The Mistress Enchants Her Marquis

by Christina McKnight

  “Are you claiming your compensation, my lord?” The question left her on a sigh as desire pooled at her core. The slight sway and jostle of the coach added a sensual rhythm to their embrace.

  A shudder ran through him, and his mouth landed against hers—crushing, demanding, controlling—utterly captivating her. His hands moved along her back slowly, at odds with their kiss. She tangled her fingers in his hair, holding him securely to her as she pressed him into the seat. The need to be closer to him—to feel more of Elijah against her—was more than she could bear, and Sam hastily released her hold on him. Grabbing her long skirt, she adjusted to straddle him, her knees on either side of his hips on the bench.

  The position allowed her to feel his desire for her: the hardened length of his manhood straining against the flap of his trousers. Begging to be freed. As if of their own accord, her hips pressed into him, and she shivered with need.

  She’d never straddled a man, but her body knew exactly what to do as she gently started to rock back and forth. She pressed her core to his rigid length as the heat between them grew.

  So focused by the friction their bodies created, Sam almost lost pace with their kiss.

  But when Elijah’s hands dropped lower, cupping her bottom and lifting slightly, her most intimate place lost contact with him. The shift in position pressed her breasts to his chest, and his mouth moved from her lips, tracing kisses across her cheek to her ear.

  She moaned as he took her lobe between his teeth and nibbled…so gently, Sam thought she’d imagined it.

  But then his mouth moved to the spot behind her lobe and sparks of longing coursed through her. A hidden spot. Did all married women and experienced men know of this delicate place that could send a woman into a frenzy of need?

  She didn’t know, but the one thing she did understand was that she did not want Elijah’s lips to leave that sensitive place.

  “Elijah.” Her head tilted back, and her eyes opened to see the roof of the enclosed carriage. She attempted to focus on a tiny tear in the material above her, anything to keep her from thinking about the storm building inside her with each second that their bodies remained pressed together. “Do not stop.”

  Elijah’s only response was to drag his lips farther down her neck.

  Her bosom heaved as she struggled to bring air into her lungs…and remember what to do after it was there.

  It was all too much.

  Yet, not nearly enough.

  Every inch of her flooded with increased warmth, so hot she felt she would, at any moment, perish in the flames of her lust. She sensed the inferno’s ever demanding pull.

  Sam stiffened, preparing to fall into the pit of desire…willingly.

  Oh, so readily she would go if only to feel this sensation forevermore.

  The warmth turned to an extreme awareness of where her hands rested, the feel of her breasts pressed against his starched linen shirt, the way his neckcloth grazed her exposed bosom above her neckline.

  Sam commanded her fingers into action, determined to give him an ounce of the pleasure he was giving her. Gently kneading, her hands caressed Elijah’s neck and down across his shoulder blades—solid muscle. Gained from years exploring the farthest reaches of the known world.

  In a way, Sam was now an explorer—an adventurer with a course set to discover everything that matters of the flesh had to offer.

  And that started with Elijah Watson, Lord Ridgefeld, a most proper marquis.

  Chapter 24

  The carriage slowed, causing their easy sway to halt—though it did not deter Eli’s lips from continuing their path along the exposed mounds of her breasts. He nipped softly, and her resulting shudder of pleasure was all the confirmation he needed to reach between them and tug the neckline of her dress down to reveal more of her expansive porcelain skin. She was on the cusp of utter inhibition, her breaths coming in ragged bursts, matching the beat of her heart that pounded against his trailing lips.

  Elijah knew the folly of his actions, the deplorable nature of his thoughts, and the ruination that could soon follow if they continued down their chosen path of pleasure. He should set things to rights; return her to the bench across from him, right her gown, and repair her hair, hoping that her swollen and red lips returned to normal before she entered her home.

  However, he was long past rational thought. Even if he spoke to the subject, it was unlikely Sam would hear him—her need matched his.

  He allowed his mouth to travel the final few inches to take her dusty rose-colored nipple between his lips. He sucked gently, and she rewarded him with a deep moan, her head still thrown back in ecstasy.

  Eli pulled away, enchanted by the raw, pure beauty of Sam.

  She was perfection.

  A flawless goddess he desperately needed in his life.

  The drive to hold her, keep her, protect her consumed him.

  But what must he protect her from?

  “My lord,” Mathers’ call waded through his desire-filled daze. “We have arrived.”

  Suddenly, protecting Sam from his lust-filled longings was paramount. She was a lady, and deserving of far more respect than he’d shown her thus far.

  While he coveted her, and his need to possess her and make her his was almost overwhelming, she was not his. The liberties he’d taken went far beyond what was proper and acceptable, even for a couple in the throes of a courtship.

  Eli stilled Sam’s hips as they ground against his manhood. “Sam,” he murmured, attempting to gain her attention, to stop her hands from their wildly enticing path down his sides to the waistband of his trousers. “The carriage has stopped…outside your home.”

  The grave nature of his words—and the repercussions that could follow—did not so much as slow her exploration of his body.

  He clamped his eyes shut, concentrating on the feel of her hands through his shirt. He desperately wanted to shout for Mathers to continue around the block…through town…and on toward to the country. Anything to gain more time with her.

  “Who in the blasted hell is blocking the drive?” Eli’s eyes sprang open at the angry bellow at the same time Sam stiffened in his lap. “You, man, whose carriage is this?”

  “Lord Ridgefeld, sir.” Mathers called in response.

  “If he is within the house, kindly take your vehicle round to the stables.”

  “My master is still within.” The hesitant tone in his servant’s voice had Eli quickly lifting Sam and setting her on her own seat.

  She righted her gown with trembling hands, though she did not make any move to depart.

  “Your hair,” Eli said, feeling around on his seat and collecting her scattered pins that’d been freed from her curls. Several tendrils hung loosely about her shoulders. “Here.”

  Sam took the pins from him and expertly pushed them into her hair, repining her curls. They were not as precise as when she’d departed her home, but Eli hoped her brother would not notice.

  There were many expressions he’d expected to see on her face: eyes wide in shock, lips pressed tightly together in fear, or even her posture slumping in disbelief.

  But she kept her eyes locked on his as she worked hastily to right her appearance. Her tongue darted across her lower lip as her chin lifted a notch and her lids lowered. She was the picture of sensuality, all flushed cheeks and plump lips.

  Eli hardened further. An almost painful arousal.

  “Either instruct Ridgefeld to depart his carriage or move aside.”

  “It is my brother,” Sam whispered after her hands had appraised her hair. “And he is livid. How does my hair look?”

  “Almost as it did when I collected you.” He’d wanted to make a good impression on her family. He’d planned to woo Sam sisters with his charm. The only thing he’d managed to do was infuriate her brother.

  “Wonderful,” she said, her coy smile returning. “I will distract Garrett while you depart. I look forward to our next outing.”

  Their next outing? Eli was
uncertain he’d make it out of her drive without Garrett challenging him to defend his sister’s honor.

  Sam pressed a kiss to his lips and flung the door wide, giving him no opportunity to respond as Mathers stepped into view to place the steps before Sam hopped from the carriage unassisted. “Thank you for a wonderful afternoon, my lord. I do look forward to our phaeton ride in Hyde Park on the morrow. I will await your arrival at one sharp.”

  She spoke far too loudly, and there was no chance her brother did not hear every word.

  “Of course, Miss Samantha.” The carriage was empty and cavernous without her. “I look forward to our next outing.”

  She glanced over her shoulder and winked before addressing her waiting brother. “Good day, dear brother.” Her husky tone was smooth as honey, and Eli could see from his vantage point within the carriage that Sam gave her brother her most charming, sweet, and unassuming smile. “I did not know you were visiting today.”

  “I visit every day,” he said gruffly as the carriage door swung closed. “What is Ridgefeld doing here? And why are you in his carriage? Where is your lady’s maid?”

  “He is returning me home, silly.” Her muffled reply drifted through the curtained window, and the carriage jostled as Mathers took his perch. Eli noted she’d avoided his other questions. “Now, tell me, Garrett. I saw you dancing with the beautiful—and highly desirable—Miss Mallory Stewart…can the family expect her and her parents for supper soon?”

  Eli chuckled at her skill for distraction.

  A splinter of light shone through the slim crack between the curtain and the window frame. Sam’s brother looked between the carriage—his eyes bulging—and his sister. The man was certainly suspicious, though Eli wasn’t sure if he questioned his sister’s presence in a man’s carriage without a proper chaperone, or if his worries lay closer to Eli’s intentions where Sam was concerned.

  She slipped her arm through Garrett’s and tugged. With one last look at the carriage, her brother allowed Sam to pull him toward the townhouse.

  “The chit hasn’t a single thought of value in her head. I assure you, we shall not be entertaining her or her hoity-toity parents…ever.” Garrett chuckled. “Though she is blessed with a bosom and hips that have many men falling all over themselves to touch.”

  “Garrett!” Sam’s voice hitched on the word. “That is highly inappropriate for a gentleman to comment on. At least until the pair is wedded and bedded.”

  “And what do you know of being wedded and bedded, my dear Samantha Eugenia Constantine Pengarden?”

  A part of Eli longed to be with the pair, laughing and bantering alongside them—sharing in a rare moment of camaraderie; however, he sensed it was a private occurrence that could only be enjoyed and embarked upon by siblings. Something forbidden to Eli. No matter how much he tried to deny it, he longed for the closeness of kin.

  He wanted to stay to hear Sam’s response to her brother’s question, but the siblings had journeyed into the house, disappearing from sight.

  “To the museum,” Eli called when the front door slammed shut.

  “Of course, my lord,” Mathers shouted. With barely a jingle of the reins, the carriage started its slow trek toward the British Museum—and the days of work that still lay ahead for Eli. Cataloguing, organizing, and preparing his grandfather’s treasures for display. Thankfully, the work was a mindless task and would give him ample time to think over all that had transpired between him and Miss Samantha Pengarden—and ponder what tomorrow would hold for them.

  Chapter 25

  Sam inched toward Elijah on the high perch of the phaeton as he expertly maneuvered the conveyance through Hyde Park. The sky was clear, and there was barely a breeze, making the afternoon perfect for their ride. Orange sellers shouted to passing carriages as the fruit’s crisp scent hung in the air.

  The phaeton belonged to Jude’s husband, meaning Elijah was staying at Lord Cartwright’s residence. Odd that her sister hadn’t informed her of this fact during her morning social call to Craven House, nor the morning prior—or even at the ball two nights before. More peculiar still, Sam hadn’t wondered where he’d found lodging.

  “I hope your evening was pleasant.” Elijah kept his cautious stare straight ahead.

  He hadn’t said much since collecting her, preferring to focus his attentions on driving the phaeton. He’d said it had been many years since he’d driven one, and Cartwright’s was rather ancient and not the best maintained.

  “It was as many nights are at Craven House,” she said. He hadn’t asked after her and Garrett’s conversation the day before. “Marce hosted a card game, and I was charged with keeping Payton upstairs and out of sight, something that was once Jude’s responsibility.”

  “Card games?” He turned toward her with a raised brow. “Your mother was once the proprietor of a bordello and your sister now runs a gaming hell in your home?”

  “That is better than a bordello, is it not?” Sam couldn’t help but laugh at his shock. “But seriously, yes, she hosts card games. Only a few rules; men must remember their manners, refrain from overdrinking, and keep their hands to themselves…other than that, bring your coin. The house takes a cut, and the men are free to play late into the night so long as no arguments start. It allows us to retain our financial freedom.”

  He remained silent as an enclosed carriage pulled alongside them, and a young woman leaned out the window. “Good day, Miss Samantha!”

  “And to you, Miss Mallory,” Sam replied. “May I introduce Lord Ridgefeld, my companion for the afternoon?”

  “A pleasure, my lord.” The girl’s eyes traveled the length of Elijah, and tiny coils of jealousy sparked within Sam. “Lovely weather for a day in the park, is it not?”

  “Certainly, Miss Mallory.” Elijah nodded in agreement. “It is delightful to make your acquaintance.”

  Sam narrowed her eyes on Miss Mallory when the girl tittered, covering her mouth with her fan. She thought the chit interested in Garrett, so what in blazes was she doing making cow eyes at Elijah?

  “Have a wonderful turn,” Sam called. She tugged at Elijah’s sleeve, signaling him to move on and away from the flippant girl. “That is the debutante who’s smitten with Garrett.”

  “She seems nice enough.” He flicked the reins, and the horses began a four-beat walk.

  “Miss Mallory is a vulture, and her mother is far worse. Thankfully, Garrett has no title, no house of his own, and limited funds.” It made the girl’s interest in him all the more puzzling. It could be nothing more than her need to rebel against her family’s wishes by seeking the favor of an unsuitable man. “However, I will not allow the girl to get my spirits down. Not on a day as beautiful as this.” She tilted her face toward the bright sun overhead, the edge of her bonnet falling back slightly to allow the warm rays to reach her face.

  “Were you in any trouble after I departed yesterday?” he asked. “I certainly would have walked you to the door and spoken with your brother.”

  “Everything was perfect.” And it actually had been. It had only taken one mention of Mallory, and Garrett had been distracted long enough to forget all about Elijah’s carriage in their drive…with his little sister inside. Sam did not relish manipulating Garrett; however, if the need arose, it had to be done, especially if she and Elijah were to continue their arrangement without unnecessary questions from her siblings. “And your evening went well?”

  Elijah remained quiet for so long, Sam glanced at him.

  “Are you unwell, my lord?”

  “My apologies.” He rubbed his free hand across his face and massaged his neck. “I spent the rest of the day at the museum. Unpacking, organizing, and cataloguing all my grandfather’s possessions. It was very strenuous, and the task is not any closer to completion.”

  Sam felt the tiniest bit of guilt. “And here I am, demanding you waste precious time on a carriage ride through the park.”

  “I cannot spend every waking hour at the museum,” he sai
d with a smirk. “This outing is a welcome respite. Especially with you for company.”

  Sam glanced away as a blush blossomed. “Good day to you,” she called to a trio of matrons walking the path alongside the carriage trail, hoping they attributed her scarlet cheeks to the warm weather. “I enjoy your company, as well, my lord.” Meeting his eyes while she made her confession was too much. He would see how true the declaration was, and Sam was not ready for that.

  “Then I suppose it is a good thing I will be extending my stay for several days.”

  “That is awfully convenient, Lord Ridgefeld,” she conceded.

  “It is Elijah, remember?”

  In her mind, she’d thought of him as Elijah since their night together in Lord Cummings’ study, alone but for the book filled with wickedness. Sam hadn’t dared slip into the room and collect another volume after Elijah had departed Hollybrooke.

  Broken. She’d been broken and hurt after he left. No drive had remained to explore the intricacies of the marriage bed. But after their time in the carriage the day before—and the heat of his thigh pressed against hers now—Sam longed to be alone once more, not on the high perch of a phaeton for all the see, with no privacy for even the smallest kiss.

  Would he demand his reward for their outing today? Would Sam be forward enough to oblige, even knowing any number of people could witness their intimacy?

  Blooming bullocks. Sam would press her lips, as well as every inch of her body, to his right here. Right now. In the middle of Hyde Park, with any number of society members as witness to her ruination. But a most sweet, public ruination it would be.

  It would certainly discourage Lord Gunther and Proctor.

  “Eli.” She allowed the shortened name to escape her. Two syllables that had heat pooling at her most delicate spot. “It is a manly, strong name.”

  “Thank you,” he said with a chuckle and a sideways glance. “It was bestowed upon me at birth by my grandfather.”