Read Online His Favorite Mistress by Tracy Anne Warren - Free Book Online Page A

knew Aggie would turn up. Leave the door open and we’ll see if she follows.”
    Again, Tony held his tongue as they moved inside. He and Gabriella were halfway up the stairs when the cat darted in, trailing them at a run. She continued to follow a few paces behind all the way to Gabriella’s bedchamber.
    Inside the room, Gabriella carefully placed her two kittens onto the plush Aubusson carpet, far enough from the fireplace to protect them yet close enough to still give them some warmth.
    “There you go,” she cooed to the adult cat. “There are your babies.”
    Tony crossed the room and stood silent as Gabriella plucked the kittens out of his arms and set them, one by one, next to their siblings. As soon as all five were reunited, their mother joined them, purring out her pleasure.
    “I’ll find a basket and lay an old blanket inside for a bed,” she said. “And a wooden box with some gardening sand inside should do for their personal needs until they are all old enough to go outside with their mama.” Turning, she sent him another smile. “Thank you for helping me, Wyvern.”
    He smiled back. “You are quite welcome. Though you may not be thanking me when you awaken tomorrow morning with six cats in your bed.”
    “Oh, they won’t be. They’ll stay in their basket.”
    I wouldn’t be too certain of that, he decided, casting a glance toward the large tester bed with its elegant blue counterpane. Unbidden, he envisioned her lying there beneath the fine linen sheets, her long, dark hair spread over the pillows in glorious silken waves, while kittens played around her, making her laugh. His loins tightened at the image, and he became far too aware how very much he would like to be here in this room to see if such a tableau actually developed. Abruptly, he forced himself back to the moment. “I should be going.”
    As if only then realizing the impropriety of being alone with him inside her bedroom, a light blush spread upward over her cheeks. “Yes, I suppose you ought.”
    But instead of leaving, he let himself enjoy the sight of her lovely face, her translucent skin dusted with pink—and something else, now that he took a good look. “You’ve a smudge,” he remarked.
    “Oh, do I? Where?” Raising a hand, she tried—and failed—to remove the mark.
    “Here. Allow me,” he urged. Stepping closer, he placed the tips of two fingers ever so lightly against the curve of her right cheekbone and stroked the spot. Meeting her gaze, he watched her pupils dilate, her lips parting on a nearly inaudible sigh. Tracing their movement, he wondered if her mouth tasted even half as delicious as he remembered, like the sweetest, most satisfying delicacy ever made.
    How easy it would be to find out! he thought. Only two inches closer and she would again be mine for the taking. But no, I cannot, he sighed inwardly, forcing himself to recall his pledge to think of her as a little sister. Of course such a promise was the height of absurdity, since no matter how he tried, he knew he would never be able to think of Gabriella St. George as a sister. On the other hand, he supposed that didn’t mean he couldn’t at least make the attempt to treat her as such.
    Dropping his hand he stepped back. “There you are,” he said in a brisk tone. “All gone.”
    She blinked as if coming out of a momentary trance. “Oh…I…my thanks…Wyvern.”
    He made her a bow. “Your servant, Miss St. George. I shall see you at dinner tonight, I expect.”
    “Yes. Until then.”
    With a nod, he allowed himself one last look, then turned and strode out of the room.
     
    “We give her the name Stephanie Charlotte,” Julianna Pendragon declared, the maternal pride and happiness in her gentle voice ringing out through the parish church.
    From her own seat on one of the wooden pews that held a number of invited guests, Gabriella observed the proceedings and the group clustered around the baptismal font. Among them were Rafe, Julianna, and