One Man's Mistress: One Night with His Virgin Mistress / Public Mistress, Private Affair / Mistress Against Her Will

Tallie’s blush deepened hectically.

Oh, God, I might as well have ‘Virgin—untouched by human hand’ tattooed across my forehead, she thought, loathing him.

He was speaking again. ‘And you’ve actually staked your economic future on this unlikely enterprise?’

She was almost tempted to tell him about Alice Morgan. Make him see that it wasn’t all pie in the sky but a calculated and considered risk, except that it was none of his damned business. And, anyway, why should she explain a thing to someone who’d already mortified her beyond belief and was now going to ruin everything else for her?

‘Yes,’ she said, icily. ‘Yes, I have.’

‘Well,’ he said, ‘that pretty well explains why you snatched at the chance of living here when Kit dangled it in front of you.’ He paused. ‘Are you paying him rent?’

She shook her head. ‘Just—my share of the utility bills.’

‘Which can be pretty steep for a place this size. So how can you possibly afford them?’

‘By working day and night for months and saving every possible penny,’ she said huskily. ‘In order to give myself some dedicated time—a window of opportunity.’

‘You seem to have mastered the jargon anyway,’ he commented dryly as he refilled his mug. ‘Where were you living before this?’

‘I was sharing a flat,’ she said, ‘with my … my cousin and a friend of hers.’

‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘Then you have a place to go back to.’

Tallie stared into her mug. She said with difficulty, ‘No—no—I don’t. I—really can’t do that.’

She was expecting him to demand another explanation, but instead he said with a kind of damning finality, ‘Then you’ll have to find somewhere else, and quickly. Because you certainly can’t remain here.’

She’d known it would almost certainly come to that, but hearing it said aloud was still a blow. Not that she intended to meekly acquiesce, of course. This had been the perfect haven until he’d turned up, and she wasn’t giving up without a fight.

She said, ‘But there is nowhere else. Besides, I was invited by your brother. I was relying on him. Does that make no difference to you?’

‘None at all,’ he said brusquely. ‘And if you’d known him better—or used a little common sense—you’d have saved yourself a lot of trouble. Because Kit had no right to make such an arrangement with you, or anyone else. And, in future, he certainly won’t be staying here either,’ he added grimly. ‘So Veronica can go hang herself.’

He’d mentioned the name before. ‘Is that Kit’s mother?’

‘Unfortunately, yes.’ His tone was clipped.

‘Then perhaps I could speak to her about all this. Ask her to contact Kit and get it sorted out. After all, she must know that the flat doesn’t belong to him, and she might help.’

His mouth curled. ‘I don’t recommend it. For one thing, Kit is the apple of her eye, and therefore can do no wrong. She would simply blame you for misunderstanding one of the dear boy’s misguided acts of kindness.’ His voice was cynical. ‘Besides, she’s always regarded anything with the name Benedict attached to it as communal property and encouraged Kit to do the same.’

He paused. ‘And she would almost certainly regard you as some female predator in pursuit of him, and decide that he’d gone to Australia simply to get away from you.’

Tallie stiffened. ‘That’s ridiculous.’

He shrugged. ‘Undoubtedly, but that won’t stop her, and I can promise you that a penniless would-be writer isn’t at all what she has in mind for her only chick. So I’d steer well clear, if I were you.’

‘If you were me,’ she said, ‘you wouldn’t be in this mess.’

His smile was reluctant. ‘No, I wouldn’t.’

‘So what happens now?’ She tried for nonchalance, and missed. ‘Do I get thrown—bag and baggage—into the street?’

He was silent for a moment, his mouth compressed into grimness. ‘How long have you been living in London?’

‘A year,’ she returned defensively, guessing what was coming.

‘Long enough to make friends who might put you up on a temporary basis?’

She didn’t look at him as she shook her head. She must seem absolutely pathetic, she thought. A genuine Natalie No-mates. Yet several of the girls she’d worked with had invited her for a drink after work, which might have been a first step to friendship. But she’d always been obliged to refuse because she’d been working and she needed to keep every penny of her earnings for the future.

And, of course, there was Lorna, friend from her school days, who’d help if she could in spite of the inconvenience, especially if she discovered Tallie was in dire straits. Only it simply wasn’t fair to impose that kind of pressure on her, she told herself. No, she had to find her own solution.

‘And before London?’ He sighed abruptly. ‘No, don’t tell me. You lived at home with your parents, probably in some nice village full of nice people.’

‘And if I did?’ she demanded, stung by the weary note in his voice. He looked tired too, she realised for the first time, with the scar deepening the strained lines beside his mouth and the shadows beneath those amazing eyes, reminding her of the ordeal he’d just returned from.

My God, she thought. In a moment I’ll be feeling sorry for him—if I’m not careful.

She rallied herself. ‘What’s wrong with village life?’

‘Nothing, in theory,’ he said. ‘In practice, it’s not the ideal way to equip yourself for life in the big city. Too big a jump to reality. Which is why I can’t simply get rid of you, right here and now, as I’d like to do, because it would be like throwing a puppy out on to the motorway.’

Tallie gasped indignantly. ‘How bloody patronising is that? Kindly don’t treat me like a child.’

‘Well, you certainly didn’t appreciate my willingness to treat you like a woman,’ he said softly. ‘If you remember …’ His voice died into tantalising silence and the green eyes swept insolently over her, as if the protection of the thick folds of towelling suddenly no longer existed. Making it hideously, indelibly clear that he hadn’t forgotten a thing about their initial encounter, and might even be relishing the memory.

‘So while you’re still under my roof,’ he resumed more briskly, ‘patronage might be an altogether safer attitude for me to adopt. Agreed?’

Her shocked gaze fell away from his. Her brave words were forgotten.

She said in a stifled voice, ‘I suppose …’

He nodded. ‘And I know …’

There was another silence—tingling—charged.

Tallie’s heart was thundering. She said quietly, ‘Believe me, if I had anywhere—anywhere—to go at this moment, I’d already be on my way …’

‘In that case, why not spend some of your savings on a train fare back to the village? Or don’t you get on with any of your family?’

‘Yes, of course I do. My parents are lovely.’ She swallowed. ‘But, even so, they wouldn’t understand what I’m trying to do. Why I so badly need to see if I can finish this book and get it published. Actually make a career for myself as a writer.’

Mark Benedict frowned. ‘Surely, if you explained to them …’

‘It wouldn’t work.’ She spread her hands. ‘They’d think I was being silly—living in a dream world—and want me to slot right back into the old life, treat the writing as a hobby—something I do when I’ve finished the day job. And that I can also put down at the drop of a hat when I’m needed for something else. Which I would be—constantly.’

She paused. ‘But it just isn’t like that,’ she added passionately. ‘That’s why I know I have to stick to my original plan and stay in London. Although I promise I won’t trouble you any longer than I have to.’ She lifted her chin. ‘There must be somewhere affordable I can live, and I’ll find it, no matter how long it takes.’

‘I wish you luck,’ he said. ‘I must also warn you that it had better not take longer than a week, my little intruder. Don’t overestimate my capacity for philanthropy.’

She glared at him. ‘Not,’ she said, ‘a mistake I’m likely to make.’

‘Good,’ he said, unmoved ‘And, on that understanding, I want you and your belongings—all traces of you, in fact—out of my bedroom and bathroom within the hour. We’ll discuss the other house rules later.’

Tallie bit her lip. ‘I’ve been using your office to write in,’ she said. ‘Because there’s a printer there.’

‘Have you now?’ His tone was cold. ‘Egged on by Kit, no doubt?’

‘Well, yes.’ She looked down at her hands, clasped together in her lap. ‘I have to admit a real work room was one of the flat’s major attractions.’ She sighed. ‘I suppose he thought it was safe. That by the time you got back from Africa, I’d be gone.’

‘No,’ he said, ‘he would have thought nothing of the kind. Even without the civil war, we’d have been on our way home within a few weeks. The project was nearly finished and he knew it. He also knew I wasn’t expecting to find him here when I returned, because I’d already made it damned clear that I’d had more than enough of his freeloading and he could sling his hook.’

He shook his head. ‘So I’d bet good money that he set the whole thing up quite deliberately. A serious piece of aggravation to await my arrival.’

‘But I still don’t understand,’ she said. ‘Why drag me into your private conflict? If that’s what it is.’

‘Oh, it wouldn’t have been personal.’ His tone was casual. ‘I don’t suppose he ever considered your feelings at all. You were just … a means to an end. A spiteful valediction to me before he removed himself out of harm’s way.’

Tallie drew a breath. She said in a low voice, ‘I’ve never been used like that before.’

‘Well, don’t worry about it.’ He shrugged. ‘Kit’s just made you a member of a not very exclusive club.’ He looked at his watch. ‘And now I’d like to reclaim the more personal areas of my home, so perhaps you’d start moving your things. I’d like it all done before I go out tonight.’

‘You’re going out?’

‘Yes.’ He stretched indolently and got to his feet. ‘As I mentioned before, I feel in urgent need of some rest and recreation.’

‘But aren’t you exhausted?’ The words were uttered before she could stop them and she paused with a gasp of embarrassment as she encountered the glint of unholy amusement in his eyes.

‘Not yet, sweetheart,’ Mark Benedict drawled, ‘but I certainly hope to be before the night is over. Any more questions?’

‘No,’ Tallie mumbled, her face on fire.

‘Good,’ he said. ‘So maybe you’ll shelve your gratifying concern for my well-being and do as you’ve been asked—please.’

Tallie rose too, her teeth gritted. There, she berated herself, that’s what happens when you’re stupid enough to feel sympathy for the bastard. So don’t fall into that trap again.

She turned, heading for the door with an assumption of dignity completely spoiled by her unwary stumbling over the hem of the folds of towelling that shrouded her.

‘Oh, and I’ll have my robe back too.’ Her tormentor’s voice reached her softly. ‘At some mutually convenient moment, of course.’

She found herself wishing with all her heart that she had the nerve to take it off right then and throw it at him, but such a gesture required far more chutzpah than she possessed, she realized, as she trailed, still flushed and furious, to the door.

Discovering, too, that some previously unsuspected female instinct was telling her without fear of contradiction that his mouth would already be curling in that nasty sardonic grin as he watched her departure.

Yet knowing at the same time that all hell would freeze over before she looked back over her shoulder to check.

CHAPTER FOUR

WITH her hair properly dried and severely confined with an elastic band at the nape of her neck, and safely back in her own clothing—jeans and a loose white overshirt—Tallie began to feel marginally better.

She could even be almost glad she hadn’t slammed the sitting room door behind her as she’d been sorely tempted to do. But there wasn’t any other cause for rejoicing.

She’d carefully collected all her clothes and personal possessions and transferred them to the spare room, before returning to the master bedroom to strip and remake the bed in its entirety, even down to the mattress cover, and choosing a dark blue satin spread as a replacement for the pale gold one she’d been using.

Then she’d gone over the room with a fine toothcomb to ensure that not so much as a tissue or a button had been left behind to remind him of her brief presence. She’d even dusted so there wasn’t even a fingerprint of hers remaining on any of the surfaces, and she’d cleaned every inch of the bathroom.

He could do a forensic search and he wouldn’t find me, she told herself grimly. I no longer exist in his space.

And at least he’d left her to it. She’d half expected him to stand over her, eagle-eyed, for any dereliction but, as far as she could gather, he was permanently on the phone in the sitting room.

No doubt telling a delighted world of his safe return, she thought, grinding her teeth. Or the female section of it anyway.

But she wouldn’t think about that, she added with silent determination, turning her attention to the spare room.

Her new refuge wasn’t as large as the one she’d just vacated, and the bed was much smaller—queen-size, she thought, instead of emperor, if there was such a thing—but it was furnished with the same careful, slightly old-fashioned elegance as the rest of the flat, and at least there was a table at the window she could use as a desk, she told herself as she retrieved her laptop and manuscript pages from the office.

And the wardrobes and drawers were empty, showing that Kit had taken his brother’s eviction threat seriously enough to remove all his belongings.

Eviction …

The word lingered and stung, reminding her succinctly that her own tenure was strictly temporary and that she had just one week to find alternative accommodation. But could she do it?

Back to the evening paper, she thought with a sigh as she set about making up the bed, plus a serious trawl round very much cheaper areas—if there were such things in London—studying the cards in newsagents’ windows. She’d probably end up paying a fortune for some boxroom where she’d be balancing her laptop on her knee.

However, even that would be bearable if it removed her from Mark Benedict’s orbit, she told herself. Yet, in fairness, although it galled her to admit it, she could not altogether blame him for wanting her out of his home and his life. After all, he was entitled to his privacy.

And it was not his fault if she was left in an impossible and frightening position, but her own.

Oh, God, she thought, how could I have been so utterly gullible? But Kit was just so … plausible, insisting all along that it was a serious business transaction and that by accepting his offer I’d be doing him a real favour. Which was probably the only genuine remark he made in the whole affair. He just failed to explain the actual nature of the favour, she told herself ruefully. And he certainly never hinted that it could land me in any trouble—especially the kind of danger that a man like Mark Benedict could represent, she added, shivering.

But at least she hadn’t been forced to spend the night in some seedy bed and breakfast, terrified to close her eyes in case she was robbed, although that comment about a puppy on a motorway still rankled.

But then almost everything about Mr Benedict grated on her, she thought, seething.

However—and here was the silver lining to this particular cloud—she needed a villain for her book. Someone rough, crude, dissolute, uncaring and generally without a redeeming feature, who’d make her hero’s virtues shine even more brightly by contrast. And whose unwarranted interference in Mariana’s life would involve her heroine in all kinds of misfortune and ultimately bring her to the edge of disaster.

But only to the edge, she thought, her heartbeat quickening. Because, in the end, it would be his own life that lay in ruins.

And Mark Benedict would provide the perfect template for such a man, his ultimate downfall and probable demise dwelt upon in painful Technicolor detail.

I’ll make him so obnoxious that when he bites the dust the readers will be on their feet cheering, she resolved. And I shall gloat over every word.

It wouldn’t be complete revenge, sadly, because her target would never know, but—hey—you couldn’t have everything. And her own secret satisfaction would be all the compensation she needed.

And now, re-energised, she would see about her supper.

She marched cheerfully to the door, flung it open and stopped dead with a gasp, her face warming vividly as she confronted the villain himself, standing outside, his hand raised to knock.

He glanced past her, his brows lifting. ‘I see you’ve settled in,’ he commented acidly. ‘Don’t make yourself too comfortable, will you.’

Little chance of that with you around … Tallie thought it best to keep her instinctive retort to herself.

‘And you look a little flushed, Miss Paget,’ he added. ‘Guilty conscience, perhaps?’

‘On the contrary,’ Tallie returned, her tone brisk. ‘I thought I’d obeyed all your instructions to the letter.’

‘Well, here’s another,’ he said coldly. ‘From now on, you don’t answer my phone. I’ve just had to spend a considerable amount of time trying to convince someone that I haven’t moved another woman in here behind her back and that you’re not “a friend”, as you claimed, but a damned nuisance.’

‘Oh,’ she said airily, cursing under her breath, ‘that. I … I’d forgotten.’

But she remembered now—particularly recalling the haughty voice of her interrogator and how it had needled her. Just like the harshness of his tone was flicking her on the raw now.

Two autocrats together, she thought. They’re perfect for each other.

He was frowning. ‘What the hell did you think you were doing?’

She sighed. ‘Kit actually told me to say I was the cleaner if anyone rang, but it was incredibly late when your … your lady called, and it wasn’t feasible that I’d be there doing a little light dusting in the middle of the night. So I said the first thing that occurred to me.’

‘That,’ he said grimly, ‘is a habit you’d do well to break.’

‘Consider it done,’ she said. She paused. ‘And I’m sorry if I injured your … real friend’s feelings in any way, although I must say I didn’t get the impression she’d be quite that sensitive.’

She took a deep breath. ‘And I certainly hope she never finds out about your own little habit—sexually harassing complete strangers—because I’d say that leaves my own little faux pas in the shade—and might drive her into a total nervous breakdown.’

‘Wow,’ he said softly. ‘The prim schoolgirl has quite a turn of phrase. But I think the lady in question would probably find it far more disturbing if I found a naked girl in my bathroom and wasn’t tempted in any way—even if only for a moment.’

He added with cold emphasis, ‘Also, sweetheart, one look at you would be more than enough to convince her that nothing happened between us.’

She stood staring at him, feeling as if she’d been punched in the stomach. First Gareth, she thought numbly, now this—bastard. Not only have I been totally humiliated by him, I now seem to be carrying the sexual equivalent of the mark of Cain.

Confirmation, as if I needed it, that no one could possibly want me.

Her throat tightened suddenly, uncontrollably as she fought to maintain her composure.

To hell with him, she thought shakily. Why should I give a damn what he thinks of me? If I’ve unfortunately failed to reach his required standard in female sensuality?

Besides, being regarded by him as undesirable has to be a positive advantage in the present situation, because at least I won’t be spending the next few days and nights fighting him off.

That, she thought, is what I have to keep telling myself. And what I need, at all costs, to believe.

She swallowed. ‘Thank you.’ She added, ‘That’s—reassuring. Now, perhaps you’d go,’ only to hear her voice suddenly crack in the middle and to realise that his tall, inimical figure had somehow become a blur.

Oh, no, she wailed silently, don’t let this be happening to me. Don’t let me cry in front of this uncaring swine of a man.

‘Is something wrong?’

His voice seemed to reach her from the far distance. Tallie shook her head blindly and turned away, struggling to control the sobs that were choking her throat.

He said wearily, ‘Oh, dear God,’ and then his arm was round her, holding her firmly as he urged her across the room towards the bed.

She tried to pull away. ‘Leave me alone.’ Her shaking voice was thick with tears. ‘Don’t dare to touch me.’

‘Now you’re being absurd.’ He pushed her down on to the edge of the mattress and sat beside her, handing her an immaculate white linen handkerchief before pulling her closer so that her head rested against his shoulder, and holding her there as deep, gusty sobs shook her slight body.

It was like leaning against a rock and Tallie knew, in some far corner of her mind, that, as soon as she’d stopped crying, she would want to die of shame for allowing it, because he was the last person in the world that she would ever want to see her like this, eyes blubbering, nose running, totally out of control.

Knew too that she should be pushing him away instead of blotting her wet face on his shirt. Telling him at the top of her voice that sleeping in a cardboard box would be preferable to spending even one more minute under his roof.

And he’d hear all that, and much more, if she could just … stop … crying …

She slumped against him, her tears fiercer and more scalding as she wept out her disappointment and hurt, her terrifying uncertainty about her immediate future, and her humiliated rage against the man whose arm encircled her like a ring of iron.

But, gradually, the tearing sobs began to diminish and the burning in her throat to subside, leaving a strange emptiness in place of the grief and anger. A vacuum that, slowly but surely, was being occupied by other, more insidious emotions. Feelings that she could not understand, let alone explain or justify.

She was suddenly, potently aware of the physical reality of the hard male warmth supporting her. Conscious that the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat under her cheek, the strength of his embrace and the clean, beguiling scent of his skin were all permeating her shaking senses in a manner as unfamiliar as it was disturbing. And that his other hand was stroking her hair back from her aching forehead with unexpected gentleness.

Like soothing a puppy abandoned on the motorway …

Tallie sat up abruptly and he released her at once, waiting in silence as she used his handkerchief to wipe her face and blow her nose. Mortified to notice, as she did so, that she’d left a damp patch on his shirt.

Eventually she said in a small brittle voice that still trembled a little, ‘Please … excuse me. I don’t usually embarrass myself like this—or anyone else, for that matter.’

‘You didn’t embarrass me,’ he said. ‘If anything, I feel guilty because it seems to be my comment on your obvious sexual innocence that acted as the trigger in all this.’ He added quietly, ‘However, what I don’t understand is why that should be. Why you should feel insulted or troubled by my assumption that you’re still a virgin, even if it could have been expressed more tactfully.

‘After all, taking your time before you dash into some ultra-heavy relationship makes a lot of sense, especially these days.’

She kept her gaze fixed on the pale cord carpet. ‘But not everyone sees it in quite the same way.’ And what on earth had prompted her into an admission like that?

‘Oh, dear,’ he said, not unkindly. ‘Has some callow youth been hassling you because you said no?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘Not at all. It turned out that he … he preferred … girls with more experience.’