She should marry again, but after Khalid el Bey, who would suit her? She was too exotic and, she believed, too well-born, to wed with a mere London merchant. On the other hand, she was not sufficiently high born for a lord. Since Geoffrey was married, there seemed only one course open to her. Though she shrank from it, she knew she must take it. To cap the argument, there was also Willow to think of.
It would not be so awful. Geoffrey was handsome, and in love with her. He would treat her well, and since she need not rely on him for financial support she would retain a great measure of independence. This would set her above other men’s mistresses. And as his acknowledged mistress she would be safe from other men, for no man in his right mind would dare approach the Earl of Lynmouth’s woman!
Geoffrey’s breathing had become quite regular. How handsome he was in sleep, very much the Angel Earl of his nickname once sleep took the cynical and faintly arrogant look from his face. There was an almost vulnerable look, though he was indeed a strong personality. She let her eyes wander from his face to his wide shoulders and broad chest, down to his narrow waist and slim hips. His legs were long, shapely, and covered with a fine pale golden down. His feet were slender, high-arched, the nails neatly pared. Her eyes wandered upward again to his sex, limp now and settled cozily in its nest of soft blond hair. It looked so sweet and harmless now, yet a short while ago it had been a great, blue-veined beast driving her to pleasures she hadn’t known existed. She wanted to reach out and touch him.
“I trust it all meets with your approval, sweetheart.”
She started and color flooded her face. She gasped.
He chuckled, then opened his lime-colored eyes and, reaching up, pulled her down into his arms. “So, witch, you were taking inventory of me. I ask, does it meet with your approval?” Kissing her ear, he ran his tongue around it, then thrust in and tickled her.
She squirmed, shivering deliciously. “Stop it, Geoffrey! Yes! Yes! Your assets certainly do meet with my approval.”
He cupped a breast in his hand, rubbing the nipple. “The Queen will be resting for the next few days, so I am free. I want to take you away somewhere and spend all my time making love to you.”
“Yes!” she replied, slightly surprised at herself.
He chuckled again. “How flattering you are, and how honest. I approve, sweetheart. I know of an inn about half a day’s ride up the river. It’s small and elegant, and the food is excellent. I am well known to the landlord.”
“Do you take all your mistresses there?” she said more sharply than she would have wished.
“I have never taken any woman there,” he said softly, understanding her. “It is my own special place when I wish to escape the trials of being who I am. I thought we would go there and see if, after spending several days with me, you would like to become my mistress. That way, if you decide against it, our liaison will remain our secret. Though it would please me to shout our love to the world, I would not embarrass you publicly.”
“Geoffrey. I am so sorry I spoke in haste. And I thank you for being so considerate.”
“Sweetheart. I have had several mistresses in my day, but you’ve been a wife. It’s hard for you, I know, to reconcile yourself to this position.” He took her face in one hand and kissed her tenderly. “God, you’ve got the sweetest mouth!”
She felt herself growing languid again and she leaned back. Sighing happily, her deep blue eyes warm, she said, “Damn you, Geoffrey. What is it you do to me that one kiss renders me weak—and wanton besides.”
“What do you do to me, Skye, that renders me insatiable?”
Quickly they were in each other’s arms again, their mouths and tongues and hands devouring each other. Bodies entwined, they kissed until their mouths were bruised and both were breathless. Already aroused, his manhood beat against her thigh. Reaching down, she caressed him with teasing fingers, reaching out to cup the soft pouch beneath his shaft, running a sure finger firmly beneath it, hearing his gasp of surprised pleasure.
There was no excruciating waiting this time. She parted her thighs easily and he slid into her warmth. Confident now, she tightened her vaginal muscles about him as Yasmin had taught her. “Jesus!” he cried out softly as the wave of pleasure overpowered him. He drew back to thrust deeper yet, and again she tightened around him. “Stop, witch!” he begged. “It’s the most delightful tortureI’ve endured, but stop before I die. I want to pleasure you, too!”
Her arms were tight about him and as she loosened her grip on him he began to murmur softly to her, “Little witch, I knew that beneath the ladylike demeanor there was a passionate wanton. Open yourself to me, my darling. God, how warm and sweet you are! How your little honey oven burns for me—pleasures me—loves me!” He moved rhythmically with long, smooth strokes, each thrust seeming to go deeper than the one before. She could feel herself opening wide to receive him, taking him all, wanting even more. Oh, God, she wanted more! Sobbing, she felt her climax bearing down on her like a great wind, slamming into her with such force that she fainted, hearing as she slid away into the dark warmth his cry of pleasure.
Her first awareness was the kisses he was covering her face with. Dear God, she thought, that he can rouse me to such heights! She opened her eyes and smiled tremulously at him, her eyes brilliant with tears. He smiled back and ran a slim finger tenderly down her nose. “You’ve bewitched me, my blue-eyed love. Tomorrow afternoon we shall ride upriver to the Ducks and Drake. For several days we shall do nothing other than make love in a beautiful room that overlooks the river, and eat and drink sweet wine. I shall bind you to me so you’ll never want to leave me, sweetheart. Never!” His mouth closed over hers again, kissing her deeply. Then he loosed her and rose from the bed. He drew on his clothing quickly and smiled down at her. “We had best keep our liaison a secret for now, sweetheart.” His green eyes glittered. “Though you’ve probably not made up your mind about me yet, I’ve made up my mind about you. I mean to have you, sweetheart!” He bent again and placed a firm, light kiss on her forehead. “Sleep well, my darling. I’ve no doubt I’ve fair worn you out.” He walked across the room, lifted a tapestry hanging on the wall, and pressed a panel. A door swung open.
Skye gasped. “Where,” she demanded, “does that passage lead?”
“To my house,” he replied, a hint of laughter in his voice. “Remember—my grandfather built this house for his mistress.”
“Then there was no need to climb up to my window?”
“No, sweetheart, but I did think it was most romantic, didn’t you?”
She began to laugh. “Geoffrey, I’m not so sure you’re not a madman!”
He grinned. Then, blowing her a kiss, he disappeared through the passage and the door swung shut behind him.
“What manner of man have I involved myself with?” she said softly aloud. A damned interesting one, the voice in her head answered, and she laughed into the darkness.
CHAPTER 16
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, SKYE SENTDAISY TO FINDROBERTSmall. The little captain had rolled in, a good hour past dawn, much the worse for wear. When he finally made an appearance, rumpled and red-eyed, Skye winced. “Oh, Robbie, how many pints did you drink?”
He gave her a weak grin. “It wasn’t the pints so much as the wenches. They were twins, and just sixteen. Ah, youth!”
