An Introduction to Pleasure (33 page)

“You are distracted,” Vivien continued. “Why don’t you go onto the terrace for a little while? Get some fresh air, though I would avoid the southwest corner…unless you want to watch Sabrina make love to both Lord Nightengale and Lord Jazby.”

Lysandra swallowed. Under any other circumstance, she just might go spy on a woman with two lovers. It sounded quite…bracing. But for now, she couldn’t think about something so brash when her mind was racing.

“Yes, I think I shall go outside for a bit. I promise to gather my senses and return as a far more pleasant guest.”

Vivien patted her arm, then strolled away into a crowd of men who watched her like she was candy. With a sigh, Lysandra slipped onto the terrace. She sent a longing look toward that wicked southwest corner, but then turned to the north, away from the crowd, away from any wicked activities.

She stared up at the stars let out a sigh. On Andrew’s estate, they had taken a walk in the moonlight and made love under stars as pretty as this. Would he think of that night the next time
he
looked at the stars?

She heard the faint closing of the terrace door behind her, but she ignored the sound. She didn’t want to be disturbed, so perhaps pretending as if she didn’t know someone else was with her would be message enough of that fact.

Footsteps moved toward her, but before she could turn, there was a warm chest pressed to her back and arms came around her. She tensed, knowing she should be afraid. Or at least affronted that a drunken partygoer had pinned her like this.

But she wasn’t. There was something comforting about this man’s touch.

“I hear,” he whispered, his voice odd in the darkness behind her, “that you are seeking a protector.”

She shivered. “Yes,” she managed to squeak out.

“Hmm,” he said, though his arms came around her even tighter. “I’m afraid I am not looking for a mistress.”

She frowned. What in the world did this stranger mean? “Then why are you accosting me on the terrace at Vivien Manning’s? Don’t all men come here looking for a mistress?”

He laughed, and she froze. She knew that laugh. Knew it as well as her own.

“This man isn’t seeking that. I am looking for a wife, you see.”

She spun around and found Andrew standing before her, holding her ever so gently against his chest. Without demand, but also without releasing her.

“Andrew, what are you doing here?”

He lifted one hand to stroke her cheek. “I have loved two women in my life. I lost one through chance and for three years regretted the way I treated her. The second woman I lost through utter foolishness. Fear. Panic. But I wonder if I might be able to get her…
you
…back.”

Lysandra sucked in her breath. “Are you…are you saying you love me?”

He nodded slowly, never breaking their stare. Joy flooded her, overcame her, mobbed her with pleasure so intense it was pain. She sobbed out her breath.

“Andrew, you must know I love you,” she admitted and adored how his face lit up with a joy she’d never seen from him before. It was a gift and she cherished it. Only she had to crush it. That was clear. “We couldn’t marry.”

He shook his head. “Why?”

“I’m not of your rank, I’m not of your class, your father despises me, I would create a scandal for you thanks to my former employer, your brother is getting married and his future wife is too important for me to ruin that, I was a mistress—”

He lifted his hand to cut off her stream of reasons they couldn’t ever be together.

“Let me address these before you go on to your secondary list,” he laughed. “I do not care about your rank, nor your class. I’ve learned how empty those labels can be. My father does not hate you. In fact, he blessed my desire to marry you this very afternoon.”

She blinked in disbelief. “After he came to me, blustering?”

Andrew laughed. “He does bluster, but I assure you he is a good man. And he was impressed both by the way you handled yourself and by the fact that I love you. He wishes for my happiness, and I think he recognized that you are my only path for that to happen.”

Tears stung Lysandra’s eyes, but she refused to let their joyful streams fall.

“What of the rest?” she whispered.

He laughed. “Where did we leave off? Oh yes, the scandal created by Culpepper.” She gasped and he nodded. “Oh yes, I know who he is. He has already been admonished, first by me and then by his wife, who also said she would accept you if you were mine.”

“Lady Culpepper?” Lysandra repeated. “She was always so lovely, but I thought—”

“Oh, she is far stronger and much more aware than perhaps any of us, including her husband, gave her credit for. As is Adela, our future sister-in-law, although she may not know the particulars, she gave me quite a lecture about love. I think she would welcome a scandal if it were for a romantic reason like the fact that I adore you.”

He bent and pressed a quick kiss to the tip of her nose. Lysandra gasped at the gentle, intimate and loving gesture. He truly did love her. This wasn’t some odd attempt just to win her because he was angry or a desire to win something he felt he had lost. He loved her.

Her!

“And then there is the last point you have made,” he said with a somber shake of his head. “That you were a mistress.”

She nodded.

He smiled slightly. “It has come to my attention, and caused me great happiness, that you have only ever been
my
mistress.
My
lover.
My
love.”

“But no one else will know—”

He covered her lips with his fingertip. “Society can hang. I would be happy to squire you away to my country home and make love to you day in and day out if they won’t have us.”

Lysandra shivered at the images that created in her wicked mind.

“Now let me ask you again. Will you marry me?”

She closed her eyes. All she wanted was this man’s love, this man’s company, this man at her side for the rest of her life. She would be a fool to throw it all away for fear and for worry.

With a smile, she looked at him. “Yes,” she whispered.

He gathered her to his chest and dropped his mouth to hers in a passionate kiss. She melted, pulling him closer, trying to mold herself to him in every way possible.

He drew back. “On the terrace, my dear?” he chuckled.

She smiled, for the first time in years feeling the weight lifted off of her shoulders and leaving only love of the deepest kind, joy of the brightest variety, hope that only a guaranteed future could bring.

“Oh yes,” she whispered as she drew him into the darkness. “If it’s good enough for the southwest corner, it’s good enough for us.”

He laughed, though it was clear he had no idea of the reference she was making. And then he pulled her against him and claimed her as his for once, for all.

Forever.

About the Author

Jess Michaels is the award-winning author of over ten erotic romances. She lives in Arizona with her fantastic husband and two adorable cats. While not writing about sexy gentleman and wicked ladies, she can be found doing geeky things like playing video games and performing aunt duties to two nephews. You can find her online at
www.jennapetersen.com/jess.htm
and on Twitter
@jennaromance

Look for these titles by Jess Michaels

Coming Soon:

Mistress Matchmaker

For Desire Alone

Her Perfect Match

They can escape winter’s cold, but their nemesis has a long, icy reach.

Lisbon

© 2012 Lynne Connolly

Richard and Rose, Book 8

On a ship bound for Portugal with her children and the man she loves, Rose should be blissfully happy. Except Richard treats her like she’s made of porcelain. She’s recovered from the childbed fever that nearly killed her, yet he won’t share her bed and it’s driving her mad.

To win him back body and soul, she resolves to use every wicked, seductive trick he’s taught her. Until a possible attempted murder on board puts them both on alert for the trouble that seems to dog their every move.

Richard is almost relieved to have something to investigate. He loves Rose too much to risk losing her—which is exactly what could happen if he gets her pregnant again. When it becomes clear a series of accidents is no such thing, they realize an old enemy has caught up with them.

It’s imperative for Richard and Rose to work together to defeat this foe, but their new distance could prove their undoing. Especially when Mother Nature conspires to make them endure one last, desperate test of their love…

Warning: The earth is moving for Richard and Rose, but this time it’s not entirely their fault.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Lisbon:

Richard’s scolding continued as he undressed me. I still loved his voice, the quiet cadence, the rasp hidden under his customary congenial tones that grew pronounced in the throes of physical ecstasy. I wanted to hear that again. So much. Feel the touch of his hands, hot on my body, the soft, moist movement of his mouth on my skin, the hard suction when he sucked my nipple—I had to stop. I could feel the moisture forming at the top of my thighs. I let his voice float over me, listening to the tone rather than the meaning.

“You have to preserve yourself, let me care for you—”

But I had to respond to that remark. I snapped, “Like veal in aspic?” I hated veal in aspic. Slimy and cold. “You want to keep me wrapped up against all danger? You can’t, Richard, it’s impossible.”

A small pause, then, “I know.”

His hands left my body and the stays fell away. I caught them and dropped them on the chair, then bent to retrieve my gown and drape it over the chair too. I unfastened my petticoats myself.

I stood in shift and under-petticoat, still wearing stockings and shoes and my hair pinned up in its knot on the top of my head. Keeping my gaze on his face, I reached up and took out the pins, one by one. I knew the action lifted my breasts. It would make the nipples press against the thin lawn fabric. I would force him to suffer.

Because of my earlier thoughts, my nipples had peaked, and as I moved, the extra sensitivity made me shiver. He stared at me, his eyes cool but a small frown furrowing his brow. At least I’d had some effect. Desperation filled me.

“Do we stay like this forever?” I asked. “Do we draw further apart until you can’t bear it anymore and search for something outside the marriage bed?” He opened his mouth to protest, but I wouldn’t let him speak yet. “It would be meaningless, and that’s what you’d tell me when I found out. Because I
would
find out, you know that, don’t you? There are people longing for it to happen, for you to stray, people who will run to me to see how I’m taking your betrayal. And I’ll have to smile and pretend I don’t care, just as other wives do. You’ll be sparing me, you’ll say, stopping me from bearing more children, wearing me out with childbirth. During my time in society, I’ve heard it all, Richard, and the excuses, and I’ve seen the hurt in their eyes.”

I couldn’t keep my tears back any longer, and I didn’t see the point anymore. I let them fall but didn’t wail. Just let them trickle slowly down my cheeks, leaving hot trails behind.

“I’ll never do that.” He sounded sincere, his voice steady. He
was
sincere. But I knew he needed the closeness we had shared, if not making love, then intimate relations. I wanted the true involvement we’d had, the love and sharing, not just the making love. I wanted him to hold me. I wanted to wake up in his arms, to kiss him good morning. The lack of it was driving me insane.

I wanted to shock him into returning to me. I remembered something that had crossed my mind once, briefly. “And I’ll be alone. After a surfeit of lovemaking, suddenly I’d have nothing. Richard, what if, one day, I see a man with your eyes? What if I grew lonely enough to turn to someone else?”

Shock forced his eyes to dilate and the lines around his mouth to whiten. But to do him justice, he didn’t turn away. He must know I was close to breaking. I had shown him everything, only stopping when I could hold my voice steady no longer.

“You cannot. You know what sexual relations will mean—” Now his voice shook. “You can’t fall pregnant again.”

“It’s an excuse.” I knew several ways to avoid children, and in any case, I’d had childbed fever. “The doctor told me that nine out of ten women who’d had what I had end the illness sterile. In others that might be unfortunate, but not in our case.”

“There’s always a chance. Always. And I can’t lose you.” He took my hand, stroking his thumb across my palm in a well-remembered gesture. “It’s still me, sweetheart.” His voice softened, gained that rough edge I loved. “I can’t look at you without wanting you. Touching you is almost impossible because I want to do this—” He dragged me close. His arms locked around me, crushing my breasts against his chest, and his mouth collided with mine, needy and hungry. I welcomed him with everything I could.

Starved, I lifted one hand and pushed it under his wig, which fell to the floor with a thump. I threaded my fingers through his short, fair curls. Sleek to the touch, softer than the finest Chinese silk. He tilted his face to one side, taking my lips in a clearer, more complete melding.