Mistress by Mistake

not.

When he was sure she had no more fight left in her, he cut the ropes, shedding his clothes before he disgraced himself like a schoolboy. She curled around him like a cat, every inch of her skin seeking his. His cock drove into her sweet heat and he kissed her, gifting her with her own essence. She shattered and he deepened the kiss, feeling that she was branding him now, making him a slave to her. He was plummeting, spinning, losing his bearings.

But now she caught him. Ensnared him in her honeyed trap. Anchored him inside her, her legs wrapped around him, hips soaring up to complete the job he’d started. Control had shifted, and it was she who drove him in deeper, she who held him so tight. She who robbed his mind and rocked his body like the expert she was.

Sex was supposed to be simple, elemental. But there was something about Charlie Fallon that complicated their coupling. She was everything he loathed-a manipulative woman-yet he couldn’t get enough of her. The taste of her, with or without raspberry fool. The feel of her. The orange-y scent of her, which made him hungry to kiss her everywhere all over again.

She was a thief. A liar. A whore. And right now, those words meant nothing at all.

Chapter 7

Charlotte’s body felt like it had been brutally beaten, but the truth was she had been pounded with bliss all through the night. When she woke up, all traces of Bay and what they’d shared were gone, save for the smudge of chocolate frosting on the pillowcase. At some point, he had painted her lips with the corner of a petit four, then licked her clean. The leftover fool had not gone to waste either. His cock had looked a bit silly cloaked in pink fluff when she’d taken her turn to do the licking. She’d lost count of the number of times they had brought each other to exaltation.

Charlotte struggled to sit up. The tray, even the squashed figs, had disappeared. She must have slept like the dead. She must stop drinking, although each bubble of champagne had burst on her tongue like a delicious explosion. She and Bay had consumed a second bottle at midnight during a slight lull in the festivities. Charlotte was uncertain precisely when she’d fallen asleep, but judging from the brightness in the room, she’d slept half the day away.

She couldn’t blame the wine for the abandon she’d exhibited. But she could blame Bay. The man was a tireless seducer. As his mistress, she was supposed to seduce him, but he had given her very little opportunity.

She was resigned now to her role, possibly reveled in it. Poor Deb did not know what she was missing. Marriage and respectability were all very well, Charlotte supposed, but she would not trade Deb’s new life for hers. Who could imagine that Charlotte was the more wicked of the Fallon sisters?

Sighing, she got out of bed and put on her robe. There was fresh water in the dressing room, quite cold now, but that’s just what she needed. She was significantly sticky. When Irene came up, she’d order a bath.

No. Irene had been given an impromptu vacation. Charlotte would have to haul the bathwater up on her own. She wouldn’t want Mrs. Kelly straining herself. To lose a cook of her caliber would be a sin.

Bay poked his head into the dressing room. “Ah, Sleeping Beauty. Up at last.”

Charlotte had not expected to see him. In daylight, their night seemed even more delectably decadent. “G-good morning, Bay.” He was still wearing his black robe, but looked far fresher than she was feeling.

“Mrs. Kelly has breakfast for us in the dining room. Just come as you are. We won’t stand on ceremony. Afterward, I’ll bathe you.”

Charlotte stared at him, shocked. She hadn’t been bathed by anybody since she was a baby. Her streak of modesty, up until she had encountered Sir Michael Xavier Bayard, had been deep and wide. Surely a protector was supposed to go off in the daytime and protect his club or his finances or something, leaving his mistress to her own devices.

“That won’t be necessary.”

Bay approached her, a grin on his face. He picked a sugared almond out of her tangled hair and popped it in his mouth. “Oh, Charlie, it’s very necessary. We both are disgracefully dirty. And as you can see, the tub is plenty big enough for two.”

Good Lord. Was she to have no privacy? But perhaps he just wanted to keep an eye on her so she wouldn’t try to bolt again. Her stomach rumbled and reminded her that the first order of business was breakfast. She’d think about the bath and bolting later.

Charlotte followed Bay down the carpeted stairs. Her boots were probably ruined after spending the night out of doors, and now she didn’t have a nightgown either. There were any number of things she wanted to speak to Bay about, but her mama always said a man had to eat before he could think. The sideboard was spread with enough food to feed every mistress on the street. Charlotte helped herself to eggs, toast, and a bowl of stewed fruit. She watched Bay load his plate with a variety of meats and shuddered. There was no need of meat in the morning. Then the hall clock struck once and she realized he was entitled to whatever he wanted.

She had never slept so late in her life. She had never had so much reason to sleep late. Lifting her tea to her lips, she peeked over the cup’s rim at Bay, who was reading a newspaper and enjoying a forkful of sausage. He looked handsome even ingesting pork products. Suddenly, he stopped chewing.

“The announcement is in the Times.”

“What announcement?”

“‘Lately, Arthur Alistair Bannister, Esq., Bard’s End, Elham, Canterbury, Kent to Miss Deborah Elizabeth Fallon, by special license.’”

Bard’s End! That was it. “Does it say anything else?”

“Not a word. No mention of his father the Earl of Cranmore and no mention of Jane Street for your sister, needless to say. I daresay the earl is having an apoplexy right about now.”

“Arthur could have done worse,” Charlotte said loyally.

“And could have done better, but let’s not argue. I wonder where they are. Are you sure she didn’t drop any hints?”

Charlotte had hardly paid attention as Deborah babbled on four days ago. Was it possible it was only four days? Quite a lot had transpired. The only thing she remembered definitively was ‘the Continent,’ which had comprised far too many countries in her geography book when she was a girl. She shook her head.

“Well, I daresay they’ll turn up somewhere. I have half a mind to go see Cranmore.” He tossed the paper down.

She pushed her eggs to one side, her appetite gone. “Why would you?”

“Perhaps he could talk some sense into his son.”

“Oh, Bay. If you were to tell the Earl of Cranmore that his new daughter-in-law stole your necklace, she’d never get Arthur’s family to accept her. Please don’t.”

“You are softhearted, aren’t you? After what your sister did, I don’t see how you can defend her. Unless-”

She saw the muscle clench in his jaw. “Unless I helped her trick you, you mean. When will you believe I had nothing to do with all this? I was just minding my own business, fast asleep-”

“In my bed.”

Charlotte waved his words away. “Fast asleep and having the most beautiful dream. It has become a nightmare I cannot wake from.”

His black eyes glittered. “A nightmare? I did not get the impression you felt that way last night. Or this morning.”

Charlotte stood up. “Perhaps I became somewhat deranged after being tied up naked for hours, inhaling fumes from your assault on my headwear. I obviously lost my mind.”

“I’ll be happy to help you find it.” Bay threw his fork down with a clatter.

“I doubt you could find anything as your head is wedged so far up your-” Charlotte gasped as Bay scooped her up and headed up the stairs. “Put me down!”

“With the greatest of pleasure. In my bed. Where you belong.” She pummeled his shoulders but he just squeezed her tighter. Changing her tactics, she let her body go limp.