His Lady Mistress by Elizabeth Rolls Read Free Book Online Page A

you…that you…well, anyway, I am sure. But please go!’
    ‘Has that little toad bothered you again?’ he asked sharply.
    Her stomach lurched. ‘No. He hasn’t been anywhere near me.’ She could not repress a shiver. The moment Lord Blakehurst left Godfrey would be at her again.
    ‘Good.’
    Her eyes widened at the harsh note in his voice. ‘Why should you care?’
    He didn’t answer. Instead, he came towards her. She forcedherself to stillness, meeting his suddenly intense gaze unblinking.
    Slowly he lifted a hand and brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek, tracing the line of her jaw, the softness of her throat. Every precept of good sense and modesty shrieked at her to strike his hand away. She remained still, captive to his gentle touch. When had she last been touched gently?
    The answer shook her to the core. Nearly five years ago. By Max Blakehurst. Only now his touch made her restless, sent shivers rippling through her. She forced herself to remain still, rigid.
    After a moment his hand dropped. He inclined his head. ‘Good afternoon, Selina.’
    The door shut behind him and slowly Verity lifted her hand to the path his fingers had traced.
     
    Twenty minutes later Max rode out of the stable yard. With Lady Moncrieff stalking him through the house, retreat was the only sane tactic. He had no stomach for her ladyship’s plans for their mutual entertainment and having her forever cooing about him had become intolerable.
    He pushed his horse harder, seeking forgetfulness in the flying hooves and surging power beneath him.
    Several miles later the mare’s labouring breath told him it was time to turn for home. He drew the lathered animal to a halt, dismounted and loosened her girth.
    ‘Easy, old girl.’ He rubbed the sweaty nose. ‘I’ll walk for a bit. Give you a breather.’ Guilt and self-loathing did not excuse riding his horse into the ground. There was no rush, he could take his time getting back. When he did he’d make his excuses and depart. There was nothing to hold him at Faringdon Hall.
    Or was there?
    Deep grey eyes swam into focus. Wary, shuttered eyes, fringed with the darkest lashes. Selina…what was her name? Dering. Selina Dering. He came to a dead halt. Why the devilwould he consider staying for Selina? As far as he could judge, his warning to Godfrey and Lord Faringdon had taken effect. She had said herself that Godfrey had not been near her. What more could he do for her?
    His whole body hardened as he walked on slowly, suggesting all manner of things that they could do for each other. From the moment she had landed in his arms the other night he’d been conscious of the attraction. He wanted her. At first he’d tried to ignore it. Told himself he’d acted in her defence from motives of the most disinterested chivalry. It was only half-true. He wasn’t disinterested. On the contrary.
    Her very refusal to have anything to do with him piqued his interest. Most girls in her position would be doing their utmost to cast languishing smiles, practically tripping over themselves—literally—to engage his interest. Selina couldn’t get rid of him fast enough. He grinned. Not what he usually looked for in a mistress, but for her he’d willingly make an exception. God, she’d be sweet…
    No! Be damned if he’d behave as Faringdon had, forcing the girl into submission.
    But you wouldn’t be. All you have to do is offer. She can refuse.
    And she would. Her whole response to him suggested that. Far from trying to catch his attention, she had been practically pushing him out of the door of the sewing room. Hardly encouraging, but at least she had some spirit left. Whatever her background was, she didn’t talk or behave like a servant.
    He faced another truth. When he left, what was to prevent Godfrey taking up where he had left off? Probably at the most he had won the girl a breathing space. He swore under his breath. All he wanted was to shake the dust of this place from him,