Scandal's Mistress Page 6

  “Are you unwell, my lord?”

  “Not at all. Why do you ask?”

  “You don’t look… I mean…” Her gaze flickered to the shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows then to his half-open shirt. Why should he wear a full costume? They were in his house and he’d just risen.

  He smiled his most devastating smile to further her discomfort. “I didn’t sleep very well last night is all.”

  When her cheeks reddened, it took little to know what put the color there.

  “I suppose you’re wondering what I am doing here?” She held a scrap of linen in her hands and was in the process of twisting it to death.

  So she was nervous. He had to commend her mask. To stare at her beautiful face, he would have presumed she’d come to his bachelor home merely to take tea and discuss the weather.

  “I have to admit to a certain amount of curiosity,” he replied with a careful nod.

  “Well, my lord—”

  “Justin,” he interrupted. He wanted to hear his name roll from her tongue and over her pretty pink lips.

  “Justin,” she conceded.

  He was startled by her acceptance of his name. He’d asked her several times to call him by his Christian name and she’d stubbornly refused.

  Interesting.

  “I may have been a little hasty when I left your home. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

  “You were?” He hadn’t meant to utter the question. His heart beat a little more steadily in anticipation.

  “Perhaps.” She nodded. “Perhaps we could discuss your offer. You could tell me what is involved in being the mistress of, of…”

  Justin fisted his hands on his thighs as heat flooded her cheeks once more. He knew she thought about the business terms of such an agreement but the images in his mind were a lot less innocent. If she wanted him to spell it out, he would.

  In one word.

  “Pleasure.”

  “Pleasure?” Carmalina squeaked.

  “Intense pleasure will of course be involved.” Justin rose from the settee and approached her wary position by the mantel.

  “Yes, well…”

  The wolfish smile returned to his face. Why was she there? Should he ask the question that burned his tongue or should he stick to his resolution not to look a gift horse in the mouth? His gaze dropped to her mouth then, her lips slightly parted. She was breathless and speechless. He had that effect on women occasionally but it was usually one or the other, not both simultaneously.

  “What are you thinking, Carmalina?” He stood so close to her now, he could smell her clean, fresh scent. The scent of a warm summer day, of grass and the outdoors.

  “I’m not really sure, my lord.”

  “Excellent.” He breathed the word close to her ear as he reached up to cup her soft cheek and place a light, lingering kiss on her jaw. The sigh that escaped her floated all the way to his perplexed brain, suddenly making the way clear. All he could see was her. Her nearness made all else fade to oblivion until there was only the two of them, their mingled breath, their bodies so close but not yet touching.

  His common sense screamed that he step back, let her say what she came to say and then take matters from there but his predatory side, the side that made him good at what he was, wanted to crush her to him, to throw her down on the soft carpet and make sweet love to her in the shifting sunlight.

  His predatory side won out.

  One arm reached around her lower back and tightened on her waist, pulled her, not in the least resistant, until her body pressed intimately against his. Breast to chest, thigh to thigh, pelvis to hardened pelvis. As he took her warm lips with his—gentle, unhurried—a black space within him shifted, lifted and settled back into a new, lighter place.

  Her skin tasted of blueberries, of a sweetness he knew could not last if he made her his mistress. She would be painted with the same brush of scandal that followed him wherever he went.

  It’s what you want. Not exactly the unbiased voice of reason.

  He stubbornly ignored his conscience and concentrated on her instead. His songbird.

  Justin nibbled, licked and kissed until the desperation to have more grew too strong. He pulled her closer, ground his steel against her softness, swallowed her gasp and took the moment to part her sweet lips and drink of her essence. His tongue explored her mouth as she, tentatively at first, dueled with him. Gradually her body lost its tense stance and she softened, pliant in his arms.

  Justin groaned. He knew he had to pause otherwise there would be no chance to stop. He didn’t want their first time together to be rushed and over before it had the chance to begin. He wanted to see all of her naked glory, taste every inch of her olive skin. He wanted to savor the moment he made her his.

  Reluctantly he broke away, his breath labored as he rested his forehead against hers, as he waited for sanity to return; waited for her taste on his tongue to subside and the blood to flow back to his head so he could decipher her intent.

  It took all of his will to take the step that would remove him from her side but he had to do it. He had to put distance between his body and hers, otherwise the consequences would be unavoidable.

  It was some moments before he opened his mouth to utter something inane to break through the tension that now enveloped the room, but he was saved by Newberry’s timely entrance with the tea service.

  “Would you care for tea, bella?”

  The blank look on her flushed face articulated just how effected she was by his kisses. Justin relaxed as he felt his lips curve into a very different smile. “Tea for Carmalina, thank you, Newberry.”

  “Very well, sir.”

  “Sugar?” Justin asked.

  She bobbed her head slowly, once, twice.

  “Why don’t you take a seat, my dear? You look a little peaked.” His tone was light, playful.

  Still she didn’t speak, merely sunk down on the nearest sofa.

  * * *

  Her wits were not only scrambled; they had fled the safety of her body altogether.

  Carmalina watched the smug smile on her adversary’s face as he handed her a tea-filled cup atop a saucer. She had to use all of her failing strength to stop the service from rattling as she set it on her knee. His kisses were more dangerous than she’d expected.

  Already this first meeting of theirs had been muddled quite nicely. She had intended to remain cool and calm, the very picture of serenity. Instead, with one kiss she dripped to a puddle at his feet. What he must think of her.

  Her gaze dropped to the delicate china she held; the dark liquid in the cup beckoned. She needed stronger liquid than a cup of tea and when she finally met his eyes, he knew it. The man was insufferable. Carmalina wondered if there was another in England with self-regard as high as his. She doubted it.

  Once Newberry poured the tea, a footman entered with a plate of sandwiches and cakes then both men backed out of the room and closed the door. Once again she was alone in the lion’s den. The heated glances he cast her way said he would swallow her up in one gulp without hesitation.

  “Are there time limits to these kinds of things?” Carmalina finally asked. She had to take back control or risk losing it entirely.

  “I do wish you wouldn’t call it that.”

  “What shall we call it? It must be discussed if I am to entertain the notion.”

  “Are you?”

  “Am I what?”

  “Are you entertaining the notion?”

  Carmalina could save them both the dance if she told him the truth. That she’d already decided to accept his offer. That nothing he could do to her would be any worse than she would face on the streets of London. Nothing she hadn’t already lived through. He wouldn’t understand and she doubted she could explain it. She didn’t want to get too close to Justin Trentham. She would abide by his terms of their liaison because she was only one step away from desperation but then she would leave and never, ever, look back.

  All she needed was passage to s
omewhere other than here and a few coins in her purse. A reference for a position would be nice but would mean little in a foreign country where his name would not be known.

  A reference in a country where his name was known would mean even less.

  “This would be a business arrangement only, my lord. Let’s get that straight from the very beginning.”

  “Why?”

  “So that we are both clear on the conditions.”

  “Conditions?” His surprise was obvious.

  “I have a few and I imagine you may have one or two yourself.” Carmalina watched his brows rise, his blue eyes grow intense, as he thought about his conditions.

  “What are yours?” he asked.

  She’d known he would ask but had hoped he would set his cards on the table—so to speak—before she laid hers down.

  “How about I tell you one of my conditions and then you tell me one of yours?”

  His reaction was restrained; only the slightest narrowing of his eyes gave her any indication he’d even heard her words. At his nod she continued with her first and foremost condition. If he couldn’t meet this one condition, she would be forced to walk out of his door and out of his life.

  “At the end of a specific agreed-upon time, I would require enough funds to leave the country and set up somewhere suitable.”

  “Agreed,” he replied without hesitation. “Now, my first condition—there are to be no hysterics.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I will not be moved by tears of any kind nor will I be swayed by feminine ideas of extortion. At the end of…our time together, there will be no tears and no tantrums.”

  “I do not suffer from being overagitated, my lord, so that should not present a problem.”

  “Excellent.”

  Why was that his first condition? He could have made demands of any kind and she would have had no choice but to agree. Perhaps a woman’s tears did affect him. She tucked the information away to be further examined at a later date.

  “Your second condition?” His question jolted her.

  Carmalina didn’t have any more conditions. She had only ever had the one stipulation in mind.

  “You are to never raise your voice to me in anger.” She couldn’t think of anything else.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it. Why do you think I would be angered?”

  She couldn’t tell if his wounded tone was mock or sincere. “I… Your earbobs…”

  “Yes,” he prompted, brows raised again.

  “They were stolen from my rooms yesterday.”

  “Stolen?”

  Carmalina nodded.

  “By whom?

  “If I knew that—” She could not show emotion. Carmalina took a deep, calming breath. “I don’t know. The thief was gone when I returned from an errand.”

  He shrugged.

  Her eyes widened in shock. She’d lost a fortune worth of precious stones and he could only lift his shoulders in bored indifference?

  “I’ll buy you another pair.”

  Her mouth opened before her brain could register the words that flew out. “I don’t want you to buy me another pair.”

  “Fine then, I won’t buy you another pair.”

  Carmalina stared at him for a long time. How could he be so blasé about it all? She’d just admitted to losing the earrings he’d paid her to have dinner with him. Yet he sat, shrugged and agreed to her every demand with no more than bored nonchalance. She wondered what would happen if she asked for the world? Would he still shrug then?

  But she was being silly. Of course he was so composed and accepting because he did this kind of thing all the time.

  “I’m sorry. This is awkward for me,” Carmalina admitted when the silence lengthened.

  “Let’s move on with the conditions. You will remain faithful to me for the duration of our relationship.”

  “Will you?” she blurted before her brain could stop her. Of course he wouldn’t. He was a man, after all. He would have healthy appetites she may not be able to quench.

  “I will.”

  Her mouth fell open in utter astonishment. “Indeed?”

  “Of course. Although my reputation says otherwise, I can handle only one female at a time.”

  Carmalina couldn’t stop her smile. The sincere way he spoke, the mischievous grin that contradicted his tone, suddenly he looked like a little boy sharing a joke. It shed a different light on the gossip and innuendo that labeled him a womanizer and a rogue. She had no doubt the stories she’d heard weren’t fabricated from thin air but she did wonder if they’d been exaggerated.

  “Very well, fidelity.” She made it sound like a hardship when deep inside, she positively glowed. At least she would not have to share him with anyone else.

  Her smile faded. Why should she care? It wasn’t as though she intended to develop territorial feelings towards him. He wouldn’t be hers no matter what she did or didn’t do.

  “I require your word that you will not fall in love with me.” Carmalina expected the same shrug he’d given her over the earbobs. But Justin met her eyes over the rim of his teacup and proceeded to choke on the lukewarm liquid.

  Eventually he regained his composure. “I could not have heard you correctly.”

  “I’m certain you did.”

  Justin set his cup down on the tea service and leaned forward on his chair so he sat on the edge of the brocade seat. “Would there be harm if we did develop feelings toward one another?”

  Carmalina shook her head. “It would not end well for either of us. I am a stage singer and therefore someone you would offer an arrangement, but never marriage.”

  “You underestimate your worth, bella.”

  “Yet you don’t disagree.”

  “Perhaps scandal is what I live for.”

  “Oh, I know that,” she replied, saddened that he may actually believe the words he spoke.

  “You do?”

  Carmalina nodded. “Why else would you do the things you do?”

  “Since you are so wise and all-knowing—” he reclined back into the chair and steepled his fingers before his chest, “—why do I do the things I do?”

  “That, I have no idea. You would not be as well-known as you are now if you didn’t dabble in the odd scandal or two.”

  “Thirteen.”

  “Thirteen?” she asked, confused about where the number had come from.

  “Not the odd scandal. There have been thirteen to date and they are only the ones I have initiated, not the ones I have been caught up in through no fault of my own.”

  “You sound proud, my lord.”

  “Please, will you call me Justin? My position does not require my lording. Now to my next condition.” He leaned forward in his chair once again, this time taking her hands in his. “You will not try to understand me while you are here.”

  “You don’t want me to know you?”

  “Only in the way two people know each other intimately.” He stroked her thumb with his. “We will share our bodies but my mind is my own and is not to be deciphered.”

  “Then what will we talk about?” Nothing he said made sense.

  “I’m sure there won’t be a great deal of talk.”

  Her skin flamed but it did not stop her next question. “Why me?”

  “You are a very attractive woman, Carmalina. Any man would cut off his right arm to spend the night with you.”

  “You distract me with flattery.” And half succeeded. “Will you tell me the truth? Why are you doing this? I can’t help but feel there is another motive for your offer.”

  “Trust me, bella. I simply want the pleasure of your body for twelve months.”

  Carmalina’s head snapped up so quick, she thought her neck might break. “Twelve months?”

  “Is that too long for you?”

  The innocent-boy expression didn’t work on her this time. “I had thought we were discussing three or four weeks, my lord.”

  “Justin. And no. I shou
ld think a month would definitely not be long enough with you.”

  “You still haven’t told me why.” She had to know if she was getting herself into a situation worse than being a man’s mistress. What was worse than that, she couldn’t imagine.

  “There is nothing else.” Boyish innocence transformed to a determination that worried her. Carmalina’s intuition shrieked for her to run far, far away. She couldn’t stay without knowing the truth. She’d rather risk her life on the streets, alone, starving and vulnerable, than be at Trentham’s mercy. At least out there she knew what the future had in store for her.

  “If that’s the way you wish to play it.” Carmalina stood and made her way from the room. She swung the door open and stepped into the entrance, her worn heels thudding on the marble finish. With each step she berated the stupidity involved in arriving on his doorstep in the first place.

  “Where are you going?” Justin followed so close behind her she could feel his anger, his confusion. She could feel him.

  “I am leaving.” She ignored the way she was aware of him, of the sinking feeling low in her gut that told her this wasn’t right, that everything was not as it seemed, that she should take him and his stupid notions and lies, and make the most of them.

  “You came here. You knocked on my door.”

  “I was mistaken, my lord.” Carmalina didn’t pause to put her cloak on. She snatched it from Newberry’s tight grip, jerked the door open and stepped out onto the street.

  “Wait a moment, Carmalina, you can’t leave.”

  Chapter Five

  Justin’s gut clenched as he called her name. He did not wish to be dissected by anyone, let alone members of the fairer sex, but he didn’t want her to leave either. The gut clench told him this was one of those moments when one had to listen to all the nuances no matter how subtle.

  She stopped. Her foot paused in midair beneath the drab hem of her even drabber day dress. He felt a spark of hope deep in the shadowed caverns of his despair. That hope immediately turned to desperation. If he told her the truth, would she accept his offer? Scandal be damned, he wanted her like he’d never wanted another woman. In the few short days he’d pursued her, she’d managed to find a way under his skin and under his guard to settle in an unfamiliar place he’d never seen fit to visit. His fingers literally itched; his body ached. He needed her.