Eternally Seduced (83 page)

Mary had a hard time opening her eyes, feeling like she had been sleeping for an eternity. When she did, the first thing she realized was that she was not in her own room. A second later, her mind cleared, and the memories of Bartholomew’s attack exploded in her mind.

She screamed.

“Mary!” Rathe was beside her in a second, hauling her to his arms. “Calm down,” he said hoarsely, futile rage sweeping inside him as he felt her shaking so hard in his embrace. “You’re safe. Nothing happened. You’re safe. You’re safe. It’s over. I’m here.”

The words were said over and over but it took a long time for them to tear through the veil of pain. Resurfacing from her memories, her wet unfocused eyes went to him.
Rathe.
It was
Rathe.
He was still speaking, saying the same things. Slowly, she began to understand.

You’re safe.
She was safe.

Nothing happened.
Nothing happened?

It’s over.
It was over.

I’m here.
He was here.

Her voice was thinner than she wanted it to be and shamefully tremulous. “I…” Her voice failed her, the fear stealing away he
r ability to talk
. She didn’t want to be afraid because it would mean that Bartholomew had finally broken her, but God, God, oh God, he had terrified her.

Mary. Mary. Mary.

She looked at him again.

Rathe. It was Rathe. He was Rathe.

She gasped out, “Rathe.”

The need in her voice ate at him, and he pulled her back into his arms.
He would fucking kill that son of a bitch
, Rathe thought. He would get his hands on him one day soon, and life as Bartholomew knew it would never be the same again. Oh no. That bloody bugger would wish he was dead after he experienced what Rathe had planned for him.

Looking down
at
the shaking girl in his arms, Rathe felt his chest constricting and contracting in fear. He didn’t think he would ever forget the
image
of Mary, lying so helplessly on the floor like a broken doll.

“Mary.” He said her name like it was a talisman, like it was proof that she was indeed alive in his arms.

She clutched his shoulders more tightly, as if him saying her name meant he was about to say goodbye to her. “Don’t. Leave.”

He laughed harshly. “No one can bloody take me away from you at this point.” His heart thundered hard against his chest. How was it possible that this girl found it so bloody easy to get under his skin? He wasn’t just sexually attracted to her now. He was bloody obsessed.

“Rathe…”

Hearing the plea in her voice, he cupped her face with both hands, making her look at him. “I’m sorry for not arriving sooner and preventing
him
from beating you up.” Broken ribs, bruises all over, and a trauma that Rathe knew would take a long time for Mary to forget. All those were even more reasons for him to kill Bartholomew Grenville the moment Slater found him.

Just o
ne powerful punch from Rathe was enough to get the man off Mary. Never an idiot when it came to self-preservation, Bartholomew hadn’t paused for breath as he made his escape, knowing the other man would be too busy checking on Mary to go after him right away.

Mary’s stepfather was now on the run with her mother in tow.

Shaking her head at Rathe’s reassurances, she forced herself to speak of her greatest worry. “H-he…wanted to rape---”

“He wasn’t able to.”

Her eyes begged for him to say the truth.

“The doctors can prove it to you, little pearl. He did not rape you.”

She started to cry. She would gladly let herself be beat up again rather than let Bartholomew take possession of her body. She felt Rathe pulling her towards him again, his embrace both fierce and gentle at the same time in its protectiveness.

“My mother?”

He answered grimly, “With your stepfather. But I’ve already set the best detective on their t
r
ail. We’ll find them soon
,
I promise you.” She didn’t speak, but he could sense her unease and pain. “Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll fix it for you.”

She looked up at him with scared eyes. “Where do I go now?” She didn’t think she could face being alone in her room, knew that the place would always remind her that she had almost been raped.

For once, his nobility was defeated, his instinct and training for doing what was right and just vanquished by the strength of his obsession.

Rathe said thickly, “You come to my side, where you belong.”

She said shakily, “As your mistress?”

He did not answer, knowing he didn’t need to.

Oh God, was she ready – would she ever be ready to be his mistress?

But then, did she really have a choice?

Slowly, she nodded.

His eyelids fell, hooding his gaze. He didn’t want her to see the triumph blazing in his eyes. Rathe bent down to kiss her, sweetly taking her lips, reminding her that what a man and woman did could and would still be beautiful, given the right partner.

“You will be my mistress, little pearl?” He needed her to say it, needed her to openly accept his claim.

She took a deep breath. “I will be your mistress…for as long as you need me.”

Rathe’s chest eased. He hadn’t realized he hadn’t been bloody breathing until he had gotten the answer he wanted.

Gently, he laid her back on
the
bed and when he started to move away, her fingers curled around his wrist. The action seemed to surprise both of them, Rathe freezing while Mary let go of his wrist abruptly, her eyes bemused.

“What is it?” He tried to keep his voice calm, tried not to let her know how much the need in that touch had called out to Rathe.

She needed him.

He shouldn’t like that she needed him, but he did.

Mary shook her head, looking away as she mumbled, “Nothing.”

He took the vacant chair next to the bed, resting one elbow on the
mattress
as he gently reached out to her, making Mary face him again. Fear and confusion blended in her gaze.

Again, his chest contracted.

She needed him.

Why was that so addictive?

“Sleep now,” he said thickly, unable to stop himself from reaching out to h
er
again, caressing one pale cheek. He frowned, feeling it slightly wet, knowing it was because she had cried even in her sleep. “It will be fine now, Mary.”

She only gazed at him.

“Do you believe me?”

Did she believe him?

It was so hard to think clearly when half of her remembered Bartholomew’s brutal attack while the other half wanted to lose itself in Rathe, to hide inside him and let him use his strength and power to shield her from the world.

She felt his knuckle rubbing her cheek and she turned to it instinctively. “Yes.” The word came from her heart.

He exhaled, as if releasing the last of the tension that kept his body stiff.

She inhaled, wanting to surround herself with his scent, knowing it would be her protection against the nightmares. She waited for him to leave, telling herself she would not make a fuss about being alone. But he did not, staying there all the time, quiet but alert, his body always in contact with hers. A brush of their arms, his fingers combing through her hair, his lips pressing against her cheek---

Was this how a man loved his mistress?

Perhaps it was, but she knew it would not be forever because that was how mistresses were throughout history. They were loved so passionately for a moment and despised for eternity after.

Her eyelids fell as drowsiness blanketed her entire mind. She said with a soft yawn she couldn’t stop, “Rathe?”

“Mm?”

“What will happen now?”

He slowly smiled, reaching out to smooth her hair back and brush away her already longish bangs so he could see her completely. She was already half asleep, and he knew what he would say wouldn’t really sink in.

“We look for a home.”

She snuggled closer to his arm, the heat of his body warming her. She thought he had said they were going to look for a home, but surely she was mistaken.

“A house?” she asked dumbly the next day, gaping at Rathe, who had clearly lost his ducal mind. Why ever would they look for a house?

Across the living room, Rathe stood behind the wine bar, pouring himself a shot. He was dressed in a black turtleneck and dark gray slacks, which was the most casual she had seen of him. It was a new side to Rathe, and she instinctively knew that he did not dress so casually with anyone. The knowledge held her in quiet awe, making her feel even shyer and more awkward
around
him.

Rathe caught her gazing at him and she hurriedly looked away.

He laughed, the sound rich and dark, and even from across the room, it was a seductive sound that played with her senses like a musician’s fingers played with the strings of a violin. Oh, how fast and hard she had fallen for him. One day, she was just Mary, the girl who longed childishly to be noticed by Professor Byron.
N
ow, she was mistress to Rathe Wellesley, the Duke of Flanders – and let her not forget that he was also England’s #1 Heartthrob.

She let out a little gasp when he was suddenly kneeling in front of her. He had carried her from the bed earlier, waking her up gently for dinner and deposit
ing
her on the couch after. The meds still kept her feeling pleasantly numb, like she was floating. Or maybe it wasn’t the meds at all and just
Rathe.

“How are you feeling?”

His tone was serious and she frowned in response. “The doctors told you I’m okay already. I just need a few more days of bed rest and then I can go back to school. I just need to make sure that my ribs stay bandaged---” She stopped when she saw him shake his head. “What?”

“You’re not going to back to class like that.”

Mary blinked several times at him, sure that she wasn’t hearing him right. “What do you mean?”

She looked so young and innocent when she looked at him like that
, Rathe thought broodingly. It made the age gap between them even more obvious, and he wondered if this was what had drawn his father to his mother in the first place.

Run
, the sensible part of him urged.
Run
in
the other direction and forget she ever existed.

But the rest of him resisted.

It was too late.

She was dressed in a plain white dress, both of them figuring it would be easier for now to stick with skirts and dresses with her injured ankle and broken ribs. She looked lovely and sexy, her shy and demure ways making him want to do devilishly wicked things so he could enjoy seeing shock transform to pleasure on her face.

Seeing that she was still waiting for an answer, he said calmly, “It means exactly what you think it means. You are not to go back to class until you are fully healed and…” This time, his voice adopted a grim tone. “…until we haven’t found where your stepfather and mother
are
, it’s not safe for you to go about without protection.”

“It’s school.”

“He attacked you there, didn’t he?”

She fell silent at that, knowing he had a point. “I just don’t think…” She lifted her chin. “I’m going back to school the moment I’m okay.”

“Why do you need to?”

Again, he confused her. “It’s school. I have to finish my degree to get a job---”

“But you don’t need a job either,” he pointed out. “You’re my mistress, Mary. That’s all you should be concerned about.”

She gasped. “You make it sound like it’s a job.”

She was so bloody innocent.
How else do you describe what
being a mistress was
like
? Of course it was a damn job! But he knew he couldn’t say that and so he said instead, “I wanted you to be my mistress because I want all of your time and attention for me.”

She shook her head again, her lips pursing stubbornly. “No. I researched about this, you know.”

He raised a brow.

She nodded vigorously. “I did. Did you think I’d just say yes without gathering facts first? All the happiest mistresses weren’t just, well, mistresses. They led productive lives.”

He wondered who she was talking about.

“They ruled kingdoms and they led wars and---”

He said dryly, “You’ve been watching too much HBO
,
” and a bark of laughter escaped him when she flushed.

“I did Google it, too, and I’m telling you, it’s not the right way for me to be a mistress.” She pointed to herself. “If I’m to respect myself and you’re to respect me, I can’t be defined by just being a mistress.”

He didn’t speak, not wanting to let her know how easy and often she surprised him. Why did he keep forgetting that for all her innocence she was far from being stupid? He had gotten Slater to dig deep in her past and the information about her was…interesting.

Her mother had been a prostitute, rescued back to living in “polite society” by marrying a pastor, Bartholomew, who had a long list of scandals attached to his name. They were just not easily found, those scandals, because they primarily involved young girls he had raped and terrorized into staying silent.

The reports had revealed a twisted side
to
Bartholomew Grenville, and his fanatical beliefs had probably been the only thing that kept him from raping Mary under his own roof. But when he had learned about Rathe’s presence in his stepdaughter’s life, the man had snapped.

Knowing what kind of man was after Mary, Rathe knew he would never feel completely relaxed until he had that man behind bars or, even better, buried six feet under.

Unfortunately, the girl in front of Rathe was determined to make it as challenging for him as possible to protect her. “Let’s compromise,” he said finally. “When you heal, you can be homeschooled for the rest of the semester. When you have to go to school, it w
ill
be with a bodyguard.”

She opened her mouth to refuse but the look on his face stopped her. He was not going to budge on this, no matter what she said or did.

“You’re overreacting,” she said helplessly.

“If that’s what you call doing what I can to keep you from getting killed
,
then so be it.”

Her heart leapt at his words because they implied that he didn’t just like her. Those words hinted of something more – the kind that she was afraid of because she also felt so much…more…for him.

He tipped her chin up. “Deal?”

She said unhappily, “I don’t really have a---”

The rest of her words were
swallowed
by his kiss. He hadn’t kissed her the entire day and for that, she was startled and, yes, embarrassingly eager for it. She didn’t bother pretending she didn’t want it. She was his mistress.
This
was one of the most important reasons why she was so.

Her sweet surrender was too much, making him ache so badly to possess her body
,
but he knew it was too early. She had to heal first. He was too wild for her, had too many things planned for her body that it would not do if she was less than a hundred percent healed.

Tearing himself away with a groan, he looked at her in frustration. “I want you too much, little pearl.”

His words and tone contradicted each other and she blinked at him. “Is that bad?”

“It is if I can’t act on my desire.”

She colored. “I think I can---”

He managed a smile. “No, little pearl. I can wait. I just need to take more cold showers than usual.” He sat down on the couch next to her and after a moment’s hesitation, Rathe was pleasantly surprised when she carefully drew herself close to him. It was clearly the most she could do without expiring with embarrassment.

Pressing his lips together to keep him from smiling, he reached for her, closing the rest of the distance between them by gently lifting her up and settling her over his body, their legs stretched out.

Reaching for his iPad on the coffee table, he handed it to her. “The agent’s sent us a couple of photos already. If you make a choice today, we’ll be able to move right away.”

She snorted.

He laughed, the sound reminding him of Saffi and Yanna. Both women looked very delicate at first glance, but they were indeed the kind who snorted in amusement, which he knew their respective partners found endearing.

And it was endearing
, Rathe realized. Or at least it was when Mary did it.

“What is it?” he asked, his eyes on her even though she was oblivious to it.

“You make it sound so simple,” she answered as she opened the iPad and clicked the browser icon. “Move in right away?” She giggled this time.

Ah.

Rathe pinched her cheek, startling her
in
to looking up at him accusingly. “What?”

“Do you doubt my ability to have us moved to a new home?”

One word in his sentence had her breathless. Us. He had used ‘us’.
Did he know that he was implying he was going to move in with her to a new home?
She might not know much about being
a
mistress, but she did know it was rare for a mistress and her lover to live together under one roof. It didn’t matter if her lover was married or not. It just wasn’t…done.

She looked down on the iPad to hide her blushing cheeks. “I just don’t think it’s easy,” she mumbled.

He countered, “It is that easy when it concerns me.”

Mary chided, “Your ego knows no bounds.”

“No, little pearl. I just do not mince words about what I can do.” He cupped her cheek, demanding her attention. “It’s the same reason I know I’m the only man your body is destined to belong to.”

The words had her gasping. “Rathe!”

She said it in a tiny breathy voice that he always found irresistible and he kissed her once more, his tongue pushing in, wanting more of the taste it craved. She kissed him back with a sweet sigh, her arms going around him. He shifted. She groaned – in pain.

Bloody hell.

He gently pulled away. “No, Mary.”

She only blinked at him with passion-clouded eyes.

Ah, bloody, bloody, bloody hell. She was just making it harder for him to concentrate. “You’re still hurt,” he bit out
.
H
e kept his hands gentle as he carefully lifted her off him. “For now, we need to stay apart.” The look of hurt on her face made him want to groan. “Just until you’re better, dammit.”

She still looked unconvinced.

“Stop seducing me with those eyes of yours.”

Mary was disbelieving. “I’m…seducing you?”

His mind, already close to going insane with need for her, even became more warped, Mary’s words making him imagine how it would be if she did indeed seduce him.

“Stop looking at me like that and just start checking out the houses, dammit.”

His fists were clenched, his body tense. Her gaze moved down and she saw the way his tight slacks emphasized the shape of his arousal. Had she really done that to him?

“Seen enough?”

Even as he spoke, she could not stop staring. To her amazement, his erection moved under his slacks, becoming…bigger…longer…