His Lady Mistress by Elizabeth Rolls

into his arms and kiss all her fears away, but it had to be her choice. Faringdon might have taken her innocence, but he would have no part in forcing her any further down this road if she did not wish it. She had refused him very plainly. Perhaps she had meant it, perhaps not. He had to be quite sure.
    ‘You…you do not really want me, do you?’ The question ripped into him and he saw her turn to the door. Belatedly he realised that his attempt to warn her, to ensure she knew exactly what she was doing, had shamed her.
    ‘Selina!’
    She stopped and looked back, her cheeks scarlet. ‘My lord.’
    He fought for the right words. ‘It’s not that. I want you, but when I asked you before, you refused. I won’t force you. You must come to me. Of your own free will.’
    She took one step towards the bed and halted again.
    ‘That’s it,’ he said softly. ‘Come to me. I will not touch you until you lie naked beside me in this bed.’
    A shudder went through Verity as she heard his invitation and understood what it meant. She would have to strip in front of him. Take all her clothes off and walk naked to his bed. And in doing so she would cross the line from respectability to the demi-mondaine . She would be an outcast from decent society.
    What will have changed? You are already outcast. You’re little better than a servant. Worse, in fact, since you don’t get paid.
    Still she hesitated. She could feel his eyes on her, knew that the choice, and responsibility, were hers and hers alone. No one would be hurt or injured by her actions except herself. And this way she would wrest back control of her life.
    Her hands shaking, she fumbled with the first button of her bodice. Her fingers seemed made of wood. They slipped andfumbled, but at last it was undone. Swallowing, she looked down. There were a lot more buttons. A small sound from the bed caught her attention. Fleetingly she looked up and her fingers froze on the second button. He had stripped off his waistcoat and was engaged in hauling his shirt off over his head.
    Verity’s mouth dried at the sight of his heavily muscled body. Firelight slid and gleamed on the hard curves. She had never realised that a man’s body was so different, so very beautiful. Fascinated, she stared at the broad shoulders, the powerful chest with its dusting of curling hair. That was startling enough, but what really surprised her was the sudden urge she felt to touch him and discover all the textures of that magnificent body.
    A soft chuckle shocked her eyes back to his face as she realised she had been mesmerised. Her mouth dried out even further as she met his hot gaze.
    ‘Don’t forget your own buttons, my sweet.’ His voice was full of heated intent. ‘I had no intention of distracting you.’
    She couldn’t do it. Not with his eyes on hers like that. Temptation and warning in one fierce blaze, they threatened to consume her. She shut her own eyes and forced her fingers to obey her. A second button, then another, and another. Button after button, until the dress hung loosely about her. She stood, uncertain what to do next, agonisingly conscious of the unseen presence on the bed, aware of his gaze still burning into her.
    ‘Push it off your shoulders, let it fall to your waist.’
    She wouldn’t be naked. Quite. She still had her chemise. And a petticoat. Shivering, she obeyed, feeling her nipples tighten in the sudden chill. The dress fell about her hips, caught by their gentle swell.
    ‘You won’t be cold for long,’ came a murmur. ‘I’ll warm you.’ It sounded like a promise. A moment’s taut silence. Then, ‘Now push it off your hips. To the floor.’
    The heat in his voice sent tremors rippling through her.Eyes still tightly closed, she hesitated a moment, then drew a deep breath and obeyed. Never had she been so aware of her underclothes. Her skin shivered into life, conscious of every seam, the position of every carefully sewn patch.
    ‘Untie your petticoat.’