The Master's Mistress (7 page)

‘And your friends…?’

Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably under the sudden intensity of that dark gaze. ‘I have a couple of female friends from school that I keep in touch with…’

‘What about men?’ Rogan probed softly. ‘Who do you sleep with? Share pillow-talk with?’

‘Pillow-talk?’ she echoed breathlessly.

‘If you prefer it, post-coital conversation,’ Rogan drawled.

‘I don’t!’ Elizabeth said frowningly.

Rogan turned so that he was now lying only inches away from Elizabeth, their thighs almost touching. ‘You don’t prefer it, or you don’t engage in post-coital conversation?’

‘Both!’ In spite of the coolness of the early-morning air, Elizabeth suddenly felt very warm. Because of Rogan’s close proximity? Or the intimacy of their conversation?

‘Is the latter because you don’t have a man sharing your bed at the moment, or do you just prefer not to talk after sex?’

Her cheeks burned. ‘Stop interrogating me, Rogan!’

‘Believe me, it’s preferable to what I really want to do!’

Elizabeth’s gaze avoided Rogan’s as she saw the heat that had suddenly entered those dark, caressing eyes. Instantly making her aware of how her breasts were clearly outlined by the clinging material of her black costume, the nipples pebble-hard and aching!

She moistened salty lips. ‘It’s probably time we were going back now—Rogan?’ Her gaze was raised to his in alarm as he reached out to curve his hand about the nape of her neck. ‘Rogan!’ But she could only protest half-heartedly as that hand tightened and he began to draw her inexorably closer to him.

Elizabeth couldn’t move, felt totally captivated by the intensity of his eyes as his gaze so easily held hers. Her lips were already moist and parted as his mouth claimed hers. First gently, searchingly. Then hungrily as he opened her lips even further at the same time as he pulled her into his heat and curved her body into his much harder one.

Her response was instant. Spectacularly out of control, and her hands moved up his chest and she clung to those wide muscled shoulders as Rogan’s lips continued to devour and claim hers.

She didn’t have the will-power to protest as Rogan lowered her back down onto the flatness of the rock, was too lost in pleasure as they kissed with lips, tongues and teeth. Fiercely. Hungrily. Elizabeth’s hands moved restlessly across Rogan’s back, tracing and caressing each and every scar in a way that seemed to increase the hunger of his mouth as it moved passionately over hers.

His hands moved to curve about the firm thrust of her breasts, the soft pad of his thumbs tracing the outline of her hardened nipples, the elusiveness of those near caresses
sending rivers of expectation, pleasure, pooling between Elizabeth’s thighs.

She wanted—Oh, God, she wanted…!

She broke the kiss to gasp. ‘Please, Rogan…!’ And that gasp became a shuddering cry as he lowered his head to claim the fiery tip through the material of her costume, drawing the nipple into the heat of his mouth and laving it with the rasp of his tongue…

There was so little clothing between them, only the thin material of their bathing costumes, but it was still too much as far as Rogan was concerned. He wanted to see, to touch, to kiss every silken inch of Elizabeth’s bare flesh.

He moved his mouth reluctantly from her breast so that he could move back slightly, his dark gaze resting briefly on her flushed face before he glanced down to watch as he drew both straps of her costume slowly down her arms, pulling the material down even further so that he could bare her breasts, full and lush, the nipples a deep rose-pink, perfect in their arousal.

The skin of his hands looked dark against the pale creaminess of her flesh as he sat up to cup the fullness of both breasts, claiming those nipples to roll them, gently squeeze them between thumb and finger. Rogan felt his thighs throb in the same pleasurable rhythm as Elizabeth half sat up, her hands resting back against the rock as she thrust her breasts forward in silent offering.

Rogan groaned his satisfaction as he moved to kneel between her parted legs, and then bent his head to take one delicious-tasting nipple into his mouth even while his hand continued to lavish attention on its twin.

She was so responsive, and Rogan couldn’t get enough of her as he turned his head to pay attention to her other nipple, licking, biting, sucking, pleasuring her until Elizabeth writhed against him, her breasts jutting higher so that he could draw her even further into his mouth.

His erection was thick and hard, pulsing with need, and Rogan was almost losing control just at the thought of having Elizabeth’s lips on him, about him, in that intimate way.

He was breathing hard as he finally raised his head. ‘Touch me, Elizabeth. For God’s sake, touch me!’

Elizabeth immediately obeyed his plea, moving a caressing hand down the tautness of his muscled abdomen until she could cup the hardness between his thighs, instantly feeling the way his arousal, so long and thick, leapt eagerly, hotly, against her hand.

Rogan reached between them to push his trunks down his hips and thighs and throw them aside, his arousal jutting forward eagerly as Elizabeth’s fingers closed about him and the soft pad of her thumb touched and stroked him until he hardened even further.

Elizabeth moaned softly at this physical evidence of Rogan’s arousal. He was steel encased in velvet, the blood pulsing fiercely, hotly, as he swelled beneath her questing hand.

Her own body was wound so tight she felt as if there was a coiled spring inside waiting for release, and she offered no resistance when Rogan reached between them once again, this time to pull her costume down even further, over her thighs and hips, until he had discarded it completely.

Elizabeth’s legs parted invitingly and she continued to touch and caress Rogan as he thrust rhythmically into her encircling fingers.

‘It’ll all be over if you don’t stop now!’ he groaned, and he reached down to remove her hand, instead nudging her legs apart so that he could move up onto his knees between them to look down at her nakedness.

Elizabeth moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, her hips rising in invitation as her gaze remained riveted on the jutting hardness between Rogan’s muscled thighs.

She cried out, her startled gaze rising to Rogan as she felt his hand glide smoothly along her inner thigh. She could see the dark passion in Rogan’s eyes as he looked down at her bared thighs, knowing by the wild gleam in them, and the flush beneath his hard cheekbones, how aroused that made him feel.

Elizabeth cried out again as he touched lightly between her thighs. She was so swollen there, so aching and aroused that she knew herself to be balanced on the very edge of climax.

Rogan’s gaze was hot, scorching, as he felt Elizabeth’s instant response when he slowly parted the silky auburn curls, baring that pulsing nub. He used one finger to lightly stroke around, above and below that arousal, without quite touching it, drawing out Elizabeth’s pleasure as she groaned and whimpered and writhed her hips in search of that caressing finger.

Rogan pushed her legs even wider apart so that he might caress her lower still, instantly feeling how she opened for him as he stroked the swollen entrance and found her hot and slick with need, her hips arching upwards in a plea for release.

A soft scream escaped her parted lips as Rogan dipped the tip of his finger inside her wet and creamy tightness, her muscles convulsing greedily about him, the soft panting of her breath telling him how very close she was to exploding.

‘Not yet, Elizabeth!’ Rogan slowly withdrew his finger
to resume his playful caresses. Around. Above. Below. Never quite touching…

He continued those tantalising caresses even as he lowered his head to her bared breast, once again drawing hungrily on her nipple, groaning low in his throat as he felt Elizabeth’s hands become entangled in his hair as she held him to her.

‘Please, Rogan!’ she cried out restlessly, desperately, as her fingers tightened painfully in his hair. ‘Please…!’

‘Say it again, Elizabeth,’ Rogan groaned against the moist heat of her nipple. ‘Say my name, damn it!’

‘Rogue…?’ she breathed raggedly.

‘Yes!’ he rasped. ‘Say it, Beth. Say it!’

‘Rogue, Rogue, Rogue…!’ Her cries became a gasping litany as Rogan kissed his way slowly down the flatness of her stomach, over the smoothness of her hips, until he reached those damp, fiery curls between her legs, when that cry became another scream as he placed his lips about her and then stroked his skilled tongue against the throbbing centre of her desire.

Elizabeth arched up to that stroking tongue as ecstasy ripped through every part of her, threatening to shatter her into a million pieces. Her muscles convulsed in an endless release as Rogan continued to pleasure her, until Elizabeth finally collapsed back weakly, completely sated.

The moment the coldness of the rock touched Elizabeth’s back, she was brought back to the reality of where she was, who she was with, and what had just happened.

‘I’ve always found regret to be a wasted emotion,’ Rogan murmured dryly some minutes later, when Elizabeth made no effort to lower the arm she had draped over the top of her face.

As if not being able to see him would make all that had just happened go away!

Which was pretty ridiculous when they were both still completely naked…

Rogan moved up to lean on his elbow, looking down at her. Her breasts were slightly red from the rasp of his early-morning stubble, the nipples still engorged and dusky pink from the ministration of his lips and tongue, and those fiery curls between her legs were damp from her recent release.

He drew in a shaky breath. ‘Beth—’

‘I don’t want to talk about this now!’ Elizabeth snapped fiercely, lowering her arm so that she could glare up at him.

‘Or ever?’ he guessed ruefully.

‘Or ever!’ Elizabeth echoed as she sat up to look for her discarded bathing costume. It lay some distance away on the rock, tangled into a wet, unappealing ball.

Dear God…!

What had happened to her just now? How could she have allowed herself to completely unravel in Rogan’s arms like that?

How could she have been so foolish!

‘I like your hair all soft like this—’

‘Don’t touch me!’ Elizabeth flinched back as Rogan would have reached out and touched the silkiness of her recently dried hair.

Rogan’s eyes darkened angrily as his arm dropped back to his side. ‘You didn’t seem to object a few minutes ago when I
touched
you!’

Colour burned Elizabeth’s cheeks as she remembered all too clearly the shameful way she had pleaded for his touch.
She’d been so aroused, so aching, so desperate for release as she urged Rogan to give her what she needed…

Something he had done beyond her wildest imaginings!

She swallowed hard, her gaze no longer meeting his. ‘I must have been out of my mind.’

‘Oh, you were,’ Rogan said pointedly. ‘Completely and wildly out of your mind.’

Her eyes shot furious sparks at him. ‘Do you have to sound so—so damned triumphant?’

He gave an unrepentant shrug. ‘It’s a natural reaction in a man when he knows he’s just given his woman pleasure.’

‘I’m not
your
woman,’ Elizabeth gasped incredulously.

‘Just say the word and you could be,’ Rogan drawled softly, having no idea how he would handle having someone like Elizabeth in his life, but knowing that giving this woman pleasure once hadn’t been nearly enough to satisfy his own appetite for her. He wanted to make love to her again. And again. And have her make love to him, too…

The throb of his thighs ached all over again just at the thought of having the fullness of her lips about him, her tiny tongue lapping the length of him…

‘For how long?’ she came back challengingly.

Rogan shrugged. ‘For as long as it lasted.’

‘“It” being a purely sexual relationship?’

‘Of course.’

Elizabeth gave a disgusted shake of her head. ‘I have absolutely no wish to become the latest woman in what I have no doubt is the very long line of your conquests!’ She spat the words at him as though he’d just mortally insulted her.

The coldness of her rejection was like a slap in the face after Rogan’s imaginings. In which, knowing how much a
woman like Elizabeth didn’t belong in his world, he had wanted to take her there anyway…

‘Didn’t my lovemaking measure up to the “dark predator” in your book?’ he taunted sarcastically.

Colour heated Elizabeth’s cheeks at this reference to the book she had been reading the night Rogan arrived. After the way she had responded to him how could he even suggest that his lovemaking hadn’t measured up? Making love with him had been beyond anything Elizabeth could ever have imagined it to be.

‘I’m going back to the house now,’ she bit out abruptly. ‘Try not to get cut off by the tide, won’t you?’ she added with false sweetness as she rose to her feet, grabbing up her costume and holding it in front of her nakedness as Rogan made no effort to hide his admiring glance.

Rogan had no chance to make any reply as he watched Elizabeth walk away.

He sighed heavily as he fell back onto the rock, its coldness acting as a balm to the ache in his loins as he stared up at the cloudless sky.

Elizabeth obviously wanted to forget what had happened, but there was no way Rogan would ever be able to forget the way Elizabeth had caught fire in his arms just now. Her ready response to the caress of his mouth and hands on her body. The tremors of her shuddering release.

Even if he wanted to, there was no way Rogan could ever forget
any
of that…

‘D
OING
some late spring-cleaning…?’

Elizabeth straightened to turn and stare numbly across the room at Rogan as he stood in the doorway of the library. ‘I found it like this when I came in just now.’

‘Like this’ was with dozens upon dozens of books tumbled haphazardly from the shelves onto the floor, until hardly any of the carpet remained in view.

Elizabeth had been dreading seeing Rogan again after the incident down in the cove earlier this morning. But coming into the library to find the room in complete chaos had put that embarrassment completely from her mind. All she wanted to do now was just sit down and cry in the midst of all this wanton destruction.

She dropped down heavily into the chair that sat in front of the desk. ‘Who could have done such a thing?’ She stared down at the piles of books in disarray around her. ‘And why?’

‘I think at this moment I would be more interested to know when.’ Rogan stepped carefully over the piles of scattered books as he came further into the room.

‘When…?’ Elizabeth echoed dazedly.

He shrugged. ‘Did this happen last night, after we had gone to bed, and we just didn’t hear it? Or did someone enter the house earlier this morning while we were down at the beach?’

Some of the colour returned to Elizabeth’s cheeks at his reference to ‘earlier this morning’.

‘Is there anything missing? Stupid question,’ he instantly acknowledged as Elizabeth gave him an impatient glance. ‘I was just trying to decide whether we should tell the police it was simple vandalism or theft.’

‘Theft?’ Elizabeth repeated breathlessly, her gaze instantly going to the glass cabinet that stood against the wall near the door.

A glass cabinet that Rogan could see stood completely empty, with both of its doors smashed. ‘Is that where you put all the valuable books? The Darwin and other books you mentioned yesterday?’

Elizabeth gave a pained wince. ‘Yes. I—I thought it best to keep them all together…But I just made it easier for a thief, didn’t I?’ she realised self-disgustedly. ‘I—Do you think we should call the police?’ She frowned as Rogan’s earlier comment finally registered.

He arched dark brows. ‘Don’t you?’

‘I…Yes. Of course.’ She stood up again to run the palms of her hands down her denim-clad thighs. ‘If you’re comfortable with that?’

‘If I’m—Why the hell wouldn’t I be comfortable with it?’ Rogan demanded.

Elizabeth could no longer meet Rogan’s dark and probing gaze. ‘I just thought—’

‘I don’t think I want to know what you thought, Elizabeth!’
he bit out. ‘Did imagining I might be involved in something illegal add to your pleasure this morning?’ he continued scornfully. ‘Did it make it more exciting for you?’

Elizabeth felt the colour quickly drain from her cheeks at Rogan’s tone. ‘There’s no need to be insulting—’

‘Oh, I think there is,’ he insisted. ‘What do you imagine it is I do in the States, Elizabeth? Something illegal, obviously. Gun-running, maybe? Or selling drugs?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ she snapped uncomfortably.

Elizabeth had no idea what Rogan did or was in America; how could she, when he refused to talk about himself?

He folded his arms in front of that broad, muscular chest. ‘So what else did you come up with after you had eliminated gun-running and drugs?’

She made an agitated movement. ‘Stop this, Rogan.’

‘No, seriously,’ he grated, ‘I’m interested.’

He might be ‘interested’, but Elizabeth was under no illusion as to the fact that Rogan was furiously angry too. With good reason…?

She moistened dry lips. ‘I imagined—thought that—that maybe you’re a mercenary…’

Rogan’s eyes glittered as hard as jet. ‘From being a soldier for my country to becoming a hired killer for whoever can pay the most money?’

When he put it like that…‘Perhaps not.’ Elizabeth grimaced. ‘Maybe if you were willing to talk about yourself more…?’

‘And spoil all your fun?’ he taunted glacially. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it!’

Elizabeth wasn’t having fun at all! ‘I apologise if I’ve insulted you, Rogan—’

‘I can’t imagine why you would think I might be insulted at being thought a mercenary?’ he said.

She clasped her hands tightly together. ‘I have apologised…’

‘And that makes it okay, does it?’ he exclaimed.

‘No, it obviously doesn’t make it okay,’ Elizabeth accepted softly. ‘I had no right to make assumptions concerning your—your present profession.’

‘No, you didn’t,’ Rogan agreed. ‘I assure you I have absolutely nothing I need to hide from the police, Elizabeth. Can you claim the same?’

She frowned at the challenge she heard in his voice. ‘What could
I
possibly have to hide?’

Rogan folded his arms across his chest. ‘You tell me.’

Elizabeth gave a confused shake of her head. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about…’

He scowled. ‘How much does a university lecturer earn, Elizabeth? Not nearly enough, I’m sure. And no matter how much it is, I’m sure you could still use a couple of hundred grand extra to put in the bank.’

‘You think that
I
did this?’ Elizabeth gasped weakly, her hand moving up to her throat. ‘That I came back from our swim and deliberately wrecked the library in an effort to cover up the fact that I’ve stolen the first edition Darwin?’

Rogan’s mouth thinned. ‘It doesn’t sound any less plausible than you thinking I’m a damned mercenary!’

No, it didn’t sound less plausible, Elizabeth acknowledged numbly. Except her salary as a university lecturer wasn’t her only source of income. A university lecturer was what Elizabeth was, what she did, but the money she earned
doing it was nothing compared to the legacy her mother had left for her when she had died ten years ago.

But that happened to be Elizabeth’s business and no one else’s!

She straightened. ‘I believe we’ve possibly insulted each other enough for one morning, don’t you?’

‘Oh, I don’t know—’

‘Rogan!’ Elizabeth interrupted. ‘Let’s just call the police now and let them handle this investigation.’

Rogan studied her through narrowed lids, knowing by her suddenly closed expression that she was hiding something. Whether that something had anything to do with the wrecking of the library, he had no idea…

‘Well, that wasn’t too helpful, was it?’ Rogan said frustratedly an hour or so later, as he helped Elizabeth pick up the books and check the titles before putting them into neat piles.

The police had arrived, ascertained there were no signs of forced entry, taken their report, and then left again. All within the space of that one hour.

‘I did tell you that there had been several break-ins in the area recently,’ Elizabeth answered him distractedly, as she checked the titles of yet more books.

‘The police might stand a better chance of catching the thief if they took a little more interest in the scene of the crime!’ Rogan muttered scathingly.

‘We don’t know if there’s been a crime—except for the obvious vandalism—until we check whether or not any of the books are missing,’ Elizabeth reasoned. Much as the police had said a short time ago, which was why she and Rogan were now trying to sort the books into some sort of order.

Which, Elizabeth knew, could take hours. Days. It was one thing to catalogue the books when they were in some sort of order on the shelves, another thing altogether to know whether or not any of them had been stolen when they were piled haphazardly on the floor.

‘Perhaps it won’t take too long to establish whether or not the Darwin is missing,’ she added with a frown.

‘We’re more in need of your services than ever, it seems,’ Rogan drawled as he resumed checking the titles of the books before stacking them.

Elizabeth gave him a sharp look. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘It wasn’t supposed to mean anything.’ Rogan sighed his impatience with the increased tension between them. The break-in and their insulting conversation just now had certainly put their lovemaking in the cove onto the back burner!

Made a nonsense of it, in fact.

Which was probably as well, because Rogan was more determined than ever to get out of here, and out of England, as soon as he possibly could.

He straightened. ‘I’ll go and ask Mrs Baines to make us a pot of coffee. It might help us get through this,’ he added dryly, before disappearing to the kitchen.

As Elizabeth distractedly resumed checking and stacking the books, she wished she could make this whole morning disappear: making love with Rogan, discovering the break-in, their conversation afterwards, the unhelpfulness of the police. A pot of coffee wasn’t even going to come close to taking away the suspicion and tension that now, more than ever, existed between them.

They hadn’t been acquainted with each other long
enough to really know each other. They certainly didn’t trust each other.

The first might nullify the second, of course. But, as Rogan had stated his intention of leaving immediately after his father’s funeral, that was never going to happen.

Which was probably as well. Elizabeth’s uncharacteristic reaction to Rogan this morning—that wild, out-of-control response!—told her she knew him well enough, at least, to want to stay well away from him in future.

‘I’m sorry I was gone so long, but I couldn’t find Mrs Baines so I made the coffee myself—Elizabeth, are you
crying
?’ Rogan probed disbelievingly as he came back into the library carrying the tray of coffee things and saw tears tracking wetly down Elizabeth’s cheeks.

She raised a hand and touched her face, her eyes widening as she felt the wetness there. ‘I’m sorry. I simply don’t understand how anyone could have done this.’ Her expression was bewildered as she stared down at the tumble of books that still surrounded her. ‘Books don’t harm people. They’re here to provide knowledge. Entertainment. They’re my
life
.’ Her voice wobbled emotionally. ‘My friends,’ she added shakily as the tears once again fell softly down her cheeks.

Rogan put down the tray before crossing to her side to look down at her searchingly, knowing by the bruised look beneath her eyes, the pallor of her cheeks and the slight trembling of her hands that she was genuinely shaken by this whole thing.

He liked and appreciated books as much as the next man—or woman—but, as with all objects, he considered them replaceable.

Elizabeth talked about them lovingly, felt pained at their
having been tumbled from the shelves in this way. She called them her friends…

There weren’t too many people in his life that Rogan trusted, but he would certainly count Ace, Grant, Ricky and a couple of other men he had served with amongst them.

What sort of life had Elizabeth led—did she still lead?—that she considered books her friends rather than people?

‘Hey, it’s not the end of the world.’ He put his fist beneath her chin and raised her face so that he could look down at her. ‘A couple of hours and we should have restored some semblance of order.’

Elizabeth was totally aware of the touch of Rogan’s hand as it burned against her skin, knew she should move away, but as the darkness of his gaze captured hers, and the warmth of his body so close to hers acted almost like a narcotic, she felt unable do so.

She moistened dry lips. ‘I’m sure you must have other things you need to be doing…’

He grimaced. ‘Such as sorting out my father’s personal belongings? Believe me, I’m in no rush whatsoever to start doing that.’

His father!

Elizabeth was crying over a few books and Rogan’s father had died only days ago. That father and son hadn’t been close didn’t change the fact that Brad Sullivan was dead.

She stepped away from the touch of Rogan’s hand. ‘I’m so sorry. You must think me totally insensitive to be so concerned over a few books after you have suffered such a terrible personal loss.’

‘As you said, books don’t hurt people,’ Rogan murmured huskily.

She
had
said that, Elizabeth recalled with an embarrassed wince. As well as crying over them. What must Rogan think of her?

That she was a sad individual. Very sad, Elizabeth acknowledged wryly.

‘Who hurt you, Elizabeth?’ Rogan probed softly. ‘Someone you were in love with? Or just your father?’

Elizabeth had never allowed anyone close enough to fall in love with them! Which only left her father…

Her father had only wooed and married her mother because she had been a wealthy heiress. As a consequence, he had made Stella’s life, and Elizabeth’s, a misery. Wasn’t that enough?

Elizabeth had always thought so. Which was why, even as a child, she had always preferred books to people.

She still preferred books to people!

‘No one hurt me, Rogan,’ she assured him dismissively as she moved to the tray of coffee things. ‘How do you like your coffee?’

‘Changing the subject, Elizabeth?’ he taunted.

‘Yes.’ She made no attempt to prevaricate.

‘So, no lover took advantage of you and then left you heartbroken?’

Her mouth firmed. ‘Not yet.’

Those dark eyes glinted with humour. ‘Are you saying
I
took advantage of you this morning?’

Elizabeth felt an icy chill down the length of her spine as she realised she should never have attempted to retaliate in that way to Rogan’s mockery. ‘I believe I asked how you prefer your coffee,’ she said stiltedly.

‘Black, no sugar,’ Rogan supplied slowly, recognising that the previous conversation was over.

Even so, it had been a conversation that told him more about Elizabeth than she perhaps wanted him to know…

He had already realised from what had happened down in the cove this morning that Elizabeth was capable of deep emotion. That she normally kept those emotions firmly under control, hidden, was also in no doubt. He now also knew that she preferred the black and white aspect of the written word to any of those emotions.

Well, that was fine with him. He had no interest in Elizabeth Brown’s emotions. Teasing her just now had been as much of a mistake on his part as making love with her this morning had been. One Rogan would do well to avoid in future.