Mistress

CHAPTER SIX

THIS ONE IS CALLED ECSTASY. YOU WILL NOTICE THE BOLDLY modeled curves of the female form, my dear Mrs. Bright." Lord Lartmore stroked the extraordinarily large breast of a stone figure with his skeletal hands. "Only the ancients could invest their work with such lush power." He tweaked a nipple. "What a pity that today's artists have lost that vitality."

Iphiginia swallowed and stared at the statue. She fought to conceal her shock. She had more than a passing familiarity with the work of the ancient sculptors. But she had never seen anything to compare with the figures in Lartmore's statuary hall.

It was not that the large-bosomed statue which Lartmore fondled with such a lascivious touch was nude that startled Iphiginia. She had seen any number of unclad classical statues. It was the odd pose of the figure that left her momentarily speechless.

The stone female sat astride the naked loins of a reclining male figure. Her thighs were splayed wide, emphasizing the cleft in bet buttocks. Her spine was arched, her head was thrown back, her eyes were closed, and her mouth was open in an expression of what could only be acute agony.

The male figure looked to be suffering equal torment as he jutted his hips upward. It was apparent that his stone shaft was buried deep within the marble woman.

"Most unusual," Iphiginia managed weakly. She hoped the lamplight concealed her hot face.

"And so provocative to the passionate senses, don't you agree?" Lartmore gestured with a limp hand to indicate the dimly lit room. The eyes in his skull glittered. "My collection is filled with the unique and the unusual, as you will see. I insist that every piece of statuary I collect he imbued with true antique sensibilities."

Iphiginia debated whether to inform him that none of his statues were in the true antique mode as far as she could see. She tried to study some of the nearby figures with an objective eye.

It was not an easy task. The faintly glowing lamps revealed a room full of stone and marble statues that appeared to have only one thing in common. They were all images of men and women posed in astonishingly intimate and exceedingly odd positions.

A buxom female crouched on — her hands and knees, her buttocks arched high. The male figure positioned behind her gripped her hips as he thrust into her.,

"That one is called Unbridled Passion," Lartmore murmured. "One of my favorites."

"Indeed." Iphiginia could not think of anything else to say.

"Over there is A Taste of Delight." Iphiginia gazed at the figure of a woman seated on a rock. A man crouched between her widely spread knees. His face was buried between plump stone thighs.

"I see." "And this one I call The Elixir of Life." Lartmore touched a stone leg and smiled at Iphiginia.

I She frowned as she studied the figures. At first Iphiginia thought the female was praying. She blushed furiously when she saw that in actuality the nude had a very long length of marble manhood in her mouth.

"Good heavens," Iphiginia whispered. "I am especially fond of my newest acquisitions." Lartmore led the way toward the far end of the hall to where a series of sculptures had been arranged. He beamed with pride. "I should dearly love to have your opinion on them, Mrs. Bright. Everyone knows that you are an expert in these things."

Iphiginia's initial reaction to the series of statues was relief. The first few pieces appeared to be much more decorous than the others. These figures were at least clothed.

Relaxing slightly, Iphiginia took a step closer to get a better look at the shadowed statues. In the first of the series a young woman wearing a prim gown sat on a stone bench. A properly attired man sat beside her. They appeared to be conversing politely.

Then Iphiginia noticed that the man's hand was on the woman's leg beneath her skirts.

"What do you call this?" Iphiginia asked uneasily. "The entire series is caged The Breaching of the Virgin's Maidenhead. You will notice that with each succeeding statue in the collection the figures become increasingly more intimate until, in the last one, the deed is done. Amusing, is it not?"

Iphiginia cast him a sidelong glance. She noticed that the expression in Lartmore's colorless eyes had become a hard gleam. A sheen of sweat had appeared on his balding skull. Even as she watched, he edged closer to her. His cadaverously thin body was touching her white skirts.

It was definitely time to return to the ballroom. As much as she hated to admit it, Marcus had been right. Clearly it had been a mistake to come in here. There had to he another way to get into Lartmore's library tonight.

Iphiginia cleared her throat authoritatively. "As you have asked for my opinion on your statuary, my lord, I fear I must tell you that these examples are extremely poor imitations of the antique mode."

"My dear Mrs. Bright, how can you say that?" Lartmore looked grievously wounded.

"To be perfectly blunt, the style is not at all in the manner of the ancients. I see no indications of either Roman, Grecian, or Etruscan motifs in any of these statues."

"But, Mrs. Bright, surely you are mistaken." "No, sir, I am not mistaken. I assure you, I have examined a great deal of genuine antique statuary and none of it bore any resemblance to these pieces."

Lartmore put a hand to his chest in a gesture of anguish. "I am crushed." He took a step closer to Iphiginia.

III trust you did not pay a great deal for any of these statues." Iphiginia sidestepped deftly and moved quickly around Lartmore. "If you did, you were fleeced."

"Mrs. Bright, allow me to show you the rest of my collections Lartmore put out a long-fingered hand to detain her.

"Unfortunately, I do not have the time to linger." Iphiginia managed to avoid his groping hand with a quick move to one side.

"But I insist." Lartmore lunged, claws outstretched to seize her.

Iphiginia picked up her skirts and fled. She nipped around the stone figure of the man braced on his knees behind the crouching female, sprinted past a man and woman engaged in sexual congress on top of a pedestal, and plowed straight into a very large, very immovable object that loomed in her path.

This male figure was definitely not made out of stone, but it was as unyielding as any of the sculptures in the hall.

"Marcus." Her reaction was instantaneous and instinctive. She smiled brilliantly as she staggered and clutched at his arm to catch her balance. "I cannot tell you how very happy I am to see you, my lord."

"I've been searching for you, Mrs. Bright." But Marcus did not look at her. His eyes were on Lartmore. "I was under the impression that we had arranged to meet at the Richardsons ."

"Yes, well, I planned to go there immediately after I left here, sir." Iphiginia checked her hair to see if the white roses were still in place. "Lord Lartmore kindly offered to show me his statuary hall, so I was somewhat delayed."

"I see. How unfortunate." Iphiginia winced at the unmistakable menace in his voice. She hurried to defuse what was clearly about to become a very awkward situation. "Well, then, as you are here and I am ready to leave, I do not see why we should not be off."

"In a moment," Marcus said absently. "There are one or two matters that should be clarified first."

Lartmore rushed to his own defense. "Masters, I assure you, there was nothing objectionable about this little tour of my gallery of statues. I sought Mrs. Bright's intellectual opinion on my collection. Nothing more."

"Nothing more?" Masters repeated ominously. "Absolutely not." Pinned by Marcus's cold eyes, Lartmore appeared to grow thinner and even more cadaverous. He stuck one bony finger beneath his cravat and tried to loosen the heavily starched fabric. "We were just finishing the tour, Masters. I was about to escort Mrs. Bright back to the ballroom."

"There will he no more such tours," Marcus said. "No, no, of course not." Lartmore cast a desperate glance at Iphiginia.

"I have given Lord Lartmore my opinion of his statuary collection," Iphiginia said coolly. "I'm afraid I found it all of rather poor quality. Completely lacking in true antique sensibilities."

"Fascinating," Marcus said very gently. "I believe I had already warned you that it was not of the best quality and would he of little interest to you."

"Ah, yes." Iphiginia rallied quickly. "Yes, you did, my lord, but I am the sort of person who prefers to form her own conclusions."

"Perhaps it would be wise if you learned to take sound advice when it is offered."

Iphiginia scowled but decided not to say anything. Something told her this was not the best time to inform him that she rarely took other people's advice these days. She'd been obliged to endure far too much of that commodity back in Deepford.

"if you Will excuse Me." Lartmore slithered between two copulating statues and headed for the door. "I must get back to my guests."

Iphiginia glowered at the retreating Lartmore. When he had vanished like a wraith, she swung around to confront Marcus.

"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."

"'Rat 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 fine 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 throat.

Iphiginia trembled beneath the sensual assault. And then she was kissing him with a passionate ferocity that seemed to have sprung from nowhere. She strained to taste him, touch him, feel him.

She loved the feel of his skin beneath her lips. The scent of him Idled her head. The strength in his hands thrilled her.

"Marcus. "I told you last night that I am in need of a real paramour."

He slid one hand down to her waist and then he spread his fingers over her hip. He squeezed gently, crushing her white silk skirts. When she moaned, he moved his palm lower, took a handful of silk in his fist, and raised it to her thigh.

Iphiginia was startled by the feel of stone directly against the back of her leg. She opened her eyes, confused and disoriented.

"I do not-"

"Hush." Marcus covered her mouth with his own, sealing her halfhearted protest behind her lips.

He braced her against the statue behind her. He slid his hand up along her stocking-clad leg past her garter and wrapped his fingers around her bare thigh.

Iphiginia flinched in reaction.

To her astonishment, he stiffened. "Does my touch offend you? Do you find my hands rough on your soft skin, Mrs. Bright?"

"No," she managed in a thin voice. She clung to him. "I love your hands, sir." She kissed his jaw. "They are so," Words failed her, "…so…»

"Yes?" He stroked his rough palm along the inside of her leg.

Iphiginia gasped and buried her face against his shoulder. "So very exciting," she whispered.

He seemed to relax. "I'm pleased that you are excited." He dropped a small kiss on her ear. His fingers flexed on her leg.

Iphiginia could hardly breathe. No man had ever touched her so intimately. She was stunned by the sensations roiling within her.

She reminded herself that Marcus believed her to he an experienced widow, not a naive innocent. She must not allow him to notice that she was close to being overwhelmed by lovemaking.

"Sir, I am not at all certain this is either the time or the place for this sort of thing. Someone might walk in on us." Iphiginia knew that she did not really want him to stop. What she wanted was for him to go more slowly. But she could not explain to him that she needed time to adjust to the new and disturbing demands of passion.

"Calm yourself, Iphiginia. We are alone in this chamber. No one is likely to walk in on us."

Without any warning, Marcus raised her leg and hooked it over a stone arm. Her skirts fell back along her thigh, exposing her completely. Marcus's palm went straight to the hot, damp place between her legs.

Iphiginia shrieked very softly in astonishment. "My lord."

Marcus kissed her deeply, cutting off the soft, startled sound. He stroked her deliberately.

Iphiginia froze. Her fingers locked on his shoulders. She was an experienced widow, a woman of the world…

"My God, you feel good," Marcus whispered thickly. He sounded pleased and somewhat awed. "Do you always respond this readily?"

Iphiginia tried to answer, but she could not speak. She kept her hot face pressed against his shoulder and shook her head quickly.

"No? The late Mr. Bright did not have this effect on you then?"

Iphiginia could not lift her head. Frantically she shook her head again. "No."

Marcus drew one finger slowly between the soft-plumped folds of feminine flesh. "And your previous lovers? Did you grow this moist and this hot this swiftly for any of them?"

Iphiginia was nearly beside herself now. Her fingers bit so deeply into the fabric of his coat that she was surprised she did not poke holes in it.

"Did you, Iphiginia?" Marcus touched an unbelievably sensitive spot.

"No," Iphiginia yelped, her voice muffled. "No, my lord. Indeed, I do not-"

"Have there been many?" Iphiginia could barely think. "Many what?" she asked distractedly. Oh, God, he was doing something to that special place. Rubbing it, tugging gently, circling it with his finger. Everything inside her lower body was twisting into a knot.

"Have there been many lovers since your husband went to his reward?" Marcus eased a finger a very short distance into her feminine passage.

"No. Oh, no." "That explains why you are so very snug." He tested her gently with his finger. "Very tight, indeed. You are going to fit me more closely than a new pair of breeches."

Iphiginia knew that if he were not supporting her, bracing her against the statue, she would have crumpled to the floor as though she were made of melted wax.

"Dear heaven," she whispered. She had never felt so wicked, so sensually abandoned in her life. Clearly she was at last on the verge of surrendering to the ungoverned artistic sensibilities everyone had always assumed that she had inherited from her parents.

During her years in Deepford a great many people had warned her that such inclinations were in the blood and that she must he constantly on guard against them. But until Marcus had come into her life she had been disappointed to discover that she'd had no such interesting inclinations to guard against.

"I am glad that you have not had a string of lovers since your husband's death." Marcus took her earlobe between his teeth. "I have no use for inexperienced females, but I confess to a strong preference for those who have been somewhat discriminating in their choice of lovers."

"I have been extremely discriminating, sir." "Something tells me that the late Mr. Bright was not very demanding."

"Uh, no." She lost her breath entirely for an instant as he began to stroke her more quickly. "No, he was not. He was a… a most considerate gentleman." Whatever that meant.

"What a waste." Marcus eased his finger back inside her and probed deliberately. "I assure you I shad not make the same mistake."

Iphiginia cried out. Her whole body seemed to clench around Marcus's hand. She clung to him for dear life and pushed her face deeper into his shoulder as the most inexplicable sensation she had ever known soared through her.

"Bloody hell," Marcus breathed as she quivered in his arms. "So this is how it feels to touch starlight."

Iphiginia could no longer speak. She fought for breath as she went limp.

Marcus's soft laugh held a husky note of masculine satisfaction. He removed his hand slowly from between her legs, steadied her carefully, and began to unfasten his breeches.

Iphiginia barely realized what he was about. She was too busy marveling at the delicious tremors of release that were already swiftly receding into the distance.

"That was really quite astonishing, sir." "Yes. Quite remarkable. And it will be even more interesting to he inside you when it happens the next time."

"Inside me?" Iphiginia tried to focus on what he was saying.

"Do not concern yourself, madam. I brought along a condom. French, of course. They do make the best ones, do they not? It is designed to my precise specifications. After some study of the subject, I elected to modify the original design somewhat in order to-"

"For heavens' sake, sir." Marcus winced. "Forgive me. This is neither the time nor the place for such technical discussions, is it? Sometimes my interest in mechanical and scientific matters gets the better of me. Rest assured that I shall take very good care of you.

Iphiginia was speechless. She had beard of condoms. A charming countess in Italy had once described them to her and Amelia over tea. They were fashioned of sheep gut and secured with little red strings.

A small sound came from the shadowed doorway. It was followed by a woman's giggle. A man hushed her and then chuckled drunkenly.

"Damn it to hell." Marcus hastily refastened his breeches.

"What is it?"

"We are no longer alone." Marcus lowered her skirts and shook them out for her.

"Someone is here? In this chamber?"

"Yes. Are you A right?" He glanced down at her with some concern.

"Yes, of course." Iphiginia felt strangely languid, almost uncaring about the possibility of being discovered in such an embarrassing position.

Reality and the memory of why she had initially encouraged Lord Lartmore to lead her into the statuary hall returned in a rush. She hesitated and glanced toward the far end of the shadowed room.

"There is no need to hide." Marcus sounded amused. "You look quite untouched." He drew his finger along the curve of her hare shoulder and smiled. "Not at all as though you had only recently been imitating one of these statues."

"But I came in here for a reason."

Marcus's expression darkened. "Did you?"

"Yes. I cannot miss the opportunity. I may not get another. This way, sir. Hurry."

More drunken laughter sounded from just inside the doorway. The newcomers had paused to examine the first of the erotic statues.

"What the devil are you up to, Iphiginia?"

"There is another door at the end of the ball. Lartmore told me that it opens directly onto his library."

"Why in the name of the devil do you-" Realization appeared to dawn on him. "No. Absolutely not. We are not going to pursue your ridiculous plans tonight."

"I may never get another chance."

"Damn it, Iphiginia, this is nonsense. Let's get out of here and find a quiet place where we can finish what we started."

She blushed and glanced at him in surprise. "Do you mean there is more?"

Marcus grimaced. "That is not amusing, madam. I am suffering mightily."

"You appear to be quite fit, sir. Come, this way." Iphiginia grabbed his hand and started through the maze of statuary.

Marcus allowed himself to be dragged toward the rear of the statuary hall. "I am going to regret this, aren't I?"

"Don't he silly." She found the door just as the other couple burst into another bout of raucous laughter and then fell silent.

"Here we are," Iphiginia whispered. She twisted the doorknob. It turned readily enough.

Lartmore's small library no more than a study was shrouded in darkness. There was just enough moonlight to see the candle on his desk.

A man's hoarse groan echoed down the length of the shadowed hall. "I say, just like the bloody statue, by God. Just like the statue."

"Damnation," Marcus muttered. "We cannot go back that way."

He pushed Iphiginia into the library, followed her inside' and quickly closed the door, cutting off the woman's loud moan.

"It's all right, Marcus. They do not know we are here."

He swung around. "Very well, madam. You have got us in here. Now what?"

"I merely want to take a quick look at Lartmore's desk." Iphiginia lit the candle and held it aloft.

Marcus's face was grim. "Are you searching for black wax and a phoenix seal, Iphiginia, or merely looking for something of value to filch?"

She stared at him, stung by the accusation. "You do not think very highly of me, do you, sir?"

"You must admit this situation appears somewhat questionable."

"And you, of course, would immediately question it." "Given the, ah, unusual nature of our association, I

think I have a right to scrutinize your actions." "You are willing to make love to me, but you do not trust me, is that it?"

"Iphiginia-" "Never mind, my lord." Iphiginia lifted her chin proudly. "I quite understand. Put your mind at case; I am not here to steal the silver. I am pursuing my inquiries."

"I told you that Lartmore is highly unlikely to he the blackmailer."

"Yes, I know you expressed your opinion, sir, but I have my own opinions." Iphiginia surveyed the desk, searching for the wax jack. She spotted it at once.

"I see." Marcus propped himself on the corner of the desk and folded his arms across his chest. He watched intently as she. studied the design of the seal and the remains of once-molten red wax. "Do you always ignore the opinions of others?"

"I was forced to listen to the opinions of others for years, my lord. I was also obliged to submit to them. But I am an independent woman now."

"An independent woman, eh?" "Yes. Damnation. There is some sort of flower engraved on this seal, not a phoenix.

Marcus glanced disinterestedly at the seal. "What did you expect to find? Only a fool would use his own distinctive seal and wax on a blackmail note. People would recognize them."

Iphiginia glowered. He had a point. She did not want him to think that she hadn't already considered every possibility. Marcus was too bloody arrogant as it was.

"It has occurred to me that the blackmailer may have two sells, one of which he uses exclusively for his nasty notes," she informed him. "He may even have two different colors of wax, one for his regular correspondence and one for blackmail letters."

"So?"

"So I am hoping to either find the second seal, which he no doubt keeps hidden, or to discover traces of the black wax in his wax jack."

"The jack. Of course." Marcus gave her a look of grudging respect. "Highly unlikely that he would have two jacks to melt wax."

"Precisely. Even if he uses two different colors of wax, he would no doubt melt both in the same jack." Iphiginia examined the wax jack on Lartmore's desk. She could see only traces of red wax.

"Well?" Marcus asked blandly.

"I do not see any bits of black wax."

"I believe I indicated earlier that you would not. Lartmore has his idiosyncrasies, but he is no blackmailer."

Iphiginia set down the wax jack. "Nobody likes a person who is always saying 'I told you so, my lord."

His mouth curved slightly. "I'll bear that in mind." "You do that."

Marcus studied her. "Have you got anything else to go on besides the color of the blackmailer's scaling wax and a phoenix design?"

"No." She shot him a disgruntled look. "And even if I did, I'm not at all certain that I would share the information with you, now that I know you do not trust me."

"It is obvious that our association is going to he of a somewhat tricky nature, Mrs. Bright."

"It all seems quite simple to me." "Does it, indeed?"

"Yes, it does," Iphiginia said coldly. "We are bound by a single mutual interest. We both wish to discover the identity of the blackmailer, although in your case I believe you are merely seeking proof that I am guilty."

"On the contrary, Iphiginia. There is something else that binds us together as surely as the search for the blackmailer."

She gave him a wary glance as she tried one of the desk drawers. "What is that?"

"Passion, my dear Mrs. Bright. Pure, unbridled, honest passion. Or have you already forgotten what happened out in the statuary hall?"

She blushed. "I have not forgotten. I will admit it was a very interesting experience."

"Thank you." He inclined his head with mocking grace.

"I have, however, begun to think that it might be best to avoid such experiences in the future."

Marcus's eyes gleamed in the candlelight. "What makes you think you will be able to avoid them?"

"You will find, my lord, that I am a woman of exceedingly strong willpower. I generally accomplish what I set out to accomplish." She put out the candle. "Come, let's he off. There is nothing of interest here."

"I disagree." Marcus's voice was soft with challenge as he straightened away from the desk. He took her arm. "My interest has been well and truly whetted, my dear Mrs. Bright. And as is the case with yourself, I generally accomplish what I set out to accomplish."