The Master's Mistress (10 page)

Was that really what was bothering him? The fact that Elizabeth was a wealthy heiress? That knowing exactly who and what she was put her beyond his reach?

He had never wanted her to be
within
his reach!

He was a free agent. Answerable to no woman. And he intended remaining that way.

‘Oh, to hell with this!’ He threw up his hands in utter exasperation. ‘I have work to do.’ He turned and strode towards the door.

‘So do I,’ Elizabeth reminded him softly.

Rogan turned to give her a cold and narrow-eyed stare. ‘I guess. Until you get tired of it. Then I expect you’ll revert to type.’

‘What type is that?’ Elizabeth interrupted swiftly. ‘I was eighteen when my mother died, Rogan—the same age you were when your own mother died. You disappeared to America and joined the army as a result. Instead of living the life of luxury you no doubt imagine,
I
chose to go to university, to take my degree and then get my doctorate.’

‘Where no doubt you were the only student living in a penthouse apartment and being driven about by your own personal chauffeur!’

‘Do I live in a penthouse apartment now?’ she challenged. ‘Do you see a chauffeur driving me around?’

‘You probably decided to leave him in London.’

‘Or maybe I just never had a chauffeur to begin with?’ Her chin was raised scornfully. ‘I never would have believed it, Rogan, but you’re an inverted snob!’

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Those dark eyes narrowed menacingly.

Elizabeth stood her ground. ‘It means that you considered it okay to mess around with the hired help, but not with an heiress!’

Rogan became dangerously still. ‘Mess around with…?’ he repeated softly.

‘Make love to, then. Or, more correctly,
have sex with
,’ she spat out scathingly. ‘What’s the matter, Rogan? Does my being an heiress
scare
you?’

A red tide seemed to pass in front of Rogan’s eyes, blinding him to all else but Elizabeth as she faced him so defiantly across the kitchen, the spiky style of her hair seeming to add to her challenge, as did the scorn he could see in the deep blue of her eyes and that faintly contemptuous curl of her top lip.

It was the contempt that pushed him over the edge of the caution that was usually second nature to him.

Elizabeth’s eyes widened as Rogan strode forcefully across the kitchen towards her. ‘What are you doing?’ she gasped, even as she took a wary step backwards.

Rogan’s mouth twisted with satisfaction as that step brought Elizabeth up against one of the kitchen cupboards, leaving her with nowhere else to go. ‘I’m going to seduce an heiress, of course,’ he told her, standing so close to her
that he could see the nerve pulsing erratically in her throat and the wide apprehension in her eyes. Could feel the heat of her body only inches away from his own. Smell the perfume that was uniquely Elizabeth’s.

She blinked nervously. ‘Rogan—’

‘Elizabeth,’ he murmured throatily, his gaze easily holding her wary one as he slowly lowered his head.

Elizabeth’s lips parted of their own volition, even as she tilted her chin up slightly, her breathing shallow and uneven as she just stood there and waited for the fierceness of Rogan’s kiss.

He came to a halt with his lips only centimetres away from hers, the warmth of his body close, so very close, but not quite touching hers. ‘Say you want me, Beth.’

Her breasts quickly rose and fell as she breathed deeply, feeling much as a fawn must when caught in the mesmerising lights of an oncoming car.

‘Beth?’

‘Yes…’ she groaned raggedly.

‘Say it!’ One of his hands came up to cup the side of her face and his thumb moved softly, erotically, between the moistness of her parted lips as he touched and caressed the inner sensitivity. ‘Say it, Beth,’ he repeated insistently.

She swallowed hard, aware she had awoken a sleeping tiger. ‘I want you,’ she repeated huskily. ‘Yes, Rogan, I want you!’ she said again brokenly, and she moved the short distance that separated their two bodies, her hands moving to the width of his shoulders even as she pressed herself against his much harder contours. ‘I want you, Rogue!’ she added achingly, when he still held himself back from her.

His eyes gleamed his satisfaction as he shifted slightly, the hardness of his thighs slowly grinding against hers and clearly telling her of his own arousal as his mouth finally claimed hers.

Elizabeth clung to the muscled strength of Rogan’s shoulders as he kissed her deeply, hungrily, before his tongue thrust fiercely into the heat of her mouth in a rhythm that quickly had Elizabeth panting and pliant in his arms as her tongue duelled with his.

But it wasn’t enough. Elizabeth wanted his hands on her. Wanted to touch him too. Wanted to caress the silken hardness she could feel pressed against the ache between her thighs. One of her hands moved between them to glide down the hard contours of his chest and stomach, down to—

Rogan broke the kiss and pulled back slightly as he captured her caressing hand and held it firmly in one of his. ‘Unbutton your blouse for me, Beth,’ he encouraged her gruffly.

Unbutton…? ‘I can’t,’ she groaned self-consciously.

‘Yes. You. Can,’ he said, and he moved back slightly.

‘Come on, Beth,’ he said huskily. ‘One button at a time. Slowly,’ he cautioned softly, and he held Elizabeth’s gaze captive by his as her shaking fingers moved to quickly unbutton the first two buttons of her blouse.

Elizabeth felt totally bereft without the touch of Rogan’s mouth against her own, without the heat of his body pressed so intimately against her. Nevertheless, her hands trembled slightly as they slowly released each button of her blouse from its fastening, the air cool against the heat of her bare flesh, her nipples pressed eagerly against her lacy bra.

‘Take it off,’ Rogan growled, once the blouse was completely unfastened.

‘Rogan—’

‘I said, take it off, Beth.’ The darkness of his gaze held hers unblinkingly. ‘Take it off so that I can put my mouth on you,’ he added.

She slowly shrugged her blouse from her shoulders and let it slide down her arms onto the floor, self-consciously aware of her swollen and sensitised breasts inside her bra, the dusky nipples pebble-hard against the softness of the material.

‘Better,’ Rogan grated as he easily lifted her to sit her on top of one of the work surfaces. ‘Now the bra,’ he encouraged softly.

Elizabeth swallowed hard. ‘Do you expect me to do all the work?’

He gave a humourless smile. ‘I’m just making it clear who is seducing whom.’

Elizabeth drew in a sharp breath. ‘It doesn’t have to be this way, Rogan.’

‘Yes, it does,’ he insisted, placing a hand on either side of her on the worktop and pinning her to the spot. ‘I’m going to be inside you, Beth. Going to take you. Going to take you so fiercely and give you so much pleasure, over and over again, that you’ll have to beg me to stop. Now, take off the bra!’ A nerve pulsed in the tautness of his clenched jaw.

She should be angry with his demands. At the very least apprehensive at the fierceness of his lovemaking.

Instead Elizabeth felt the tremors in her body deepen. She was throbbing. Aching. Wanting. Needing.

She needed Rogan inside her…now!

She straightened her shoulders, the movement thrusting her breasts forward. ‘Unfasten it for me.’

Those dark eyes narrowed on her fiercely for several breathless seconds, before he curved an arm about her back and released the fastening on her bra with one economical movement. He peeled the straps down her arms and threw the small lacy scrap of material onto the floor with her blouse. All without the steady darkness of his gaze so much as flickering from holding hers captive.

Elizabeth’s mouth went dry as she attempted to breathe. Her skin felt hot and tight. That throbbing fire was increasing between her thighs.

She stopped breathing altogether as Rogan finally lowered his gaze to look down at her naked thrusting breasts. Knowing what he would see. Feeling how hard and full her dusky nipples were. Longing for him to do as he said and put his mouth on her…

‘Rogan…’ she said longingly, long seconds later. When she could no longer take the torment of having only the heat of his gaze on her. ‘I want you
now
!’

Rogan raised that devouring gaze from Elizabeth’s breasts, his eyes searching as he looked into her face. Her eyes were dark and hot, the pupils dilated. Her cheeks were flushed and soft. The fullness of her lips swollen and slightly parted.

Oh, yes, Elizabeth wanted him.

As Rogan had intended she would when he deliberately began this seduction.

The only problem was that he now wanted her so badly himself that he was in danger of losing control of his own body before he had so much as touched her!

He should get out of here. Away from her and from the temptation she represented.

Instead he reached out to part her legs, before placing his hands on either side of her waist and lifting her forward, hard against the bulge of his arousal. Her naked breasts were firm and so incredibly hot through the thin material of his T-shirt, and he began to move slowly against her, grinding his hardness against the full nub of her arousal.

He didn’t touch her in any other way, just continued to thrust against her. Pleasuring her in that way slowly, grindingly, until Elizabeth cried out in a hot and throbbing release that almost took Rogan with her. He felt every quiver of that shuddering release as she arched into him, her head falling forward to rest against his shoulder as she rode that pleasure to the end.

Rogan was so hard now, so desperate to be inside her, that he physically ached with that need.

He moved back slightly to peel off his T-shirt before unbuttoning his jeans and discarding them, along with his boxers, supporting Elizabeth’s weight as he lifted her down onto the tiled floor and stripped off the rest of her clothing.

His breath caught in his throat as he looked down at her lithe nakedness. Firm and thrusting breasts tipped by hard, rosycoloured nipples. Waist long and slender. Hips and legs curvaceous, with deep copper curls nestled between her thighs.

Elizabeth gazed her fill of Rogan in return as he stood naked in front of her. The broadness of his powerful shoulders. The flatness of his stomach. His hard, jutting arousal between muscled thighs…

She felt weak at the knees just looking at him!

‘Put your legs around me, Beth,’ he instructed her as he easily lifted her back up onto the worktop.

She raised her gaze dazedly. ‘What—?’

‘Just do it…!’ he growled.

Bewildered, Elizabeth shifted forward slightly, her hands clinging to Rogan’s shoulders as she wrapped her legs about his waist, groaning low in her throat as the heat of her core now pressed against the hard, silken arousal that had already given her such pleasure.

That same pleasure flooded her again, heated her, and her neck arched in supplication as Rogan bent his head and his lips and tongue took possession of one hard and sensitised nipple, teeth gently biting. The sensations rocketed through Elizabeth’s body to once again centre between her parted thighs.

She felt Rogan against her there, even as he continued to kiss her breasts, the tip of his shaft gently probing her dampness, slowly widening her as, inch by inch, he slid into her, filling her completely until she had no idea where she ended and he began. She arched her hips into him, crying out as he slipped even deeper inside.

‘What the—?’ Rogan stilled abruptly, his startled gaze raised to hers as he felt himself come up against a barrier that had never been breached. ‘Elizabeth—’

‘Don’t stop now, Rogan!’ she pleaded.

‘But—’

‘Don’t stop!’ Elizabeth’s gaze was fierce on his, her fingers digging into the muscled strength of his shoulders, and she was the one to thrust her hips forward, taking all of him, her eyes widening slightly as Rogan tore through that barrier.

Rogan had never experienced anything like being inside Elizabeth. The heat of her. The silken perfection of her as she closed tightly around him. The pleasure that coursed through him as she once again clung to his shoulders and
slowly began to move herself up and down the rigid length of his shaft.

Oh, dear God, the pleasure…!

He couldn’t stop now.

He couldn’t…

‘W
HAT
the hell did you think you were doing?’ Rogan demanded accusingly as he pulled on his jeans and fastened them.

‘What do you mean?’ Elizabeth asked as she finished dressing before looking up at him, her breath catching in her throat as she took in the bareness of his chest, covered in the silky dark hair that she had caressed only minutes ago. ‘I thought you were seducing the Britten heiress,’ she reminded him tartly.

A seduction that hadn’t turned out at all as Elizabeth had expected it to!

Oh, there had been the promised pleasure. So much pleasure that Elizabeth still blushed to think of the way she had climaxed over and over again as Rogan had promised she would. The most explosive, the most forceful, being when Rogan had joined her in a climax so fierce that it had left them both breathless and sated.

It was only now, afterwards, that she was confused. Rogan seemed so distant. So angry.

‘I was your first lover, damn it,’ he said harshly, even as he ran an agitated hand through the dark thickness of his hair.

Long hair that Elizabeth had tangled her fingers in only minutes ago, as Rogan had pleasured her until she screamed out loud…

She
had
to stop thinking about the intimacies they had shared. Had to concentrate on what was happening now. Whatever that was…She shrugged. ‘Your point being…?’

‘You’re twenty-eight years old!’ Rogan exclaimed.

‘What does my age have to do with anything?’ Elizabeth forced herself to remain calm. In control. Knowing that one of them being angry was quite enough for the moment.

Rogan shook his head. ‘I didn’t know there were any twenty-eight-year-old virgins left in the world!’

She grimaced. ‘Perhaps there aren’t now…’

His eyes glittered in warning. ‘This isn’t the time for your slightly warped sense of humour, Elizabeth.’

She gave a heavy sigh. ‘Perhaps if you stopped making such a drama out of everything…’

‘A drama?’ Rogan repeated, still shocked to the core at his discovery that he had been Elizabeth’s first lover. And knowing that had felt so good…!

He had never experienced anything remotely like the ecstasy of being inside Elizabeth. She had been so tight. So pleasurably, erotically tight…

‘The
drama
, as you put it, Elizabeth,’ he continued, ‘is that I obviously didn’t use any protection! Not that it’s very likely that you’ll become pregnant from just that one time—’

‘You’re right. I won’t!’ Elizabeth glared at him.

Rogan scowled darkly. ‘What exactly does that mean?’

Elizabeth couldn’t believe the two of them were arguing like this. Minutes ago they had been making love together. As Rogan had promised, Elizabeth had climaxed so many
times she had lost count. And Rogan’s own release had almost brought him to his knees. Now, instead of a pleasurable aftermath, a sated intimacy, the two of them were all but shouting at each other.

She gave a weary sigh. ‘It means that for medical reasons I’m on the pill.’

Rogan’s eyes narrowed ominously. ‘What sort of medical reasons?’

‘Personal ones—oh, for goodness’ sake, Rogan!’ she snapped as he raised dark brows. ‘I’m not used to discussing such personal things with another person,’ she added awkwardly.

Rogan crossed those muscled arms over his chest. ‘Get used to it.’

Her glare intensified. ‘About five years ago I had irregular and very painful, heavy periods and my doctor prescribed the pill. I’ve been on it ever since. Satisfied?’ She shifted uncomfortably.

‘I guess…’ he muttered.

What had Elizabeth expected to happen after she and Rogan had made love? That he would fall down on his knees and proclaim everlasting love for her? That he would tell her he couldn’t live without her? That he wanted her to marry him before he carried her off back to America with him?

No, she hadn’t thought Rogan would do any of those things.

She had only hoped that he might…

Because she was in love with him? Oh, please God, she couldn’t have fallen in love with a man whose every word and action proclaimed his need for freedom from emotional entanglement!

‘Let’s just leave this, please, Rogan,’ she suggested huskily as his face darkened. ‘It’s a bad time for any sort of discussion about what happened just now, with your father’s funeral this afternoon.’

‘Next you’ll be telling me that’s the reason we made love in the first place,’ he gritted out. ‘A human need to reinforce our own mortality!’

‘No, I won’t be claiming that, Rogan,’ she said quietly. ‘I have no idea what happened just now. Or why it happened. It just did.’ And neither Elizabeth nor her heart would ever recover from it!

‘That’s honest, anyway!’

Her eyes glittered angrily. ‘I don’t believe I’ve ever been other than honest with you.’

‘You just forgot until today to mention that you were the Britten heiress!’

Elizabeth stiffened. ‘I didn’t forget, Rogan, I just don’t consider it anyone else’s business but my own.’

Rogan sighed. ‘And to think I wondered—only briefly, I admit—if you hadn’t been the one to take those first editions.’

She frowned. ‘Thanks for the trust!’

His eyes glittered unapologetically. ‘As far as I’m concerned trust is earned, not given. And the fact that you forgot to mention who your mother was, or that you were still a virgin—’

‘Will you just get over it, Rogan?’ she bit out impatiently. She was tired, so very tired, of Rogan’s accusing tone. Especially when she suspected—feared—that she had fallen in love with him. ‘If it doesn’t bother me, I can’t imagine why on earth it should bother you.’

Rogan glared at her in total frustration for several long
seconds, before turning away to run another agitated hand through the long length of his hair.

Why
did
Elizabeth’s virginity bother him? Rogan had no idea. He only knew that it did.

As did the thought of any other man making love to her. Ever.

There had been dozens of women in his life these last fifteen years. In his bed. But he had never been any woman’s first lover before. To know that he had been Elizabeth’s, that she had never shared her body that way with any other man, that no other man had ever seen how beautiful she looked in the throes of pleasure, brought out a fierce possessiveness in him that was totally alien to him. A possessiveness that Rogan didn’t want to feel. For any woman. Least of all Elizabeth Brown, the Britten Heiress!

He turned back to her, his expression guarded. ‘You’re right. Now isn’t the right time for this conversation. You have work to do this morning, and so do I. But—’

‘No buts, Rogan,’ Elizabeth interrupted. ‘As you said, twenty-eight is rather old to still be a virgin. And if I was going to take a lover, it was as well for me to take an experienced one, don’t you think?’ she dismissed offhandedly.

‘You really don’t want to know what I’m thinking right now!’ he said.

No, perhaps she didn’t, Elizabeth acknowledged wearily. No doubt Rogan was used to making love with women who knew what they were doing. Practised, experienced women, who knew how to give him the same pleasure he so satisfyingly gave them.

She would take a sure bet that none of
those
women had been stupid enough to fall in love with him!

She tried not to look disheartened. ‘I’ll clear away here, if you would like to get on with some work now.’

‘Fine.’ He nodded abruptly before bending to collect his T-shirt from the floor. ‘We’ll talk again later.’ He turned sharply on his bare heel and left the kitchen.

The tension left Elizabeth’s shoulders once she was alone.

But not for long, she guessed, well aware of the warning edge in Rogan’s tone that had clearly stated he would find a ‘right time’ for their conversation some time before he departed Sullivan House for good.

How could she have been so foolish? So stupid as to fall in love with a man who had no intention—ever—of falling in love? With any woman…

Rogan went up the stairs two at a time, his expression grim, his thoughts even grimmer.

So far this had been one hell of a day. That early-morning chat with Helen Baines. Arguing with Elizabeth. Making love with her. The unsatisfying conversation that had followed.

And he still had this afternoon’s funeral to get through yet!

Rogan came to an abrupt halt at the top of the staircase as he realised that making love with Elizabeth had made the ordeal of his father’s funeral this afternoon fade into insignificance.

He could still feel the satiny perfection of Elizabeth’s skin against his hands and lips. Still taste her. Still feel how good it had felt to be inside her. Good? It had been fantastic!

So fantastic that he knew he wanted her again. And again. In fact, he could imagine nothing he would enjoy more than to take Elizabeth to bed for the next day and night, and
make love to her in every way he had ever fantasised making love with a woman.

Rogan, my boy, you are in above your head, he acknowledged with a rueful frown as he forced himself to continue on his way to his father’s bedroom.

Well above his head. In fact, Rogan knew he was seriously in danger of going under completely and not recovering…!

Elizabeth stood in front of the damaged glass cabinet, her eyes wide as she stared at the four books placed neatly on the top shelf. The Darwin. The two Dickenses. And the Chaucer.

Either she had made a mistake, and the books hadn’t been missing in the first place, or the burglar had come back some time in the night and returned the books he had stolen.

As the latter explanation was highly unlikely, that only left the first one. Also unlikely. Elizabeth didn’t make mistakes where books were concerned.

Which meant there had to be a third explanation…

Although for the life of her Elizabeth couldn’t think what that third explanation might be.

Did Rogan know these books were back in the cabinet?

Rogan…

Every time Elizabeth so much as thought of him she went weak at the knees. She couldn’t help remembering their lovemaking—in the kitchen, of all places. She thought of how much she loved him. Of how he was going to leave her once his father’s funeral was over and never come back. Maybe even later today? Oh, God…!

Rogan had made love to her like a man possessed—or a man bent on possession. And it had been good. So good.
Wonderful, in fact. Beyond anything Elizabeth had ever imagined—and much better that any of the eroticism in the sexy vampire novels she liked to read! The reality of lovemaking was so much more amazingly pleasurable than simply reading about it.

Her breasts still felt full and achy. The nipples sensitive from the ministrations of Rogan’s hands and mouth. As for that soreness between her thighs…

Rogan had filled her so completely. So pleasurably. So excitingly! Every part of her had been alive and quivering as those waves of pleasure had surged through her.

Because she was in love with Rogan. Because—?

Busy. She had to keep herself busy, Elizabeth told herself determinedly. She had to stop even thinking about Rogan, let alone dwelling on how much she loved him.

Although she had yet to solve the puzzle of the returned books…

As funerals went, Rogan supposed his father’s had been okay. Surprisingly, the church had been full. Mrs Baines had been there, of course. Along with Desmond Taylor, his father’s lawyer. What had surprised Rogan was that many people who had once worked with and for his father had also taken the trouble to drive from London to attend. As had a considerable amount of the local people.

All of which had simply added to the ordeal as far as Rogan himself was concerned. To the point when he was now actually starting to feel ill, after almost an hour of accepting the condolences of people who actually had fond memories of his father. And probably wondered why it was that his son remained so stony-faced!

Mrs Baines, bless her, had risen to the occasion and announced that anyone who wished to come back to the house for tea and sandwiches was welcome to do so. Something that Rogan hadn’t even thought of in his need to just get his father’s funeral over and done with, so that he could leave England altogether and get back to his own life!

And Elizabeth had been there at his side during the whole ordeal, pale and dignified in a black business suit and white blouse.

‘You’re really one hell of a woman, did you know that?’ Rogan murmured huskily on the short drive back to the house for the wake. The two of them sat in the back of the car that had been supplied for the family. ‘You’ve been very supportive today, and I wasn’t exactly pleasant to you earlier this morning,’ he elaborated, as she turned from looking out of the car window to give him a puzzled glance.

Delicate colour entered the paleness of her cheeks. ‘Any personal differences between us shouldn’t matter at a time like this.’

Personal differences? Rogan wasn’t sure they had any ‘personal differences’. He still wasn’t sure
what
was between them!

He knew he was grateful for Elizabeth’s presence at his side today. Really grateful. In fact, Rogan wasn’t sure he could have got through the whole nightmare of it all if Elizabeth hadn’t warmly filled the awkwardness during the times Rogan simply hadn’t known what to say in answer to some of the kind comments made to him about his father.

It had come as a total surprise to him how much his father had been involved in the local community in the years since
his retirement. How much affection and respect he was still held in by the people he had worked with.

‘Nevertheless, I’m grateful.’ Rogan reached out and laced his fingers with Elizabeth’s as her hand rested on her lap. ‘I wasn’t so hot, but both you and Mrs Baines came through for my father today.’

Elizabeth warned herself not to read anything into Rogan taking hold of her hand in this intimate way. He was just expressing his gratitude for her support today. Which made absolutely no difference to the slight trembling of her fingers at Rogan’s lightest touch, or the tide of physical tension that suddenly flared between them.

She moistened peach-glossed lips. ‘Rogan, I know it was Mrs Baines who took the books.’