“Yer Grace, beggin’ yer pardon, sir, but that gel’s not fit to?—”
“She is quite fit, John, deliciously so, and I daresay perfectly fit to run a household too. It suits my purpose twofold: She remains respectable by day and agreeable in my bed at night. I see no reason to change my mind so don’t even try.” Wells shot him a look. “I know you don’t like her, John, but I insist you learn to work with her. She’s got a good head on her shoulders and has proven useful with the locals already.”
“But sir, she’s usin’ you to?—”
“Of course she’s using me, John. As I am using her. I’d think less of her if she didn’t. You’ve met her family. I imagine they’re poor as dirt but come from some class somewhere back, else shewouldn’t be so educated, nor nearly so conceited. So you do your job and she’ll do hers, and with luck by spring this place will be halfway hospitable.”
Cuthbert sighed. It was a losing battle, he knew, but he looked Wells in the eye anyway and tried once more. “That gel’s trouble, sir, and I’ve me eye on a different miss for you in town, a prettier one who’s neither so clever nor so?—”
But Wells stopped him short. “John, I don’t need another girl, this one suits. You leave Miss Merrinan to me. Besides, I’ve more pressing business for you to attend to anyway.” And his lordship launched into a list of tasks he wanted done yesterday.
John shook his head, thinking his master was as stubborn as his pig-headed new mistress; the two deserved each other.
Wells snuck up on Charles bent over his chest of drawers, writing. His old breeches hugged her buttocks so delightfully he placed both hands at either cheek, making her jump enough to ruin her line, ink trailing across the page. He heard her snort in irritation.
“And how is your bottom today, miss, better, I hope?” His hands slid to her waist as he gently pressed himself against her, sliding them further up her torso to cup her fulsome breasts.
She sucked in her breath, as if unused to a man’s wanton touch, and drily answered, “Sore, my lord.”
“Pity,” he said. “I had hoped to ruin you before dinner, but I see I’ll have to wait.” He did not intend to ruin her today, or even tomorrow, not after this morning’s fiasco. He was going to take his time with her, but he didn’t want her to know that. Anticipation, after all, bred desire, and he wanted her good and ready for him when he finally did claim her.
“Have you finished your list of supplies? And what do you make of the Abbey, Charles? I am curious to hear my new housekeeper’s thoughts.”
She turned about only to find herself trapped in his arms, for Wells had no intention of letting her go. He merely petted her as one would a cat, letting down her hair again and swiftly undoing her shirt. He could feel her pulse begin to race, her breaths quicken, while his hands explored her freely.
“As your lordship already knows,” she began with shaky voice, “the Abbey is in great disrepair. The rooms are . . . That is, exterior work must be done first in some places before . . . interior restoration can . . .” She was struggling to speak. “My lord, I beg you I cannot . . . I cannot concentrate when you . . . When . . . ”
His lips met the hollow of her throat, his tongue lapping circles there, teasing her relentlessly, till she cried, “My lord, if you do not stop I shan’t be able to?—”
“What, Charles?” His tongue dipped lower.
“I shan’t be able to complete my duties as housekeeper, sir!” She gasped as he freed one ripe orb from her stays to pop into his mouth.
“Lord Wellesley, I beg you . . .”
“Beg me what, Charles?”
“I beg you, stop!”
So he did, pulling away to stare his fill. She looked deliciously bothered and delectably bewitching, her chest heaving with one breast exposed.
He smiled wickedly. “Very well then, continue.” He lowered himself into a chair across the room.
“Continue? Now? After you’ve just . . .” She seemed appalled.
“You bid me stop so you might continue with your assessment of the Abbey. I have done so, therefore, pray proceed.” He kept his face blank, though his lips twitched.
She stared back, speechless, as if torn between fury and desire, her body caught. He knew that feeling well.
“I’m waiting.” He arched one brow.
And in an instant she’d thrown herself upon him, her lips locking onto his as her hands fisted his hair, demanding he finish what he’d begun. Wells was instantly aroused yet taken aback by her attack, though he returned her kiss with equal ardor. She straddled his lap, despite her bottom’s welts, and he pushed off her shirt, pulling at cords to loosen her stays. He strained to fill her and was shocked when she freed him from his trousers, taking him in her hand as he’d only just shown her how to do.
“Christ, woman, you want me, don’t you.” He broke from her lips, breathing hard as his eyes met hers.
“Yes.” She stared back, repeating simply, “Yes.”
“You’re not ready,” he growled, slipping his hand between her legs.
