Mistress - Amanda Quick [18]
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 heard 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 be careful, my lord. You’ll do yourself an injury.”
“No doubt, but I trust it will be 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 burn 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 hear 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’ll 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 wail.
“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 un-comprehendingly. 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.”
Amelia gazed at him, slack-jawed. “But you’re supposed to be dead.”
“So I have been told.” His mouth quirked slightly at the corner. “But evidence to the contrary continues to crop up.”
Amelia swung around to confront Iphiginia. “The blackmailer did not murder him, after all?”
“Apparently not.” Iphiginia blushed and hastily straightened her gown. She noticed that one of her plumes was lying on the floor next to Marcus’s boot. “It is a great relief to know that we are not dealing with a murderer, is it not?”
Amelia narrowed her gaze suspiciously at Marcus. “I’m not so sure of that. What,