A Measured Risk (31 page)

“I am going to keep her as a mistress, Maria, there’s nothing you can do about it. If you can’t accept my will, then now is the time to say so.”

“I could be persuaded to accept her. It would also give you the chance to make it up to me for ruining things with Kean’s little trollop. You could share your darling Lady Cranfield with me. I remember her from her seasons. She’s quite the beauty.”

That had the power to stir his blood. But it wasn’t a feasible scenario. “She’s young and quite sensitive.”

“Weren’t we all once?”

“Yes, I suppose we were.”

“You could convince her. You always were able to make your chits do whatever you wanted them to do.”

He chuckled softly. “Is that why you really want to marry me, Maria? Because I can keep a steady supply of women in your bed?”

“You cannot complain. It’s always been enjoyable for everyone, hasn’t it? And I know you, Jon. The sheer perversity of bedding your intended wife and your beloved mistress is simply too delicious.”

Maria knew him. Knew him far better than Anne did.

Well, Anne was going to have to get used to his ways. All of them. He wasn’t going to change for anyone.

* * * *

Dressed in a yellow muslin gown and a dark green mask adorned with canary yellow feathers, Anne sat in the drawing room. Ensconced on a divan in the far corner, she was still fuming over how Ruel had all but dumped her off after supper
.

“You’ll be fine,” he had said.

“What if someone—”

“They won’t.” He grinned, showing his white
,
even teeth against his tanned face, that earlier cruel light glittering in his azure eyes. “Not unless they want to face me at dawn.”

His restlessness seemed to crackle on the air. She almost imagined he wished it to happen. She’d never seen him like this.

He’d lightly gripped the base of her throat. “You look like a queen in that gown. Every man who sees you, wants you. But even were I not here, none would dare approach you for fear your icy exterior would freeze their cock off.”

She made a choked gasp.

“I am the only one, aren’t I, Nan? The only one who can thaw you.” His hand tightened. She swallowed against his hold. “Aren’t I?”

Wetness slid down between her thighs. She suppressed a moan.

He chuckled softly, released her throat and then put a finger to the tip of her nose. “No more than two cups of punch for you, wench.”

How unfair, seeing as he’d spent the whole afternoon half-sprung. Nevertheless, his eyes had looked sober as he’d fixed her with a stern look. “Only two.”

As soon as he’d disappeared into the card room, she’d downed three cups in quick order. God, it was like no other punch she’d ever drunk. Sweet with fruity hints of peach, pineapple and something else she couldn’t determine. Everyone around her drank freely. Why shouldn’t she? It gave her something to do other than hug her shoulders. Now she finished her fourth cup and felt rather intoxicated, her limbs languid yet her skin almost crawling with a jittery nervousness.

Well, who wouldn’t be nervous in this room? Not that anyone bothered her. They were all too busy with each other. All around
,
couples sat on the richly coloured divans, the women—one couldn’t call them ladies—draped over the men, some men having two or three women at their disposal. She spied several bare bosoms and suspicious writhings. Musk, rose and other heavy perfumes saturated the air. Seductive laughter and sighs echoed in the dimly lit shadows.

Was this Ruel’s way of telling her he now ranked her the same as these doxies?

She bristled at the thought. In the morning, she was going back to Whitecross Hall. She’d didn’t care how she explained her arrival before her carriage. He’d pushed too far this time. This could not be borne.

“Anne.”

The husky feminine voice stopped her heart cold. She turned.

Grey eyes peeked back from a dark blue mask that glittered with jets. The woman stroked her fingertips down Anne’s arm. “Only one woman in England could possibly have that gorgeous olive skin.”

The curve of the smile tugged at her memory. However, it was the masses of chestnut-red hair and the natural birthmark above the full, red mouth finally made her remember. One of the few women who had been truly friendly to her in Mayfair—

“Lady Waterbury?” Anne asked, unable to keep the wonder from her voice.

A husky laugh. “Oh, I think we’re beyond our titles here. Call me Maria.” The woman ran her fingernails lightly up and down Anne’s arm again, leisurely, sensually. Sparks of desire raced through her. She could imagine those nails, lightly scraping her tightening nipples.

The thought shocked her.

“I always thought you were simply too beautiful,” Lady Waterbury fairly purred.

Anne’s cunt clenched and wetness seeped from her channel and unreality descended over her. She glanced away, looking around at the firelight’s shadows dancing over the couples on the divans. Two women were kissing, while an older man fondled both their breasts. Across from them sat a young
,
golden-haired gentleman, a minor baron she’d never seen before tonight. He had a classically handsome face, almost too beautiful. One of his companions knelt between his legs, her head moving back and forth. His other companion pushed her teacup-sized breasts into his open mouth while he avidly tongued them.

The sight fascinated her. Sexual heat pulsed between her legs, flooding her with wetness. She felt…she felt…almost dizzy, her throat and mouth gone quite dry. And her heart seemed to race away from her. The air grew hot, close. The punch—she’d had too much.

She turned back to Lady Waterbury. The grey eyes were smoky. With desire. For her. Soft fingertips caressed her cheek. The other woman leaned closer. Her lips were parted and her fruity-scented breath proved strangely intoxicating.

Anne sat back, then jolted to her feet. “I have to leave now, sorry.” She forced the words out in a rush before dashing across the drawing room, headed for the door. Something collided with her. Grasped her arms. She jerked her head up.

Ruel’s azure eyes gazed down at her. Amused. Her heart ached as if it would tear in half. Well, she was certainly glad to have provided him with such amusement!

“Where are you going so quickly?”

“I don’t feel so well,” she said, truthfully. She didn’t feel herself at all. She hungered to have his hands on her. All over her. Tearing off her clothes. His weight pressing her down, his body hair caressing her nipples. His cock thrusting into her. Her gaze drifted over his body. He was dressed in black and
,
frowning, he looked sinister. He must have had clothes already here, for the suit fitted him perfectly, accentuating every line of his tall, hard
-
muscled body. Her cunt clenched almost violently. Dear God, she wanted him so badly that she would allow him to take her to one of the divans if he asked.

“You do look flushed.” He laid his palm on her décolletage on the left side. “And your heart is pounding. Is that because Lady Waterbury wanted to kiss you?”

“I don’t think she actually wanted—”

He grinned, his expression somehow a stranger’s, as if a somewhat fiendish mask overlay his familiar features and yet he was the same Jon she knew. The sense of double identity made her dizzy. “She did. I know her.”

The rich intimacy in his tone left no doubt. He knew the lovely Maria as well as he knew her.

“Oh.” The word sounded hollow to her own ears.

“Don’t you want to let her?” He caressed her neck with his fingertips. “Aren’t you curious?”

Again, she had that sense of knowing him and yet him being a sinister stranger. She placed a hand to her forehead.

“Not particularly. I-I told you I don’t feel well.” She just wanted to go somewhere alone and sort out all the confusing feelings. She could never think clearly until she did and she hated feeling so out of control of her own senses.

“What if I said it would please me if you would allow her to kiss you?”

Desire pounded through her with stunning force, weakening her knees so that she fell into him. He smiled down at her. Oh, she could deny him nothing when aroused like this.

Please, don’t let him ask.

However, he already had.

“You certainly picked a nice, quiet corner. Why don’t we go there?” he said.

“I couldn’t…not in here, with everyone watching.”

“Everyone is preoccupied and it’s dark over there. No one is going to even notice. I could fuck you every way there is to do it and none would take a second glance.”

“I care.” Heavens, why was she even discussing this? She should run, get away from his influence. If she did, clear thought would return. But his eyes held hers and she couldn’t move.

“Then what if we invite her up to my chamber?”

She had a vivid image of Lady Waterbury in his bed, her chestnut red hair a spill over his stomach as her mouth moved down—“No,” she found herself saying. “Please, don’t ask that.”

“Why?”

“I just don’t want to.”

“You did a minute ago.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Is it that you don’t want me to touch her?”

She closed her eyes
,
nodded vigorously.

“I won’t touch her. It will be just you and her. I’ll just watch.”

“You promise?”

“Of course, trust me.” He caressed her shoulders in a light motion. “Do you remember in the horse stall, when you asked me to take the silver balls out and you offered me anything if I would?”

She nodded.

“Well, we could consider this tonight as payment.”

She opened her eyes and stared up at his face. The skin drew taut over his cheekbones, his eyes dark as lapis with desire. He had her as neatly trapped as if he’d bound her. He wanted it, and sexually, she could deny him nothing. She trembled with excitement.

A slow, sensual smile spread over his hard mouth. “We’d better go up now.”

He swept her off her feet. She gasped in shock as he settled her into his arms. Then he turned and made a gesture with his head to Lady Waterbury.

* * * *

Anne stood, limp as a ragdoll while Ruel unlaced her. Lady Waterbury—Maria—undressed herself
,
but then she hadn’t as much to take off as Anne did. She’d worn a scandalously skimpy gown. French no doubt. Anne had been too anxious downstairs to notice.

Cool air touched her aching, stiff nipples and she glanced down to see herself bared. Surely no one could divest a woman of her garments like Ruel. It was almost criminal. Her legs were shaking so badly now.

“Go to bed,” Ruel whispered in her ear.

She nodded and stumbled over and sat. She stared at Ruel where he sat in a wingchair across from the bed.

He pointed to Anne’s left. “Well, don’t look at me, sweeting, she’s trying to get your attention.”

The humour in his voice warmed Anne’s blood. If only they were alone. She wanted him to come over and press her down on the bed and fuck her with his huge cock. But not with someone else watching. No, that wouldn’t do at all.

Soft hands touched her shoulders. She recoiled for a moment. It seemed too gentle. Not repulsive but just too soft. Then she saw the fire flare in Ruel’s eyes and a thrill raced through her.

He wanted this.

She would give him whatever he wanted.

She turned. Maria came closer, then their lips were touching. She caressed Anne’s breasts and Anne arched her back, hungry for sensation. She closed her eyes and pretended that Ruel was touching her, loving her. Each kiss and caress blended into the next. Her skilled lips moved low on Anne’s stomach and she writhed and moaned.

“Stop.” Ruel commanded.

Chapter Seventeen

Anne startled. Lady Waterbury backed away from her, looking shocked. Then her lovely face relaxed and she laughed softly. “Turning possessive in our old age, are we?”