Claiming His Mistress

“Is this…all you want from me, Carver?”

“No, it’s not,” he answered, unable to stop his gaze from skimming the lush curve of her waist and hip and thigh. “I’ll call you…set up another time for us….”

He raised a challenging eyebrow. “Unless this is all you want from me?” Carver’s confidence in their mutual desire was instantly affirmed.

“It’s nowhere near all I want….”

Australian author EMMA DARCY has written more than seventy-five novels, including the international bestseller, The Secrets Within, published by MIRA® books. Her intense, passionate and fast-paced writing style has made Emma Darcy popular with readers around the world, and she’s sold nearly sixty million books worldwide.

Claiming His Mistress

Emma Darcy

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER ONE

HER hair caught Carver Dane’s eye first. Hair like that invariably did—a long lustrous spill of black curls. His mouth twisted self-mockingly. It was said that people were always attracted to the same physical type, but two relationship disasters really should have some deterrent effect on him.

He waited for a negative switch-off.

It didn’t happen.

His gaze kept being drawn to her.

Of course it could be a wig since this masked ball was also a fancy dress affair. It was impossible to tell from this distance across the dance floor, especially with the glittery scarlet and purple mask she wore, disguising her hairline. Purposefully he moved his partner in a sequence of steps that brought him closer.

The hair belonged to a woman dressed as Carmen, the femme fatale gypsy from Bizet’s opera. Warning enough to stay clear of her, he told himself. Her body was definitely packaged dynamite, poured into a slinky red gown with a provocative fishtail of red and purple frills. The front of the hip-hugging skirt was even more provocative with a thigh-high slit revealing a flash of shapely legs as her partner twirled her around.

Gold bangles on her arms, gold hoops dangling from her ears. A very sexy piece all around, Carver decided, keeping her in view, determined on claiming her for the next dance. The loose tendrils curling down in front of her ears proved her hair wasn’t a wig. Third time lucky, he wryly argued, though he didn’t believe it. He simply wanted to pursue the desire she stirred.

Katie Beaumont was enjoying herself. She hadn’t let her hair down, in a fun sense, for a long long time. Being dressed as Carmen amongst a crowd of people she didn’t know, and who didn’t know her, was definitely liberating. There was no need to maintain a responsible image. This was a wonderful slice of freedom from any care, especially the care of what others might think of her.

Her toreador partner was sweating rather heavily by the time the dance bracket ended. “That was great!” he puffed, making a grab to pull her close. “Come and have a drink at the bar with me.”

“Thanks so much, but I’m expected back at my table,” she excused, smiling as she twirled out of reach. “Enjoy your drink,” she tossed back at him, not wanting to leave him completely flat. He was an enthusiastic dancer, but she didn’t want his company off the floor, and tonight was about pleasing herself.

It was easy to slip away through the milling crowd. She was actually placed on one of the official tables, next to her old school friend, Amanda, who’d set out to marry spectacularly well and had accomplished it with Max Fairweather, a leading stockbroker at Sydney’s top financial levels.

Katie was glad to have met her again after so many years of being out of contact—a lucky coincidence with Amanda placing her four-year-old son at the day-care centre where she’d been working for the past six months. While she had no ambition to slide into the high-flying social scene, having Amanda’s amusing company from time to time, definitely put a bit of sparkle in her life.

She grinned at her friend’s extravagant gestures as Amanda entertained her other guests at the table with some outrageous story. No doubt about it, she was a great hostess. And looked fantastic tonight, dressed as an exotic belly dancer in vibrant blues and greens, with a gold mask attached to a gold mesh cap, from which hung strings of glittery beads, winding through her long blond hair.

“So how was the toreador?” she archly queried the moment Katie had settled on the chair beside her.

She grinned, knowing she was about to dash Amanda’s devious plans to find her a life partner. “Good on his feet but a bit too full of himself.”

“Mmm…we obviously need a better prospect,” she mused with unabashed candour. “The guy I fancy is the very sexy buccaneer. A pirate king if ever I saw one.”

“A pirate king?” Katie effected a careless shrug. “I haven’t noticed him.”

“Well, he noticed you,” came the loaded reply. Amanda always had ammunition ready to fire at Katie’s single status. “He was eyeing you off during that last dance.”

She laughed, aware that many men had been eyeing her off, so one in particular carried no real meaning. The Carmen costume was blatantly sexy. Amanda lived by the rule—if you’ve got it, flaunt it—and she’d certainly pressed the principle on Katie tonight. Not that she minded. Tonight she didn’t care how many men looked at her. It was harmless enough, letting herself revel in feeling desirable when there was no danger attached to it.

“You’re not supposed to be fancying anyone, Amanda,” she teasingly chided her friend. “I’m here in place of your husband, remember?”

“Don’t remind me. I’m seriously annoyed with Max for missing tonight’s ball. Especially when I’m on the fundraising committee for this charity. Him and his golfing weekends,” she muttered darkly, reaching for the bottle of champagne to refill their glasses.

“Didn’t you tell me the contacts are good for his stockbroking business?” Katie put in politically. “This lifestyle does come at a price.”

“Don’t I know it!” Amanda sighed. “Still, I’d rather be drinking the best bubbly than worrying my head about setting up a business. Are you sure you want to take on this taxiing kids around, Katie?”

“Yes. I’ve thought it all out and I’ve already set up an appointment with the investment company Max recommended.”

“I’m sure I could matchmake a suitable husband for you.”

Katie shook her head. “I’d really rather support myself.”

Amanda heaved another exasperated sigh. “It’s not natural.” She waved an arm around the ballroom. “This is what’s natural for someone with your looks.”

“What? A masked ball in fancy dress? This is sheer fantasy land,” Katie mocked laughingly. “But I do thank you for talking me into using Max’s ticket. And finding me this costume.”

“So you are having a good time!” Amanda pounced triumphantly.

Katie grinned. “Yes, I am.”

Her friend handed her a glass of champagne and clicked it with her own. “To a night of fun and frivolity! May there be many more of them!”

Katie smiled and sipped, but didn’t echo the toast. The occasional bit of fun and frivolity did provide a high spot, but a steady diet of it could soon make it lose its magic.

She suspected Amanda kept her life hectic because her husband, who was a truly nice man, tended to be somewhat staid, and exciting distractions kept a happy balance. She also suspected Max had arranged the golfing weekend because appearing in fancy dress was definitely not his style.

Still, the marriage seemed to work quite well, and Katie wondered if the years of working as a nanny in London had made her cynical about the permanence of any relationship. Observing the intrigues and infidelities that went on behind the superficial glitz of supposedly solid marriages had been an unpleasant eye-opener, and guarding the children from them had not been easy.

She loved the innocence of little children. She took more pleasure in their company than the company of most adults. The idea of providing a taxi service for children whose parents didn’t have the time to ferry them around to activities had appealed very strongly to her. She was sure it was workable, given enough finance to back the venture.

In any event, she didn’t want to be fixed up with Amanda’s divorced acquaintances, and divorcees seemed to be the only unattached males for a woman looking down the barrel of being thirty years old. Not that Katie was madly interested in getting attached anyway. She was used to being independent. There’d only ever been the one great passion in her life, and unless someone, somewhere, could spark those same feelings in her, she’d rather stay single.

Making her own way seemed infinitely preferable to sharing her life with a man she didn’t love, even if going into business for herself held more pitfalls than she could foresee at the moment. Just glancing around at the men sharing this table…not one of them was attractive enough to give her even a niggle of doubt about the decision she’d made to invest in a future which she could control.

They were pleasant enough people to spend a few hours with; intelligent, witty, accomplished people who could afford the astronomical price of the tickets to this ball. Maybe it was the effect of the masks and fancy dress, but none of them felt real to her. They were all play-acting. But then, she was, too. Silly to judge anyone when tonight was aimed at taking time out from their day-to-day lives.

Fantasy…

She sipped some more champagne and laughed at the wickedly clever jokes being told. The band started up again and Amanda nudged her in the ribs.

“The pirate king is coming at a stride,” she warned gleefully. “To your right. Three o’clock.”

Katie turned her head obediently, curious to see the man who had stirred Amanda’s interest.

“Now don’t tell me he isn’t seriously scrumptious,” her friend challenged.

It was the wrong word, Katie thought. Completely wrong.

He was striding across the dance floor, a black cape lined with purple satin swirling from his shoulders. The purple was repeated in a dashing bandanna circling his head above his black mask. A white flowing shirt was slashed open almost to his waist, revealing a darkly tanned and highly virile chest. A wide black leather belt was fastened by a silver skull-and-crossbones emblem. His black trousers seemed to strain over powerfully muscled thighs, and knee-high boots accentuated his tall, aggressive maleness.

He looked…seriously dangerous…not scrumptious.

Katie’s heart started thumping. He was coming straight at her with the lethal grace of a panther on the prowl…and he was not about to be diverted or fended off. She could feel his focus on her, feel the driven purpose behind it. A convulsive little shiver ran down her spine. Before she even realised what she was doing, she was pushing her chair back, drawn to stand up and be facing him properly before he reached her.

He emanated a magnetism that was tugging inexorably on her and she didn’t know whether to fight it or succumb to it. All her instincts were on red alert, yet it was more a state of excitement than of fear, like meeting a challenge head-on, compelled to engage whatever the outcome.

She hadn’t experienced anything like this since…since her ill-fated love for Carver Dane had swept her into the sexual intimacy that had been so terribly broken.

Shocked at being reminded of a time she had determinedly put behind her, Katie stiffened with resistance when the buccaneer halted a bare step away, holding out an open palm to her in confident invitation. She stared down at it, and the sharp memory of Carver eased back into the darker side of her mind. This man’s palm was not rough or calloused from manual labour.

“Will you dance with me?”

The softly spoken question had a mocking lilt to it, drawing her gaze up to the eyes behind the mask. They were too shadowed to see his expression. His firmly etched lips were slightly curved, but she caught the sense that the half smile carried more sardonic amusement at himself than any attempt to persuade a positive response from her.

Resentment stirred at the thought he didn’t really want to be attracted to the Carmen persona she was projecting tonight. Yet what was good for the gander was just as good for the goose, Katie argued to herself. His buccaneer costume was also blatantly sexy. In fact, his physical impact was so strong, he was probably well aware of its effect on women, and he was undoubtedly banking on her being an easy target for him.

A perverse streak in Katie urged her to pose a challenge to his overwhelming self-assurance. Instead of placing her hand in his in acquiescence, she propped it on her hip in languid consideration.

“Taking a risk, aren’t you?” she drawled. “Men tend to fall desperately in love with Carmen once they give themselves up to her clutches.”

Amanda burst into giggles and the rest of the party around the table fell silent to take in this interesting encounter.

He tilted his head to one side, and the hand he’d offered gestured non-caringly. “My life is littered with risks I’ve taken. One more is neither here nor there.”

“You come out…unscathed…every time?” Katie queried disbelievingly.

“No. But I hide my scars well.”

She quite liked that answer. It made him more human, less invincible. She smiled. “A fearless fighter.”

“More a survivor,” he returned blandly.

“Against all odds.”

“Would you have me back off, Carmen?”

“That would spoil the game.”

She sashayed around him, swishing the frills on her skirt, the exhilaration of being deliberately provocative zinging through her as she turned and extended her hand to him in invitation. “Will you dance with me?”

He’d already swung, following her movements as though she was now the pivotal magnet. He took her hand in a firm grasp, and with slow deliberation, lifted it to his mouth.

“The pleasure…believe me…will be mine.”

He turned her hand over and pressed a hot, sensual kiss onto her palm, completely blitzing any reply Katie might have made to that subtly threatening claim. She stood stunned by the electric tingles running up her arm. Before she could recover any composure at all, he moved, sliding an arm around her waist and sweeping her onto the dance floor with a dominant power that enforced pliancy. He placed her hand on his shoulder and pressed the rest of her into full body contact with him.

“Now we dance,” he murmured, his voice simmering with a sexuality that vibrated with anticipation. “We shall see if Carmen can follow where a pirate leads.”

CHAPTER TWO

KATIE was swamped by his aggressive maleness. Hard muscular thighs were pushing hers into matching his every step and her feet were instinctively moving to his will. His body heat was seeping into her, arousing a highly sensitive awareness of her own sexuality, and the physical friction of dancing in such intimate proximity stirred feelings she hadn’t had in years.

Occasionally a very handsome man with a well-built physique had inspired a fleeting moment of lustful speculation, but that had only ever been a mental try-on… What would he be like as a lover? She hadn’t experienced any noticeable physical reaction. Her stomach certainly hadn’t gone all tremulous. Her breasts hadn’t started prickling with excitement. Her pulse rate had not zoomed into a wild gallop.

The pirate was doing all this to her within seconds of her being in his clutches, and Katie was so mesmerised by his effect on her, she was following him willy-nilly, taking no control whatsoever over what was happening. Deciding she probably needed a good dose of oxygen in her brain, she took a deep breath. The result was her nostrils tingled with the sharp, tangy scent of whatever cologne he’d splashed onto his jaw after shaving.

It seemed that all her senses had moved up several intensity levels and were being flooded with some wanton need to pick up everything there was to know about this man. She couldn’t get a grip on herself. She didn’t even want to get a grip on herself. Her body was alive with all the feelings of being a woman who craved the primitive pleasure a man could give her…this man, who might be dressed as a fantasy but was most certainly flesh and blood reality.

“Gold rings on your ears, on your arms, but not on your hands,” he commented.

“None on yours, either,” she answered, very aware of the strong bare fingers wrapped around hers.

“I walk alone.”

“So do I.”

“No one owns Carmen?”

“I don’t believe anyone can ever own another person.”

“True. We’re only ever given the pieces they choose to give us. Like this dance…”

“You’re not counting on anything else from me?”

“Are you…from me?”

“You claimed the role of leader.”

“So I did. Which begs the question…how far will you follow?”

“As far as I still want to.”

“Then I must keep you wanting.”

He executed a masterful series of turns that made wicked use of the front slit of her skirt, their thighs intertwining with every twirl, and the hand pressing into the pit of her back ensuring she remained pinned to him. The deliberately tantalising manoeuvre left her breathless, the surge of excitement so intense she had to struggle to think.

But this wasn’t about thinking, she fiercely reasoned.

It was about feeling.

And the desire to indulge herself with what he was promising was too strong to question.

All the long empty years since Carver…nothing. There was a huge hole in her life and this might not be the answer to it but it was something!

Free and clear, Carver thought, and the sooner he turned this burning desire to ashes, the better. She was on heat for him. He could feel it. No need for any more talking. The provocative little witch wanted action. He’d give her action in spades.

It had been months since he’d been with a woman, preferring to remain celibate than enter into another affair that didn’t satisfy him. But the need for sex didn’t go away and the delectable Carmen had it roaring to the fore right now.

Her musky scent was a heady come-on, infiltrating his brain and closing out any reservations about taking what she was offering. The doors were open to the balcony that commanded the multimillion-dollar view over Sydney Harbour. Since it was a fine night, there could be no objection to going outside. She could pretend it was romantic if she wanted to.

He steered her through the dance crowd, revelling in the lush curvaceousness of the body so very pliantly moulded to his. She was ready to give all right. Ready to give and take. He whirled her out onto the balcony. The broad semicircular apron that extended from the ballroom held several groups of smokers but that didn’t bother him. It was too public a place anyway.

He danced her down the left flank of the balcony that ran to the end of the massive mansion. The music was loud enough to float after them and there was no word of protest from her, not the slightest stiffening to indicate any concern. She wanted privacy as much as he did.

The light grew dimmer. Huge pots with perfectly trimmed ornamental trees provided pools of darkness. But he didn’t want to take obvious advantage of them. Not yet. He took her right to the far balustrade, leaned her against it, and kissed her with all the pent-up need she’d stirred.

No hesitation in her response. Her mouth opened willingly, eagerly, and her hunger matched his, exploding into a passionate drive for every sensual satisfaction a man and woman could give each other. Her arms wound around his neck, pressing for the kissing to go on and on, a wild ravaging of every pleasure possible, a tempest of excitement demanding more.

No artful seduction in this. She was caught up in the same primitive urgency he felt. And that in itself was intensely exhilarating, the direct and open honesty of the craving in her kisses, the hot desire to explore and experience and tangle intimately with him. It reminded him of how it had been with…

No! He wasn’t going down that track!

This was Carmen’s lust, not Katie’s love.

And love was a long-lost cause.

He ran his hands over the body he held. The clinging stretchy fabric of her dress left little to his imagination. He savoured the soft voluptuous curves of Carmen’s buttocks, the very female flare of her hips, the almost hand-span waist. Her breasts felt full and swollen against his chest. He wanted to touch them, hold them.

Reaching up, he grasped her arms and pulled them down to her sides. Still kissing her, feeding the wanting, he slid his hands up to the off-the-shoulder sleeves and yanked them down, taking the top of her bodice with them to bare her breasts. It shocked her. Her head jerked back. He heard her sharply indrawn breath.

“No one can see,” he swiftly assured her, smiling to erase any fear. “The advantage of a cloak.”

He moved his legs to stand astride hers, holding her pinned against the balustrade for firm support while he cupped her breasts, lightly fanning her stiffly protruding nipples with his thumbs. She didn’t speak. She stared at his mask for several seconds, as though wanting to see behind it. Then slowly she looked down at what he was doing, watching, seemingly fascinated at having her breasts fondled like this, out in the open.

She was still with him, still wanting, and her naked flesh was a delight to feel, to stroke, the different textures of her skin intriguing enough to draw his own gaze down. Either his caresses or the cool night air had hardened her nipples to long purple grapes—very mouth-tempting. He gently squeezed the soft mounds upwards, meaning to taste, but was suddenly struck by the size of her dark aureoles, the whole shape of her breasts…so like Katie’s…

His rejection of the memory was so violent, his hands moved instantly to pull up her bodice and lift the off-the-shoulder sleeves back into position. It was the long black curly hair, he savagely reasoned, triggering memories he didn’t want, playing havoc with what should be no more than a slaking of need. His heart shouldn’t be thumping like this. Not for Carmen.

Yet as though she knew it, he saw her gaze fixed on his chest. She slid her hand under his opened shirt, spreading her fingers over the light nest of hair. Her touch on his skin was electric, his arousal almost painful in its intensity.

She was feeling her power over him, Carver thought, and acted again in violent rejection, lifting her off her feet, swinging her over to the shadowed area to the side of one of the ornamental trees, planting her against the stone wall of the house, snatching her hand out of his shirt, and kissing her to reassert his dominance over this encounter.

Again she wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back—following his lead. But Carver now wanted done with the game. He plundered her mouth while he took the necessary packet from his trouser pocket, freed himself and deftly applied the condom. The front split of her skirt had to be hitched higher, quickly effected. Much to his relief, his hand found only a G-string covering the apex of her thighs, easily shifted aside.