Mistress - Amanda Quick [42]
“I do not recall that your advice was offered, precisely, my lord. I believe it was put a bit more strongly. Some would say that your so-called advice was more in the nature of an extremely autocratic command.”
Marcus took a single step closer. His face was ruthless in the shadowy lamplight. “It was your choice to go about London disguised as my paramour, was it not?”
Iphiginia blinked and took a wary step back. “Well, yes, initially I suppose one could say it was my idea. However—”
“Let me make something plain to you. So long as you are gallivanting about Town masquerading as my mistress, you will bloody well act the part.”
Alarmed by the dangerous softness of his tone, Iphiginia took another discreet step backward. “Now, see here, my lord, you must understand that this is merely a role I am playing. One could say that I am your mistress-in-name-only.”
“If you expect me to allow you to continue playing this part, you will follow my advice to the letter.”
She lifted her chin. “You mean your commands, do you not?”
“Aye, madam. I mean my commands.”
Iphiginia took another cautious step back. Her leg came up against a cold marble statue of two writhing figures. “I am not accustomed to obeying any man’s commands, sir.”
“That much is clear. The late, lamented Mr. Bright obviously let you take the bit between your teeth and run wild. But if you think that I will allow you to make a complete fool of me in front of the ton, you are sadly mistaken.”
Iphiginia was momentarily stricken with guilt. “My lord, there is no denying that you were put in a somewhat unfortunate position by my masquerade, but I assure you that I never meant to humiliate you.”
“Only because you were proceeding on the mistaken assumption that I was safely dead.”
“Well, yes, granted. However—”
“Last night I found your audacity mildly entertaining. Tonight, however, you have stepped over the line and I am no longer amused.”
Iphiginia’s brief flash of guilt evaporated. Anger took its place. “I am not doing this to amuse you, my lord.”
Marcus took another menacing step toward her. “Until such time as you and I are finished with this charade, you will stay in character, madam.”
“In character?” She could not retreat any farther. She was trapped by the stone limbs of the couple copulating behind her. “Sir, I shall play this part as I see fit.”
“No, madam, you will not.” Marcus reached out and grasped a foot and a shoulder on the statue behind her, effectively caging her between his arms. “I am the authority on this role. If it weren’t for me, the part would not even exist. Is that not correct?”
“I suppose one could make such an argument, but—”
“I am making the argument. I created the role. Therefore I shall direct you in it.”
He brought his mouth down on hers and pinned her against a stone thigh.
What should have been a small, breathless gasp emerged from Iphiginia as a silent sigh. She clutched at his shoulders, more to steady herself than to push him away. The weight of him as he crushed her against the marble was intoxicating.
Just as it had last night, excitement showered through her, an incandescent rain that made all her senses bloom at once.
She heard Marcus groan. It was a rough, dark sound that came from deep in his chest. He leaned closer. His body was as hard as the statue’s but infinitely warmer.
She was supposed to be acting out a role, Iphiginia reminded herself. But everything suddenly felt very real.
She shivered and wrapped her arms around his neck, just as she had done last night. Now she could feel every inch of him pressing against her. He felt so good, so strong, so right.
She was enthralled, consumed by a deep longing that dazzled her with its intensity.
Iphiginia realized that she had been yearning for this sensation all of her life.
Marcus lifted his mouth from hers. His eyes were brilliant with desire and wonder. “You’re going to drive me mad, aren’t you?” He threaded his fingers through her elegantly styled hair, gripped a handful, and forced her head gently back. He kissed her