A Most Unusual Mistress (Rogue Scandals) by Raven McAllan

truth, he had not measured his words and had spoken from his soul.
    “And I, my lord? What will I do in return?” Her voice was breathy, the arousal unmistakable.
    “You, my love, will enjoy. For I will have you spread-eagled, tied, and captive, to receive all I choose for you to partake. Until we are both sated.” Gad, the picture he was painting was painful. All he wanted to do now was pick up his brush and begin to paint. Her. Over and over until he was satisfied his vision had nothing comparable. He felt the coach lurch around the corner, looked out of the window, and identified from the many houses on the opposite side of the square, that belonging to Adriana. Reluctantly, he lifted her onto the seat adjacent, ignoring—with difficulty—her soft moan of protest.
    “Later,” he promised. “Until then, hold the thought of what we will experience this night. For ‘twill be a learning curve together, as we discover what each prefers.”
    “If I do not like?” Adriana sat back against the squabs, her erratic breathing betraying her shaken composure. Ash feared he was no better. What he would not have given to rap on the roof and tell the coachman to go around the square until told otherwise. What a potential scandal that could have caused.
    “If you do not like, my love, you know the answer.” What would her comeback be?
    There was silence. The coach drew to a stop, and footsteps indicated someone coming to help them alight. Still silent, she allowed herself to be escorted to her door. Ashley bowed, very properly over her extended hand, and then pressed a soft kiss to its back. She looked at him from under her lashes as he straightened.
    “Well then, my lord, when I deliver my answer, you will know what I decide. My coachman will be pleased to take you wherever you wish. So, I bid you farewell and thank you for your company. Until we meet again.”
    Ash watched as she turned and walked into her house without as much as a backward glance. He waved the coachman away.
    “I shall walk,” he said briskly. It was but a ten-minute stroll to his own spacious London house, and he had no intention of passing more time there than it took to collect all he required for the forthcoming night.
    He kept his promise to himself and had to wait impatiently until he judged enough time had passed for Adriana to have dismissed her maid. Silently, he left his own house through the door he assumed some long-dead ancestor had made for the very purpose of surreptitious entry and exit.
    As he approached Adriana’s abode, using the mews that ran past stables and back yards of the splendid houses that graced the square, he noted how silent it was, just the occasional soft snuffle of horses as they settled for the night. His footsteps muffled by the soft tread of his boots; he was silent to such a degree, that even the odd dog slinking about its nocturnal business barely gave him a second glance. Within the hour of leaving Adriana, he was entering the yard behind her house. All was silent, no lights showing, the dwelling settled and secure for the night. Except for one discreet candle on a window ledge high above him. A window ledge he knew was in Adriana’s dressing room. His signal.
    Swiftly, he crossed the distance from the mews gate to the side door, keeping near to the shadows thrown out by the wall separating this yard from the next. As expected, the door was not locked, and a lantern sat just inside, on a convenient shelf. He took the opportunity to turn the key in the lock before he made his way up the steep, narrow stairs, noting with amusement the doors after every dozen treads or so. The previous owner of this house had been noted for his amorous proclivities and need for excess, hence private access to all floors. He, meanwhile, needed entry to but one. This one! He had arrived almost at his destination. He ran his fingers along a ledge, searching for the mechanism which saved the need for a key. A slight noise of wood