Mistress of Pleasure Read online

  She quietly choked in pleasured anguish and grabbed for him and the wall behind her to steady herself.

  Edmund covered her mouth with his, and kept pounding in and out of her. He cupped her smooth bottom as tightly as he could, then pushed harder and harder against her, readying himself for his climax. He closed his eyes and groaned as his shaft pulsated and released every ounce of seed into her. The muscles in his body tightened, and every nerve, every sensation overtook his entire body until it exploded. He eventually relaxed and he was back in her arms and in the world.

  He most certainly could get used to a life like this. Drained, he pulled out and gently let her slide down from around his waist. Slowly, he planted her slippered feet back onto the ground and her skirts cascaded down in a whoosh around her legs, brushing his own.

  He smiled and when his heart had calmed to a normal beat, he tenderly adjusted the bodice of her gown, easing her breasts back into her corset.

  She leaned back against the corner of the wall, tilted her head, and smiled at him as if she were far away and not with him at all.

  “Where are you?” he murmured.

  “I was thinking, is all.”

  “Oh?” Edmund carefully picked up his cravat and tried not to knock over the screen or rustle the ferns around them. “Of what?”

  “Secretly, I have always wanted children.”

  “Did I ever tell you that I want a dozen children with eyes as blue as yours?” He grinned and tied his cravat. He then adjusted his trousers and secured them in the tight space behind the screen.

  “You want a dozen?” She sounded rather concerned.

  “Yes, but imagine all the fun we’ll have making them.” He waggled his brows and knotted his cravat into place. He leaned back into her body and tenderly observed her, making his eyes meet hers. Her, him, and the children.

  A thunderous clapping echoed around them from the ballroom and their attention jerked back to their surroundings. He’d almost forgotten they were tucked beneath the staircase of a house that wasn’t even theirs. They had to get out before people started stirring within the corridors.

  “Come.” He grabbed for both of her hands.

  “No,” she insisted, leaning back with her weight. “Not until I receive a proper proposal.”

  “I am not proposing behind a screen, woman. I have other plans.” He tried pulling her toward the opening of the screen, but she leaned back in defiance, still hovering in the far corner.

  “I want my proposal and I want it now.”

  “There is no time for this. And I don’t want all of London thinking that—”

  Loud voices rung out and numerous footsteps echoed all around them.

  “Hell.” He yanked her back and into the farthest corner. “Now we have to wait.”

  “Wait?” She stared at him. “What for?”

  “Until no one is left in the corridor.”

  “Are you mad?” she hissed. “There are hundreds of people here. We cannot sit behind this screen that long. The festivities may very well last into the morning.”

  He glared at her. “If you hadn’t argued, we wouldn’t be in this dilemma. Now unless you wish to see all of these details written in every newspaper circulated in London, I suggest we stay here. Hell, even if we’d been married for twenty-five years, this would still make the papers.”

  Maybelle stifled a giggle and glanced around. “Do you suppose I should include this in a lesson as what not to do?”

  “No. Let those bastards find out on their own.” He grinned.

  Maybelle paused, momentarily becoming quite serious, and eyed him. “Edmund. We haven’t really discussed it, but you aren’t going to force my grandmother to close the school, are you?”

  Ah, yes. The school. The ton was going to hate him. Of course, he didn’t care. “And deprive men of a good education? I think not. Though I am afraid they are going to have to find a new teacher. I have learned to despise sharing.”

  Maybelle smiled and cocked her head. “I promise to only stay long enough to help my grandmother. There have already been far too many interruptions in the school. Oh.” She poked at him. “And you owe Hawksford an apology with regards to his sister.”

  Edmund brought her as close as their bodies would allow amidst the bustling of celebration. “Of course I owe him an apology. I didn’t know. Or I most certainly would never have said what I did. I only hope that he will accept whatever it is I have to say.”

  She smiled. “He will.”

  Edmund grasped her chin in his hand and tenderly traced her flushed, soft cheek with the side of his thumb. There was no sense in waiting. Life was indeed too fragile and too unpredictable to wait.

  He drew back his hand and cleared his voice in a theatrical manner. “Miss Maitenon, granddaughter of Madame de Maitenon, better known as the headmistress of the School of Gallantry, at least for the time being, will you give me the honor of becoming my wife, my duchess, my one true love?”

  She sighed as if it were the best proposal ever given in the history of England’s courtship. “Yes, Edmund. Yes.” She reached up and traced a loving finger alongside his face. “Let us only hope we can escape this corner in time to announce our engagement.”

  Edmund chuckled as he gently pushed her back toward the corner of the wall. “Until then, duchess, let us enjoy our time together. Shall we?”

  “Yes. Let’s.”

  Epilogue

  If you are in need of more lessons, then I suggest you learn the art of patience and wait for the next class to begin.—The School of Gallantry

  Six months later, Egypt

  Through the thin, white veil that was held in place by her bonnet, Maybelle squinted up at the rough and faded façade of the pyramid looming several feet before her. Her loose, white muslin gown flapped about, cooling her sweat-ridden body. The sand spiraled at her booted feet, sending more tufts of grittiness toward her veiled face. She openly welcomed the pulsing dry heat of the sun and the sand as it hummed through every inch of her skin. The camels that she, Edmund, and their guide had arrived on grunted and shifted behind them.

  Placing her hands on her growing belly, Maybelle thoughtfully rubbed it. A small smile lingered on her lips. She was finally here. At the place Belzoni wrote of. At the place of harsh beauty, wonder, and endless mystery. And it was far more than she could have ever expected. Far more.

  “Amazing,” Edmund announced from behind her, setting his hands upon her shoulders. “As you said it would be.”

  Maybelle nodded and slowly leaned back against Edmund’s muscular frame. She tilted her head to the side, her oversized bonnet and veil following. As she wrinkled her nose up at the time-worn structure, an odd, wondrous realization settled upon her soul. It was a strange moment that openly mocked her in her own happiness. After all, without even knowing, she had almost given up her Edmund, her duke, her husband, the father of her child, for a pile of old rocks set upon endless hot sand.

  And that was a very odd realization indeed.