Her Secret Lover (Aphrodite's Club 2)

Antoinette knew she should fight and run. This wasn’t what she’d meant to happen. He was supposed to suffer as she’d suffered. The trouble was she was suffering, too. Now she understood. This was how he’d felt as he gave her pleasure, wanting her while denying himself. Her new knowledge didn’t help her feel any better.

The muscles in her thighs trembled as she held herself up off him while his hands on her hips urged her down. He nudged her again with his sleek strength, and entered her a little bit more. Antoinette felt a moment of resistance, as if he’d come up against a barrier, but whatever it was, was breached quickly and painlessly, and he slid in deeper still.

“Let me make love to you,” he begged hoarsely. “I can give you more pleasure than Appleby’s capable of, I promise you.”

It felt so good, him inside her, his hands on her skin, and she didn’t want to stop. Why should you? The Antoinette inherited from her wicked ancestress was in her head, reckless, eager. You take after me; you know you do. And then he reached up and cupped her breasts, and she was lost.

The stumbling footsteps outside the door were shockingly loud. The pair of them froze, staring toward the sound, as Wonicot went by, breaking into a few lines of song as he passed. He was drunk. “Sally,” he called. “I’m home, Sally…”

Antoinette put her hand over her mouth and held in her laughter, but when her eyes met those of the highwayman, she could see he shared her feelings. He grinned.

And that was when Antoinette came to her senses.

Pushing away from him, she got to her feet. She expected him to protest and struggle, to try and coerce her, but he didn’t. Perhaps he sensed the danger, too, and didn’t want to betray his master by making love with his mistress. A moment later he sat up and pulled his clothes together. Sprawled on the rug, he ran his hands through his hair and briefly dropped his face into them.

“This was a mistake,” she said, to herself as well as him. “I thought I could make you feel what I felt. I didn’t know that I would feel such a strong desire for you. Every time we are together it grows stronger. More difficult to resist.”

He met her eyes as he pushed himself to his feet, but he didn’t come any closer. Obviously he was just as aware as she of the dangers of their getting too near. “This wasn’t a mistake,” he said. “Stopping was the mistake.”

“Lord Appleby—”

“—isn’t here.”

She tried to read his eyes but it was impossible. “I need to return to London. Will you help me?”

He smiled and shook his head. “No, little sparrow. You are here and here you will stay. Once I have the letter in my own hands you can go wherever you like and I’ll gladly take you there. I promise.”

“You promise!” she spat. “I don’t believe your promises.”

He laughed, not at all insulted. “Wise sparrow.”

Enough, thought Antoinette. They were going around in circles.

“I’m tired,” she said. “You should go back to…wherever you sleep.” Curiously she added, “Where do you live? It can’t be far.”

“Do you plan to visit me? I warn you, Antoinette, if you do there will be no stopping. Next time I will have you.”

He sounded as if he was making a vow, and she wrapped her arms about herself and shivered. But she set aside thoughts of kissing and touching and his body sliding into hers, and thought instead of driving him away. She didn’t trust him, but she knew he didn’t trust her, and that was what she’d use.

“If you tell me where you live,” she said sweetly, “I might well visit you.”

“Oh?”

“So suspicious? Do tell; I won’t repeat it to anyone else.”

He reacted as she’d expected. “So you can hand me over to the magistrate and see me hanged? No, thank you.”

Instinctively Antoinette shook her head. “I don’t want to see you hanged,” she said earnestly.

He observed her with a faint smile. “Now if I was an easily led fool I’d believe you, but I’m not. Of course you want me hanged. Once I’m out of your way you can return to Appleby and reap the benefits.”

His words were puzzling, but she shook her head, more intent on convincing him she wasn’t the bloodthirsty creature he imagined her. “Well, perhaps I do want you out of the way, but I don’t want you hanged.”

He moved closer, tipping up her chin with a fingertip and searching her face in the moonlight. “I almost believe you. You are a most unusual woman, Antoinette Dupre.”

“These are most unusual circumstances,” she murmured, meeting his pale eyes and refusing to look away from his searching gaze.

He leaned over her, until his mouth was only a breath away from claiming hers. “I want you and you want me,” he said. “You know it’s only a matter of time before we are lovers.”