“Be my mistress,” he said. “Say yes to me.”
“What?” His words were so rushed that she wasn’t sure she heard him right. But then he explained, and she knew yet another shock on top of all the other surprises of the last two days.
“I can make it good for you. I can make you scream in pleasure every night. There’s more to feel than what you had tonight. I can teach you.”
His hand pushed quickly between her legs. She was already wet, much too sensitive, and yet he used the flat of his palm to push her open, and he rubbed in a circle over that spot.
Her belly tightened in reaction, and she cried out in alarm. But his other hand still held her breast, pinching her nipple again, and she began to tremble. It was good, and it was bad. It was wonderful, and it was too much.
“Feel this, Amber. Feel me.”
She was! She was feeling nothing but him.
“Give it to me again!” he commanded. “Let me see.”
He didn’t cover her mouth this time. He didn’t swallow her cry, but sat back and watched as her head arched back. As her thighs spread wide and she thrust into his palm.
“Now,” he said as he rubbed hard against her. “Now.” He did it again. “Now!”
Rapture burst seemingly from his mouth to her body. It had the feel of a piercing.
If she screamed, she didn’t hear it. Sensation overwhelmed her. Then it carried her. And then she was simply there, her body splayed wide as the ripples continued, and he watched her.
“Say yes,” he whispered. “Be my mistress.”
“Mistress?” she echoed dumbly. Not wife?
“I cannot marry you,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “My wife will be chosen for political advantage. She will advance my causes and train our children to do the same.” He spoke in such a bloodless way, as if he selected his women by assets on a banker’s sheet. “But my mistress will have more from me, and she can be anything I choose. I choose you, Amber. Say yes.”
And be his mistress?
“No.”
He had given her the best experience of her life. He had shown her things that she had always imagined, but never realized were possible for her. Not just here, but the whole night. She’d been to a ball. She’d danced with a baron, four future peers, and an earl. She’d stepped into his carriage and had felt such wonderous things.
But she knew when something was a dream. She was an expert at it. And she knew from listening to all the upstairs ladies that nothing true happens in a dream. In the morning, promises were never kept, wishes were never fulfilled, and the woman always paid in the end. Not the man with the luminous green eyes. Not the lord who could have any woman he wanted for the price of a smile. No, it was the woman who bore the disgrace and the baby, if there was one.
So she said, no, though the word hurt to say aloud. And when he looked at her with shock and disappointment, she knew she had chosen correctly.
Every man looked that way when denied a treat. When they lost at cards or learned their favorite girl was occupied with someone else. Just because Amber had been behind the cage didn’t mean she was blind. She’d seen their faces, and she knew it took men less than an hour to turn their attention elsewhere.
Meanwhile, Elliott rocked back on his heels. And as he moved away, she was able to straighten up. Her knees closed, and she twitched her skirt down. She tugged awkwardly at the ribbons of her corset, ashamed that her hands were shaking.
He reached out, and she flinched from him. His eyes shot to hers, and maybe she saw hurt in them.
“You are safe with me,” he said.
Was she? She didn’t know. She felt so exposed.
“Hold the edges together. I will tie the ribbons.”
She did as he instructed, holding the edges of her corset while he tightened the strings. Then he helped her with her dress, buttoning the back with practiced ease. And when it was all done, and he sat on the seat beside her, he rapped on the top of the carriage.
A muffled, “Yes, m’lord,” was the response.
“Where are we going?” she asked, confused.
“To my sister’s home, as I promised.”
How long had they been driving? Shouldn’t they be there by now? “Where have we been?”
“I don’t know. A tour around Hyde Park most likely.”
It took a moment for his words to filter in. A moment for her to realize that he had planned this. That he had prearranged with the coachman to ride them in a circle until their tryst was done.
“How many times have you done this before?”
He blew out a breath. “Never,” he confessed. “You’re my first.” He sounded like she should be grateful to be treated like this. Like a common doxy tumbled in a carriage.
She wanted to be furious, except honesty forced her to admit that she had asked for it. She had wanted it. He had told her at the very beginning of their ride that he wanted to kiss her, but that it was her choice. And she had asked for two.
Her face burned with humiliation, and she wasn’t fully aware of why. He was so much more worldly than she. Despite her talks with the upstairs ladies, she still didn’t understand what had happened.
“Am…am I still a virgin?” she whispered.
“Yes. As respectable as ever.” His voice was calm, and his matter-of-fact tone reassured her. Though, of course, a woman who worked in a gaming hell was not at all respectable. So even if he lied, she wasn’t any worse off than before.
“You will tell no one?”
He stiffened in reaction. “I do not break my promises. I will tell no one.” Then he paused. “Will you?”
“What? No!”
“No giggles between girls upstairs at the Den? No whispered confessions about the man you had on his knees before you?” There was a bitterness in his tone that rubbed against her raw nerves. He was angry with her, though he worked hard to hide it.
“Of course not. I don’t break my promises, either.”
“Good,” he said as he adjusted his position on the seat. They were touching only slightly. His knee against her thigh. His hand on the back of the seat near her shoulder. Near, but not touching. Close, but not connecting. “I should like to see you tomorrow. Afternoon, if that’s acceptable,” he said.
“Of course,” she said, feeling strange with his suddenly polite tone. “Whenever you like.” She was, after all, staying with his sister. She hadn’t the wherewithal to say no if he chose to visit.
“I have an idea for the brooch. I know the painting wasn’t enough, but perhaps there is a way around that.”
The brooch? The jewelry that had brought him into her circle in the first place. How fast this man thought. She was still reeling from everything, but his mind was back to his vote and the brooch he needed. “Whatever you think best. It is ample…” Her words cut off as she realized what she was about to say. But he was no fool. He finished it for her.
“Ample repayment for a ball and the ride home?”
He made it sound as if he were the upstairs person, and she the one demanding worship. There were a few upstairs men for such purposes, but she was not a customer. And she disliked the implication that what they’d just done was a transaction.
“I agreed to remake the brooch for you,” she said tartly. “If you have found a way that I can do such, then I must perforce agree.” She used her most educated voice merely because it made her feel more in control. “This evening was a lucky…” Experience? Dream? Temptation? “Happenstance. I am grateful for it.” And she was thankful even though she felt as if she wanted to burst into tears. “The one—”