A Most Unusual Mistress (Rogue Scandals) (7 page)

Ash watched as she turned and walked into her house without as much as a backward glance. He waved the coachman away.

“I shall walk,” he said briskly. It was but a ten-minute stroll to his own spacious London house, and he had no intention of passing more time there than it took to collect all he required for the forthcoming night.

He kept his promise to himself and had to wait impatiently until he judged enough time had passed for Adriana to have dismissed her maid. Silently, he left his own house through the door he assumed some long-dead ancestor had made for the very purpose of surreptitious entry and exit.

As he approached Adriana’s abode, using the mews that ran past stables and back yards of the splendid houses that graced the square, he noted how silent it was, just the occasional soft snuffle of horses as they settled for the night. His footsteps muffled by the soft tread of his boots; he was silent to such a degree, that even the odd dog slinking about its nocturnal business barely gave him a second glance. Within the hour of leaving Adriana, he was entering the yard behind her house. All was silent, no lights showing, the dwelling settled and secure for the night. Except for one discreet candle on a window ledge high above him. A window ledge he knew was in Adriana’s dressing room. His signal.

Swiftly, he crossed the distance from the mews gate to the side door, keeping near to the shadows thrown out by the wall separating this yard from the next. As expected, the door was not locked, and a lantern sat just inside, on a convenient shelf. He took the opportunity to turn the key in the lock before he made his way up the steep, narrow stairs, noting with amusement the doors after every dozen treads or so. The previous owner of this house had been noted for his amorous proclivities and need for excess, hence private access to all floors. He, meanwhile, needed entry to but one.
This one!
He had arrived almost at his destination. He ran his fingers along a ledge, searching for the mechanism which saved the need for a key. A slight noise of wood grating on stone, and he was able to push the door open.

Briefly, he wondered if anyone had ever inadvertently pushed a cupboard in front of any of the doors and upset someone’s fun and games. Luckily, it hadn’t happened this time, and he was able to enter a small, unfurnished, and by the tired look of the paintwork, unused room.

However, the purpose he was using it for was perfect. It opened into a tiny chamber leading off the bathing room attached to Adriana’s bedchamber. A room forbidden to all staff.

Carefully, he closed the door from the stairs and walked with his usual stealth across the wooden floor into the anteroom, where he set down the package he had carried with him. After taking out part of the contents, he nodded to himself. He could only hope he would have a need for the rest. For, he realized, he was eager to see how Adriana would react. Better to know now, rather than in the future. He then crossed the steam-filled bathing room, still redolent of perfumed water—the heady scent he always associated with her. The door to her bedchamber was ajar, the flickering flames of the fire throwing patterns and reflections on the walls inside.

In his usual understated manner, he pushed the door open farther and saw her sitting quietly in a chair beside the hearth, a lamp beside her and an open book on her lap. Her long hair was loosened from all confines and streamed in glossy waves down her back, partially covering her gauzy robe. Seemingly she did not hear him, for she neither looked up from her book nor acknowledged his presence.

“My orders were explicit. I wish you to be naked. You knew this and chose to ignore them? As my mistress, you will always greet me on occasions such as this, unclothed. Naked except for this.” He took a string of perfectly matched and graded pearls from his pocket and let them slip between his fingers, their shimmering surfaces dancing in the firelight. Once around her neck they would be a perfect pathway all the way down her body to her cunt.

He watched as Adriana carefully placed a marker into her book before closing it and setting it on the table. Her head tilted up to look at him, and he saw the laughter and desire lurking in her eyes. She made no move to take the pearls from his outstretched hand.

“So?” he prompted.

“So?” she parroted. “As I am not yet your mistress, I see no need to follow any direction you give me. If and when I do become she, then of course I will heed your directives.”

Tease.
So she chose to poke and prod. So be it.

“Then we must discern if that role is one you wish. Possibly ‘tis time for your audition.”

She rose gracefully and stood in front of him, her unfettered breasts, only covered by a thin layer of gauze, rubbing the cloth of his coat, before looking him up and down, slowly, measuring, and to his suddenly impatient cock, arousing.

“And yours, my lord. And yours. However, I cede to your superior knowledge on this occasion and look to you for direction.”

He took one soft hand and kissed her wrist before a tiny nip to the soft flesh on her Mount of Venus had her gasping and him groaning with need.
Ashley,
he admonished himself silently.
Remember to go soft and slow will bring the fastest results.

He so wanted those results sooner rather than later. In order to hear that soft, sexy sigh again, he repeated his actions on her other wrist, reveling in the tiny bruise he created.

There and then, he determined once she was his, he would mark her in more ways than a sexy bruise. His mark, whether they became man and wife—which he devoutly hoped—or not, would be inked on her in a place only he would have access to. The thought increased the pressure in his pantaloons as his manhood, swollen already, began to demand immediate recognition and restitution for its patience. He thanked his tailor for the soft-knitted garments that stopped him from being in more agony than he already was.

“Well then, my dear, it is time for me to show you just what you will expect, experience, and enjoy as my mistress. Take the gown off.”

C
HAPTER
S
EVEN

He waited.

“Did you not hear?” He deliberately made his voice harsh.

“I heard.” He could tell she knew she was insolent in her manner. Her eyes gave her away. “I was making my considered decision.”

“I trust...” His tone was scathing. “That has now been made? And in your own time you will apprise me of it?”

Hah. Why did she like to tweak the tail of the tiger? For she knew it took a lot for him to lose that legendary temper of his. Also that on the rare occasions he did, grown men were known to seek cover. She, however, was continuing to provoke him, and his tail was lashing.

He wondered what he would do if she called his bluff. For he might like to dominate, but he was no true dominant. Coercer, persuader, encourager, yes. But dominant, as some people he knew were? No, never that. His dominance was definite, detailed, but limited to what he wished. That this was nowhere near what a true dominant desired or demanded neither bothered him nor made him wonder why. Ashley was truly comfortable in his own body. Usually. Now his greatest desire was to be comfortable in hers. Ever since his visit from an ill-at-ease Barnes, the newspaper owner, and that astonishing announcement from his—as he thought—contented fiancée, his libido had been rising, intrigued and demanding knowledge of what she wanted.

As he now was mistress-less, it amused him to think he could have both that and a wife—for whatever she said, she would not renege on that agreement—he would make sure of it—in one persona.
Perhaps,
he mused, as he continued to watch her tussle with herself,
the way to keep a husband from straying is to be a wife and lady in the drawing room and a licentious whore in the bedroom,
as Ivo had commented.

Still, she stood close, hardly touching. But she made no move to disrobe, merely studied his face, her own expressionless. Time to force the issue.

“By your lack of compliance, do I take it you are no longer desirous of pandering to my every whim? You wish not to service me, how and when I please? Then, my dear, I will go and continue with the plans for our nuptials...” he paused, ready to take the biggest risk so far in all of this risky business. “And, I bid you goodnight.” He bowed, making sure she could not read his eyes, and turned.

He had taken but two steps.

“Stop.” Her voice was shaky but unwavering. He stood but did not turn. “I accept. I will do as you ask.”

Without haste, he changed direction and raised an eyebrow. “Be my wife?”

“No.” Now her voice was determined. Slowly, she smiled a smile both mischievous and full of promise, and her hands moved to the front of her gown. “No, my lord. I am not to be a passing thought in your mind. I am to
fill
your mind. During every waking moment you will think of me, lust for me. During your sleep, your dreams will be of me, of filling me, and exploring our desires. I will be a mistress and more. I will be your nemesis and your soul.”

That was an intriguing description.

“Nemesis? Of what? For what?”

Her eyes bored into him, and he could see the passion flaring.

“Nemesis? For your lack of thought for me as a person. Your soul, so I am totally thought of by you as a person.”

“Adriana, I am not trying to ridicule you, or think less of you.” Ashley was aghast she may think so. “I am worshipping your body.”

Her lips twitched, at odds with the fire he saw in her eyes.

“Then, my lord, perchance you could worship my body with
your
body and not just your mind?”

***

Would he? What would be his next move?

Riana could feel his eyes boring into her. She felt herself grow wet and wondered for the
n-th
time whether she knew what she was letting herself in for.
Well, Riana,
she admonished herself as she considered the man in front of her,
if it is not to your taste, there is no one else to blame except yourself.
So, she decided, enjoy and learn.

“Take off the gown.” Again his voice was compelling. So be it. Time to play his games.

Instead of speaking, her hands went slowly to the ties at her breast, loosening the side of her gown that covered her so decorously. As she bared one soft mound to him, she looked at him boldly, her nipples peaking under his brazen appraisal. Another set of ties followed the first, and then another, until finally, she stood tall and proud in front of him, her robe hanging loosely on her body, its two sides barely meeting, hinting and enticing him to look, touch, and—she hoped—taste.

It seemed it did. His hands moved suddenly, and she felt the breeze as he pulled firmly and her robe was on the floor, her body bare to his approving gaze.

“This is how I want you whenever we are alone. Naked, open, and available.”

“If I choose to be your mistress.” She was standing her ground. With Ash, she knew to show weakness would be her downfall. She knew she wished to continue. For some unfathomable reason, she did not want him to be sure of her. There would be few occasions she would have the upper hand. This, she hoped, would be one of them.

Her hopes were not to be realized.

“As you say.” His tone was mild. “However, until you tell me otherwise, you are so choosing. If at any time you wish not to continue, you will tell me. I will stop immediately. Your safe word is Almacks. Do you understand? If you say Almacks to me, I will stop immediately. I warn you though, be sure that is what you truly want. For I will not try again. I can push you to your limit, Riana, make you aware of sensations you never thought were possible. Keep you on the edge, crying, begging for release, and bury myself so far inside your cunt, your arse, that we will be as one. I can ensure you make me come in your mouth, drink me dry, and then beg me for more. We can enjoy all this together, and you so decide. Understand this, though; we will do nothing you do not enjoy or wish for.”

What? It seemed now he
was
desirous of showing her all he enjoyed.

“Only as your mistress?”

He nodded. She dare not call him over his decision. Not yet.

“So be it then, Ash. I am here for you. Show me how to give you all this pleasure you describe and more. But take heed, this is a two-sided bargain, and I will give as good as I get.”

“Of course,” he agreed urbanely. “If I am inclined to let you.”

Argh.
What could she say? She had no answer for him so remained silent, watching, waiting for his next move. It was not long coming.

One hand reached out, and she felt his fingers feathering over her breast. The delicate touch made her shiver, not with cold or fear, but with a sense of excitement. At last, no longer would it be only her hands that explored her body. Without realizing it, she pressed into his questing touch.

“Stay still.” Again, that deep, dark voice was commanding. She stopped moving and waited. It seemed as if the whole room waited with her; even the air was still. What would he do next? Where would she feel his touch? Would he be aroused or appalled by her obvious excitement? Her nipples were hard and proud, her cunt slippery with her juices, and she was sure if she had curls at her pussy, they would also have been wet and gleaming with the evidence of how she was affected. Instead she could feel her juices coating the bare skin and trembled at the thought of Ash finding them and using them for both their delights.