One Man's Mistress: One Night with His Virgin Mistress / Public Mistress, Private Affair / Mistress Against Her Will

Justin gave a faint grin. ‘Believe me, that’s a question no man would ever need to ask.’

‘Oh,’ Tallie said, flushing a little, remembering the voluptuous breasts revealed by the skimpy chic of the black dress, and the full crimson mouth. ‘Yes, of course.’

‘But, forgetting Sonia, and how I wish we could,’ Justin went on, ‘I’d be seriously interested to hear about your book. So may I call you—take you out to dinner one night next week?’

She didn’t look at him. ‘I really don’t think that would be appropriate. Besides, I’m not even sure …’ She broke off, biting her lip. ‘Not that it matters,’ she added with an effort. ‘And now I must ask you to excuse me.’

She was aware of real disappointment when she closed her bedroom door behind her. He seems so nice, she thought wistfully, so how can he be propositioning me when he’s seeing Penny?

She sighed. But then, what do I really know? she asked herself almost resignedly. Maybe two-timing is just a way of life for men these days. And, if that’s how it is, I’m going to be spending a lot of my time alone.

She nodded, almost fiercely, as she crossed the room to her table and sat down in front of her laptop. Her vigil in the kitchen had been productive, and she knew now how Mariana was going to elude the advances of Hugo Cantrell, fuelled this time by his desire for revenge as well as lust, so doubly dangerous. It was going to be a terrific scene, she thought, and nothing Sonia Randall could say or do was going to spoil her belief in her story and her ability to finish it.

What happened to it after that was in the lap of the gods, but maybe she should warn Mrs Morgan that Alder House was definitely a no-no, she told herself, grimacing.

Determinedly, she relegated Sonia Randall’s dismissive remarks to the outskirts of her mind and turned her attention to the job in hand.

The words seemed to be flowing out of her as she wrote, then rewrote feverishly, building the tension as frantic minutes passed, with Mariana crouching on the bed, the ancient, filthy bed-covering ripping like paper in her hands as she desperately tried to fashion it into a rope to lower herself from the tiny window. Knowing, as she threw it aside, that even if the fabric held by some miracle, it would still be inadequate, leaving her with a dangerous drop to the street below, and certain serious injury.

As she stared around her, looking for some alternative means of escape and realising it did not exist. As she thought of William, prayed absurdly for him to come and find her—rescue her—when she knew it was impossible because he didn’t even know where she was and would never guess, even in his worst nightmares, that she’d ever embark on such a foolhardy escapade.

When he’d be encamped wherever Lord Wellington was and assuming that she was safe in her father’s house, living for—longing for—his return.

Then the terror of hearing the sound of a man’s boots ascending the stairs, stumbling a little because he’d been drinking, swearing softly in English in the voice she’d never forget.

Finding the darkest corner of the room and shrinking into it, trying to use the shadows for camouflage as the door was flung wide on its creaking hinges, and she saw him, standing there, his silhouette grossly exaggerated by the flickering light of the candle he was carrying.

His glinting eyes scanning the room—searching, and inevitably finding.

The gloating triumph in his voice as he said, ‘The runaway nymph at last, by God. I’ve been waiting for this moment, my beauty, and here you are, the delicious end to a perfect evening.’

The way he crossed the room, his stride long and steady, as if the sight of her had rendered him sober and grimly, wickedly focused. How his hands descended on her shoulders, jerking her towards him, and the insolent sensuality of his mouth.

And as he bent to her, Mariana, struggling to push him away, her heart pounding unevenly, suddenly heard someone knock on the door …

Except—it wasn’t supposed to happen that way, Tallie thought, staring in bewilderment at the words on the screen. There was going to be a diversion when the Spanish ruffians from downstairs, realising that Hugo Cantrell had been cheating them with marked cards, came looking for retribution, dragging Mariana away from him when he tried to use her as a shield, and enabling her to make her getaway while he went down like a fallen tree under the murderous barrage of their fists and boots, and his choking, agonised cries followed her as she fled.

It was the second, louder knock that brought her back to full reality. This was fact, not fiction. Someone was at her bedroom door, trying to attract her attention.

She glanced at her watch and stifled a yelp as she saw the time. She’d been working for almost three hours and, if it was Justin, back for another attempt at persuasion, she could only hope he was sober.

She opened the door warily and stepped back with a small, startled gasp when she found herself instead facing Mark Benedict.

‘For God’s sake,’ he said, an edge to his voice, ‘do you have to leap away every time you see me, as if I was a mad axe-murderer?’

‘Do you have to come banging on the door at this hour?’ she threw back at him shakily. ‘I might have been asleep.’

‘With the light on?’ he asked mockingly. ‘As a prudent landlord, I’d have felt bound to intervene.’

‘Or getting ready for bed, anyway.’ She glared at him.

‘You mean undressed?’ He grinned at her. ‘My luck’s never been that good, or not twice in a week, anyway.’

Do not blush, Tallie told herself stonily. Do not give him the satisfaction of seeing you embarrassed yet again.

‘Is there a reason for this visit?’ she asked coldly. ‘Apart from checking if I’m wasting your electricity, of course.’

‘I’ve made some hot chocolate,’ he said. ‘I thought you were probably still working, and might like some.’

She stared at him, her lips parted in sheer astonishment. ‘Hot chocolate,’ she said at last. ‘You?’

He shrugged. ‘Why not?’

‘I thought you’d have preferred something more exotic.’

His grin widened. ‘To match my taste in women? But you’ve only met one of them.’

And that was more than enough. The words hovered unspoken between them.

She said stiffly, ‘Please believe your … lady friends are no concern of mine.’

‘Bull’s-eye,’ he approved. ‘I’d be so grateful if you could talk Penny round to your way of thinking.’ He paused. ‘But most men have a weakness for chocolate in some form or other, and I’m no exception. So, do you want yours or shall I pour it away?’

She hesitated, realising reluctantly how long it had been since that gulped-down coffee.

‘Thank you,’ she said stiltedly. ‘It’s … very kind of you.’

‘Call it conscience,’ he said, his mouth twisting. ‘I should have known better than to put you in the same room as Sonia. Although the kitten turned out to have claws of her own,’ he added musingly.

‘We waifs learn to fight our corner,’ she returned, adding, ‘However, I’d still prefer not to encounter her again—or intrude on your privacy in any way.’ And bit her lip as she met his sardonic look.

‘You won’t. She left when the others did.’

Deep within her, she felt a disturbing stir of pleasure at the news. She said coolly, ‘She must be very disappointed.’

‘Well, she’s not alone in that,’ he said. His hand casually cupped her elbow, guiding her, to her surprise, towards the sitting room rather than the kitchen. ‘You dashed poor old Justin’s hopes pretty finally.’

‘What else did you expect?’ Tallie wrenched herself free and faced him hotly. ‘You may not care about your cousin’s feelings, but I think Penny’s lovely and she deserves better than her boyfriend trying to date another girl behind her back.’

‘Well, we agree about one thing,’ he said, closing the sitting room door behind them. ‘Penny is indeed a great girl. But you’ve got Justin all wrong. He was Penny’s escort tonight, but only because he’s her See If I Care Man.’

Tallie sank down on a sofa, staring at him. ‘Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about?’

Mark was pouring chocolate from a silver pot. ‘It’s quite simple. Up until a few weeks ago, she was seeing a guy called Greg Curtis. Serious stuff, with talk of an engagement. Then Greg’s former girlfriend unexpectedly came back from Canada without the husband she’d gone there to marry, demanding sympathy, attention and the place in his life she occupied eighteen months ago. With the result that, suddenly, his future with Penny was in the melting pot.’

‘But that’s awful.’ Tallie’s brows snapped together. ‘She must be devastated.’

‘Pretty much.’ He handed her a porcelain mug full of steaming chocolate. ‘But she’s also a practical girl and she suspects this may be just a wobble, induced by some pretty intense emotional blackmail from the ex-lady.’ He smiled faintly. ‘And that he’ll soon remember why he was so thankful that the beautiful Minerva eventually opted for someone else.