A Most Unusual
Mistress
Rogue Scandals
Book 3
Raven McAllan
Breathless Press
Calgary, Alberta
www.breathlesspress.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or
persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A Most Unusual Mistress
Copyright© 2012 Raven McAllan
ISBN: 978-1-77101-831-9
Cover Artist: Victoria Miller
Editor: T. S. Chevrestt
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in reviews.
Breathless Press
www.breathlesspress.com
Dedication
For Paul, UCW, Jackie, Tara, and Victoria. Thank you, all. And for Doris who is the best writing buddy ever. Without you, all this would not be here.
CHAPTER ONE
She’d recognize those buttocks anywhere even though, prior to that moment, they had either been encased in expensive cloth or espied secretly. Taut, tanned—such an unusual occurrence for a supposed gentleman—and at this moment, trembling with the effort of pushing hard, and by the noises emitting from his companion, into a willing body. A body—if her eyes and their destination did not deceive her—belonging to none other than her seamstress.
Damn him. Had she not just spent the best part of a twelvemonth, bribing and cajoling, to ensure whichever house party they graced, she would be placed in an adjoining room? Preferably in a corridor far distant from other guests. Up to that point, he had been a most punctilious fiancé; polite and distant as befitting a member of the Ton so, until now, any view she had caught of his body, either by accident or design, had only increased her awareness, heightened her desire, and made her wet and willing. But for what? Merely to see him bollocks-deep in another woman? This would not do.
Well... Ariana stepped away from the door, pulling it shut behind her, being careful not to cause a loud click. She doubted the copulating couple would notice if the Household Cavalry were to charge through the room, so intense was their mating. I called without an appointment; therefore, I cannot moan. However, neither can I condone.
She began to plot instead.
***
“Did I hear the door? Oh, Ash, more. You are so filling me, ‘tis so intense. Now I must come. I must.” The woman’s voice, usually seductive to his ears, became shrill the closer she came to obtaining her pinnacle.
He grimaced as he pushed ever harder. “Not yet. I forbid it,” he commanded her between pants. “You will wait. Do not touch yourself. Want me to tie you?” Ashley, Sixth Earl of Addersley, grunted as once more he thrust into his mistress. True, she was to have been his ex-mistress by now, as close as he was to his impending nuptials, but the gleam in her eye, her plea of once more for old time’s sake had been his undoing. He cast his mind to her other question, something about the door?
“I heard no door.” He gasped as her clenching cunt threatened to reach and pull his tonsils out. “Now fuck me, Molly, harder. Pull me in, that’s it. Good girl. I am going to come.” He ended the sentence on a roar as his cock swelled and pulled out—he was ever the perfect gentleman—to spill all over a conveniently positioned towel. As he did so, he uttered the words he presumed his mistress wished to hear. “You will come now.”
She did...with a sob, a sigh, and a gush, threatening to upset his resolution. Damned if Molly Simpkins wasn’t a bloody fine lay. He knew she didn’t open her legs for just anybody...only him. He had been the first, if not the last. Sadly, as the arrangement was now due to end, he would no longer be sampling her many charms, her athleticism, or her adventurous nature. She would be amply rewarded, but if both had a secret hankering for what had ceased to be, neither would act on it.
He left the bed and walked to the ewer, where a soft cloth had been left for him to cleanse himself. Once done, he wrung the fabric of excess liquid and ministered to the woman still prone on the bed.
“Definitely over?” she asked, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips, as he gently wiped away all evidence of their union. “Worry not, Ash, I won’t hassle you. It was good, and a better tutor in the mind and ways of men I could not have asked for. Adriana is a lucky woman.”
He smiled then, as he looked down at the luscious body he ministered to. Ever generous with her compliments, Molly seemed not to have a jealous bone in her body.
“One can but hope she feels that way. I worry my...er...demands and preferences may shock and dismay her. To my knowledge, her life has been sheltered, and I want not to upset her in any way. I will go carefully if and when I initiate her into the delights her body will hopefully desire.”
She looked at him in obvious curiosity. “You think she will not enjoy the hunger of the body? Crave all of you? I think, my dear Ashley, you will be more than a match for any woman, especially one with such an inquisitive and inquiring nature as Adriana.”
He shook his head in amusement as he dressed swiftly, soon to be the ever-immaculate gentleman of the Ton, not the disheveled, panting lover. Adriana? His well-brought-up affianced? Inquiring and inquisitive? Were they discussing the same woman? All he could aspire to was compliance and a modicum of participation, surely?
“You shake your head, Ash, but I think Adriana has hidden depths, ones that if you plumb, you will be pleasantly surprised with.”
Now suspicious as he remembered how much ladies confided in their dressmakers, he glared. “What know you, Molly?”
Molly wagged a finger at him in what he could only assume was disapproval. “Oh no, Ash, what women impart when in a shift or less is known only to the speaker and the recipient. No one else. I do not tattle. Ever. I will say I believe she has seen more of you than you could imagine. Now...” She stood and shook her body, letting her long blonde hair stream over her shoulders and breasts. “Farewell and thank you. For everything.” She lifted her head for one last kiss. He complied—a final brushing of lips—and checked his appearance in the glass before walking out of the room. He sighed for what he had experienced and would no longer.
***
Ashley walked briskly along the street toward White’s. Time to call in, see who was about, catch the news and perhaps some gossip before meeting his affianced who, according to her dressmaker, may have hidden depths. Thoughts on finding these hidden depths occupied his mind as he also mulled over the visit he had received from an unexpected caller earlier. So deep in thought was Ashley, he was surprised to find himself at the portal of his club. The members within were few, but a chance meeting with a peer whose acres adjoined his own made for an agreeable interlude and concluded with a satisfactory transaction regarding the purchase of a hunter he had long coveted.
An hour or so later, Ash made his way along a pleasant, tree-lined street toward one of the many elegant squares for which that area of London was famed. He approached a tall, green door, which, as if by wizardry, opened upon his approach.
“My lord.” Archer, the majordomo, bowed. “My lady asked if you would be so kind as to wait for her in the Amber Salon. She will be with you shortly.” A command couched as a request, Asher surmised, but nonetheless, he nodded.
“It will be my pleasure, Archer.” He followed the stiff back up the wide, curved staircase to be ushered into a charming room overlooking the leafy greenery of the square below.
> “Refreshments, my lord?” Archer unbent enough to smile. He had been with his mistress as a footman and now majordomo for more years than Ash could remember. “My lady is somewhat agitated with all the arrangements for your wedding that have a need to be finalized. May I take this opportunity, on behalf of all the staff, to congratulate you on your choice of bride, my lord? A fine woman. We all hold her in the greatest regard. Indeed, when she left her father’s household those some four years ago, there was a rush to join her in her own establishment; such is her charm and empathy. Those of us here, indeed, feel lucky.”
Ashley was thoughtful. Such an impassioned speech from such a taciturn and proper man was high praise, indeed. He rather thought one of the reasons Adriana had succeeded in running her own household without censure—and with no fallout from the Ton—was in no small way due to Archer and the rest of her staff. From the boot boy to the butler, all loved and would do almost anything for her. Even, he suspected, commit murder if necessary. He fervently hoped that would never be necessary.
“I hope you continue to do so, Archer, for we are, indeed, lucky to have you. I know I always sleep happier knowing my lady is under your care.”
Archer blushed—if a reddish hue on his already florid cheeks could constitute blushing. He bowed once more.
“Ah, my lord, I thank you. I know not of one person employed here who would not hesitate to die for her if necessary.”
Another, lighter voice interrupted what could be construed as getting maudlin.
“Who wishes to die for another? Fustian, no one should do that; ‘tis not true that all is well lost for love. Good afternoon, my lord. I trust you have had a fulfilling morning?” Her eyes sparked with—he thought—temper; her lips were red and spelled out danger. From the corner of his eye, Ash saw Archer bow and beat a swift retreat. Apparently, the butler had also seen the signs and seemed determined to get out of the firing line. Sensible man.
Briefly, Ash wondered what had happened to upset her. It could be nothing he had said or done, surely? Ah, well, no doubt I’ll find out soon enough.
He watched her closely, and she waited until Archer had closed the door safely behind him before gesturing to the long amber velvet chaise.
“Please be seated, my lord. Unpleasant news is always imbibed better when seated, I feel.”
What the deuce? And why so formal all of a sudden? He had never heard the words “my lord” uttered so many times in such a short space of time. He might be known as a stickler for protocol when it was required, but in situations such as this, he was always Ash, Ashley, or simply Addersley. Not the whole pomp and circumstance my lord. Warily, he did as she bid and watched as she carefully settled beside him, smoothing her day dress over her lap. Or was it a day dress? Well-versed in the etiquette of correct dress for ladies of the Ton, he rather thought this attire more suited to an evening affair. He watched her hands as they settled the flimsy material and recognized the shapes and shadows he could see as the outlines of her legs and the contours of her stomach. He looked upward as she casually patted one dark brunette curl into submission, and with a conclusion that sent a bolt of awareness to his balls, realized he had seen no dark shadow underneath the material. His cock reacted predictably—with interest and awareness as he assimilated his thoughts.
No curls? No muff to dive into? This marriage could be more interesting than he had previously thought.
Ash, on asking Adriana for her hand in marriage, had not expected to be refused. His intended was no simpering debutante, but a woman of nine and twenty. To all intents and purposes an old maid—on the shelf and destined for a life of spinsterhood. To him, she was a woman with hidden depths, a woman who ran her own household, could converse and hold her own in any circumstance, and would manage his many establishments with aplomb. Without, he thought, bothering him overmuch in the process.
Naturally, he would need an heir—and a spare. With her sangfroid, she had replied with an, “Of course, my Lord.” When they had discussed the arrangement in person, with him assuring her he would not bother her overmuch, she had merely smiled.
Now sitting next to her waiting for her to speak, he wondered if his reading of her had been altogether correct. Never would he have said she had a temper; indeed, he thought her almost placid. However, as he watched her eyes flash and saw her nipples stiffen against their confines, he had pause to ponder if Molly had been right with her comment that Adriana had hidden depths.
Unthinking, he picked up one soft white hand and began to play with the elegant fingers. He pressed a kiss to each digit, enjoying the soft roundness as he did so. A tremor racked her body, sending a shudder of pleasure through his own as he became aware of the effect he was having on her.
“My dear, I apologize. I forgot myself.” He went to extract his hand, but the smaller one within his own tightened, stopping his movement. He looked up into the face next to him. Surely that was not anger he saw in her eyes?
It seemed it was.
“What ails you, my dear? Archer says you are agitated by the arrangements for our nuptials. There is no need. All will be splendid, I am sure. I will, indeed, be a fortunate man to be joined with you.”
The look she gave him made him shiver again and this time, not in a good way, for it was neither pleasant nor reassuring.
“Now, my lord, why would I be agitated with such trivial details as those pertaining to our wedding? For indeed, they would be the last things I have to worry about.” She seemed to be expecting an answer.
“Then, my dear, I am glad. So you are not agitated?”
Her eyes glinted in such a way that he felt certain...were they really sparks, he would burn.
“Agitated? Oh, no, my lord, not agitated. Angry, annoyed, and to use words I am positive you frequently hear in other spheres of your life...you bugger!” Her cheeks reddened, and Ash felt his cock swell even more. She was magnificent; her rapid breathing swelling her breasts and causing them to push at the bodice of her dress He opened his mouth to speak, but Adriana, it seemed, had not finished her character assassination of him.
“I,” she said forcefully. “I am bloody damned mad. Listen well, so you understand further, my lord. Getting agitated over our wedding is nowhere near my agenda. Because...” She paused, and Ash could have sworn her fingers were itching to slap him. “There will be no wedding.”
What the devil?
CHAPTER TWO
Aha! He now realized the culprit regarding some earlier, unexpected, and unwanted news, but nevertheless, he gaped, slack-a-jaw gaped. Don’t play your hand too soon. She was remorseless. Also breathtaking. Her face was alive with emotion as, with a flurry of skirts, she stood and faced him. Definitely no muff. The swirl of muslin assured him of that. His cock leapt with the thought of a smooth, soft, welcoming honeypot to incite and enclose it.
“No query from you? Wish you not to know why, my lord?” Never had the words my and lord been said to him in such a derogatory tone. “For whether you wish it or not, I will inform you. Never will I marry a cheat or liar. Especially not a man who says he has foresworn his mistress, only to be found buried to the hilt inside her cunt. He, my lord, is both.”
There was no answer to that. Ashley felt ashamed for not ceasing his activities before that day. Adriana knew he had had a mistress; it was generally accepted gentlemen of the Ton kept a mistress to pander to their carnal needs. Indeed, on their betrothal she had asked him, seeming indifferent, if he intended to continue with such an arrangement after they were married. He had assured her it would not be the case. As they were yet to be married, he had not in all honesty broken that promise, but in reality, he admitted, he had cut it a bit fine. Especially as he remembered, with dawning disquiet, a conversation the previous week in which he had assured her, unasked, that all his amorous entanglements were no more.
“Therefore, my lord...” Lud, she was definitely rolling on now. “I have taken the opportunity to send details of our separation to the news. I trust you wil
l be man enough not to hinder any questioning from anyone who dares to ask why we no longer are to be wed.”
She thought that? That he would meekly accept such a diktat? How wrong was it possible to be?
“I fear, my love.” He kept his voice calm despite the anger now raging within him. “You do not have the facts assimilated correctly. For why am I to be blackened as a cheat and a liar?”
Her chest heaved, once more unknowingly allowing him a cock-tightening view of her breasts straining at their confines as they threatened to spill out and...and what? Demand attention? Hardly. Protest his attraction? More likely. Receive his touch? Dare he? Regretfully, Ash reminded himself just whom he was facing. He held his hands out in supplication. However, Adriana had not yet finished blackening his character.
“Because you are one? Any man who states he is no longer harboring a mistress and is then found bollocks-deep inside said mistress only days before his wedding is not to be believed,” she said, her anger evident in her words. He watched, fascinated, as she picked up two small, exquisite Sèvres vases from the mantle and threw them at the wall in quick succession. They shattered in the hearth, and Ashley waited for her reaction to such damage. Adriana showed no sign of even noticing her wanton destruction and merely dusted her hands on her skirts.
Unusually, no servant appeared to discover the reason for such noise. He wondered if such temper was the norm, and the servants well used to it.
He chose not to ask her.
“Therefore,” she said. “I do not believe anything you say to me. Lud, she is treated better than me. Have you ever touched me with such desire?” She laughed bitterly. “Perchance I should phrase that have you ever touched me? We both know the answer. Yet I have seen the way you look at me when you think you are unobserved. Indeed, on one occasion, my lord, I was the observer as you took yourself in hand and fisted yourself until you spilled your seed while shouting my name. So I know you are not indifferent to me. But touch me? Make me come? Pah. Do I not deserve the attention you paid her?”
A Most Unusual Mistress (Rogue Scandals) Page 1