Amanda Quick - Mistress

"My pattern book of classical designs will be inspired directly from actual observations and sketches of genuine ruins such as these." Iphiginia waved a graceful hand to indicate the jumble of artifacts around the room. "That way fashionable people who wish to decorate in the antique manner will be assured that their architects and decorators adhere to the original version of whichever classical style they choose, whether it be Greek or Roman, Egyptian or Etruscan."

"It sounds an ambitious project, Mrs. Bright." "Yes, it is. But I am quite looking forward to it. I have spent the past year collecting these items and as you can imagine, I am very eager to get to work on my pattern book."

"Naturally." He studied the creamy color of her skin in the lamplight and wondered how it would taste. He started toward her.

"But first things first." Iphiginia straightened away from the centurion. "I must deal with my aunt's blackmail problem before I can begin my project. You're quite certain that my impersonation will not cause you any undue problems?"

"On the contrary. I'm certain it will cause me no end of trouble." Marcus reached out and took hold of her bare shoulders. Her skin was incredibly warm and soft beneath his hard, callused hands. She did not flinch from his touch. Indeed, she seemed momentarily mesmerized.

"Marcus? I mean, my lord?" She touched her lower lip with the tip of her small tongue. "I do not wish to cause trouble for you, sir." She sounded breathless again. Her eyes were deep and enticing whirlpools in a bottomless sea.

"I stand ready to put myself at your disposal, Mrs. Bright."

"That is very kind of you, sir. May I ask why you are willing to be so helpful if you do not entirely believe my explanations about the blackmailer?"

"As it happens, I am in need of a mistress." He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her as he had been aching to kiss her since he had first seen her in the Fenwicks' ballroom.

"Marcus? I mean, my lord?" She touched her lower hp with the tip of her small tongue. "I do not wish to cause trouble for you, sir." She sounded breathless again. Her eyes were deep and enticing whirlpools in a bottomless sea.

"I stand ready to put myself at your disposal, Mrs. Bright."

"That is very kind of you, sir. May I ask why you are willing to be so helpful if you do not entirely believe my explanations about the blackmailer?"

"As it happens, I am in need of a mistress." He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her as he had been aching to kiss her since he had first seen her in the Fenwicks' ballroom.

SHOCK LANCED THROUGH IPHIGINLA WITH THE FORCE OF lightning shooting through a cloud. She could not have been more startled if the marble centurion had suddenly sprung to life and taken her into his arms.

She was so astonished by the feel of Marcus's mouth on her own that she went absolutely rigid for a few disbelieving seconds.

Marcus was kissing her. His strong, powerful hands rested on the naked skin of her shoulders, sending small shivers of excitement down her spine.

This notorious man whom she had come to know so intimately and whom she admired so much, this man who had stridden through her dreams every night for nearly a month, was making love to her right here in her own library.

Marcus had occupied her every waking moment since she had returned to London. She had spent her days studying him so that she could turn herself into a believable illusion of a woman to whom he might conceivably make love.

She had garnered rumors, tales, and a few real facts from every available source. She had read everything that he had written that she was able to find. She had spent hours contemplating the smallest details that she had learned about him in an effort to comprehend him and make him seem more real.

In the process she had created a very private fantasy for herself, one she had not shared with anyone, not even Amelia or Aunt Zoe.

Late at night, after a long, tension-filled evening of playing her role, she had lain awake imagining how it would feel to actually he Marcus's mistress, to be the woman he took to his bed, to he the woman he loved.

The woman he loved. A long time ago she had quietly concluded that she was not the sort of female who could experience great passion or inspire it in a man. She had come to terms with that knowledge, accepted it. She had told herself that she was too level headed, too practical, too intellectual to fall in love.

Nevertheless, in spite of her own self-knowledge, she had woven a web of fantasies around Marcus.

It had all seemed harmless enough because the man was safely dead.

But tonight he had walked out of her dreams straight into her life. And he was far more fascinating in the flesh than he had ever been in her dreams.

"You are most unusual, Iphiginia. Not at all what I expected." Marcus's voice was dark and shadowed with heavy sensuality. "Yet you are exactly what I seem to want tonight.»

She could not answer, not only because he captured her mouth again, but because she was quivering from head to toe. His arms tightened around her as he nibbled gently at first, then persuasively, and then more insistently. His hands tightened on her shoulders.

She gasped, parting her lips. He responded by invading her mouth with his tongue.

The momentary stiffness created by her initial surprise evaporated, leaving Iphiginia feeling incredibly warm and pliant. Heat pooled in her lower body. It was an extraordinary sensation.

She gave a muffled moan which seemed to please Marcus. His fingers flexed on her skin. Another wave of delicious shivers went through her.

She lifted her hands and gripped the dangling ends of his long, white cravat. "This is really most astounding, my lord."

"Yes, it is, is it not?" He kissed her jaw and the tip of her nose. "And I promise you that you are no more astonished than I."

"My lord." "My name is Marcus." "Oh, Marcus." Consumed in the fires of her excitement, she released his cravat and wound her arms snugly around his neck.

The movement instantly brought her body into closer contact with his. She was pressed tightly against him now. Her breasts were crushed against the wall of his broad chest. She could feel the shockingly hard bulge of his manhood straining beneath his breeches.

His long fingers brushed against the nape of her neck. She cried out softly in response. The place between

her legs began to grow damp. Her head tipped back against his arm, and his lips found her throat.

"Marcus. Dear heaven." She clenched her fingers in his hair. Her senses were whirling now. She could not seem to think.

"I believe you will make me a most excellent mistress, my sweet." Marcus took a step back toward the wide green and gold Grecian sofa. He tugged Iphiginia with him.

She beard a dull thud as his boot came up against one of the broken chunks of marble.

"Bloody hell." "Oh, dear." Iphiginia started to pull back. "Do he careful, my lord. You'll do yourself an injury."

"No doubt, but I trust it will he worth it." Marcus sidestepped the stone and fell back onto the sofa.

He kept one foot on the floor and tumbled Iphiginia swiftly down on top of him. She spilled across his hard, muscled body and lay captive between his thighs. Her airy skirts fluttered delicately for a moment or two as if in protest. Then they settled across Marcus's legs with a soft whisper of surrender.

The heat that poured from Marcus threatened to bum Iphiginia. She had never felt anything so intense.

He caught her face between his hands and brought her mouth to his.

The spell was broken by a horrified exclamation from the vicinity of the door. "Iphiginia. What is going on in here?"

Dazed from Marcus's lovemaking, Iphiginia started to raise her head. "Amelia?"

"Damnation," Marcus growled. "What in the bloody hell?"

"Let her go at once, you damnable man. Do you bear me? In the name of heaven, release her."

"Amelia, wait. Stop." Iphiginia pushed herself up on her hands and turned her head toward the shadowed doorway. She saw Amelia, dressed in a chintz wrapper, her dark hair unbound, racing forward through the maze of statuary and furniture.

"Amelia, it's all right." Iphiginia struggled to sit up. Amelia paused, but only long enough to grab a poker

from the hearth. She hoisted it in a threatening fashion and glared at Marcus. "Let her go this instant, you bastard, or I'D brain you. I swear I will."

In one swift, startlingly efficient movement, Marcus pushed Iphiginia out of the way, rolled off the edge of the sofa, and got to his feet. He reached out and jerked the poker from Amelia's hand before she had even realized what he was about.

Amelia's shriek of dismay was a high, keening wad. "Amelia, calm yourself." Iphiginia stumbled to her feet, slipped past Marcus, and ran to her cousin. She put her arms around the distraught woman. "Calm yourself, cousin. I am all right. He was not hurting me, I promise you.

Amelia raised her head and looked at Iphiginia uncomprehendingly. Then she turned to stare at Marcus. "Who is he? What is he doing here? I knew this plan of yours was dangerous. I knew that sooner or later some man would seek to take advantage of you."

Iphiginia patted her soothingly. "Amelia, allow me to present the Earl of Masters. My lord, this is my cousin, Miss Amelia Farley."

Marcus raised one brow as he set the poker aside. "A pleasure, I'm sure."