estate.
He rubbed his eyes to clear his thoughts.
“You know me,” Weatherfield said softly. “I would never pursue a woman you were truly interested in. I would never take a woman you cared for. So the question is, do you want her or not?”
Andrew stared at his friend. “Yes. No.”
Miles sat down and pulled a cigar from his front pocket. “Very clear, my friend.” He shrugged. “Look, you have buried yourself out here for years. I don’t think you want to bury her, too. You’ve asked me to offer to be her protector, and I have done so. I will take care of her and her family…if you tell me that is what you want. But make up your mind. I leave for London tomorrow and I’ll take her with me.”
Andrew flinched. Tomorrow. Dear God, he hadn’t thought the end would come so soon. That he would be forced to surrender her within hours.
“Now it’s time for me to return to my brother’s estate. It was good seeing you. Let me know by tomorrow after luncheon what your decision is.” His friend pushed to his feet and moved for the door, pausing only for a brief clap on his shoulder. “One way or another, you have to figure out a way to let this woman go. If that is truly what you want.”
Andrew grunted something, perhaps goodbye, though he no longer heard his own voice, and Miles slipped from the room. Andrew stared at the fire. Let her go. Yes, that was what he had to do. But she was his for one more night.
And he intended to enjoy that fact.
Lysandra sat at the dressing table in her chamber. Not Andrew’s chamber where she had spent her time here on his estate. Her chamber where her maid had led her when she called for her.
It was very nice. And very lonely. But that was how it had to be. What Andrew very clearly wanted.
She pushed to her feet and began to pace the small chamber. She was exhausted, but her mind raced with images of Andrew. With images of Miles. With images of a foggy future she had allowed herself to hope would include the first man, but now would center around the second.
Funny that if she had begun with Miles, she knew she wouldn’t dread a new life with him. But since she had begun with Andrew, loved Andrew, years of passion with another man seemed…wrong. And yet that was exactly what Andrew wanted her to do.
“Impossible,” she muttered as she rubbed a hand over her tired eyes.
The door behind her opened and she turned, expecting to see her maid back for some reason. But it wasn’t her maid standing in her door. It was Andrew, his shirt half open, his breathing heavy, his hair and eyes wild as he gripped both sides of the door and stared at her with heated, angry eyes.
She stepped back and swallowed hard, not because she feared him, but because the sight of him made her love and want him all the more.
“Andrew?” she croaked out.
He stepped inside and slammed her door behind him. “I’m pleased you remember my name at all,” he said, his tone ugly.
She refused to flinch. “This is what you wanted, what you demanded,” she reminded him softly. “To survive, I must do this. Do not mistake my acceptance as pleasure.”
He arched a brow. “There seemed to be a great deal of pleasure when you were kissing him on my terrace…letting him fondle you.”
She narrowed her gaze even as her heart leapt to her chest. “You were watching us?”
He shifted, but then nodded. “Why shouldn’t I? This is my house and you are my mistress.”
She hesitated. His anger proved he wasn’t any more pleased about this than she was, but he still was ready to let her go even though he had every power to keep her.
“No.” She folded her arms. “I don’t think I ever was. From the first moment you touched me, you were preparing to let me go. You have never thought of keeping me beyond a brief affair that you always told me was just for ‘training’. I was never yours, Andrew. So you don’t have a right to be angry that I will now be someone else’s.”
He stared at her. Just stared. Almost as if she had spoken some obscure foreign language or danced in the middle of the room like a heathen.
“You were never mine,” he repeated, low and dangerous.
She shook her head. “No.”
He was across the room before she could even draw her next breath. He caught both her arms and hauled her against his chest. “It certainly felt like you were mine when I did this.”
He dropped his mouth to hers for a punishing, passionate kiss. She should have pulled away. After all, she had made an agreement with Miles not an hour before. But she didn’t. Andrew’s touch, his kiss, the idea that she could love him one last time before she lost him, was too intoxicating. She lifted herself closer, wrapping her arms around his neck, driving her tongue against his in a violent dance of desire.
He shoved her backward until her backside hit the high edge of the bed. Her nightgown tore beneath his fingers, and she was naked in an instant, fabric fluttering around her feet as he unfastened his trousers. His hard cock pushed free and he lifted her, wrapped her legs around his waist as he pushed home deep within her channel.
They cried out in unison, but he gave her no time to adjust. He plowed forward, slamming her against the bed, digging his fingers into her hips to keep her steady as he took and took and took. She writhed against him, reaching for pleasure, stroking her clit against his pelvis until the electric hum of pleasure exploded. She dropped her head back as she cried out his name in the silence of her chamber.
He grunted out his own release, pouring his seed deep inside of her.
They flopped backward on the bed together, his head against her naked breasts, his cock still buried in her twitching sheath. There was nothing but silence between them for a long while. Long enough that Lysandra began to wonder if he had fallen asleep in this awkward position, half on and half off her bed.
“Tomorrow Weatherfield is going to come here and collect you,” Andrew said softly.
She
blinked as tears stung her eyes. “Yes,” she whispered. “I know. We talked about it.”
He lifted his head. “You did?”
She nodded and braced herself for renewed anger. Instead, he cupped her face gently. “Come back to my room. Please. Let’s spend this last night together, in my chamber.”
She hesitated. How lovely that would be. But if she went to his bed, spent a night in his arms… How could she leave?
She shook her head. “No. We probably shouldn’t have gone as far as we have already. If I go back to your bed—” She broke off. What was she going to say? That she loved him? There was no point in it. “Well, tomorrow will be much harder. Let us just say good night.”
He stared at her, and she could see that he wanted to argue. To demand. Instead, he nodded slowly.
“If that is what you need, I will do my best to give it to you.”
He rose to his feet, separating their bodies, and buttoned his fly as she watched him. She sat up and gently cupped his face.
“Andrew, you must know,” she whispered, “you always gave me what I needed. I haven’t forgotten that. I won’t ever forget it.”
He stared at her in the firelight, opened his mouth as if to say something and then shook his head. He bent to kiss her one more time, then left the room. Left her.
And she knew it was over. So she curled up on her lonely bed and finally let her tears fall.
London hadn’t changed. Lysandra knew that was true. But it felt different. Truth be told, she knew exactly why. She was different. She would never go back to being the woman she’d been before she turned to Vivien. Before she found Andrew and fell in love with him. She felt it keenly when she visited her mother, who frowned at her with concern. When she supervised the removal of all her things from the home Andrew had provided for her and almost sobbed as she bid farewell to the servants she had come to know there.
She felt it now as she stood in the parlor of a new home, just as nice as the one she’d been given by Andrew, and waited for Miles. Miles, her soon-to-be new lover and protector.
She swallowed past a suddenly full throat and walked to look outside at the gardens below.
“You can do this, Lysandra,” she whispered so that she might start believing it. “You must, so you will.”
Behind her, the door opened, and she turned to watch Miles stride into the room. He smiled at her, utterly handsome in his perfectly tailored formal attire. But there was only the barest twinge of appreciation in her heart. Instead, anxiety clutched at her, whispering, “This is it. This is it,” over and over until she feared she would go mad from it.
“So you are settled,” Miles said as he looked around him with a satisfied expression.
“Yes,” she squeaked, then cleared her throat. “Yes. Thank you for all your help in making the arrangements. It went as smoothly as could be expected.”
“Excellent,” Miles said, though he didn’t really seem interested in the subject. It was more polite conversation than a true interest in whether or not her move had been a pleasant one.
“The home is lovely,” she said, searching for something to fill the awkward silence between them and perhaps put off the inevitable.
“Yes, it seems to be. My solicitor suggested the neighborhood.” He looked at her, searching her face for what seemed like forever. Then he held out a hand to her.
She hesitated before she moved across the room and took it. She looked up at him, knowing what would happen, knowing her traitorous body would probably enjoy it. Knowing her heart would break during every moment.
He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her. He was gentle, coaxing as he parted his lips and tasted her mouth for what seemed like an eternity. She relaxed, mostly because pleasure was not something she could easily control, and lifted one hand to his chest to fist it there.
He drew back, looking down at her. And then he utterly shocked her by stepping away and releasing her hand.
“Lysandra, there isn’t going to be an affair between us,” he said softly.
Her breath seemed to stop entirely and her eyes widened until she was sure she resembled some kind of hideous bug as she stared at him.
“What?” she blurted out when she could find enough air to speak.
He tilted his head and smiled, gentle and indulgent, as if she were a child he had to explain something complicated to.
“You and I could never share an affair.” He shrugged. “I think I realized it the night we kissed, but tonight… Well, it seals that suspicion.”
Lysandra rushed toward him, taking the hand that had held hers a moment before. “No, please, Miles. What can I do to change your mind? What have I done to displease you already?”
He lifted her hand to his lips and held it to his heart. “My dear girl, there is nothing you have done wrong. But there is something you’ve done. You love someone else. You love a man who was once someone I called my best friend.”
She jerked her hand from his and stumbled away from him a step. “N-no,” she lied and knew that there was no confidence to her tone or her words. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I don’t love Andrew. He was my protector, that is all, and for such a short time that it was…it was meaningless.”
“You are so pretty when you lie,” he laughed. “But you are not particularly good at it. Your honesty reads all over your face.”
Lysandra snapped her mouth shut. “Damn,” she muttered.
“How long have you loved him?” he asked.
She glanced at him. She didn’t feel right talking to this man about Andrew, but who else could she turn to? Who else knew the facts of what had been shared between them?
“A while,” she admitted. “But it is folly, surely you know that. He does not love me.”
To her surprise, Miles shrugged a shoulder almost as if he took issue with that statement, but said nothing.
“Even if he did want me on some level, he made it clear he has no interest in pursuing more with me. That was made clear when he dragged you out to his home and practically shoved me into your carriage.”
Miles frowned. “It may appear that way, yes, but I can tell you that Callis took no pleasure in that moment. I thought he might kill me that night when we kissed on his terrace.”
Lysandra blushed as she thought of what had happened after Miles left. That angry taking that had been the last time she and Andrew touched. Would be the last time they ever touched.
“He does care for you,” Miles said softly.
“But not enough,” she said with a shake of her head. “And I am left still needing a protector.”
He touched her chin and lifted it so that she was forced to look at him. “Perhaps that is true, but it cannot be me. I am many things, but I’m not so cold that I would do that to a friend.”
“Even though he asked you to do so?” she pressed, hoping to find something to say to change his mind.
He smiled. “I meant you. You, my friend.”
She couldn’t help but return his smile and reached up to cup his cheek before she turned away with a sigh.
“I suppose I will need to find some other place to stay,” Lysandra mused.
At least now she had a few baubles to sell, and Andrew had paid for her mother’s home for six months in advance. There would be a good while for her to find another man, and perhaps Vivien would help.
“No,” Miles said, interrupting her train of thought. “You will stay here, just as we arranged, until you find another man to move on to. And if that proves difficult, I promise you I will begin telling tales to the right people about how you wear a man out. Coming from me, that will have fifteen prospects banging down your door, demanding you come to them. It will be a bidding war before we’re finished.”
She laughed, although the thought of being sold off to the highest bidder gave her no pleasure.
“That isn’t fair to you, though,” she insisted when the moment passed.
“Hmm,” he mused. “Well, I would say there is a great
deal that isn’t fair to you in this situation. Let me take a bit of it from you, will you?”
She hesitated and then nodded. “Very well, if you insist that this isn’t an inconvenience.”
“I do.” He leaned down and kissed her once more. It was on the lips, but he no longer urged her to part them, he no longer tasted her. “And I am sorry you are hurt.”
She shrugged as she backed away. “I cannot afford to be hurt.” She smiled at him.
“You know, my dear, my only regret is that I think we would have been very good together,” he said as he offered her an arm to take her to the supper that her servants had prepared.
She smiled. “Yes. I think you might be right. We could have been very good together.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Andrew had spent the past few years hiding away in the country. He had always been comfortable there, wallowing in the place where he had gained and lost so much. Hating himself in peace. But now, with the departure of a woman who never should have been there in the first place, everything was different.
Rutholm Park seemed cavernous, empty and he could find no comfort there anymore. So much so that less than a week after Lysandra’s departure in Weatherfield’s carriage, he had followed in his own, back to London and a life he hoped he could find there.
A life without her.
He would try not to think about the fact that she was comfortably situated in Weatherfield’s house for her now. In his life. In his bed.
That was why he had come out, after all. To forget. He had been invited to his brother’s home in order to meet his fiancée at last, but his ill humor hadn’t allowed him to fully participate in the small party of just a few friends. He stood back as his brother chatted with friends and Adela flitted from group to group with a smile and kind word for them all.
It all seemed like it was happening in slow motion, or that he was watching the scene through a glass. Because all he could think about was Lysandra.
An Introduction to Pleasure: Mistress Matchmaker, Book 1 Page 22