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Rising swiftly and pulling up her skirt, she quickly straddled him, aware that even without stimulation she was highly lubricated as she impaled herself on his straining member.

“Wait, Phoebe!” His voice came through a wall of sensation, for the feel of him inside her was more exciting than she could have believed possible.

“I want this as much as you do,” she gasped, for he was about to withdraw and, like the real lover, bring her to climax first, but she needed him inside her more.

Phoebe tightened her knees around him. She had less than two weeks to get with child. It was only a matter of time before the murdering Lady Cavanaugh of Blinley Manor was located and brought before the courts, and justice in this country was harsh and summary. Her noble position in such an instance would carry no weight. Not when she was branded by everyone as a whore with the motive to murder her husband. Only if she carried supposedly noble cargo was there any possibility of a reprieve. Justice was swift in these times. No wonder so many women in prisons sought the offices of the turnkey, or whatever willing man was available to get them with child so they could plead the belly and postpone the noose. Justice did not serve women in her situation kindly. This was her most hopeful solution.

Did it make her a whore? She was desperate, yes, and she’d been trying for a child for five years. Wasn’t this the first time she was truly answering the wild beating of her heart?

Grinding her hips against his, she felt his objection die as he was overpowered by his own lust and her determination to see this thing through.

He was large and deep within her, and his breath felt soft and sweet on her cheek, for all he was gasping like a man in the throes of the greatest ecstasy.

Then, to her astonishment, something deep within her began to happen. The very first time Wentworth had seduced her he’d done things to her that had made her feel this way. Never since. And never without direct stimulation.

Each delve and thrust of this man before her—her lover, she hoped, for the next two weeks—sparked something exquisite and tantalizing in the depths of her core; something that grew in tandem with his own excitement.

So when he plunged into her for one final thrust, his gasp of pleasure was echoed by her own as she came in his arms, shuddering at the impact of this unexpected encounter with the first man she thought might be worthy of her affection.

“By God, Phoebe,” he gasped, “you are extraordinary.”

She sagged against him and tightened her arms about his neck. She didn’t want to let him go and was afraid of meeting his eye for the first time.

They were lovers now. What would the future bring?

Yes, they were lovers, each day reinforcing their desire and need for each other. They did not speak of Wentworth or the murder, vengeance or the future, as one week turned into two, and their quiet cottage became an idyll from the outside world. Despite the fact she could see the lights of Blinley Manor far in the distance, Phoebe felt safer than she’d ever felt.

Hugh was a kind and caring protector who seemed as reluctant as she to leave this strange, honeymoon world they’d created.

But of course, change had to come. Although Phoebe knew the end of the lease of the miller’s home was approaching, Hugh had insinuated he would take her to London with him. As Phoebe had only once been to London and was unfamiliar with the fashionable set, she’d accepted now that she would never become the lady she once was.

Nor did it matter, for what were fine clothes and servants if the price was being bound to a man who did not care for her, or worse?

As Hugh’s mistress, she had an affection and freedom she’d never had as Lady Cavanaugh.

But of course, her happiness could not last forever.

10

> Hugh ran his fingers through his curls and tried again, gripping the back of the wooden chair as he prepared to rephrase his explanation in language less calculated to set up Phoebe’s bristles. This was not going well.

Angrily, Phoebe faced him across the room. “Let me understand this, sir,” she whispered tightly, holding herself up with all the dignity she could clearly muster. “You’ve just had news your sister is arriving unexpectedly, and now, suddenly I am relegated to the servant’s quarters. Yesterday you were very happy to take what I offered, but now, like a discarded toy you’ve grown weary of, I am to be sent back to where I came from.”

He crossed the room in a few strides and gripped her hands.

“Please don’t be hurt. You make it sound as if I regard you as a novelty when nothing could be farther from the truth.” Kissing her knuckles, he was filled with dismay. He’d never expected this, but then, perhaps she thought this was a precursor to him being rid of her. Perhaps this is how her last protector had let her down. He tried to reassure her. “Phoebe, you’ve bewitched me and that is the truth! But my sister is a gently-reared young woman who cannot possibly know you. No gentleman would introduce his…”

She raised an eyebrow at his want of the right word. “Doxy?” she supplied.

He shook his head vigorously, and a strange and unexpected sensation filled him from his boots upward. Not lust. Well, not that alone. “Mistress,” he whispered. His mouth parted slightly, and he held her back from him. “You’re my mistress, Phoebe. Do you know, I’ve never taken a mistress? Yes, I’ve had women and liaisons that have entertained me for weeks at a time. But I’ve never…”

“Kept a woman as you would a wife only without offering her the security of a marriage contract.”

He shook his head in frustration. “You really do have ideas above your station, don’t you? You know as well as I do that gentlemen do not marry lady’s maids.” He moved to wrap his arms about her, but she remained stiff.

“How much time do you anticipate I will continue to amuse you, sir?”

He pushed her resisting hands down to her sides and gently sprinkled kisses along her jawline. “I could be honest and say that I forsee a long future of love and happiness before us. Or I can vex you, since you are determined to be vexed, it would appear, and say, who can tell when you constantly surprise me with your sweet charm, Phoebe love.” A tentative hand upon her shoulder met with no resistance, and when he closed the distance between them she fell into his arms.

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