Page 5 of Only a Mistress Will Do

If she watched him any longer she would surely cry, which she had sworn not to do, so she closed her eyes. Warm, wet lips latched on to her nipple, startling her, and she arched it into his mouth. Bounding up, he pressed his knee between her thighs and her whole body tensed, waiting for the pain. Tears slid down her cheeks as she tried to stifle a sob.

“Did I hurt you?” His kind voice held a desolation all its own.

How could she rail against such kindness? Even that bit of comfort was denied her.

“No, my lord.” She fought the tears, but they choked her voice even worse when she held them back. Instead, she concentrated on controlling her breathing, hoping that would calm her. In just a few minutes it would be over.

“I know you haven’t had a man before.” He brushed her hair back from her forehead, a soft touch that devastated her with its gentleness. “It will hurt, but not very much, and not for very long.”

No, not for very long. Only for the rest of her life. She buried her head in the pillow and sobbed.

Suddenly, her hands were free and his weight eased off her.

“Look at me.” Lord John grasped her chin and her eyes popped open. He wiped his thumb over her cheek, collecting the tears she could not stop. “Is Madame Vestry forcing you to do this?”

Violet blinked rapidly and shook her head. “No, my lord. I came to her of my own free will.”

He scowled and moved back on the bed.

“Why?”

Odd he would be interested in her woes. “I have no one and nothing, my lord.” Despite the heat stinging her face, she forced herself to continue. “Except for my body.”

“No one at all you might turn to?”

Madame Vestry had questioned her thoroughly about her connections.

“My brother was killed in a duel over a year ago. What money and possessions I had left, I lived on. Until last week when there was no more.”

He searched her face as if trying to catch her out in a lie. “Your brother was killed in a duel? Then he was obviously a gentleman. Have you no family or friends who might take pity on you?”

“Our family had dwindled in our generation, though there may yet be a cousin in the colonies. But here in England it was just Jamie and Kit and I. After my brother died, the way he died, most of our friends shunned me.”

“Jamie and Kit?”

Resigned, she stared at the glowing embers in the grate. What was that shame compared to this? “James Carlton. In his cups one night, our cousin insulted a nobleman’s family and was challenged to a duel. Jamie agreed to be his second. I begged him not to, but he said he had to look after Kit.”

With a grim-set mouth that alarmed her, Lord John studied her face.

“Our cousin was killed in the duel and Jamie—” She still hated admitting this to anyone, but forced the words out. “Jamie then attacked the nobleman and was killed himself.”

Harshly, he seized her legs through the sheet and pinned her with an intense stare. “Do you know who the nobleman was? Who killed your brother?”

“No, my lord.” She dug in her heels, trying to shrink away from him. “The men who brought his body home wouldn’t tell me anything. Except what he had done was a most dishonorable thing.”

He slid off the bed, and to her amazement, padded over to the heap of his clothing and began dressing, all the while cursing lightly under his breath.

Violet’s heart pounded. He was leaving. What she had said to anger the man? Was he too disgusted by her brother’s dishonorable behavior? Whatever it was, it must have been horrific if it had deadened the rampant lust he had shown for her.

The man pulled on his shirt, shook his hair back and glared at her.

She reached down and pulled up the covers, shielding herself as best she could from the eyes that still smoldered, with anger now rather than lust. Should she be relieved by her reprieve, or despair that her inevitable ruin was merely postponed? What Madame Vestry would have to say about the turn of events she had no idea, save it would not be pleasant.

“Let me help you dress, my dear.” The soft-spoken words exploded in the quiet room.

Violet jumped.

The man tugged the sleeves of his coat before adjusting his cloak over it.