The Mistress Memoirs Page 25

  She turned her head on the pillow. “Not those kind of shivers. What if the rest of your family disapproves of me?”

  He leaned over her, peeling the covers from her shoulders. His gaze traveled over her shapely curves. “Why wouldn’t my family like you? You brought me to my senses after all of these years.”

  “That doesn’t seem fair. After all, you made me lose mine.” She stared down from his face to his nude body. “Don’t you think you should at least wear a robe to bed in your cousin’s house in case of a fire? I would die a thousand deaths of shame on your behalf.”

  “I wonder if my brothers traveled with him,” he said absently.

  She started laughing. “They at least must have seen you naked before.”

  His eyes warmed; he was fully awake now. “Why are we wasting breath on them when we could be making love instead?”

  “If you’re going to proposition me, you could at least put your pistol away.”

  He reached his arm back, placed the gun on the dresser, then leaned forward and pulled her atop his fully aroused body. “Better?”

  “Let me unlace—”

  “There’s no need,” he said, his voice deep pitched. He pushed her night rail up around her waist and eased his swollen cock inside her, giving her a moment to adjust before he grasped her hips, lifted his ass from the bed and thrust into her as hard as he could.

  She arched her back, her breath catching. “Thank you for the advance notice. I hope that I will be able to walk in the morning.”

  “Should I stop?”

  She shook her head and bore down before he thrust again. “Can you?”

  “I could, but it would kill me,” he said and gripped her harder as he set up a rhythm of penetration and withdrawal that she instinctively began to follow.

  “Colin—”

  She felt her body tighten, felt him watch her face, waiting for the moment when she unraveled and belonged completely to him. He cupped her breasts in his hands, squeezing her nipples between his fingers. Her heart beat wildly. She closed her eyes, the friction of his thrusting against the hood of her sex stealing her control.

  He grunted, pumping harder. She did indeed die a little death, convulsing as moments later he came inside her. Neither of them stirred for long moments afterward. The night air shivered over her bare skin. Her lips stung, as did the hollow of her cleft, where their bodies remained joined.

  He pulled her down against his chest and wrapped his arms around her, whispering, “Do you want anything? Champagne? A castle? All the diamonds in the world?”

  “No. Just hold me until I fall asleep.”

  “Kiss me once, then,” he said. “And I might let you rest through the night.”

  “What did you mean about your brothers?” she murmured. “Is there some estrangement between you?”

  He kissed her lightly on the lips. “We’ll find out tomorrow. It has nothing to do with you. I’ve been away from home a long time. It would be naïve to expect that they haven’t changed as much as I have, or to hope that they will help me when I haven’t played any part in their lives.”

  Chapter 43

  Kate promised she would guide Georgette through the evening of their official introduction to the marquess and his wife, although she was unbearably anxious herself about meeting the patriarch of Colin’s family. Despite her husband’s assurance that he would not abandon her, Colin walked the two women into the formal gold drawing room, stood for their introductions, and was promptly lured away by some male friends from his boyhood who demanded drinks all around in his honor.

  “Don’t drag your tail,” Georgette whispered. “You’re one of them. And remember what you told me. I’m the mother of one of them.”

  Kate burst into giggles.

  “That’s better. Levity always helps.”

  Except that she couldn’t stop.

  “Now you’re making an ass of yourself,” Georgette said, edging several steps to the right to place distance between her and the spectacle Kate was creating. “She’s had a few too many; it will soon pass,” Georgette said to the footman who gave Kate a quizzical look. “She doesn’t get out much these days, I’m afraid.” She turned to Kate in reproach. “And no wonder. Kindly keep those snorts under control. You’re at a party, not in a pigsty.”

  “A p-p-pig—” It was her nerves. She clapped her gloved hand to her mouth to smother a fresh episode of giggles, aware at this point that people had begun to stare and that, oh, goodness—the marchioness was cutting through the crowd to either expel her from society or demand an explanation for this breach of etiquette.

  Everyone stood aside for Lady Jane’s passage. When she reached Kate, she lifted her hand in the air and asked in sympathy, “Choking? Would you like a good thump between the shoulders?”

  Tears of mirth filled Kate’s eyes. She managed to shake her head in apology. Georgette, the traitor, had wandered off and attached herself to a rakish young gentleman who had taken out his quizzing glass to admire either her bosom or her emerald choker.

  “Bridal nerves,” Kate sputtered at last. “I’m all right now. I apologize from the bottom of my heart.”

  The honey-haired marchioness regarded her in amusement. “I wanted us to meet alone. I am Jane, Colin’s cousin-in-law.”

  Kate curtsied. “I’m honored, ma’am.”

  “First of all, congratulations on your marriage to Colin. I wish the entire family could have been here to witness it. A wedding of a black sheep returned to the fold is a double reason to rejoice.”

  “Thank you,” Kate said, glancing around the room. She thought she saw Colin walking out onto the terrace with two other men.

  “Those are his brothers, Sebastien and Gabriel,” Jane said quietly. “I suppose we should give them time alone before I introduce you.”

  Kate glanced back at her. She had not imagined the note of concern in Jane’s voice. “They don’t appear to be celebrating their reunion.”

  “As I understand it, they have a common enemy to be caught. Oh, listen to me. That is a dark subject we can discuss another day. Tonight I want to welcome you to the family.”

  Jane chattered on. Now Kate didn’t feel like laughing at all. What were Colin and his brothers planning to do? She shook herself as she realized Jane had just asked her a question and was expecting a reply.

  She stared blankly, trying to discern from Jane’s face what she had said. Something about a courtesan—merciful heavens, did the family assume that Kate was a courtesan? It wouldn’t be a surprising leap in logic. Colin had mistaken her for a harlot the night they met. Why wouldn’t a person assume Kate had padded her purse with a paid liaison here and there? Birds of a feather did flock together.

  “Will you?” Jane whispered, winking at Kate in some unspoken conspiracy.

  Kate blinked when she suspected she should have winked back. “Will I what?”

  “Urge Mrs. Lawson to accept an invitation to my suite later on tonight for a private chat with Julia and me about her experience as a courtesan. You’re invited, too, of course. Her profession isn’t a secret, is it?”

  “Oh. Oh.” Kate was too relieved to take offense. “No. On the contrary. I’m sure she would be honored to accept, except that it looks as if she might be making plans for another after-midnight rendezvous.”

  Jane stared across the room at the gentleman whose company Georgette was obviously making an effort to escape. “It’s that vile Viscount Portland. Why Grayson invites him to our house parties I don’t understand. He’s a hopeless philanderer with too much money and not a moral bone in his body.”

  “The marquess?”

  Jane laughed in delight. “Oh, heavens, no. I wouldn’t put up with that a moment. Ah, Mrs. Lawson has given the vile viscount the shoulder. Shall I take you out onto the terrace to meet Colin’s brothers? I understand there is an older one who is in some exotic country and has been away from England longer than your husband.”

  “I don’t want to intrude on their r
eunion.”

  “Nonsense. This is your honeymoon. If they don’t desire our company, we shall leave.”

  * * *

  Colin shook his head, afraid he would express too much emotion. “Dear God,” he said with a laugh to his youngest brother, Gabriel, Colonel Sir Gabriel Boscastle. “Do you know what I remember about you the last Christmas Eve we spent together as a family? You riding a mare bare-arsed backward and Mother dropping her favorite plate on the floor when she saw you from the window.”

  Heath smiled. “He hasn’t changed much, according to his wife.”

  Colin shook his head again. “You married the village lady who scorned you, and I did not marry the girl that I promised I would.” He turned to his brother Sebastien, who behind Colin’s back had become Lord Sebastien Michael Boscastle, First Baron Boscastle of Wycliffe. “I am glad to see you well. I regret that I wasted two years of your life. I know it seemed cruel when we went our separate ways.”

  Sebastien shrugged. “Cruel? We made a blood pact to find Earling.”

  “I couldn’t justify forcing you to starve and sleep in fields because of my vendetta.”

  “I thought he was my father, too,” Sebastien said, staring out across the garden.

  “No one ever said otherwise.”

  “Do you remember what you said to me that night in the barn?”

  Colin caught Heath’s eye. Careful. This was not a boy’s anger, but a man’s. It had festered for too long to be lanced and healed in a few moments. “Not exactly, no.”

  “‘It’s time to grow up. I don’t want you at my side for the rest of my life. Find your own way.’”

  “I did it for you. There was a war. We both enlisted—”

  Sebastien straightened. “The war is over. But you still need to be the family hero. It’s your game. You’re in charge.”

  Colin felt heat rush to his face. “What game are you talking about?”

  “You misled me. You planned to resume the chase for Earling the entire time. You denied me that honor.”

  “That is partially true,” Colin said. “But if I had decided to waste the rest of my life hunting him down, I wasn’t prepared to sacrifice yours.”

  For an instant he thought Sebastien would strike him. A physical confrontation to clear the air would have been preferable to the pain that flared in his brother’s eyes and was quickly extinguished. “I could have made the decision for myself.”

  “Then help me now—”

  Sebastien turned on his heel and descended the steps into the garden, leaving the three men behind him in absolute silence, his tall figure soon engulfed in darkness.

  * * *

  It took Kate and the marchioness a full twenty minutes to reach the other side of the room. Jane paused every so often to introduce Kate to one of the guests; they broke free just as Heath entered through the French doors and headed for a door to an antechamber. Colin and a swarthy gentleman who greatly resembled him followed behind. Kate assumed he was one of Colin’s brothers.

  Her husband’s grim expression discouraged her from making her presence known. She understood instinctively that this was not the time to demand his notice.

  Instead, she stood immobile, as did Lady Jane, who patted her arm in distracted comfort and said, “I shall get to the heart of this. It has nothing to do with you.”

  “If it hurts my husband, it does involve me. Isn’t there a brother missing?”

  “Yes. Have a glass of champagne. Drink one for me. I believe I might be expecting.”

  “How wonderful.”

  Jane smiled. “I think so. Now, be strong. Mingle with the other guests while I investigate.”

  Despite Jane’s advice, Kate walked toward the French doors and then out onto the terrace, the room suddenly stifling, too many voices buzzing in her ears. In the moonlight she discerned a familiar figure darting behind one of the neatly clipped yews. “Come out, Brian. I know you’re there.”

  He stepped out to face her. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop this time. But I was hoping to meet my uncles, and then I heard the arguing, and I knew my father would be furious.”

  “It’s all right.”

  He came up the steps. “Is it because of my mother?”

  “No. Not at all.”

  They stood together for an interlude, listening to the laughter and music from within the house. At length he said, “What do you think will happen?”

  “I can’t imagine.”

  He looked at her. “Maybe you ought to go back inside. My mother’s talking to another man. This time it appears serious.”

  She swung around. He was right. “Maybe you—”

  “I’ve been given permission to sleep in the stable tonight. It’s ever so grand.”

  “Go, then, Brian. Whatever is amiss might be better in the morning.”

  Chapter 44

  Georgette was bubbling over like a fountain of champagne when Kate finally reached her. “The most wonderful thing in the world has just happened to me,” Georgette whispered. She drew Kate around a cluster of older gentlemen, none of whom were the white-bearded guest, who had made a timely escape before Kate could give him the evil eye. He’d looked rather distinguished, actually, a little on the heavy side, but impeccably dressed, and well liked to judge by the crowd that thronged around him as he left Georgette’s side.

  She looked at Georgette and felt the usual tug of fondness and chagrin. Georgette’s ebullience could only mean she had stumbled upon another besotted man who had vowed to cherish her until the end of time or the end of the year, whichever came first.

  “The most wonderful thing has happened to me, too,” Kate said wryly. “I just got married.”

  “Yes, yes,” Georgette said impatiently. “But now I’ve finally met the man of my dreams. Don’t give me that look. I vow on my soul that it is true. There has never been a more perfect man for me in the world.”

  Kate stared across the room at the gentleman in question. “That man?”

  “Lord Aramis Philbert,” Georgette said in wonder.

  Kate gasped. “The publisher?”

  “The one and only,” Georgette replied, although Kate doubted Georgette had ever heard of him before tonight.

  “The happily married publisher with children? And grandchildren, from what I understand. I can’t believe my ears. What are you telling me?”

  Georgette gave one of the shrugs she had perfected in front of her looking glass. “I won’t have to burden you and Colin like an old dowager. I shall have my own lodgings in London.”

  Kate’s eyes widened. The old devil was standing beside a silver-haired lady who could only be his wife. “And . . . and he wants you to be his mistress, in London, behind Lady Philbert’s back? With her permission?”

  Georgette looked appalled. “What on earth gave you that idea? For your edification, this is a business deal, not a dalliance. Why does your mind leap to the most unsavory conclusion?”

  Kate folded her arms. “I haven’t a clue. It wouldn’t have anything to do with your career, would it?”

  “My past career, you mean. I am soon to be a writer, bought by the same wonderful man who publishes some of your favorite books.”

  “The Wickbury Tales by Lord Anonymous?” Kate asked, disbelieving.

  Georgette broke into a grin. “Yes!”

  “But those are fiction, madam. Yours are factual.”

  “Precisely,” Georgette said, nodding at Kate as if she were a dog who had learned a new trick. “That’s why Aramis is certain I shall become a best-selling author.”

  “Why you?” Kate asked bluntly, miffed that she had been excluded from Georgette’s moment of glory.

  “Why not me?” Georgette asked. “Aramis only confirmed what you’ve said all along—memoirs of famous personalities are the rage, and the populace can never read enough of our naughty secrets.”

  Now that the shock had begun to wear off, Kate allowed herself to share in Georgette’s elation. It was indeed a dream come true�
��as long as Georgette had not misunderstood.

  “How did he know you were writing a memoir?” she wondered aloud.

  “He didn’t. His wife suggested it—I appear to be more well-known than I realized—and after three glasses of champagne I asked if I could trust her with a confidence, and she said on her honor, yes, I could. It never would have happened without you, Kate.” She paused to draw a quivering breath. “I suspect Lord Heath had a hand in this. I told him about my memoirs. Isn’t this the most incredible night of our lives?”

  “Yes,” Kate said, afraid both of them might dissolve into tears. “Congratulations!”

  Georgette lifted her head. “I forbid you to make me cry. Wherever did your husband get off to? It’s time for him to realize that I’m not as empty-headed as I look.”

  * * *

  Kate counted her blessings as she burrowed against Colin in bed later that night. She hadn’t told him about Georgette’s triumph. Nor had he mentioned his falling out with Sebastien. She waited, uncertain whether she should admit that she knew. No. Best not to interfere. He’d talk about it when he was ready. Her thoughts drifted. Look how long it had taken her to admit what had happened in her past, and even then it hadn’t been a voluntary confession. Still, she wished to offer comfort—

  “Are you asleep?” he asked.

  She stirred, her cheek pressed to his shoulder. “No.”

  “You were.”

  “I wasn’t.” She raised her head. The raw pain in his eyes disconcerted her. “What is it?”

  “You’ve heard?”

  She couldn’t lie even to save his pride. “Yes.”

  “Well, then. You are the rock on which we all stand. What should I do? If I go ahead with what I have planned, Sebastien will despise me forever.”

  “And if you don’t?”

  “I don’t know that I could live with myself.”

  She breathed out a sigh, subsiding back against his chest. “You’ve already made up your mind. When are we leaving for London?”

  “You don’t have to come with me,” he said quickly. “You can stay here as long as you like.”