The Demon's Mistress Read Free

about them.” She looked him in the eye, despite being six inches shorter. “You are in love with me, Lord Vandeimen. For six weeks, and a payment of twenty thousand pounds, in the eyes of the world, you adore me.”
    â€œDo I get to kiss you, then?” he asked, advancing on her, suddenly furious at this demanding woman who thought she could buy him, body and soul.
    And probably could.
    He found himself looking down the barrel of his pistol, held in her steady, but tense, hands. “You will never, ever, touch me without my permission.”
    He smiled at the pointless threat. “Why not pull the trigger?” he drawled. “That will achieve my end, and save me from the sin of self-destruction.”
    Her eyes widened, and for the first time he saw overt fear. She’d put herself in a situation she didn’t understand and couldn’t control, and had the wit to know it.
    It was about time she learned some other lessons.
    Glancing to one side to distract her, he snatched the pistol. She gasped and stepped back, pale becoming pallid.
    He was tempted to seize her, press the useless pistol to her lush breasts, and claim the kiss he’d threatened. Disgusted by that, he snapped, “Leave.”
    She looked at him, breathing rapidly. “You are rejecting my offer?”
    He wanted to say yes, but the same impulse that had sent him to the tables ruled him here. “No. You’ve bought six weeks of my life, Mrs. Celestin. I accept your terms. However, I’ll need an advance on the second ten thousand if I’m to put on a show worthy of you. I am literally penniless.”
    Now that she had what she wanted, she attempted her former manner, but she couldn’t hide her fear. Not a foolish woman, at least.
    â€œI’ll deposit eleven thousand for you at Perry’s Bank,” she said, a touch of panic fluttering in her voice. “One thousand is advance on our final settlement. Arrange your affairs, my lord, and have a night’s rest. We can meet formally tomorrow at the Duchess of Yeovil’s ball. Do you have an invitation?”
    He glanced at the messy pile of cards and envelopes on the desk. “Probably. Even a ruined lord is a lord.”
    She too looked at the pile, lips suddenly pursing. What was it? A powerful urge to organize? Was she a meddlesome, managing woman? He almost set limits on their bargain, especially that she keep her fingers out of his affairs, but why fool himself? He’d come this far and would go further if necessary.
    He’d sell himself to her in any way she wanted for nine thousand clear and a fresh start. She didn’t need to know that, however.
    â€œIs that all, Mrs. Celestin?” he asked in a bored tone, pistol still in his hand.
    She jerked slightly, nodded, and after a hesitation where she clearly felt there was more to be said, walked rapidly out of the room.
    Maria paused for a moment on the landing, a faint shudder passing through her. Athena, but she’d almost been too late. A few more seconds . . . ! And then she’d pointed his pistol at him, threatening to kill him.
    She pressed a gloved hand to her mouth. Was anything more absurd? She’d never held a pistol before in her life, and then he’d dared her to kill him as if he wanted it! He was so young, so full of promise. Was self-destruction too deeply rooted to be pulled out?
    Then he’d taken the weapon from her. So easily. She should have expected that from a man known as Demon Vandeimen. She should have expected that uncivilized edge anyway. He’d survived a long and bloody war. Of course he wasn’t safe!
    She hurried out of the house. Her liveried footman leaped forward to open the carriage door and assist her in to sit beside her aunt.
    Harriette Coombs, round in face and body, was merry by nature, but knew when to worry. Like Maria, she was a widow, but she had enjoyed thirty years of happy marriage instead of ten years