Wanted: Mail-Order Mistress (9 page)

They knelt in the shade of a laurelwood tree, digging with small spades in a circle of freshly turned earth around the base of the trunk.

Rosalia was chattering away with more animation than Simon had ever heard in her voice. “You’ll like Chinese New Year, Bethan! Cook makes all sorts of special treats and there are parades and fireworks.”

With a rush of sweet anticipation, Simon pictured the three of them watching from Government Hill next winter as sparkling explosions lit up the night sky.

“Look at you two,” he called out. “Training to become
kebun
, are you?”

Rosalia jumped up, coming to attention like a miniature
sepoy
soldier. “Do you mind us planting the flowers, Papa? Bethan said it would be all right.”

“Of course I don’t mind.” He glanced past the anxious child to Bethan, silently seeking some cue from her about how to reassure his daughter.

Her encouraging smile told him he’d made a good start.

Simon sank into a crouch so he would not tower over the child and intimidate her. “When I was your age, I wanted to be a gardener when I grew up.”

Rosalia’s dark eyes widened, as if she had trouble believing he’d ever been a small boy.

Behind the child, Bethan gave a nod of approval. He recalled the advice she’d given him the other night about finding subjects of mutual interest to talk about with his daughter. At the time he’d doubted they had any common interests. He was pleased to discover otherwise.

“What sort of flowers are you planting?” he asked.

“Kenekir.” Rosalia seemed uncertain what to make of her father’s sudden interest in her doings. “Samad says they’re easy to grow and they smell pretty.”

Simon glanced toward the seedlings. “Excellent qualities in a garden flower. It’s been quite a few years since I wielded a spade back in Lancashire, but I’d be happy to help, if you’ll permit me.”

“I say the more the merrier.” Bethan slapped the dirt off her hands. “What do you think, Rosalia? Could we use an extra helper?”

The child replied with a nod that was not particularly eager, but not reluctant either. “Where is Lancashire, Papa?”

The question took Simon by surprise. Did his own daughter not even know where he came from? “It’s in
England, where I was born. Once we’ve finished here, I will dig out my atlas and show you where it is.”

They spent a pleasant hour planting the seedlings while they talked about gardening and his childhood in the Ribble Valley. Afterward, they looked at maps, tracing the long sea route from England to Singapore with their fingers.

When he ventured to suggest that Rosalia might stay up a little later so she could join them for dinner, it was hard to tell who seemed more pleased—his daughter or Bethan. After a pleasant meal, he helped put Rosalia to bed. Then he and Bethan wandered back out into the garden.

It was an altogether different place at night. The rising moon bathed all the tropical greenery with a magical, silvery glow like one Simon had glimpsed in Bethan’s eyes. The lush aroma of jasmine perfumed the sultry air. As silence fell between them and the warm, tropical darkness wrapped around them, Simon was more intensely conscious of her nearness. Her fresh, wholesome scent reminded him of a field of clover in a Lancashire meadow on a sunny June morning. It took him back to a time when his life had been so much simpler and sweeter, before he’d encountered things like rejection, cruelty and betrayal.

“Today went better than I expected with Rosalia,” he said. “Far better than I had any right to hope. I know I still have my work cut out for me to become the kind of father she deserves, but I believe I’ve made a start. And I owe it all to you.”

Bethan shook her head. “You give me too much
credit. You heeded my warning and made the effort. Rosalia gave you the chance. All I did was give you both a little nudge toward each other.”

“A
little nudge
?” asked Simon.

“Perhaps more like a great, rough push,” Bethan admitted.

They both chuckled over that. He liked the way his laughter harmonised with hers.

“When you first arrived in Singapore,” Simon mused, “I wondered what had possessed Hadrian Northmore to send you here. But more and more, I see what a shrewd judge of character he is.”

Bethan stooped to pick a flower from a low shrub. “I recall him saying he thought I would suit you very well.” One by one, she pulled off the petals, scattering them over the grass. “I wasn’t so sure about that when we first met, but I’m beginning to think he was right.”

That certainly sounded encouraging. Simon plucked a fragrant jasmine flower and tucked it into her hair. “In some ways the time since you arrived in Singapore has flown by. In others, it feels as though you’ve been here much longer.”

His hand hovered near her cheek, reluctant to pull away.

Bethan looked up at him with a breathtaking glimmer of invitation in her eyes. Or was it only the bewitching reflection of moonlight? “It feels that way to me, as well.”

“You asked for a month,” he reminded her, his fingertips whispering down her cheek to rest beneath her chin, “to get used to this place and to me. I have tried to be patient, but I must confess I look forward to the day when a pleasant evening like this will not have to end with us in separate beds.”

What would she say to that? Would she think he was putting pressure on her and take fright?

Bethan’s gaze did not flinch. “Now that you mention it, I’ve been thinking a month is quite a long time. We still have a way to go before we know each other well. But I think we’ve made a good start. I think I’m ready to do what I came here for.”

Simon’s jaw dropped. “You mean…
now
?”

The growing desire he had struggled keep on a tight leash threatened to burst its bonds. But there was more to his delighted surprise than just the prospect of physical release. Though their acquaintance so far had held its share of difficult moments, Bethan had taken his measure and not found him wanting.

His surprise brought a flustered grin to her lips. “Not right this moment, of course. But as soon as you’d like to…if you still want me.”

“If I—?” Simon swept her into his arms. “Good Lord, woman, have I not made it clear I want you more than ever?”

Spurred out of his usual restraint, he kissed her deeply and eagerly, his passion tempered with unexpected tenderness. Bethan responded with innocent ardour, as if she had no reason to fear betrayal or mistreatment at the hands of a man who desired her. Slipping her arms around his neck, she pressed her slender body against his, begging for the attentions he could hardly wait to lavish upon her.

Simon burned with the wild yearning of a young man for the first girl who’d caught his fancy. He wanted to touch every part of her and discover the sensations his fingertips could provoke in her. He longed to ignite a sizzling excitement in her to match his.

They kissed and caressed in the moonlit garden, becoming ever more daring, until at last Simon whispered. “Unless you want me to lose control altogether, I think we’d better continue this in bed.”

I
n bed? Before they were married?

In spite of the delicious, new sensations rippling through her, Bethan could not forget the stern warning she’d been given on her first day in service:
A man and woman have no business being in bed together if they are not wed. Any maidservant caught entertaining a man in her bed will be dismissed at once without character.

At the time she wondered what sort of
entertaining
might be done in bed, but had been reluctant to expose her ignorance by asking. Lately, Simon’s thrilling attentions had given her a much better idea. They’d also made her eager to learn more.

She thought about asking him if they should wait until after the wedding but decided against it. She did not want to spoil this wonderful evening by seeming to question his propriety or honour. Simon had patiently endured being kept waiting this long. Though it was clear the delay challenged his self-control, he’d behaved like a gentleman, making no demands upon her beyond
a few kisses. And those she had willingly given. It wouldn’t be fair to put him off any longer.

As his hot breath gusted against her cheek and his powerful arms enfolded her, Bethan strove to forget the straitlaced rules of propriety that had been drummed into her. She was no longer a mere servant, obliged to do her employers’ bidding in everything, including how she bestowed her favours. She would soon be the mistress of this fine house and one of the leading ladies in Singapore society. Who in this town would dare pass judgement on her for dallying in bed with her husband-to-be a night or two before their wedding?

“That sounds like a fine idea,” she whispered, trying not to betray any uncertainty.

Simon must have sensed her misgivings, all the same.

Pressing his cheek lightly against hers, he spoke in a reassuring murmur. “I promise you won’t regret it. This may not be the situation in which you expected to find yourself, but I will do everything in my power to give you a fine life.”

What
situation
was he talking about? Bethan wondered as he led her back into the house. Living on the other side of the world from where she’d been born and bred, perhaps? Or being sent here by his partner rather than courted and proposed to in the usual way? Neither of those things mattered to her any more than Simon’s wealth and position. What mattered was that she had found a family and a man who would always be there for her. A man whose kisses made her melt and whose touch filled her insides with fluttering butterflies.

At the threshold of his bedroom, Simon stopped.

When Bethan opened her mouth to ask why, he
cradled her face in his hands as if it were as fragile as an eggshell. “Any troubling memories about your past experiences, any reservations, any fears, I want you to leave them outside this door. Tonight I mean to make you mine and bring you nothing but pleasure.”

His consideration for her innocent uncertainty touched Bethan. Though she was not fully in love with Simon yet, her feelings for him were growing deeper by the day and she was confident she could win his love in return.

He pressed his forehead against hers. “Do you know the best part of all?”

His sensuous whisper sent shivers through her. “What is that?”

“This will be only the first of many such nights.” He spoke as if he was sharing a delightful secret. “And they will only get better.”

“I’m already looking forward to them.”

“Then I won’t keep either of us waiting any longer.” Simon whisked her into his bedroom and shut the door behind them with muted finality.

Before any troublesome second thoughts had a chance to plague her, he led her to his bed and eased her on to it. After trimming the argand lamp, he began kissing her in a way that inflamed her desire and seared away her doubts. Meanwhile, he explored and caressed her body, making her wonder how many delectable flavours of pleasure she would experience in his arms.

Certain that this was what she wanted, Bethan gave herself up to his lovemaking with joyful abandon. It reminded her of the first time they’d dined together and he’d introduced her to so many dishes she’d never before tasted, or even heard of. The sensations she now
savoured were each as delightful in their own way, such as when Simon caught her lower lip between his and began to suckle it with leisurely, sensual strokes. At the same time his hands ranged over her body, never lingering long on any one spot but teasing her with the promise of deeper pleasures to come. Then he began to remove her clothes to the accompaniment of light, whispering kisses strewn over her face…down her neck…over her shoulders.

“There we are,” he announced in a husky whisper when the last of their clothes had been shed. “Just as we were made, like Adam and Eve in the Garden.”

Smooth, warm skin slid over smooth, warm skin. Firm, lean flesh pressed against soft, rounded flesh. Even as Bethan relished the sensual attentions of his hands, lips and tongue on her bare skin, his mention of Adam and Eve nagged at her. Could
this
be the sin for which the first man and woman were sent away from Eden? Years of her mother’s embittered mutterings flooded her memory, threatening to sully her innocent pleasure.

Simon seemed to sense the subtle change in her response to him.

“Are you having second thoughts?” He lifted his hand from her breast to cup her cheek. “If you want me to stop, I will…somehow. I may suffer torments of longing, but I’d rather have that than go ahead when you—”

“No!” Raising herself slightly, Bethan kissed the first part of him her lips encountered in the darkness. It felt like the hollow at the base of his throat. She could feel the fevered heat of his skin and the thundering beat of his pulse beneath it. She had lit that fire and unleashed that tempest with him—yet he would try to contain
them for her sake. The realisation amazed and moved her. “If you stop now, I’m afraid I will suffer torments of longing, too.”

Hers might be even greater than his, since she wasn’t altogether certain what it was he made her yearn for with such ravenous intensity. “I was troubled by a bad memory from the past, that’s all. You know what that’s like.”

“I do.” He drizzled kisses over her brow as if they had some magical power to drive those dark memories away. “I should have known better than to think you could leave them all outside the door. But I will do everything I can to make you forget.”

A moment later she discovered what Simon meant when he slid down the bed a little way so his lips could search out the firm, sensitive tip of her breast and close over it.

She gave a soft gasp of delighted surprise that melted into a deep purr of pleasure. “Much more of that and I’ll forget everything I ever knew.”

With what little of her thoughts that were not immersed in the wondrous novelty of lovemaking, Bethan resolutely turned from any notion of sin. She and Simon were going to be married, after all. This closeness between a man and wife was surely a blessing—a means of returning, however briefly, to their lost paradise. With that reassuring notion, she surrendered fully to the sultry enchantment of Simon’s caresses.

His tongue glided over her nipple, sending a gush of liquid bliss rippling through her body. When he reached down and ran his hand up her leg, she writhed to meet his searching fingers. But he pulled them away, the tormentor, to caress her knee instead. That only stoked the
mysterious throbbing heat that had become the core of her senses, the centre of her passionate hunger.

Again and again he approached, varying his touch from a lush stroke, to a trailing glide with the back of his hand, to the lightest flirting of his fingertips. Each seemed to pour a different kind of fuel on the blaze within her. Closer and closer he drew with each approach, always pulling back at the last moment, as if he was afraid her desire might scald his fingers. On his last attempt, Bethan wriggled her hips and let out a faint squeal of impatience.

A mellow chuckle vibrated through Simon’s chest. Giving her breast a parting suckle, he slid up to graze his cheek against her shoulder and up her neck. Reaching her ear, he tickled it with a sly whisper. “I have waited too long for this to rush it. Besides, the greater the anticipation, the greater the pleasure.”

“If you say so,” she panted, “though I’m not sure how much more of it I can stand.”

“Let’s find out, shall we?” He returned to his tantalising caresses, this time moving in from above. He ran his hand down her belly and over her hips then slid it beneath her to fondle the lobes of her bottom.

After what seemed like hours of such toying, when she had begun to despair of him going further, Bethan felt such a delicate whisper of his fingertip between her parted legs that she wondered if she’d only imagined it. But the sensation was beyond anything she’d felt before.

As Simon continued to touch her in this most intimate of places, she realised how moist and slick those sensitive folds of flesh had become—as if they’d been anointed with warm oil. It made the seductive glide of
his finger even more stimulating, urging her desire to glow hotter than ever.

Simon gave a deep, wordless murmur of approval. But Bethan could scarcely hear him over the galloping beat of her heart and the hiss of her racing breath. Something inside her felt as if it was swelling larger and larger until she could no longer contain it. What would she feel when that bubble of desire burst—pleasure or pain? It seemed impossible that she could know greater pleasure than Simon had brought her already.

Then suddenly her hips began to shudder, as coloured stars burst behind her eyelids and wave after wave of shuddering rapture engulfed her. She was vaguely aware of Simon looming over her, as if this was a signal he’d been waiting for. Something hard and smooth slid between her thighs to fill the moist passage where his finger had been a moment ago. As it plunged deeper than his finger had explored, a sense of pressure built and broke in a stab of pain. But before she could cry out, Simon’s lips closed over hers.

So
this
was where the whole mysterious connection of men and women met with the familiar sights of country life—rams mounting ewes in the autumn pastures, birds joined together in such tight pairs that they looked like a single creature.

Simon began to move, his hips pulling back, then thrusting deep again. It gave Bethan a twinge in the spot where he’d first entered, but the pain was dampened by a pulse of warm satisfaction that coursed through her.

His thrusts grew faster and wilder, every muscle of his body clenched so tight she feared he would shatter. And then he did, in powerful shuddering heaves
that tore a hoarse cry from his throat and left him spent and gasping. If she hadn’t just experienced something like it herself, she might have wondered if he’d been hurt.

Twining her arms around him, she savoured the sweet fulfilment of being able to bring Simon an escape from his troubled past. Perhaps one day he would trust her enough to confide the secrets that haunted him, and she would feel secure enough in his regard to tell him hers.

When Simon woke the next morning, his heart felt unaccountably light and a bright little melody ran through his mind, begging to be hummed. Last night with Bethan had been well worth the frustration and thwarted longing he’d suffered since her arrival. She’d felt as wonderful in his arms as he remembered from that first evening—as wonderful as in his dreams!

To his surprise, her painful past experience had not made her skittish or reluctant to accept his attentions. Yet neither had she been coarsened by what she’d suffered. Every response had seemed natural and instinctive. Just as he’d hoped, Simon had found balm for his wounds in her kisses and blessed escape from his haunted memories in their blissful coupling.

He reached out to draw her closer, but his arm embraced empty air. His heart gave a sickening lurch and his eyes flew open. A wave of relief buoyed his spirits when he glimpsed Bethan beside the bed, gathering her clothes from the floor.

“Don’t steal away without a kiss.” He opened his arms to her.

At the sight of her naked body, which he’d only
touched and tasted in the darkness last night,
his
body roused. Perhaps he could tempt her to more than a kiss.

Suddenly bashful, Bethan held her gown up in front of her. Lips swollen from kissing arched in a sheepish smile. “I didn’t mean to wake you, but I have to get up. Rosalia will be waking soon and wondering where I am.”

“Of course.” Simon strove to hide his disappointment. He wished he’d been able to find another
amah
to care for the child. Now he vowed he would engage someone, no matter what it cost him. “Just one kiss, then I’ll let you go to her…I promise.”

“Very well.” She cast him a playful glance that held just a hint of wariness. “Only let me put on my clothes first.”

“I can help with that if you like,” he offered. “It would be only fair since I was the one who took them off.”

That sort of flirtatious jesting didn’t sound like him at all, Simon mused. But something strange had happened to him of late. A sense of lightness had crept into his heart, like a stray morsel of yeast, and begun to make his whole outlook rise. He didn’t entirely trust it. But after so many years of flat, often bitter, existence, he could not help but welcome the feeling.

An endearing blush crept into Bethan’s fair cheeks. Even after having her virtue sullied and becoming his mistress, she still retained an air of winsome innocence. “I’m perfectly able to dress myself, thank you.”

“As you wish.” Simon gave an amiable shrug. “In this climate, with fashions what they are, dressing isn’t a difficult business for a woman.”

He watched with admiring interest as she slipped on her shift. “It’s more of an undertaking for a man, I can
tell you. On hot days, I often envy the Malays their white trousers and bare chests.”

Pulling her gown on over her undergarments, Bethan chuckled. “I’m sure you’d look quite fetching in that sort of get-up.”

“Until I burnt as red as a radish.” Simon made a wry face. “I’ll stick to my shirt, breeches and boots, thank you. You are more than welcome to help
me
get dressed whenever you fancy.”