Read Online A Proper Mistress by Shannon Donnelly - Free Book Online
Authors: Shannon Donnelly
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five minutes for a lie down?
After all, would she not be far better company after a rest? And was it not part of tidying herself to do the inside as well as the outside?
With a guilty glance at the door, she stretched out on the narrow cot. Lumpy though the aged feather matters was, she had never felt anything so heavenly.
She let go a sigh. And her eyes closed themselves.
#
Theo waited downstairs, but after two mugs of ale—a decent dark porter with a sharp tang to it—he decided to see what was keeping his sweet Molly Sweet. Lord, how that woman liked to keep a fellow waiting!
He took the stairs two at a time and stopped before her door, uncertain. Did he just open the door and enter? Or knock and wait for permission? Or should he even go into her room? He had bought her time, but he had also presented her to the innkeeper as a respectable lady, and he was loath to do anything that might get them both tossed from the inn. He didn't fancy a night without a soft mattress under him.
Of course, if he could have something else soft underneath him, it might be worth it.
The image of Molly's lush figure pulled a smile from him and gave him encouragement enough. For the last five miles in the carriage, she had been brushing up against him—a touch of her shoulder against his, a rub of her cheek before she jerked upright, and even one sweet stroke of her breast against his arm. And he'd been unable to do anything since he had his hands full with four reins and two horses.
Not what a fellow really wanted to hold, blast it.
So why not see if he could now satisfy that ache she had stirred.
He knocked softly and twisted the doorknob, had it yield, so he stepped inside. He had not brought a candle with him, but one sputtered low in its holder on the dresser in Molly's room, giving a warm, yellow light to one corner of the room.
For an instant he almost thought she was not there. But the candle flickered and he saw the white shape on the bed.
She lay curled on her side, one hand tucked under her chin, her chest rising and falling with the deep even breaths of sleep. Her curls tumbled loose and free, a glorious spill of red that cascaded over bare, white shoulders. She wore nothing but a thin bit of white, cut low and nearly transparent, riding high enough to show her legs up to the swell of her thigh.
Entranced, he stood in the doorway, blood heating fast in his veins, tempted to shut the door behind them so he might join her in bed.
Her mouth curved up slightly. And, as he watched, she made a small happy sound and shifted ever so slightly, turning onto her back. His mouth dried as he took in the sight of those lovely breasts pushing against the thin fabric.
With a groan, he turned from the room and closed the door. He leaned there, eyes shut, still seeing her laid out and almost naked. He ached to turn around and go back to her.
But—blast—she was supposed to be respectable here. And she looked so damnably comfortable. He had not the heart to wake her. Not for her dinner. And not for the hunger now stirring inside him.
The humor of it struck him and he opened his eyes and grinned at himself. Blazes, he'd bought a woman he couldn't have! He damned well hoped Terrance would appreciate all he was going through.
Pushing away from her room—and the too sweet temptation inside—he started downstairs to at least claim a meal for himself. Another pint or two wouldn't diminish that delectable image of Molly Sweet in nothing more than her under garments, but it would bloody well make it more bearable that he couldn't act on them tonight.
He would content himself with the thought of there always being another night to follow this one. And that a fellow ought to enjoy the chase of the hunt as much as he did the moment of glory that came at the end.
#
Crowing—raucous and far too energetic for the hour—woke Molly. Pulling open her eyes, she noted the gray light that filtered into her room from the single,
After all, would she not be far better company after a rest? And was it not part of tidying herself to do the inside as well as the outside?
With a guilty glance at the door, she stretched out on the narrow cot. Lumpy though the aged feather matters was, she had never felt anything so heavenly.
She let go a sigh. And her eyes closed themselves.
#
Theo waited downstairs, but after two mugs of ale—a decent dark porter with a sharp tang to it—he decided to see what was keeping his sweet Molly Sweet. Lord, how that woman liked to keep a fellow waiting!
He took the stairs two at a time and stopped before her door, uncertain. Did he just open the door and enter? Or knock and wait for permission? Or should he even go into her room? He had bought her time, but he had also presented her to the innkeeper as a respectable lady, and he was loath to do anything that might get them both tossed from the inn. He didn't fancy a night without a soft mattress under him.
Of course, if he could have something else soft underneath him, it might be worth it.
The image of Molly's lush figure pulled a smile from him and gave him encouragement enough. For the last five miles in the carriage, she had been brushing up against him—a touch of her shoulder against his, a rub of her cheek before she jerked upright, and even one sweet stroke of her breast against his arm. And he'd been unable to do anything since he had his hands full with four reins and two horses.
Not what a fellow really wanted to hold, blast it.
So why not see if he could now satisfy that ache she had stirred.
He knocked softly and twisted the doorknob, had it yield, so he stepped inside. He had not brought a candle with him, but one sputtered low in its holder on the dresser in Molly's room, giving a warm, yellow light to one corner of the room.
For an instant he almost thought she was not there. But the candle flickered and he saw the white shape on the bed.
She lay curled on her side, one hand tucked under her chin, her chest rising and falling with the deep even breaths of sleep. Her curls tumbled loose and free, a glorious spill of red that cascaded over bare, white shoulders. She wore nothing but a thin bit of white, cut low and nearly transparent, riding high enough to show her legs up to the swell of her thigh.
Entranced, he stood in the doorway, blood heating fast in his veins, tempted to shut the door behind them so he might join her in bed.
Her mouth curved up slightly. And, as he watched, she made a small happy sound and shifted ever so slightly, turning onto her back. His mouth dried as he took in the sight of those lovely breasts pushing against the thin fabric.
With a groan, he turned from the room and closed the door. He leaned there, eyes shut, still seeing her laid out and almost naked. He ached to turn around and go back to her.
But—blast—she was supposed to be respectable here. And she looked so damnably comfortable. He had not the heart to wake her. Not for her dinner. And not for the hunger now stirring inside him.
The humor of it struck him and he opened his eyes and grinned at himself. Blazes, he'd bought a woman he couldn't have! He damned well hoped Terrance would appreciate all he was going through.
Pushing away from her room—and the too sweet temptation inside—he started downstairs to at least claim a meal for himself. Another pint or two wouldn't diminish that delectable image of Molly Sweet in nothing more than her under garments, but it would bloody well make it more bearable that he couldn't act on them tonight.
He would content himself with the thought of there always being another night to follow this one. And that a fellow ought to enjoy the chase of the hunt as much as he did the moment of glory that came at the end.
#
Crowing—raucous and far too energetic for the hour—woke Molly. Pulling open her eyes, she noted the gray light that filtered into her room from the single,
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