Tempting His Mistress (16 page)

“Thus leaving you homeless in the process,” he grumbled.

“Just because you are predisposed to hating everyone, do not expect me to feel the same.”

“I do not hate everyone,” he protested.

“You hated me.”

“No. You hated me.”

Lilly softened into him. She hadn’t been pleasant to him, that much was true, but she could hardly confess she thought him capable of murder to justify her behaviour. “You were very arrogant,” she said instead.

“If I am so arrogant, perhaps you would be better off sleeping alone.” His tone had gone cold and he stiffened.

She bit the side of her tongue to prevent any more flippant words. The man might act tough but had she not learned he was more vulnerable than she had suspected? Instead of giving into the urge to fling off the covers and storm out of the room, she slid a hand around his waist and pressed her lips to his chest. Immediately, his manhood prodded her and she felt his muscles ripple with a shudder.

“I don’t think sleeping alone is a good idea at all,” she said in a seductive tone, “do you?”

A rumble rose from his chest and he grasped her rear, pulled her tight against him. “You should be resting.”

Laving a tongue over one flat nipple, she traced the lines of his torso with a finger. Evan dropped his head back, giving into her and making her smile against his chest. Perhaps they would not have to spend the rest of their days arguing after all. All she had to do was remember to seduce him very regularly.

“Let us pray he does not return,” Evan said with a huff as Lilly waved Henry off.

She waited until the carriage had driven down the road and out through the gates. “Come now, he is not that bad.”

He curled an arm around her shoulders and led her into the drawing room. Lilly couldn’t help but lean into the solid warmth of his torso.

“He is a buffoon,” he declared. “Leaving you when you were injured.”

“I likely did tell him I was well, you know. It may have passed your notice but I can be somewhat stubborn.” She let her lips curl.

Evan turned her around to face him. With the morning sun streaming through the windows, the lines around his eyes were brought out and she noted a few grey hairs amongst the stubble on his chin. She had never seen him with facial hair but she had to admit the thought of it against her skin made her body tingle. Her accident and her cousin’s visit had taken its toll on Evan, yet he remained the most handsome man she had ever seen. When his brown gaze locked onto hers and his brow furrowed in that appealing way, all the air left her lungs.

“You are, without a doubt, the most stubborn woman I have ever met. That said, I am grateful to be alone with my stubborn little vixen. It’s been a torturous few nights.”

Lilly was tempted to protest but she couldn’t help but agree. Out of respect for their guest they had refrained from much night time activity but it made her entire body tense with need. Even the lightest touch from the marquess sent warmth to her core.

“Well, we are alone again,” she said, rather than give away the ache building inside. While Evan had grown more open, it would not do to place herself too vulnerably. After all, he could very well tire of her and decide to abandon her in Oxfordshire while he searched for someone else to fulfil his pleasures. Pain—sharp and jagged—stabbed her heart and she shook away the thoughts.

He smoothed his palms down the back of her gown and brought them around to rest on her hips. Aligned with his body, she allowed herself to explore the generous width of his shoulders with her hands before curling around his neck. She tilted her head to eye him and her breath caught at the softness there.

“I am to return to London shortly though I intend only to be gone a few days. We must make the most of our time.”

“What business do you have in London?”

The softness vanished. “Lilly, have I not warned you about prying into a man’s affairs?”

“I do not see it as prying. If something is bothering you, why should you not share it with me?”

His hands dropped from her hips. “Nothing is bothering me.” He took a breath and appeared to gather himself, returning his hands to her waist. “Nothing is bothering me,” he repeated more softly. “But I tire of talking business and trivial matters. Most of my life is about business. With you, I should like it to be about pleasure.”

The way he uttered pleasure, so dark and delicious, made her shudder, but she still longed to understand why he shut her out. Now she was sure it was nothing to do with her father, there was little reason for him to be so tight lipped. Perhaps she was expecting too much of him. Just because her mother and father shared everything, didn’t mean others did.

“One day, Evan,” she told him, “you shall be grateful for a patient ear. I should like to be the one you confide in, even if you think them trivial matters.”

He pondered her, his lips curving up on one side. He didn’t respond so she had no clue as to whether he agreed. Instead he dipped his head and laid a kiss to her lips so sweet that she thought her heart might shatter. Instead of the pent up desire, she expected, he took the time to savour her, parting her lips gently with his own.

“Oh, my apologies, my lord.”

Evan lifted his head and set her back to view the maid. Lilly’s cheeks flamed as the young girl cast her gaze down. It was bad enough the staff knew her purpose here but she didn’t want them catching them in the act—even if it was a mere kiss.

A mere kiss that made her knees tremble and her stomach flip, admittedly.

“A letter arrived for you a moment ago, my lord,” the maid held out the missive. “By special messenger. It’s from Mr Higgins.”

“Thank you, Anne.”

The maid dipped and retreated while Lilly sat by the fire and lifted the book she had abandoned the previous night from the side table. She feigned interest in it but Evan kept her attention. Tension sizzled through the air with the arrival of that letter. What could it be? He tore it open and she watched his expression change as he read it. His brow started off dipped in concentration then furrowed deeper. His skin grew red and she saw his fist curl.

“Damn!” He barked the word, and she jumped in her seat.

She gulped, heart racing. What on earth did the letter say? Evan started to pace as he continued to read—or perhaps re-read—the missive. She watched him go back and forth in front of the window several times before he paused, screwed up the paper and flung it into the unlit fire.

“Evan?” Her voice sounded no more than a squeak. Something terrible must have happened to make him so angry. What could it be?

He snapped his head towards her, his dark eyes bottomless and enraged. She shrank into her seat, feeling the silk cushions press into her back. Not from fear for herself but for him. Her heart squeezed and she longed to jump and offer comfort, but she had never seen him like this and was at a loss as to what to do.

“Is something wrong?” she tried again.

His jaw ticked. “Get out, Lilly,” he said quietly.

“Pardon?”

“Leave the room. Now.”

Lilly clutched her book to her chest and glanced at the door. Should she really leave him when he was so distressed? Should she not offer him some sort of comfort?

“God damn it, Lilly, leave!” He took a step towards her and for the briefest second, she feared he was going to manhandle her. Instead, he swiped a vase from the mantelpiece. It flew against the wall and shattered into many tiny blue and white pieces.

Biting back a squeal, she eyed the shattered vase and flicked her gaze up towards Evan. His nostrils flared, his hands flexed. Book still pinned against her chest, she slid out of the chair and hastened back, her gaze lingering on the fearsome man in front of her.

Once she was out of the room, she scurried upstairs, jumping when she heard the door slam. Lilly pressed shaky fingers to her lips and made for her room. Since her accident, she only went in there to dress and fetch her belongings but now she suspected she would be sleeping there again. Exactly what had that letter said to make him so enraged? She would have to find out if she was ever to help him—no matter how much he denied he needed her help.

***

Evan glanced at the door to the study for the hundredth time and mulled his whisky. Necktie askew, his jacket discarded, he lounged back on the chair, his feet propped on the desk. Every time he heard footsteps, he tensed, waiting for Lilly to carefully open the door and slip in to comfort him. Except she never did and he knew full well why.

He had terrified her. His temper had got the better of him and he had been no better than his father, throwing things around and shouting at her. If she had stayed, would he have struck out at her? He threw back the remainder of his whisky and poured himself another from the crystal decanter on his desk.

How he ached for her to come to him and press her delicate lips to his. To wrap her soft body around him and tell him everything would be all right. But it wouldn’t.

Eleanor had paid a heavy price for his inability to protect her. He closed his eyes and fought the images haunting him. Somehow her husband had found out about her plan to flee. Thanks to him, Eleanor was beaten to death. If he hadn’t interfered, would Eleanor have lived? He had to believe the beatings would have continued, but at least she would have remained alive.

Bile rose in his throat as he pictured the defenceless woman suffering at the hands of that brute. No woman should have to suffer such an end. And the man he had hired to keep an eye on her had been unable to do anything about it. The staff were too eager to protect their employer that they turned a blind eye to it, and the thug he had hired could do nothing to gain entrance to the house. No doubt, it would be passed off as an accident or hushed up with some bribes.

Something had to be done. But what? He stood, drained his drink and placed the glass down with a thud. Shoving open the door and caring little for the noise it made in the dark house, he stormed to the back of the house. The staff had left a few of the lamps lit, knowing he remained awake, but he was forced to snatch a candle from the kitchen to enter the storeroom as there were no lamps in the small room that housed his guns. He stepped around a bicycle someone had abandoned there and stubbed his toe on the washing tub. Evan made a mental note to have someone clear out the storage area.

He pulled open the mahogany cabinet and ignored the rifles stacked inside it. The pistols were kept in the top. He rarely carried a weapon. The damned things were so unreliable, he preferred to protect himself with his fists and boxed every chance he got when he was in London. But fists would not do against Ashby, Eleanor’s husband.

Lifting the locked box, he took it into the kitchen and laid it on the large wooden table in the middle of the room. He flicked it open and was greeted by the scent of oil and gunpowder. Evan lifted one of the pistols out and eyed the brass. Both guns would need a decent clean before use or they would likely go off in his hand. He pointed one. Flashes of memories seared his mind. His father striking his mother, Eleanor’s terrified expression, her husband lashing out at her. The latter was no memory but he could imagine it well enough. He had seen his father in a rage enough times to know what Eleanor must have experienced.

And now Lilly had witnessed the same.

“Evan?”

He jerked around, gun in hand, and Lilly squeaked. Evan swiftly lowered the gun. The temptation to bark out a scolding burned on his tongue, but the words dissolved at the sight of her wide eyes and her delicate face. She looked like an angel with the light from one lamp illuminating her curls and the braid around one shoulder. Her voluminous shift added to the effect.

Lowering the weapon, he scrubbed a hand across his face. “What are you doing here?”

She edged closer, a wary eye to the gun. “I was looking for you. It’s late. You should go to bed, Evan.”

Her soft voice and the touch of her even softer fingers on his forearm worked inside him and eased away the tension. He placed down the gun and took her hand. What would he do with her? Send her away? Go to London and abandon her for good? He lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed each one before flattening a kiss to the inside of her wrist. Her pulse leapt against his lips and he let his mouth linger there while he observed the colour sweeping over her cheeks and the slight flutter of lashes. How could he send such a creature away? Maybe he could control his temper long enough to see out their year together.

Lord help him, but he was a weak man. He should never have even taken her as his mistress. He knew well he had a temper and it was only a matter of time. All this had proved was that he wasn’t even fit to take a wife.

Lilly twined her fingers between his and led him back through the house and upstairs. And he would be damned if he did not follow like a little lost puppy. They paused outside his room, facing each other, and he dropped his forehead to hers. “Will you not share my bed tonight?”

“I don’t know, Evan,” she responded quietly.

His gut fisted with regret. He had scared her so much that she no longer wanted to share his bed with him. Now he had lost out on her sweet company in bed. It had only been a short while since she’d fallen from the horse, but he had grown used to waking up to her freezing toes tangling in between his legs or an elbow in the back. Strangely, none of it irritated him. Instead, he’d found himself waking early just to watch her sleep.

“Do you want me in your bed or are you asking because you feel you must?” she asked.

“I want you in my bed,” he said in a rush. The admission cost him. His throat felt dry and tight as if he had swallowed sand.

“Very well, then I shall return to your bed.”

Evan did not disguise his long exhale of relief. What was the point? She had the measure of him today anyway. When it came to Lilly Claremont, the Marquess of Hawksley was helpless.

He lifted his forehead from hers, opened the door and led her in. But when they reached the bed, she took charge once more, pressing him down and straddling him to aid him with his shirt. He made no protests. Heat flared through him and his lower body inevitably tightened. With her knees to either side of him on the bed, he found himself cradled between her beautiful, supple legs. With both hands, he clasped her knees and pushed the linen shift up, allowing him access to her smooth thighs.

Shirt now undone, Lilly parted it and stroked her palms up and down his bare chest. Fire followed everywhere her fingers touched. He feared it would never abate—this sensation she created inside him. Perhaps it might even increase.

A hand slipped between them and worked on his trousers. He helped her pull them off, lifting his rear from the bed. Lilly slid down between his legs to tug his shoes and socks off and then his trousers down. Finally she aided him with his drawers.