Mistress (13 page)

A buxom female crouched on her hands and knees, her buttocks arched high. The male figure positioned behind her gripped her hips as he thrust into her.

“That one is called
Unbridled Passion,”
Lartmore murmured. “One of my favorites.”

“Indeed.” Iphiginia could not think of anything else to say.

“Over there is
A Taste of Delight.”

Iphiginia gazed at the figure of a woman seated on a rock. A man crouched between her widely spread knees. His face was buried between plump stone thighs.

“I see.”

“And this one I call
The Elixir of Life.”
Lartmore touched a stone leg and smiled at Iphiginia.

She frowned as she studied the figures. At first Iphiginia thought the female was praying. She blushed
furiously when she saw that in actuality the nude had a very long length of marble manhood in her mouth.

“Good heavens,” Iphiginia whispered.

“I am especially fond of my newest acquisitions.” Lartmore led the way toward the far end of the hall to where a series of sculptures had been arranged. He beamed with pride. “I should dearly love to have your opinion on them, Mrs. Bright. Everyone knows that you are an expert in these things.”

Iphiginia’s initial reaction to the series of statues was relief. The first few pieces appeared to be much more decorous than the others. These figures were at least clothed.

Relaxing slightly, Iphiginia took a step closer to get a better look at the shadowed statues. In the first of the series a young woman wearing a prim gown sat on a stone bench. A properly attired man sat beside her. They appeared to be conversing politely.

Then Iphiginia noticed that the man’s hand was on the woman’s leg beneath her skirts.

“What do you call this?” Iphiginia asked uneasily.

“The entire series is called
The Breaching of the Virgin’s Maidenhead
. You will notice that with each succeeding statue in the collection the figures become increasingly more intimate until, in the last one, the deed is done. Amusing, is it not?”

Iphiginia cast him a sidelong glance. She noticed that the expression in Lartmore’s colorless eyes had become a hard gleam. A sheen of sweat had appeared on his balding skull. Even as she watched, he edged closer to her. His cadaverously thin body was touching her white skirts.

It was definitely time to return to the ballroom. As much as she hated to admit it, Marcus had been right. Clearly it had been a mistake to come in here. There had to be another way to get into Lartmore’s library tonight.

Iphiginia cleared her throat authoritatively. “As you have asked for my opinion on your statuary, my lord, I
fear I must tell you that these examples are extremely poor imitations of the antique mode.”

“My dear Mrs. Bright, how can you say that?” Lartmore looked grievously wounded.

“To be perfectly blunt, the style is not at all in the manner of the ancients. I see no indications of either Roman, Grecian, or Etruscan motifs in any of these statues.”

“But, Mrs. Bright, surely you are mistaken.”

“No, sir, I am not mistaken. I assure you, I have examined a great deal of genuine antique statuary and none of it bore any resemblance to these pieces.”

Lartmore put a hand to his chest in a gesture of anguish. “I am crushed.” He took a step closer to Iphiginia.

“I trust you did not pay a great deal for any of these statues.” Iphiginia sidestepped deftly and moved quickly around Lartmore. “If you did, you were fleeced.”

“Mrs. Bright, allow me to show you the rest of my collection.” Lartmore put out a long-fingered hand to detain her.

“Unfortunately, I do not have the time to linger.” Iphiginia managed to avoid his groping hand with a quick move to one side.

“But I insist.” Lartmore lunged, claws outstretched to seize her.

Iphiginia picked up her skirts and fled.

She nipped around the stone figure of the man braced on his knees behind the crouching female, sprinted past a man and woman engaged in sexual congress on top of a pedestal, and plowed straight into a very large, very immovable object that loomed in her path.

This male figure was definitely not made out of stone, but it was as unyielding as any of the sculptures in the hall.

“Marcus”
Her reaction was instantaneous and instinctive. She smiled brilliantly as she staggered and clutched at his arm to catch her balance. “I cannot tell you how very happy I am to see you, my lord.”

“I’ve been searching for you, Mrs. Bright.” But Marcus
did not look at her. His eyes were on Lartmore. “I was under the impression that we had arranged to meet at the Richardsons’.”

“Yes, well, I planned to go there immediately after I left here, sir.” Iphiginia checked her hair to see if the white roses were still in place. “Lord Lartmore kindly offered to show me his statuary hall, so I was somewhat delayed.”

“I see. How unfortunate.”

Iphiginia winced at the unmistakable menace in his voice. She hurried to defuse what was clearly about to become a very awkward situation. “Well, then, as you are here and I am ready to leave, I do not see why we should not be off.”

“In a moment,” Marcus said absently. “There are one or two matters that should be clarified first.”

Lartmore rushed to his own defense. “Masters, I assure you, there was nothing objectionable about this little tour of my gallery of statues. I sought Mrs. Bright’s intellectual opinion on my collection. Nothing more.”

“Nothing more?” Masters repeated ominously.

“Absolutely not.” Pinned by Marcus’s cold eyes, Lartmore appeared to grow thinner and even more cadaverous. He stuck one bony finger beneath his cravat and tried to loosen the heavily starched fabric. “We were just finishing the tour, Masters. I was about to escort Mrs. Bright back to the ballroom.”

“There will be no more such tours,” Marcus said.

“No, no, of course not.” Lartmore cast a desperate glance at Iphiginia.

“I have given Lord Lartmore my opinion of his statuary collection,” Iphiginia said coolly. “I’m afraid I found it all of rather poor quality. Completely lacking in true antique sensibilities.”

“Fascinating,” Marcus said very gently. “I believe I had already warned you that it was not of the best quality and would be of little interest to you.”

“Ah, yes.” Iphiginia rallied quickly. “Yes, you did, my
lord, but I am the sort of person who prefers to form her own conclusions.”

“Perhaps it would be wise if you learned to take sound advice when it is offered.”

Iphiginia scowled but decided not to say anything. Something told her this was not the best time to inform him that she rarely took other people’s advice these days. She’d been obliged to endure far too much of that commodity back in Deepford.

“If you will excuse me.” Lartmore slithered between two copulating statues and headed for the door. “I must get back to my guests.”

Iphiginia glowered at the retreating Lartmore. When he had vanished like a wraith, she swung around to confront Marcus.

“I do not recall that your advice was
offered
, precisely, my lord. I believe it was put a bit more strongly. Some would say that your so-called advice was more in the nature of an extremely autocratic command.”

Marcus took a single step closer. His face was ruthless in the shadowy lamplight. “It was your choice to go about London disguised as my paramour, was it not?”

Iphiginia blinked and took a wary step back. “Well, yes, initially I suppose one could say it was my idea. However—”

“Let me make something plain to you. So long as you are gallivanting about Town masquerading as my mistress, you will bloody well act the part.”

Alarmed by the dangerous softness of his tone, Iphiginia took another discreet step backward. “Now, see here, my lord, you must understand that this is merely a role I am playing. One could say that I am your mistress-in-name-only.”

“If you expect me to allow you to continue playing this part, you will follow my
advice
to the letter.”

She lifted her chin. “You mean your commands, do you not?”

“Aye, madam. I mean my commands.”

Iphiginia took another cautious step back. Her leg came up against a cold marble statue of two writhing figures. “I am not accustomed to obeying any man’s commands, sir.”

“That much is clear. The late, lamented Mr. Bright obviously let you take the bit between your teeth and run wild. But if you think that I will allow you to make a complete fool of me in front of the
ton
, you are sadly mistaken.”

Iphiginia was momentarily stricken with guilt. “My lord, there is no denying that you were put in a somewhat unfortunate position by my masquerade, but I assure you that I never meant to humiliate you.”

“Only because you were proceeding on the mistaken assumption that I was safely dead.”

“Well, yes, granted. However—”

“Last night I found your audacity mildly entertaining. Tonight, however, you have stepped over the line and I am no longer amused.”

Iphiginia’s brief flash of guilt evaporated. Anger took its place. “I am not doing this to amuse you, my lord.”

Marcus took another menacing step toward her. “Until such time as you and I are finished with this charade, you will stay in character, madam.”

“In character?” She could not retreat any farther. She was trapped by the stone limbs of the couple copulating behind her. “Sir, I shall play this part as I see fit.”

“No, madam, you will not.” Marcus reached out and grasped a foot and a shoulder on the statue behind her, effectively caging her between his arms. “I am the authority on this role. If it weren’t for me, the part would not even exist. Is that not correct?”

“I suppose one could make such an argument, but—”

“I
am
making the argument. I created the role. Therefore I shall direct you in it.”

He brought his mouth down on hers and pinned her against a stone thigh.

What should have been a small, breathless gasp emerged from Iphiginia as a silent sigh. She clutched at his shoulders, more to steady herself than to push him away. The weight of him as he crushed her against the marble was intoxicating.

Just as it had last night, excitement showered through her, an incandescent rain that made all her senses bloom at once.

She heard Marcus groan. It was a rough, dark sound that came from deep in his chest. He leaned closer. His body was as hard as the statue’s but infinitely warmer.

She was supposed to be acting out a role, Iphiginia reminded herself. But everything suddenly felt very real.

She shivered and wrapped her arms around his neck, just as she had done last night. Now she could feel every inch of him pressing against her. He felt so good, so strong, so right.

She was enthralled, consumed by a deep longing that dazzled her with its intensity.

Iphiginia realized that she had been yearning for this sensation all of her life.

Marcus lifted his mouth from hers. His eyes were brilliant with desire and wonder. “You’re going to drive me mad, aren’t you?” He threaded his fingers through her elegantly styled hair, gripped a handful, and forced her head gently back. He kissed her throat.

Iphiginia trembled beneath the sensual assault. And then she was kissing him with a passionate ferocity that seemed to have sprung from nowhere. She strained to taste him, touch him, feel him.

She loved the feel of his skin beneath her lips. The scent of him filled her head. The strength in his hands thrilled her.

“Marcus.”

“I told you last night that I am in need of a real paramour.”

He slid one hand down to her waist and then he spread his fingers over her hip. He squeezed gently, crushing
her white silk skirts. When she moaned, he moved his palm lower, took a handful of silk in his fist, and raised it to her thigh.

Iphiginia was startled by the feel of stone directly against the back of her leg. She opened her eyes, confused and disoriented.

“I do not—”

“Hush.” Marcus covered her mouth with his own, sealing her halfhearted protest behind her lips.

He braced her against the statue behind her. He slid his hand up along her stocking-clad leg past her garter and wrapped his fingers around her bare thigh.

Iphiginia flinched in reaction.

To her astonishment, he stilled. “Does my touch offend you? Do you find my hands rough on your soft skin, Mrs. Bright?”

“No,” she managed in a thin voice. She clung to him. “I love your hands, sir.” She kissed his jaw. “They are so … so …” Words failed her.

“Yes?” He stroked his rough palm along the inside of her leg.

Iphiginia gasped and buried her face against his shoulder. “So very exciting,” she whispered.

He seemed to relax. “I’m pleased that you are excited.” He dropped a small kiss on her ear. His fingers flexed on her leg.

Iphiginia could hardly breathe. No man had ever touched her so intimately. She was stunned by the sensations roiling within her.

She reminded herself that Marcus believed her to be an experienced widow, not a naive innocent. She must not allow him to notice that she was close to being overwhelmed by lovemaking.

“Sir, I am not at all certain this is either the time or the place for this sort of thing. Someone might walk in on us.” Iphiginia knew that she did not really want him to stop. What she wanted was for him to go more slowly. But
she could not explain to him that she needed time to adjust to the new and disturbing demands of passion.

“Calm yourself, Iphiginia. We are alone in this chamber. No one is likely to walk in on us.”

Without any warning, Marcus raised her leg and hooked it over a stone arm. Her skirts fell back along her thigh, exposing her completely. Marcus’s palm went straight to the hot, damp place between her legs.

Iphiginia shrieked very softly in astonishment. “My
lord.”

Marcus kissed her deeply, cutting off the soft, startled sound. He stroked her deliberately.

Iphiginia froze. Her fingers locked on his shoulders.
She was an experienced widow, a woman of the world
….

“My God, you feel good,” Marcus whispered thickly. He sounded pleased and somewhat awed. “Do you always respond this readily?”