The Baron and the Mistress Page 2

  Chastity gripped him tight and rolled her hand up and down his cock as if fascinated. Pulling it out of his trousers, she continued her exploration. Decency bade him to stop this before it went any further since his conscience continued to wrestle with his lust for dominance. But when her mouth closed over the head of his prick, he grasped a handful of her beautiful hair and plunged in. Decency conceded defeat.

  Her innocent sucking nearly made him come right then. Chastity soon found a sensual rhythm, twisting the base of his cock with her hand while she licked and hollowed her cheeks for a deeper penetration. Ash rocked his hips forward. He gripped the back of her head bringing her in even tighter as he thrust into her mouth. How many times did he dream of Chastity doing this very thing? His bollocks tightened and the pressure built. Again Ash tried to speak, but all that left his throat were lascivious groans of desire.

  Ash should stop this before he spilled his seed. Chastity moved faster, all up and down his shaft. Not exactly a small man in either length or girth, yet she managed to take him all. “Wait...” he croaked, his voice hoarse. Too late. The climax hit him hard, causing his vision to swirl. Black dots swan in his eyes. His release seemed to go on for many minutes and his knees buckled. Ash grasped the wall to keep from falling to the dirty floor. How could he describe the sensations rolling through him? In all his sexual escapades he never climaxed with this intensity. Chastity stood and wiped her mouth with her sleeve. She began to unbutton her worn frock.

  “Wait...” Was that all he could say? At the moment, it seemed so. With trembling hands, he tucked his cock back in his trousers, pushed from the wall, and on unstable legs walked toward her. “You do not have to do anymore. I never thought....” He reached in his pocket and pulled out some of his winnings, close to eight pounds, and thrust the notes into her hand. “Take it. Take it all.” Myriad and confusing emotions gripped him tight. Emotions he could not name. Nor did he want to.

  Ash kissed her hard. Chastity tasted of ale, onions, and his own musky essence. Considering she hung about the streets her scent was not entirely unpleasant. Granted, she smelled of smoke, dampness, and the faint odor of gas, but beyond that lingered a sweet aroma that appealed. He thrust his tongue deep leaving no part of her lush, warm mouth untouched. At first, Chastity did not respond. Then the money fluttered to the floor as her thin arms encircled his neck and she returned his passionate kiss with the desire he instinctively knew lurked within her.

  Ash groaned as he cupped her backside through the tattered, woolen gown. Bringing her in tight against his semi-hard cock, the battle began afresh between desire and decorum. Chastity tasted damned sweet and the kiss sent searing heat throughout his whole body. He delved deeper, exploring every part of her mouth. Chastity wrapped her tongue around his, caressing and stroking. Groaning, he pulled her closer, his insides aflame. The kiss reached a part of him he didn’t know existed. To his very core, to his soul. This moved beyond lust and the realization made him step back.

  Madness! This was madness and could not continue. The shock of his response to her rattled his brain. She unmanned him. The kiss was devastating in its depth and meaning. He reached down and grabbed the pound notes, handing them to her. Chastity blinked looking as confused as he felt. Ash pointed to the door. “Come with me. I will escort you to your lodgings.”

  ***

  With the money safely tucked away in her battered reticule and the knotted cloth full of bread and cheese clenched tight in her hand, she followed Ash to the waiting carriage. There were more than a few pound notes though she did not have time to count them. Why was Ash accompanying her home? His kiss tasted heavenly, but also hinted of the devil within. Chastity would have stayed and done anything he wanted. Shock and desire still reverberated deep inside from her wicked act. What possessed her to take the masculine part of him into her mouth? Her cheeks flushed with the realization she’d enjoyed it. Very much, indeed.

  Shaking the carnal thoughts away, her mind began to formulate plans. With this money they could move to better quarters, a place with more than one dirty room with cracked walls and broken window glass. Nothing fancy, but an establishment with a more permanent and respectable address. They could find better employment. For the first time in two years, hope began to take root in her nearly dead and numbed soul.

  After helping her into the carriage, Ash took the seat opposite. The window slid open and the coachman peered in causing Chastity to jump. “Where to, my lord?” The man asked.

  Lord? That meant this Ash held the title of baron, viscount, or earl. Or he could be the second son of a duke and even the third or fourth. The way he dressed should have clued her in to his status. Even if she still lived with her stepfather any connection between them would be unlikely. Ash was a member of the peerage, out of her class then and most definitely in the here and now. Good God, as if this man would pay court to her after what she’d done. Chastity swirled the inside her mouth with her tongue and a hot flush spread across her cheeks. She could still taste him. How very—tantalizing.

  “Well? Where to?” his lordship asked.

  “Drop me at the alley,” she murmured.

  “Shag Alley, Taylor.”

  Chastity cringed, and then a ghastly perception gripped her hard. She would no doubt be spending much of her future in the smelly, filthy place or somewhere similar. The money would not last forever. At some point she would be forced back into the streets. Choking back a sob, she clutched the bundle tighter. The swaying of the carriage caused her stomach to roil.

  They did not speak, but Chastity could feel his intense stare. It took all of her control not to meet it. When the carriage rolled to a stop, she opened the door and jumped down not waiting for the coach driver to assist her. Without looking back, she headed toward the dosshouse to return to her miserable existence.

  Chapter Three

  Pushing aside the curtain, Ash watched Chastity Armitage walk past the alley and continue down the road. Pain as well as stark acknowledgement tore through his heart. He couldn’t let her go. Rather a disturbing prospect that despite the covetousness he experienced when observing her at the ball so long ago, emotions far beyond the physical grasped him. Her delicate form was swallowed up by the heavy, gray fog and she was gone from his sight.

  I want her. For what, his mistress? The option held merit and he considered it. She could be set up at his townhouse in Mayfair and her upkeep seen to. No, that would not be proper. Where did men hide away their paramours? He never had one before. A long-term commitment, even with a mistress, never appealed. Given the choice he preferred the quick tup whether he paid for it or not. Widow or whore, it was of no consequence. As long as the woman spread her legs and his sexual cravings were assuaged. Once sated, he never gave the woman, lady, or trollop in question further consideration. He was the very definition of a rake and certainly a damned unfeeling one. In truth, he was a cold bastard.

  If he set Chastity up as his mistress there would be no place for her in society. Seeing she whored on the streets meant her status, whatever it had been, no longer existed. What happened to her that she ended dressed in rags and walked about Shag Alley? Her miserable excuse of a stepfather told him the Armitage children were in residence in Scotland. What became of her siblings? Sir Nigel obviously told a blatant lie. He’d been quite convincing. Perhaps a wretched tragedy befell her? Blast it, he must find out the particulars of her story. Never should have let her leave the carriage. Ash banged on the wall and the window slid open. “Follow the young lady.”

  ***

  The door hinges creaked loudly as Chastity stepped into the dim, cold room. No money for a candle or any other lighting, things had become that dire. “Jon? Hannah?”

  “Hannah is asleep.” Jon whispered from the dark corner. At thirteen, her brother’s voice hovered between a child’s squeak and a man’s deep tone. Already he stood taller than her, but far too thin. A growing boy needed nourishment. Chastity felt her way to the small table. “Come, I have
bread and cheese. Eat, Jon. We’ll save some for Hannah.”

  Jon’s cold fingers brushed by hers as he greedily grabbed the bread. “What about you?”

  “I have eaten, truly. I brought this for you both. And I have money.”

  A chilly silence filled the room. “What did you do for the money and food?”

  Embarrassment and shame covered her. Even though she could not see Jon in the darkness, she felt his censure nonetheless. “Nothing untoward.”

  A knock at the door startled her. Oh, not the landlord, not tonight.

  “Don’t answer it,” Jon rasped, his mouth full of food.

  “I must. If it’s Mr. Jones, I would rather pay him what we owe and be done with it.”

  Chastity opened the door and gasped. From the illumination of the solitary burning gaslight in the hall, she could make out the tall, broad-shouldered form of Lord Ash.

  He stepped in, but did not close the door. “Do you not have any light?” he asked.

  “Chastity, who is it?” Hannah cried from the bed.

  “It’s all right, love. Go back to sleep.”

  She grabbed Ash’s elbow and steered him back into the hall, closing the door behind her. “Why are you here?” she whispered furiously.

  “Who is in the room with you?”

  “My younger brother and sister. The food is for them. And no, I haven’t any money for candles or anything else. Why do you suppose I propositioned you?” How dare this man follow her!

  He frowned, glancing about the dirty, stained hallway. Noise from adjoining rooms filtered through the paper-thin walls. Children crying, a man yelling obscenities, a woman sobbing with a mournful wail dominated. “You will not stay here another night. Gather your things and your siblings. You are coming with me,” he stated in a firm voice.

  “I owe money for the rent...”

  “I will send payment to whomever owns this blasted hovel tomorrow. In the meantime this is no place for you, Chastity Armitage.”

  She gasped in horror. Good heavens, he knew her name. A rolling panic twisted down her spine causing her legs to wobble. She clutched his arm, hard muscle flexed under her touch. “You cannot tell a soul! Especially not my stepfather!”

  “Yes, well, we will discuss that in length later. For now, I will take you all to my townhouse where you will be my guests.”

  Surely he spoke in jest. How would he explain bringing three ragamuffins in off the streets? “Why would you do this?”

  “Do not think me benevolent. I shall require a certain compensation for my generosity.” He replied matter-of-factly.

  Yes, and she could guess what. Her mouth twisted with sour disgust. Chastity released his arm. It always came down to sex with men. Nothing else seemed to matter to them. How disappointing and how typical. Servicing him would be a sight better than hanging about a grubby alley and being taken against the bricks by a rough-handling fat man who smelled of urine and sweat. “You wish me to be your mistress.”

  “Yes.”

  She knew men of the peerage employed mistresses, she’d heard the talk. By the sheer number of women selling their wares in the streets and the noisy and raucous activity in Shag Alley alone it seemed all of London did nothing but...what word did he use? Fuck. Wasn’t the first time she heard it and it would not be the last.

  Chastity glanced up into his handsome face. The shadow from the yellow gaslight reflected off the sharp angles and sculpted perfection of his features. How she wished this stunning man was different. Lord Ash possessed the look of a hero, yet underneath lay a rake of dubious morals. Well, if he wanted to buy her body, she would ensure he paid well.

  “Then I will require a salary and schooling for my brother and my sister. I will not be separated from them, not after all this.” She demanded, keeping her tone firm and resolute.

  “Ho! Will you, now? Mercenary little baggage. Very well. We will work out the terms tomorrow. Even draw up a contract if you wish.” He whispered in her ear. “I will have you in my bed. You will submit to me and I promise you will enjoy it.” His sultry breath fanned her cheeks making them flush in arousal.

  “How do I know you will not take me somewhere and violate me, and then toss me and my siblings to the cobbles? Or worse, do murder?”

  He trailed two fingers down her cheek and his touch scorched her skin. “If I was going to violate you, I would have done so back at the inn. It’s either me or this deplorable subsistence. Choose. And choose wisely. I only make this offer once.”

  No real alternative at all. After barely surviving dire circumstances for two years, how could she live with herself if she condemned her siblings to continue in such a dreadful existence? None of them were thriving. They were undernourished, thin, pale, and—she glanced at the dirt under her broken nails—filthy. She did try to keep themselves and the room as clean as she could, but it was a battle lost. Soap entirely too expensive to purchase when food and firewood was needed more. Hannah turned sickly the past several months and unable to work for long periods. One whiff of illness and she would be carried off. Even now she suffered from a slight but constant congestion in her chest that worried Chastity. Jon needed education and guidance. Darkness resided in his gaze she remained afraid to ask about.

  And herself? What did it matter? Ruined. Not that society would have given her much a chance. Originally, she came from a middle-class home where they were all happily content with their lives. At the time she realized she would never move about in the upper echelons of society. What man of the peerage or connected to it would consider a solicitor’s daughter for a possible marriage? And she hardly cared for she was satisfied with her station. Thinking back, just before her father died, he claimed a young man studying to be a doctor wanted to make her acquaintance. The introduction never came to pass. She truly mourned her former life. What she would give to be there again.

  When her father did pass leaving them penniless, they nearly were tossed into the street. How ironic. She and her siblings wound up there anyway. Little wonder her mother accepted the first offer of marriage that came her way. Four years with Nigel Barrington, a cold, distant man who hid his debauched nature under a solicitous facade. As Chastity grew older, she noticed the pained look on her mother’s face some mornings. God knows what the man did to her in the privacy of their bedroom.

  If her mother could make the ultimate sacrifice for her children, then she could do no less for her brother and sister. The unvarnished truth? She would be a prostitute with one client. Weighing her options, Chastity acknowledged becoming this man’s mistress beat being a three-penny-upright in Shag Alley.

  Ash gripped her chin, tilting her face upward to look at him. So handsome. His touch quite electric. But what dissolute wickedness lurked beneath his polite and polished veneer? Looks as if she would find out.

  “Your answer?” His voice was cool, almost detached. There was only one answer she could give.

  “Yes. I will be your mistress.”

  Chapter Four

  Thirty minutes later, Ash arrived at his townhouse with his guests. Grimes, his butler, looked aghast at the state of the Armitage brood, but quickly shuttered his gaze to reflect his usual unruffled, professional bearing.

  “Fetch Mrs. Brindle, Grimes. See to it Miss Hannah and Master Jon are properly bathed and fed. The attic rooms are to be prepared for them. Burn the rags they are wearing and find something clean and appropriate for sleeping.” He clutched Chastity’s arm. “Miss Chastity and I have much to discuss. We’ll be in the study. I am not to be disturbed until after these children are seen too. Understand?”

  “Of course, my lord. I will see it done. Should I bring tea?”

  “Yes. A little food would not go amiss. Whatever is available in the larder. Feed the children as well. I do not want a fuss. Nor is there to be any discussion as to the identity of my guests or the fact I have any guests at all.”

  Grimes gave a quick nod. He would see to it there would be no gossiping outside the townhouse
walls. Ash’s staff was loyal; he paid them well and treated them with respect to ensure their steadfastness. As he passed the butler his hat and cloak he leaned in and whispered, “I will reveal more details later, Grimes. I have rescued them from a dreadful situation. I know the young lady, and she and her siblings do not deserve such a fate.”

  “We will see them well looked after, my lord.” Grimes replied firmly.

  “Well done.”

  Ash steered Chastity toward the study. Motioning to the sofa, he bade her to sit as he closed the door. She removed her battered bonnet and laid it next to her. The Armitages did not bring much with them. They each clutched a pathetic bundle to their chests and Ash wagered it all could be burned. Considering the circumstances, he’d been surprised he did not detect any overt slovenliness from her besides the obvious odors of the street when he kissed her previously. The clock ticked on the mantel. Close to eleven. He should let her bathe and get some sleep, but damn it there would be no slumber for him until he knew more of her situation. “Why would Barrington say you all left Town to live with relatives in Scotland?”

  Genuine surprise flickered across Chastity’s weary features. “Is that what the wretched man said? My God.” She rubbed her hands in obvious irritation. “How is it you know my name? And how do you know my stepfather?”

  Ash sat opposite. Why prevaricate? “I saw you at Durham’s ball two years past. You made quite the impression on me. Before I could obtain an introduction you left the party. I did find out who you were and I badgered my father until he consented to escort me to your home. By the time we arrived on your doorstep two weeks after the ball, Barrington informed us you had departed for Scotland never to return. Not true. You ran away, didn’t you? Why? Surely there was someone you could have gone to instead of trying to make your way on the streets.”