Devil's Mistress Read Online Free PDF

“Nothing,” she whispered huskily to him. “Nothing at all—”
    He lifted surprisingly gentle fingers to her cheek and traced the bone structure down to her mouth. A shiver trailed down her spine as he lightly followed the curve of her lips with his thumb.
    His voice was husky when he spoke again, and the velvet within it sent another tingling wave racing along her spine.
    “If you do not wish to be here, Brianna, then you must leave.”
    Leave! Walk out when the king’s men were prowling the street!
    “No!” she murmured quickly. She forced herself to open her eyes to him again and face him with a dazzling smile. “No,” she repeated, softly this time. “I’m exactly where I wish to be.”
    “Then let’s get on with it, shall we?” he said softly. But there was a hint of impatience in his voice—a warning.
    He had cast aside his greatcoat and she saw that his shirt was of fine white silk. She shuddered once, just once, and resigned herself to her charade. If she did not please him, she would think of something to say. But while there was breath in her, and while he offered this hiding place, this safety, she would stay with him.
    “The washstand,” he told her pointedly, “is over there.”
    “Yes, yes, of course,” she murmured, and walked quickly behind the screen.
    She hesitated there, just for a moment. If a miracle was going to occur to save her, now was the time.
    No miracles occurred. She closed her eyes tightly, then reached nervously to undo her muddied gown. It fell to the floor, and when she stood in her shift only, she shivered fleetingly, then with numb fingers she reached for the soap. Cleaning herself of the mud felt good, but the water was cold, shocking her into a greater realization than she wanted to face. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t go through with it!
    “Brianna!”
    His tone was very irritated. She flinched behind the cover of the screen, finding strength in the hatred for him that leapt to her breast. “I’m coming,” she called out sharply, then winced again at her own tone. “I want only to please you!” she called out silkily. Then, she came around the screen and in desperation, hurried to him.
    She slipped her arms around him, allowing her fingers to play upon the flesh at the nape of his neck. She felt his muscles beneath her touch and the crush of his broad chest against her breasts. His arms slipped around her and the power and heat that enveloped her made her shiver. She had to go through with it, she warned herself furiously.
    But what then? What happened when he was done with her?
    She had to pray that darkness would have descended and that the streets would be cleared of soldiers. She could escape back to the forest and then somehow get to the Powells.
    She smiled at him, aware that she didn’t know what was expected of her. Words, she hoped, would suffice. “Lord Treveryan, truly, truly I wish to be nowhere else,” she murmured, the nervousness in her voice giving it a husky, sensual quality.
    “I’m glad,” he told her in a low murmur. He turned then and sat on the bed to remove his boots. Brianna watched him for several seconds, then turned quickly from him, unnerved by his strange appraisal of her. His eyes moved over her as if he were surprised by her, and oddly pleased. Brianna risked another glance out of the window. Soldiers were still prowling along the street. She felt the coil of fear wind tightly in her stomach, and she stared surreptitiously back at the captain.
    He was, she decided objectively, an extremely fine example of a man. Lean, fit, and agile, and yet so sinewed that an attractive play of muscle could be seen beneath the taut fabric of his breeches and beneath the ballooning silk of his shirt-sleeves. His countenance, with the piercing eyes and coal-dark arching brows, was more than handsome; it was ruggedly strong and determined. She could well imagine him as a sea captain, standing solid against the wind, his voice roaring