Read His Favorite Mistress Online

Authors: Tracy Anne Warren

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #Regency

His Favorite Mistress (44 page)

BOOK: His Favorite Mistress
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“We wouldn’t have missed it,” Julianna said. Lily nodded in agreement.

“Wouldn’t have missed what?” Ethan asked, careful to keep his voice lowered. Rafe entered the room behind him.

“The holidays here together,” Lily explained.

“Ah, that. It has been exciting,” he said. “Especially toasting the New Year, then watching Tony go white as a sheet when Gabriella set down her cup of syllabub and informed us all that she was in labor.”

Tony sent his friend a dark look. “I doubt you did much better when Lily gave birth to your daughter.”

“He didn’t,” Lily volunteered with a chuckle in her voice. “Drank half a decanter of brandy before he felt calm enough to come in the bedroom.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Ethan defended. “When Louisa arrived, I was steady as a rock.”

Lily linked her hand with his. “You were. Tough as granite.”

Appeased, Ethan leaned over and gave his wife a quick kiss. “And where is our beautiful daughter? Upstairs in the nursery, I assume?”

Lily nodded. “I fed her, then put her down for a nap not ten minutes ago.”

“Stephanie and Cam are supposed to be doing the same,” Julianna said, “though I know Cam often finds ways to avoid his nap time and sneak back into the playroom. By the way, Rafe, when I told your son about the new baby, he wanted to know when
he
was going to get a little brother of his own. Apparently, Stephanie is far too boring to play soldiers.”

Rafe smiled and slipped an arm around his wife’s waist. “Well, I’d be happy to oblige him and have another,” he said with a grin. “Maybe you and I should leave so we can work on the matter.”

“Rafe!” Julianna exclaimed, her eyes twinkling despite her reproof.

He gave an unrepentant chuckle.

“Rafe is right about one thing, however,” Julianna said a moment later. “All of us should leave so Gabriella can get some rest.”

“Yes, indeed,” Lily nodded. “Giving birth is hard work. We will see you later, Gabby.”

After the four of them retreated from the room, Tony insisted on helping Gabriella climb beneath the sheets. Relaxing against the pillows he’d stacked behind her head, she waited while he tucked her in, carefully drawing the sheet and blankets up to her shoulders before bending low to press a lingering kiss against her lips. “Sleep well, love,” he murmured. “I shall be back to check on you in a short while.”

“Don’t go,” she said, reaching out a hand to stop him. “Stay. I’ll sleep better if you’re with me.”

And it was true. Since their reconciliation last June, she and Tony hadn’t spent a night apart. Not even when she’d been so huge with child she could barely sleep, restless and uncomfortable and surely keeping Tony awake. And he’d slept with her last night after the birth, she needing him there to cradle her as she drifted into a happy but exhausted slumber. This was only a nap, she knew, but she wanted him with her nonetheless.

After a brief hesitation, he walked around to the other side of the bed. Toeing off his shoes, he slipped in next to her, taking her in his arms. “Rest now,” he exhorted. “The baby will be awake again soon enough wanting a meal. Sleep while you can.”

Settling her head on his shoulder, she closed her eyes, but opened them again a few moments later. “I didn’t tell you before, but I had a note from your mother.”

A small silence fell. “She didn’t say something to upset you, did she?”

“No. Actually it was a very nice note. She apologized for not welcoming me to the family properly, then went on to ask if she might stop by one afternoon to see the baby. Apparently she is at the dower house again. I haven’t written back. What should I say?”

“What do you want to say?”

She paused, playing her fingers over one of the gold buttons on his waistcoat. “I’m not sure. She has been so hateful to you, I hesitate to agree—and I won’t if a visit from her will cause you even a moment’s distress. But she is Jonathan’s grandmother. I suppose she ought to be given the chance to see him.”

“A visit from her will not trouble me in the slightest. I have you, Gabriella, and that is all that matters. What is past is past. Your love and our life together—those are the things that concern me now. So long as she doesn’t upset
you,
she may come to the house.”

“Then I’ll tell her to call. In a few days maybe, once I am feeling a bit stronger. She is family, after all. And family forgives.”

“Have her here whenever you like. And you’re right. Families forgive each other, even if they don’t always agree. Now, enough talking. You need to rest.”

“All right,” she murmured, tucking her head more comfortably against his shoulder. A minute passed. “Tony?”

“What?” he said, his voice a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

“I love you.”

He angled her face up so he could gaze into her eyes. “I love you, too, and never doubt it. You and Jonathan are the best things that ever happened to me. There was a time when I thought myself content to remain a bachelor, but I know now I would never have been truly happy. How could I, when I would never have known the joy and pleasure of starting each day gazing at you? When I would not have realized the delight of holding you like this in my arms? You’re my world, Gabriella, and I want no other.”

“Nor do I.” Smiling, she blinked back happy tears as his mouth claimed hers for a long, blissful kiss. At length, they parted so she could settle her head against his shoulder once more in an attempt to sleep. Her eyes had just closed and she was relaxing when the baby started crying.

“See what you get for not resting when I told you to?” Tony admonished.

With the baby’s healthy wails filling the room, Tony helped her sit up against the pillows. “I can sleep later,” she said. “Right now, I don’t need anything more than you and our son.”

 

Acknowledgments

 

To Charlotte Herscher, Signe Pike, and Helen Breitwieser for their unflagging trust, professionalism, and support during the writing of this book. Thanks for giving me the quiet time I needed.

Again to Charlotte, wishing her great happiness and success in all her future endeavors. You’ll be missed.

To Linda Marrow, Kim Hovey, and Kate Blum for all their wonderful efforts on my behalf.

To fellow author, Monica, who really gets it. Thanks for being such a great friend.

To my brother, Rick, and my nieces, Kelly and Olivia. Hugs for cheering me on.

And finally, to my three feline office “assistants”—Christofur, Violetta, and Georgianna—who make sure I’ve always got company when I write.

 

Also by Tracy Anne Warren

My Fair Mistress

The Accidental Mistress

 

The Husband Trap

The Wife Trap

The Wedding Trap

 

 

 

G
abriella sighed. “Please allow me to pass so that I may go to my room and change.”

Instead, Tony moved closer and blocked her way.

“I think not. Not until you understand the need to exercise caution when alone with a man.” Using his height and strength to his advantage, he stepped forward, maneuvering her so he had her neatly cornered against a bookshelf.

“Enough of this, Your Grace.”

“I’ll say when enough is enough. Let’s see if you can call for the servants in time.”

“For what?”

“For this.”

Before she could utter another word, or draw so much as a breath, he was kissing her, taking her mouth with a fierce, implacable possession that was almost savage in its determination and intent. He groaned and tugged her tighter inside his arms, wanting her in every possible way.
Dear God,
he thought,
she is delicious, ripe and juicy as a just-picked peach.
Part of him hoped she would resist, prayed she would push against him or beat at him and end this insanity.

Instead, she wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back, darting her tongue forward to circle around his as if she were savoring a sugar-coated confection. He shuddered and kissed her harder, deeper, drowning inside the passionate duel they were now waging. A husky little whimper issued from her throat, the sound making him tremble. With an answering groan, he gave himself over to the pulse-pounding sensations.

 

His Favorite Mistress
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

 

A Ballantine Books Mass Market Original

 

Copyright © 2007 by Tracy Anne Warren

 

All rights reserved.

 

Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

 

B
ALLANTINE
and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

 

eISBN: 978-0-345-50492-0

 

www.ballantinebooks.com

 

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