No Ordinary Mistress (Entangled Scandalous)

by DeHart, Robyn

  The horse was precisely where the groom said he’d be, tied to a birch tree, blissfully munching on grass. She looked up at them shrewdly, chewing, then released a soft neigh and stomped her feet. Remy untied her and pulled himself into the saddle. He then helped Emma up onto the back behind him. Emma held on to his back, and they were off. She tried to ignore the play of his muscles as they rode. The wind swirled around them, chilling her arms and making her wish she’d worn a cloak, but having something that heavy and loose could become a hazard in these situations. So she wore only a simple, wool dress of dark, smoky gray.

  Remy didn’t speak. He steered their mare in the right direction and kept her from going too deep in the forested woods to their right. It wouldn’t be long and they’d reach Pennington Hall. Already the land was beginning to clear and give way to gentle, rolling hills.

  The entrance to Pennington Hall’s property was guarded by a large iron gate, but it was already opened, so they rode through. Remy kept them close to the tree line to keep as shielded from view as possible. The Comfry family was still in London making arrangements for the funeral, but that didn’t mean the servants weren’t milling about getting things prepared, though that seemed unlikely in light of the late hour. Closer and closer they drew until they stopped at the edge of the trees. Remy slid off and then helped Emma down.

  “We should walk from here,” he whispered. “We’ll be able to better maneuver to the door without the horse.” He tied the mare up, and she shook her head but made no move to pull away.

  Again Emma made herself Remy’s shadow as they crept toward the house. They found a side servant entrance, and Remy easily worked through the lock with his tools and then opened the door. It creaked, and he stopped, opening it ever so slowly, enough for them to slip inside. The room was dark, and they stood still a few moments to allow their eyes to adjust to the darkness. As the shapes came into focus, Emma could see that they were in some sort of corridor that opened into a butler’s pantry. Folded uniforms sat on the shelves, and aprons hung on hooks, ready for the staff to grab them should they need a replacement. Two empty buckets sat on the floor next to a filled ash bucket.

  They had already agreed that their best odds would be to check Comfry’s study. He motioned her forward, and they exited the pantry and made their way up the stairs to the main floor. More than likely, Comfry’s study would be on this floor. They checked the first room to their right and found a library, another possibility to hide such a book, but they’d come back to it if necessary. They found a parlor, a small dining room, and then another parlor. There was one more door on their left. Something shifted inside, making a scratching noise against the floor. Remy stilled and put his hand on Emma to hold her behind him. He cracked the door for them to peek inside. Two men rifled through the drawers and shelves. Remy closed the door, and together, they slipped back to the staircase at the end of the corridor.

  “We’re too late,” Emma said.

  “They obviously haven’t found it yet. We need to get them out of here so we can finish looking.”

  Emma turned and made her way back down the stairs. Without a word, she retrieved a maid’s uniform from the shelf. She turned her back to a confused Remy. “Unbutton me, quickly.”

  “This is not a good idea,” he said, but still she felt his fingers moving against the buttons at the back of her dress. His warm breath blew against her bare neck. She tried to ignore the thrill that shot through her at the notion of him removing her clothes, but that was impossible. She’d thought of this very thing more than once, but never in this scenario. For one moment, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the sensations.

  His strong hands moved against her shoulders as he slipped the dress off her. The fabric fell into a heap at the floor. He moved his hand down her exposed neck through the center of her back, his thumb sliding down her flesh seductively. She shivered. This was not why they were here. She stepped out of it and draped it over one of the hooks behind an apron. She slipped into the maid’s uniform and fastened it in place.

  “Trust me,” she said.

  “You planning to seduce them?”

  “Don’t be a boor.” And up the stairs she went. At the edge of the corridor, she leaned up to Remy’s ear. “Once I have them distracted, you’ll know what to do.”

  He nodded, and she walked to the study.

  “Good gracious!” she said loudly as she entered the room. “What are you two about?”

  The men looked at each other and then looked at her. “Lord Comfry owed money to someone. We’ve come to claim it,” one of them said.

  She frowned, shook her head. “I should think you could see his solicitor about such matters instead of sneaking into his house in the middle of the night. I’m going to have to send for the magistrate.”

  One of the men, the shorter and more athletic of the two, stepped toward her. “I don’t think that will be necessary. I’m certain we can come to an arrangement.”

  “What kind of arrangement?” she asked, playing along with him.

  “You’re a pretty thing, you know that?”

  She forced out a giggle, covered her mouth, and looked up at him beneath her lashes.

  “What say you help us find the money, and then we’ll share it with you when we find it?”

  Remy slid into the room, and with one whack, he had the shorter man on the ground. The taller one came at him, but Emma was able to pick up a brass vase and smack him on the head. He went down like a felled tree.

  Remy tossed her some fabric. “Gag them. I’ll tie them up. They’ll be a nice, wrapped gift for the staff in the morning.”

  She did as he instructed, and as she was doing it, the shorter one flicked his eyes open. “Waking,” she said.

  Without a word, Remy elbowed the man in the face, and his head lolled back. Once the men were tied and gagged, they went about the room searching for the journal. She’d seen it on more than one occasion and knew precisely what it looked like, but after more than a half an hour of searching, and both of their prisoners coming to and grunting demands at them, they left the study empty-handed. The library took longer, but still nothing.

  “Are you certain he said Penni?” Remy asked.

  “I am. We need to search more of the house. Upstairs, the bedchambers.”

  They made their way up to the master bedchamber. Thankfully, the family was still in London else they’d have to search without waking up Lady Comfry. “I’ll look in here,” Emma said, pointing to the writing desk adjacent to the bed. “The dressing room is there.”

  Remy followed her instructions and stepped through the doorway.

  “I don’t think we’ll ever find this damned book,” he muttered.

  Emma looked through the papers on the desk, and the books, but found nothing. She opened a drawer and found only ink and pens. She ran her fingers over the tops of the inkbottles and noticed that one of them felt rather empty. Why would he keep an empty inkbottle? She tried to pick up the bottle, but it wouldn’t budge, so she twisted it and heard a click. A hidden drawer slid out the right side of the desk. There inside lay a leather-bound book. It was smaller than she remembered and a darker shade of brown. Still, her breath caught, and her heart rate increased. She removed the book and opened it up to the first page. Instead of finding hidden secrets of his traitorous activities, Emma found page after page of poems and love letters.

  Lord Comfry had been a man devoutly in love. In love with a woman who wasn’t his wife.

  At that moment, Remy stepped back into the bedchamber, something in his hand.

  “I know where the journal is,” she said. “But Penni isn’t a place, it’s a—”

  “Woman,” Remy said, holding up the small painting of a woman. “Penny is a woman. We need only find her.”

  “This should help.” Emma held up the diary. His eyes met hers, and she was struck once again by how well they worked together. She’d worked with other spies, but things were different with Remy. They had a c
onnection, knew what each other needed often before the other could voice a request. It was the kind of partnership she’d hoped for when she started at the Academy. But it would seem that such a partnership also came with benefits she hadn’t been so prepared for.

  “We should get back before the sun comes up,” Remy said. “We make a good team, you and I.”

  She smiled.

  They made their way back to the butler’s pantry where she retrieved her dress, but she left the maid’s uniform on. You never knew when something like that would be handy again. They rode back to the estate in silence and crept back to their room.

  Chapter Five

  Remy’s hand moved to hover just above the small of her back as he guided her from the darkened stairs to the bedchamber. He wasn’t even touching her, and already every nerve in his body felt alert.

  The ride back to Foxtail Manor had seemed endless, though it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes. The walk up the stairs had seemed even longer. They entered the room and closed the bedchamber door. Remy wanted to touch her, but he knew if he spooked her, it would ruin things between them. He poured himself a drink, not because he wanted one, but because he felt he needed something to do with his hands. When he turned, he found Emma with her head down, concentrating on the fastenings of her gown. He set his glass down without even a sip and closed the distance between them.

  “Do you need help with those?”

  She looked up at him, her brown eyes wide and full of emotion. He grabbed her and pulled her to him. His mouth closed over hers in a heated kiss.

  “Again,” Emma gasped the moment Remy wrenched his mouth from hers.

  Pressed against him, she embodied desire and impatience. A hunger and need so primal and urgent he barely registered her words. She wanted more. He didn’t argue, instead skimmed his mouth down the tender column of her throat.

  “Right here?” he asked.

  She arched into him.

  He’d wanted this for so long, wanted her. Tonight he wouldn’t let her go unless she asked him to. But for now, her pleas were for his kisses, and he was all too ready to oblige her.

  He kissed at the sensitive pulse beneath her ear. “Here?”

  Again she leaned into him. “Kiss me, Remy.”

  And he did. Slowly and with more tenderness than he’d expected. But this was Emma, and as much as he didn’t want it to be true, she was different than other women. Meant more.

  While kissing her, he’d unfastened all of the buttons on the maid’s dress and pushed it off her shoulders so that, for the second time in one night, she stood before him in her corset and chemise. Her silhouette was perfection; Aphrodite herself was no doubt envious.

  “I will require your assistance with this particular corset,” she said as he nibbled the column of her neck. “The ones I normally purchase have the stays in the front so I can tie them myself, but that modiste insisted on this one.”

  He moved behind her, nibbled at her neck, shoulder, and he undid her stays, loosening the contraption so she could step out of it. He turned her so she faced him then worked the chemise over her shoulders. The fabric slipped down her arm, allowing him to nudge the material aside and free her breasts. Her breasts were perfect, full, everything he’d known they’d be, only better. And his for the taking.

  She gasped as he took her nipple into his mouth. His arms supported her weight against the door. Her eyes drifted closed, her lips parted. He’d never seen a woman look more beautiful. Or desirable.

  He picked her up and carried her to the bed. Not wanting to break the spell, he kissed her while he walked. Her arms slid up around his neck, and she clung to him and kissed him back as if her very life depended on it.

  Once she was on the bed, he ran a hand up the length of her leg, making her squirm. He quickly removed his own clothing, leaving it in a pile on the floor. She pulled him to her, kissed him, and ran her hands over his chest. She wrapped her legs around him, and he was done. He couldn’t have walked away from her then. With one quick thrust, he surged into her. She yelped, her eyes widened, and he stilled. Holy hell, she was a virgin!

  “Emma.” He tried to move off of her, but she shook her head.

  Her legs tightened around him, and she closed her eyes again, bucking against him. She felt so good, so tight, and wet with desire.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t know. I could have gone slower, eased the pain.”

  He moved slowly this time, allowing her to adjust. She quivered with his every move. The feel of her, the scent of her, made his desire spike. He was lost to her body and the primal dance between them.

  Her nails bit into his shoulders, and little moans of pleasure escaped her throat as he moved within her. He felt her climax shudder around him, then saw it as she threw her head back and groaned his name. He let go then, and his own climax rocketed through him. He lay against her, their breathing and bodies intertwined, and he knew in that moment that no matter what, she would be his.

  Forever.

  …

  Dawn stretched across the horizon, brightening the bedchamber and spreading warm fingers of light across the floor. Emma snuggled closer to Remy’s side. She’d fantasized about being in his arms for years, but she hadn’t known it would be like that. So close, so intimate, so powerful.

  Perhaps, now that she knew, now that they’d touched and kissed and acted out on their desire, the lust would cease pestering her. Cease keeping her up at night. Because try as she might in these last two years, she’d never forgotten Remy. She’d clung to her anger because it was the only way for certain she knew she could stay out of his arms. Obviously, that hadn’t worked tonight.

  Remy pulled her closer, nuzzled her hair, and pressed sweet kisses to her forehead.

  “Why didn’t you tell me, sweetheart?” His voice ruffled against her hair and sent shivers of pleasure through her abdomen. He’d called her sweetheart as long as she could remember. She’d pretended it bothered her, as she’d never wanted him to know the simple pleasure it caused.

  She tilted her head up so that her chin rested on his chest. “Tell you about what?”

  “That you were a virgin.”

  She held her hand up to stop him and rolled away to the other side of the bed where she sat up, clutching the coverlet to her. “All this time, you thought I’d whored myself out on that last assignment. Yes, I know that’s what you thought,” she said tartly, unable to keep the hurt from her voice.

  “What was I supposed to believe, Emma? I offered you an alternative. I offered to help.” He shook his head. “You refused.”

  “Your proposal? That wasn’t a solution. I never asked anyone to save me from this life I’ve chosen. Remy, I’m a spy, just as you are. I don’t need rescuing.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You made up your mind to believe what you wanted to believe, and you left me alone in Paris.” She wanted to get out of the bed, but where would she go? “You never even once offered to help me think of an alternative, or even better, told me that you understood, that no matter what I had to do, you’d…” She shook her head. “You walked away, Remy, don’t forget that. Proposal or no proposal. You left.”

  “I didn’t just leave you. I made certain you would be protected, that they had someone else on hand to keep you safe. But I couldn’t stand by and watch you give yourself to that man only to steal his secrets. And you denied me. You wanted nothing to do with me. What else was I to do?” He was quiet for a moment before speaking again. “If you didn’t seduce him, how did you get the evidence?”

  “I never said I didn’t seduce him. I simply didn’t sleep with him.” She shrugged. “I drugged him, put laudanum in his brandy, put him out rather quickly. Then it was just a matter of excising the evidence from the painting.” She shook her head. “It’s ancient history. The point was that you didn’t even give me a chance. You simply expected the worst of me, doubted I was capable of this job.”

&nb
sp; He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand to stop him. “None of it matters now.”

  “On the contrary, it matters quite a bit. You have only been with me, Emma. That might not mean anything to you, but it sure as hell means everything to me.”

  “We’ve wanted each other for years, Remy. Neither of us could deny that. Had we stayed together in Paris, it would have happened. It was inevitable. Now it’s done. Now we can move on. Carry on with this assignment, then go back to our separate lives.” She pulled the pins from her hair, then wove it into a plait. “I’ve told you before, I already made a commitment to the Seven.”

  “If you think I’m going to walk away from you now, you’ve completely lost your senses. Like it or not, Emma Masterson, you are mine.”

  “You orchestrated this entire thing. Forced me to work with you again to prove that I’m weak and I need protection. Well, perhaps you’re right, to an extent. In such assignments, it’s best to have a partner. But that’s as far as it goes, Remy.” She stood from the bed. “I’m going to dress, and then I think we should return to London immediately to find Penny.”

  She walked away and stepped into the adjoining dressing closet. She leaned against the closed door and took several deep breaths. Walking away from him after what he’d said had taken every ounce of her strength.

  She used the basin and washed up as best she could. The water was chilled now from sitting too long. Still, she wanted to wash him away, remove him from her body in a way she could not remove him from her mind. Her heart.

  You are mine.

  His words rang in her ears.

  Chapter Six

  No matter how many times Remy tried to discuss the future of their relationship, Emma either ignored him or changed the subject. She wasn’t completely silent, which he’d anticipated she’d try. Instead, she kept the focus on her conversation about the investigation.

  “We know Penny is a woman. A woman Lord Comfry loved,” Emma said. She held the private diary they’d found. She opened it up, read some more, then folded it back over her hand. “But Penny is not his wife, which means he was having an affair.”