Temporary Mistress

'Yes, thank you.' She took the proffered glass. 'Unusual because of this-arrangement, you mean?'

He momentarily pursed his lips. 'A consideration perhaps, but no-I think your lack of affectation most appeals.'

'My lack of social graces, you mean,' she noted with a smile.

'Hardly. You could grace Almack's with the best of them. I suppose I dislike coy women, and you are not that. What you are, darling, is the fascinating focus of my desires-in a most disturbing way. And there, I've said enough. I despise conversations about feelings.'

'As do all men, in my experience.'

'Your experience?' He cocked one dark brow.

'In my grandfather's business. If one ever broached a subject that even veered in the direction of how one felt-say about a shipwreck, for instance, or a spoiled cargo, or the plight of laborers on the plantations that supplied much of the cargo-they would invariably say 'And so life goes,' as though it were possible to avoid an emotional reaction. Even Grandpapa, darling that he was, rarely mentioned his love for me other than to say, 'You're my sun and moon, Izzy'-he called me that from childhood-'now tell me what you want and you may have it.' '

Dermott grinned. 'A spoiled young lady-which accounts for your sexual demands. Not that I'm complaining.'

'Nor I, Lord Bathurst. You've lived up to your reputation splendidly.'

'We're not done yet.'

'I should hope not.'

His lazy smile was overtly sensual. 'Wanton minx.'

'Indeed.' She winked at him over the rim of her glass. 'And I never had the least idea.'

'I should be grateful to your disreputable relatives.'

'In a way I am. Because of you, of course.'

His gaze went shuttered, wary of female flattery after years of avoiding entrapment.

Her trill of laughter drifted to the bacchantes overhead. 'Do they all want to leg-shackle you?'

'Enough to make one cautious.'

'I know better. No need for alarm. But I'm glad you were the first,' she softly added.

And perhaps the last, a rash, impulsive voice inside his head avowed. Which voice was instantly quashed by those brute impulses that had sustained him in recent years. 'Thank you.' He didn't know what else to say. He had no intention of becoming involved.

'You're very welcome. And when you're sufficiently rested, I was wondering-if you didn't think me too forward-'

His gaze came up, and he waited with interest.

'Whether we could have some of that chocolate dessert that we left on the tray in your dressing room.'

He laughed. 'I fear I'm losing my touch.'

'Not in the least. In fact, I was trying to think of a way we could-do them both.'

'Since I'm not particularly interested in chocolate dessert, perhaps something could be arranged,' he murmured. 'Although I have the perfect wine for your chocolate. Come,' he said, rising and offering his hand.

He led her first to the dressing room, where he picked up the dessert plate she wished, and then, drawing her along, traveled through the large bedroom and drawing room, down the hall and staircase. Turning to his right, he ignored the hall porter dozing in his chair and walked down a lengthy corridor to a small door set oddly in a corner. 'Watch your step now.' Opening the door, he slowly led her down a narrow staircase, a coolness immediately apparent as they descended, and at the bottom of the stairs he opened a door into a well-lit wine cellar.

Obviously, he spent some time there, for a small anteroom entirely of brick was furnished with an elegant table and four upholstered chairs, a bow-fronted console, and a cupboard gleaming with glassware. Waving her into a chair, he set the dessert plate on the table, rummaged in a drawer for some flatware, produced an ornate fork and knife along with an embroidered napkin, and placing them beside the plate, bowed with an impudent grin. 'If Mademoiselle will allow me a minute more, I can assure her a pleasant interlude.'

'But of course,' she playfully replied with a cheeky grin of her own. 'So far I'm most impressed with your qualifications. All the gossip is quite accurate, my lord.'

'As for you…' His voice was like velvet. 'You've more than lived up to expectations.'

'Perhaps you should thank Molly's tutelage.'

He gently shook his head. 'You're just a hot little puss.'

'Then we're well matched.' Her brows rose faintly. 'And I mean it in the most specifically sexual way.'

His smile would have dazzled from a furlong away. 'We'll have to explore that sexual specificity.'

'I was hoping you wouldn't mind, although,' she gently added, glancing at his robe jutting outward rather than falling in silken folds to the floor, 'it looks as though I needn't worry.'

'The only thing you need worry about is stopping me. I seem to be obsessed tonight.'

'Not so unusual, according to rumor. Haven't you set all the sexual records of late?' The girls at Molly's had delighted in telling her.

'Not that I know of.' He never had sex for records, only for pleasure.

'So modest, Bathurst.'

'Dermott.'

'Dermott.' For the briefest moment it felt as though his name on her tongue gave her claim to him. She savored the fleeting impression for an unrealistic second before coming to her senses.

Bending low, he brushed her mouth with a kiss, touched by that same dizzy sensation. 'I'll be right back,' he murmured against her lips, because his propensity for sexual adventuring was well established in contrast to his lesser-used sensibilities and he easily reverted to type. 'And then I'll make you come.'

Leaning back in the soft chair, Isabella luxuriated in pleasurable anticipation, giving thanks as well to the benevolent hand of fate that offered her such a delectable means of securing her inheritance. What good fortune that she'd run down that particular lane and caught sight of Molly's blue door. What glorious luck that Dermott had been there-had seen her… and wanted her. And instead of being chained forever to her hideous cousin, she was here tonight-blissfully enchanted.

When Dermott returned a moment later with a dusty wine bottle, she looked up. 'Have you ever considered yourself in the role of savior? Because you definitely are forme.'

He had been for hundreds of women but not exactly in the manner she was implying. 'I'm pleased to be of service,' he murmured with a well-bred smile. 'But acquit me of such philanthropy. I'm self-indulgent in the extreme. And to that point, let me get this bottle open. You'll like it with your chocolate.' He roguishly winked. 'I'll like it with your chocolate.' Lifting a towel from a rack on the wall, he wiped the bottle clean and deftly opened it, the strength in his wrists as he twisted the cork free sending a little frisson down Isabella's spine. He was utterly exquisite, tall, powerful, more beautiful than even Michelangelo's David, which had always been her ultimate measure for male beauty. He was perfection. In every way, she reflected, recalling his ravishing sexual expertise and the rapturous pleasure he bestowed. Lost in her reverie, she glanced up when his hands closed on her waist.

'Your dessert's ready for you,' he whispered, lifting her from the chair, holding her with effortless strength as he took her place. Arranging her comfortably on his lap, he brushed a blond curl from her temple. 'Would you like me to feed you?'

'Do I have a choice?'

She spoke in a flirtatious contralto that made him conscious, however briefly, of the possibility of miracles. 'Not at the moment,' he softly enjoined. 'Open your mouth.'

She did with such languor, his erection surged, and her gentian eyes held his for a highly seductive moment as he placed the forkful of chocolate torte into her mouth. She gently sighed as the flavors tantalized her taste buds and Dermott's erection pressed into her bottom.

'I think I'll fatten you up with chocolate,' he whispered. 'And keep you filled with cock as well.'

'You must read minds,' she breathed, licking a fragment of chocolate from her plump bottom lip. 'I do adore chocolate and you,' she murmured, shifting gently, rubbing against his arousal.

'Then we'll have to accommodate you.'

'And you?' Her smile was lush with suggestion.

He grinned. 'I'm there… except for the chocolate.' Setting the fork aside, he lifted her slightly and turned her