Temporary Mistress

'I don't foresee a problem.'

'Unfortunately, she saw you tonight.'

'Saw me?' His expression darkened. 'What the hell's wrong with you?'

'I had nothing to do with it. You left your door open.'

'Jesus…' He glanced at the clock on the mantel. 'How long was she there?'

'Not long. I was gone from the sitting room for only a short time.'

'Thank God for that, I suppose.'

'I'm not exactly sure what she saw, but she was angry when she returned.'

He softly swore.

'Just a word of advice. She's a willful young lady.' Her gaze over her reading spectacles was direct. 'Consider, you might be taking on more than you wish.'

'I don't intend to take on anything. We all understand only a finite amount of time is involved.'

'And yet you seem curiously compelled.' She took off her spectacles and placed them on the desk. 'Hardly a common feeling for you.'

'Maybe it's the spring weather,' he sardonically drawled.

'Or maybe it's something you won't be able to control as easily as all your other casual alliances.'

'Let's not make too much of this arrangement. It's sex we're talking about. She understands, I understand, you understand. Just have her ready for me in one week, and I'll reward you handsomely.'

'I don't want money.'

His hand on the door latch slipped away, and his gaze took on a new keenness. 'You really mean it? You're feeling that charitable?'

'She strikes my fancy. I don't want to profit by her misfortunes.'

'You realize what you could get for her virginity.'

'Who better than me,' she calmly replied. 'Should I put her out for auction?'

'No!'

'So sure?'

'Don't toy with me, Molly. She's mine.' Gripping the latch once again, he pulled the door ajar. 'One week,' he gently said, and opening the door completely, he let himself out.

Chapter Six

DERMOTT RAISED a considerable number of eyebrows the following week as he participated in the punishing schedule of spring planting. From morning to night, he worked alongside the plowmen, setting so wicked a pace, his tenants wondered if he'd gone daft from his weeks of carouse in London. And when he should have been tired at night, he couldn't sleep, so he drank himself into oblivion instead. But even then he couldn't suppress the images of a young, innocent woman with eyes like deep blue summer skies and a face so fair he was reminded of goodness and unclouded days.

He scoffed at his absurd folly. Only a fool put stock in flimflam daydreams. But suddenly there was promise in the air, when his world had been shades of gray for a very long time. And fool or not, he crossed off the days, impatient for the week to end.

The day before he was to leave for London, he went to spend the evening with his mother. She lived, by choice, in a small manor house on his estate, her memories of the main house too painful. He always made it a point to visit his mother each day when he was home from London, but he felt a need for her company tonight as well.

He didn't know why.

But he brought her a bouquet of her favorite ruffled tulips and a special pear from the gardener, who knew her partiality for the fruit.

He waved away the servants when he entered the house and quietly entered her sitting room. Coming up behind her as she sat by the fire, he kissed her cheek, and sweeping his arms around her, presented her with his gifts.

Swiveling around, she gave him a glowing smile. 'I smelled your cologne, darling, so you couldn't really sneak up on me. But I adore surprises. You came to see me again tonight.' Taking his gifts from him, she lay the tulips in her lap and admired the perfect ripe pear. 'Timms is such a dear. He always remembers me.'

'He's forcing some new kind of pear for you as well,' Dermott said, taking a seat across from her. 'I think he said they were from Persia.'

'Didn't we go there once?'

'You're thinking of your father.'

'We weren't with him?'

Dermott's grandfather had died before he was born, his years of travel preceding his mother's childhood as well. 'He told you stories. That's what you're remembering.'

'You're sure.'

'Maybe I'm not completely sure,' he said kindly. 'Tell me what you recall.'

'I remember the ruins of Darius' palace and the bazaars with all their beautiful colors and smells and the beautiful terraces at Nakshi Rustam.'

His mother had retreated into the past the last years of her marriage, and even when his father had died, she'd not recovered completely from the misery of her marriage. He understood it was safer for her to live in her own universe. 'That palace should be one of the wonders of the world. It's spectacular, isn't it?'

'Especially at sunrise.' She smiled. 'I always liked it best at sunrise. You have a Thoroughbred named Sunrise, don't you? And your darling grays. How are they doing?'

She always knew him as her son regardless her tangled thoughts. And she would speak to him of his present events as though he alone was allowed to hold a contemporary place in her fractured reality.

'The grays are getting sleek in the pasture and Sunrise won at Doncaster last month.'

'Did you win a tidy sum?'

'Enough to buy you some new diamonds if you wish.'

'Now, why would I wish diamonds? I have all I want. You buy diamonds for some pretty young thing who turns your head. You haven't married yet, have you?'

When he'd returned to England, he'd told his mother of the death of his wife and son, but she had no concept of India, and it would never stay in her memory. Unlike Persia, the land she'd heard so much about as a child. 'I'm not married, Maman.'

'Do you have a special lady in your life?' Her voice was playful, her blue eyes bright with curiosity.

'Maybe I do.' The words shocked him even as uttered them.

'Tell me about her. Bring her to see me. You know how I'd love anyone you love.'

'I don't think it's come to that yet, Maman. But she fascinates me.'

'Then she will fascinate me as well. Does she ride?'

As a young lady, his mother's passion had been riding to hounds.

'I'm not sure. She's from the City.'

'The City? My goodness. Then she must be very rich.'

'She is, I think.'

'Well, we don't need her money now, do we, darling. So you can love her for herself. That's quite a nice idea. Unlike marriages of convenience.' Her expression suddenly changed, the joy vanishing from her eyes.

'She has blue eyes like you, Maman,' Dermott quickly interposed. 'And the most beautiful golden hair, like a fairy sprite. I thought her that the first time I saw her.'

His mother's expression immediately brightened. 'A fairy sprite? Oh, I adore fairies. Does she look like Queen Titania in Midsummer Night's Dream?.'

'Better.'

She clapped her hands. 'Then you're a very lucky man. Better than Titania and a fairy. Do hurry and bring her to me.'

'I'll have to ask her.'