His Temporary Mistress: Tales From Seldon Park, #20

By Bethany M. Sefchick

Sneaking off to attend a scandalous weekly masquerade sounded like a brilliant idea.  Unfortunately, disguised as Lady Peacock, Lady Dorothea "Dory" Tillsbury has done one of the worst things imaginable for a proper young lady.  She's falling in love with the masquerade's host, a gentleman who doesn't even know her name and, worse, is completely unsuitable.  He is also so far above her touch that there is no chance he will ever notice her.

The so-called "Lord Raven of Dionysus," Lord Jeremy Dunn has known Lady Dory's identity from the moment she walked into his club dressed like a harlot.  He's also been completely enchanted by her and wants nothing more than to coax her into his bed, no matter how bad of an idea that might be.

One night, Jeremy makes Dory an offer she can't refuse – become his temporary mistress before she is forced to settle down into a loveless marriage with a man who ignores her.  Will Dory make the proper decision or will she follow her heart straight into Jeremy's bed?  More importantly, can these two star-crossed lovers be together outside the mysterious midnight world of the masquerade or is their affair doomed to end in the harsh light of day?

This 104,400 word novel is written in the modern, Regency romance style for a slightly hotter and sexier read.  It may not be appropriate for younger audiences.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bethany M. Sefchick
• Release date: Aug 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393029632

Bethany M. Sefchick

Making her home in the mountains of central Pennsylvania, Bethany Sefchick lives with her husband, Ed, and a plethora of Betta fish that she’s constantly finding new ways to entertain. In addition to writing, Bethany owns a jewelry company, Easily Distracted Designs. It should be noted that the owner of the titular Selon Park - one Lord Nicholas Rosemont, the Duke of Candlewood, a.k.a. "The Bloody Duke" - first appeared in her mind when she was eighteen years old and had no idea what to make of him, or of his slightly snarky smile.  She has been attempting to dislodge him ever since - with absolutely no success. When not penning romance novels or creating sparkly treasures, she enjoys cooking, scrapbooking, and lavishing attention on any stray cats who happen to be hanging around. She always enjoys hearing from her fans at: [e-mail]

Book preview

Prologue

December 1820

Highburn Castle

Yorkshire

Clutching a cup of warm punch as if it were a lifeline, Dory looked around almost desperately for one of her sisters, since she could not simply leave the ball without informing at least one of them that she was departing.  Her head was throbbing, and she dearly wished she could retreat to her guest chambers at the far end of the east wing, so far away from everything and everyone that she was all but invisible.  Which was precisely what Dory had always been – invisible.  At least to most people.  Sometimes, especially as of late, that even included Harry, the man who was supposedly infatuated with her to the point of wishing to wed her.  The very man she was supposed to be utterly infatuated with in return.  Infatuated to the point where she was merely waiting with breathless anticipation to become his wife.

Except Dory had come to suspect that neither of them was really infatuated with the other, nor did they have any actual desire to wed each other.  Though it wasn’t as if she could say such a thing.

Well, she could, but people would simply laugh and ignore her.  After all, as the rather unremarkable middle Tillsbury sister, most people privately whispered that Dory should consider herself lucky that a man like Harry noticed her at all.  No other man ever had.

They also wondered just what she had done to snare his attention.  Sometimes, they wondered that rather loudly, as Lady Crenshaw had done during dinner earlier.  And none of her suspicions had reflected very well upon Dory.  At all.

And after that?  As usual, Dory herself was promptly forgotten and conversation turned as to what young lady might be a suitable match for Harry, eligible gentleman that he was.  Just as it always did.

Hence the room at the far end of the east wing where no one ventured, not even the most unwanted of guests here at the renowned dowager Duchess of Winterset’s annual Night of A Thousand Stars Christmastide ball.  Because in short, the duchess – dear of a woman that she was – had also forgotten that Dory existed after initially putting her name on the guest list, and thus hadn’t reserved a room for her within the castle.  Which was both a problem and not.  At least not as far as Dory was concerned.

Highburn Castle had so many rooms that it was a mark of pride for the dowager that no one, not even sisters, shared a room while under her roof.  However, since she had forgotten about Dory, the preferred rooms in the guest wing on the western side of the castle were already allotted, leaving only the dusty, unused, poorly furnished, and much smaller rooms in the largely unused eastern wing available.

It had been something of an embarrassment when Dory and her family had arrived at Highburn – with Dory’s supposed beau, Harry, in tow, of course – and everyone had their own room.  Except for Dory.  Because the dowager had forgotten that Dory existed.  Just as everyone else did.

Dory had, of course, assured Lady Winterset that there was no harm done and in truth, there wasn’t.  Dory didn’t care where she slept.  Unlike most young debutantes of the ton, she wasn’t particularly interested in climbing to the highest reaches of Society circles or securing a good match to as high of a title as possible.  She was more interested in what was in a person’s heart than his account ledgers.

So not having one of the higher status guest chambers didn’t bother her.  Though being forgotten had.  At least a little.  Thought Dory had insisted it didn’t, which was, of course, the proper thing to do.  After her time spent exiled to Mrs. Smithson’s so that she would learn to curb her hellion ways, Dory was always proper.  Always.

Still, the slight – however unintended – had bothered Dory’s brother, Frost, and he had spent a good bit of this house party making sure that no one forgot Dory existed after that ignominious beginning.  Or at least he was trying to, but with little real success – mostly because this was, simply put, Dory.

Frost didn’t have to worry about his other sisters, certainly.  After all, Sarah, the oldest sister, was already wed to Rayne, the love of her life.  Youngest sister Aurelia was all of the talk of the ton these days after her outrageous summer flirtation – and some would say rather overt and slightly improper courtship – with Lord Hugh Hunt, a man who might or might not be a dangerous spy for the Home Office.

Which left…Dory.  A woman who, according to gossip, should never have snared a gentleman’s interest because on her own?  Well, she was rather unremarkable, which was a direct quote from The City Times, a gossip rag that just about everyone in London subscribed to these days.

To make matters worse for Dory, Harry had received a letter two days ago that had called him away on business, leaving her alone here at Highburn.  Given that most people assumed Dory would eventually wed Harry – because really, who else would have her? – eligible gentlemen were not exactly lining up to fill her dance card as of late.  After all, what was the point?  She was already taken, wasn’t she?  And it wasn’t as if she was a Diamond of the First Water or anything, in which case, it would be a crime if her dance card wasn’t full.  She was simply…Dory.  Thus, why bother with her at all?

Except that Dory wasn’t actually taken.  She and Harry were merely going through the motions of courtship as of late.  Though if she wasn’t careful, she would likely find herself married to a man who didn’t love her and that she didn’t love in return.  There was affection between them, of course, but Dory wanted more.  No, she deserved more.  After a lifetime of being overlooked, ignored, and thought invisible, at the very least, Dory felt she deserved a passionate sort of love between her and the man she married.  The sort written about in those Minerva Press books that Frost (probably) didn’t know she read.

And while Harry might one day love someone passionately – assuming he was even capable of such strong emotions – it wouldn’t be Dory.

Then again, she could hardly blame him.  Being unremarkable and all, she supposed it would be difficult for her to stir grand passions in anyone.  Especially in a man as highly sought after as Harry.

There you are Dory!  I’ve been looking everywhere for you!  Frost’s wife, Lavinia, whom they had just recently learned was finally with child, hurried over to the corner where Dory was still clutching her now-empty punch cup.

Resisting the urge to sigh, Dory gently placed – rather than plunked, as she wished to do – the punch cup down on the tray of a passing footman.  I am here, Lavinia.  I have been here all evening.

Frowning, Dory’s sister in law began to tug her out of the corner where she had hidden herself behind a rather sticky pine tree that had been dragged indoors and festooned with paper chains, popcorn and other bits of bright, shiny frippery.  And which was now dripping sap everywhere, including on Dory’s slippers.

Yes, but you have not danced, Lavinia admonished gently.  And you really should.  Everyone is having such a grand time.  It would be a shame if you did not.

Dory wanted to ask Lavinia who would dance with her, but she held her tongue.  Dory’s situation was not Lavinia’s fault and her sister-in-law was a watering pot these days as it was.  There was no need to hurt her feelings over something so trivial as being overlooked by the male of the species.

Harry departed the other day, so I lack a partner, unfortunately.  Dory adjusted the puffed cap of her sapphire blue gown sleeve, hoping that Lavinia did not catch the glimmer of tears that had suddenly appeared in her eyes for no reason.

That comment just made Lavinia frown all the more, unfortunately.  He should have stayed behind with you.  I cannot believe he simply hared off like that.

He is a busy man.  Bow Street Runners work almost all the time.  Which was true enough.  Dory couldn’t recall a day since she had met Harry that he had not been working in some capacity.

He is your beau.  Lavinia did not seem satisfied with Dory’s explanation and in truth, she had every right.  It really was annoying.

Perhaps.  The tears pricked at her eyes again and suddenly, Dory felt weary to the bone of pretending.  Pretending that everything was fine when it was not, and pretending that she and Harry were destined for a life of wedded bliss.  Pretending that this life was what she wanted.

For a long moment, Lavinia was silent.  So.  That is how it is, then.

How what is?  Now Dory was confused.

 Lavinia crossed her arms over her chest.  It is as I thought and as I have told your brother often enough.  You and Harry do not suit, no matter how much other people wish it.  Not at all.

I am fortunate that a man like Harry even notices me.  Dory had offered that same response so many times now that it came to her lips without thinking.

With the man you love and who loves you just as much in return, there should be more between the two of you than him simply noticing you.  Lavinia pursed her lips.  You deserve more, Dory.  Both of you do.

What could Dory say to that?  It was the truth, even if she didn’t wish to admit it.

On the other hand, there wasn’t anything she could do about the matter either.

What would she do, even if she could?  Run away and join one of the traveling circuses that crisscrossed the Continent?  Become a tightrope walker in a skimpy costume at Vauxhall?  Somehow reinvent herself into someone new?

She couldn’t do any of that.  She could dream.  But she could not do.

Things will be what they are.  Dory snagged a glass, this one filled with champagne, from another tray that passed by where they stood.  She was becoming more and more miserable as the night went on.  Why not get a little foxed to relieve the dull ache just behind her breastbone?  That was something she could do.

Lavinia tapped her finger on her chin and studied Dory so intently that she began to squirm.  I could speak to your brother.  I am certain Frost would…

Would what? Dory cut Lavinia off, not wishing to be rude but tired of everyone pitying her.  Dory did that well enough on her own.  Would badger some hapless gentleman into dancing with me?  Push rogues and rakes at me just to prove that I am not forgotten?  Try to convince them that I am a raving beauty when we all know that I am not.  Thank you, Lavinia, but no.  I would rather return to my chambers that endure any more pity.  From anyone.  Including my brother, no matter how well-meaning.

For a long moment, Lavinia was silent.  Then she sighed.  Frost is only trying to help.  He worries about you.

I know.  Dory softened a bit.  But I am not some fragile, tragic figure like Sarah was with Rayne.  Nor am I a breathtaking beauty like Aurelia who is in love with a man that is likely more dangerous than any of us realize.  I am headstrong and willful at times, of average looks and temperament, and there is nothing remarkable about me.  Except for her bookkeeping skills, of course, but Dory didn’t count that because no one else did.  That wasn’t ladylike.  Or something she should even know how to do.  This is my reality, Vi, and I need to accept it.

Just as you need to accept that one day you will wed Harry, a man who seems to treat you as little more than a wall sconce in your own life?  There and ready to shine brightly when needed and otherwise kept in the dark when not?  Lavinia did not seem as impressed with Harry’s courtship of Dory as others did.

That’s unfair, Vi, Dory countered, though she had to concede the other woman was right.  Dory functioned much like a candle in a light fixture in Harry’s life.  Ready to be lit and noticed when it suited him.  Otherwise, she was left in the dark and without purpose.

The other woman shook her head, angry now.  No, it’s not.  You know I adore Harry, but the man is as cold as a block of ice at times.  Especially with you.  If he has any sort of passion within him, I’ve never seen it, and I know passion, Dory.  I also know when it’s lacking.  You deserve more.  You always have.

Lavinia was right about that, and Dory knew it well.  For a brief time, Lavinia had been employed at Lycosura, a former brothel where she had been known as Miss Ianthe, a prostitute who had been forced to sexually service the men who sought out – and paid very well for – her company.  Though Lavina had managed to escape that wretched place with her innocence still intact – until Frost had come along to claim it, of course – she had done and seen a great deal during her time within those gaudy, gilded halls.  If Lavinia said she knew a thing or two about passion in a man, Dory was inclined to believe her.

Very well.  Dory had no wish to argue this point just now.  All she really wanted to do was rest.  And perhaps, yes perhaps, begin to figure out if there was truly a way forward for her.  One that didn’t involve marriage to a man who was everything she could wish for but didn’t love her.  Or even seem to notice her.  I will speak to Frost.  But not tonight.  Tonight, I simply wish to rest.  My head is paining me.  She waved a hand at the glittering and slightly gaudy decorations that were festooned everywhere she looked.  This has become a bit too much for me.

And for me as well.  When she looked closer, Dory had to admit that Lavinia looked a little pale.  We shall seek out Frost and inform him that you are escorting me back to my chambers.

Dory nodded as relief washed over her.  That sounds like a fine idea.

As she watched Lavinia wind her way slowly through the mad crush of twirling dancers Dory’s mind began to whirl.  For Lavinia was right.  Dory did deserve more than to be treated as a mere fixture in Harry’s life.  She might not shine brightly within Society or be seen as a diamond of the first water, as her sisters were.  But Dory was still a human being who deserved more than simply being viewed as a piece of furniture.

Truthfully, she wanted what Frost and Lavinia had.  What Sarah and Rayne shared so deeply between them.  And yes, even what Aurelia and Hugh had found together.  She wanted that passion.  She wanted that desire.  She wanted a man to look at her and hunger for her – and only her – as if she was the last woman in the world.  She would never be remarkable, but she could, at least, be desirable to her husband.  Or even a man who was not her husband.  Shocking to think that way, yes, but if she was destined to wed Harry and could find no way out of that fate?  Then why not indulge and play?  Tease and tempt?  All of the other women she knew had.

Could she do that?  Could she be like the other women she knew and be something other than an invisible, overlooked light fixture as Lavinia had said?

Could she return, however brief, to her old hellion ways?  And, more importantly, not be discovered?

Dory had no idea.  But she did know that she wanted to try.

Chapter One

Late March 1821

Dionysus Gaming Hell

London

Dory had come back to this place.  A place she shouldn’t be.  A place where she would be utterly ruined.  If she was discovered.

Actually, there were a lot of things she did as of late that she knew she should not, so being here was no exception.  That was her nature.  Her true nature and not the more sedate, polite, and proper one she had worn as a mask for so long.

Masks.  They were everywhere here.  Everyone wore them to hide, just as she did.  To pretend they weren’t here when they really were.

Because to be here?  That was a risk.  For everyone.  Especially her.

She wasn’t even quite certain why she had come back.  Why she had taken the risk again.

Wait.  That was a lie.  Dory did know why she had returned to Dionysus.

She had come back for him.

To see if what she had felt was real.  Or simply an illusion.

It could have been an illusion.  It would not be the first time she had fooled herself into believing she cared deeply about a man who cared nothing for her.

That time?  She had been wrong.  This time?  She didn’t think so.

Still…

In her mind?  That first night?  He had been larger than life.  And not at all what she had expected.

Lord Raven.  Mysterious and handsome and yet a man everyone here knew.  Except her.  She hadn’t known.  But she had wanted to know him.

Why?  She had no idea.

He had begun as nothing more than a story in the newspapers and gossip rags.  A man made into a god.

A god that intrigued her, however.

Was he as fascinating in person as the gossips hinted he was?  Or was he only a shadow of the larger-than-life figure that had been splashed across every paper for the last three months?

Dory didn’t know.  But she wanted to – very much.

It was partly because she was captivated by the thought of him, the idea of what he represented.  Partly because she was feeling rebellious.  And partly because she was tired of still being overlooked by everyone in her life, no matter what she did or said or tried.

If he saw her, however?  This masked raven?  If he even so much as spared a glance for her?

Then she would know that she was more than those around her believed her to be.  She was more than a wallflower.  More than a mere accessory to someone else’s life.

If she could attract even a hint of his attention, it would be enough to prove to her that she should keep trying to be seen.  To not give up.  Because if the infamous Lord Raven could notice her?  Then others could as well.  She simply needed to figure out how to accomplish that.

So Dory had gone to the club.  Dionysus.  The one with the infamous Peacock Door, simply hoping to be seen – by him.

Somehow, against all of the odds, he had seen her.  In fact, he had more than seen her.  He had approached her, been captivated by her – or so he claimed.  And it had been magnificent.  No.  More than magnificent.  It had been magic.

It had also only been one night.  One dance to begin the madness followed by two more.  That had been enough, though, to spark the attraction even though she hadn’t known it at the time.

Did he remember her now?  It had been a week, after all, and likely hundreds of women, many far more beautiful than her, had passed in front of him.

Lord Raven had choices, even if Dory herself did not.

She would not blame him if he forgot her.

She was rather forgettable, and he would not be the first man to cease to remember that she existed once she was out of his sight.

Still, she hoped that wasn’t the case.

She didn’t want it to be the case.

Because for the first time in her life, Dory was in love.

Or possibly in lust.  At this point, it was difficult to tell.

Though lust made more sense, because who fell in love at first sight?  Idiots and women in Minerva Press books, that was who.

Still, she felt.  Oh, did she feel!  It was more than feeling, though.  It was burning.

A burning unlike any she had known.  Ever.  A burning that woke her up in a cold sweat at night and distracted her with pinpricks of desire during the day.  A burning that made her heart flutter and her stomach clench when she thought about him.

About the way he talked to her and laughed with her.  The way he listened to her.  That was the most magical thing of all, really.

And Dory didn’t know what to do about that desire or how to make this ache inside of her go away.

What Dory did know for certain was that for the first time in her life, she had an inkling of what true passion might feel like.  And it was nothing at all like what she felt with Harry.

This feeling was different.  It was more – of everything.  More powerful and more overwhelming.  More all-consuming.  More heated.

This sensation filling her body and soul made her feel as if she was sparkling from within, her own source of light instead of waiting around for someone to provide the light for her.

Because of him.

But what if he didn’t feel the same?

Then again, what if he did?

After all, they didn’t even know each other’s names.  Well, she knew his.  Everyone did.  She doubted that he knew hers.  She didn’t have a name that was important enough for him to know.

Would he ever know it?  Would he ever want to?

She couldn’t be certain.  But she could hope.  A lot.

Lady Peacock.  You’ve returned.  His voice slid down her spine like a caress, making her tingle all over.

His raven’s eyes, deep-set in the mask he wore and bejeweled with tiny diamonds, looked down at her.  His lips wore a smile and it was all Dory could do not to swoon.

The air crackled between them and she had to stop from throwing herself into his arms for a kiss.

But she wouldn’t.  She couldn’t risk the rejection.

She was a hellion.  Not hell-bent on her own destruction.

I promised you that I would come back.  You asked me to, remember?  Lord, she hoped that he remembered.

Lord Raven’s smile widened into a grin and the air crackled with energy again.  I did, but I wasn’t certain you would do as I asked.  Or if you even could.

In truth, Dory would have walked over hot coals to return to this gaming hell tonight.  The night of the decadent, sensual masquerade ball.

She had bluffed her way inside the first time.  Now, she held a permanent invitation.  It was an invitation she would not refuse, no matter what subterfuge she had to resort to in order to be here.

It isn’t easy.  She wouldn’t lie to him.  It wasn’t in her nature.

Husband?  His gaze was uneasy now.

No.  She shook her head quickly.  There is no one.  Just a mother who occasionally remembers that I am alive.  But that still doesn’t mean slipping away is easy.  My world binds my movements, but then, I think you know that.

I do.  Still, you’re here and without attachment.  Good.  That’s good.  Lord Raven seemed relieved and Dory relaxed a little.  I was worried.

You shouldn’t be.  There is no man in my life that is more than a friend.  I am not certain there will ever be.

You’re wrong, Lady Peacock, he countered, his voice sensual.  There will be.  One day.

After that, he fell silent again, but she wasn’t surprised.

They hadn’t talked much the last time.  They had simply danced.

Three times, though, which in Dory’s mind meant he was at least intrigued enough to want to get to know her.  At least a little.

She wanted to get to know him as well.

She knew and had felt the attraction that sparked between them.  That was the physical.

But did he see the possibility of more with her?  Even if it was only within these walls?  Dory didn’t know, but she hoped so.

This was stupid, really.  Foolish.  Idiotic.  She knew better.

People did not fall in love in the span of a single glance.  Without really speaking of anything significant.  Without even knowing the other person’s name.

Or did they?  Mama had often said she became enamored of Papa in a single dance so it could happen.  True, Papa had been a worthless reprobate, but not all men were.

Was this man like her father?  Dory didn’t think so.  Her instincts told her he was not, anyway.

Those same instincts also told her that he wanted her, which was just fine because she wanted him.

For the first time in her life, Dory was ready to shed every last bit of propriety and leap into this man’s arms.  Let him do with her as he wished.  Including bedding her.

It was stupid.  It was foolish.  It was idiotic.  

It was rash.  It was a mistake.

But it was also the way she felt.

Dory wanted this man.  She couldn’t have him.  But she could dream.

She could live in a fantasy world for a bit where maybe, in time, this overwhelming passion she felt for him would fade.

Maybe, once they talked, she wouldn’t even like him as much as she thought she did.  Perhaps he was an excellent dancer and not much else.  Perhaps it was an idiot without a brain in his head.

Perhaps.  But her instincts told her otherwise.

Was she willing to risk it?  Was she willing to risk her reputation, her family, the man whom she might marry someday if he felt like it?  All for this man and for something that might very well be an illusion?

Yes.  Yes, she was.

As long as he was willing to do the same.

She had returned.  His Lady Peacock was here again tonight.  A week after her first, completely unexpected appearance.

He wasn’t certain what god or fate had blessed him in this way, but he would thank them all for bringing her back to him.

He had spent that first night utterly enraptured by her, commanding all of her attention so that no one else would have an opportunity to be charmed by the delectable Lady Peacock.

She was his and his alone.  He wanted her.  No one else could have her.

If she came back to him – and to Dionysus – that was.

Jeremy hadn’t really believed she would return after that first night, though he had hoped she would.

She would have to be a fool do to so, really.  He was not worth the risk.  He never had been nor would he ever be.

So, was she a fool or did she just want to see him again?

Jeremy hoped and prayed it was the latter.  It seemed that it was.  She was here with him, wasn’t she?  And no one else.

And the fact that she came back for him?  It warmed a place inside of him that he hadn’t even realized had gone cold.  But it had.  Long ago.  Without him ever realizing it.

Now, with a single smile from her, his lovely Lady Peacock, that place inside of him warmed.

That was something no harlot or whore or bored widow had ever managed, no matter how hard they had tried.  And most of them had tried.  In many different ways.

This woman, though, was different.  If only he could have her.  But he couldn’t.

They came from the same world and yet they were still so very far apart.

Still, she was here.  She came back.  For him.  That was what mattered just now.

God, she was just as exquisite as he had remembered.  Perhaps more so now that he saw her again.

Jeremy was not in the habit of forgetting details or conflating them in his mind.

But in this case?  He was certain he had.  Except he hadn’t.

Lady Peacock was just as perfect – and perfectly lovely – as he remembered.

But she couldn’t be.  This had to be an illusion.

He didn’t even know this woman’s name for God’s sake!

Well, yes, he did know her name, but he would never speak it.  At least not here.  Coming from the world she did?  She wasn’t for him.  She might be the sort of lady he wanted, but he couldn’t have her.

He wasn’t that much of a fool.

But if he could pick a woman, any woman, from the face of this earth?

He would choose her each and every time.

Why?  Because she had, in a single touch, ignited something inside of him that he hadn’t known he could feel.  Something powerful and all-consuming.

Something that made him burn with want and yearn with need.  Something that reached into his jaded soul and shook him back to life.

Something that scared him.  Mostly because he didn’t know what this powerful feeling was or how to control it.

Something more powerful than he imagined could exist.

And all it had taken to ignite that spark was one touch from her to bring that power to life.

They had shared a dance.  Well, three dances, really.  In a more proper setting?  After that kind of display?  Lady Peacock and Jeremy would be all but betrothed.  Not here, though, in the shadow world where they danced.  Where masks hid their faces and they could reveal their true selves.

And that had done that – to a point.

They had exchanged some words.  Laughed.  She had hinted that she wasn’t like other women, something he had already guessed.  He had hinted that he was beyond intrigued and said he wanted to see her again.

But they hadn’t kissed or touched or made any promises to each other.

They had simply talked.

That was it.

Then she left.  Regret burning brightly in her eyes.  Desire, too.

Desire for him.  Raw and hungry and yes, powerful.  The same as the powerful feeling that had roared to life within him the moment he saw her.

It was alive inside her too.

Matched.  Together.  That had never happened before.  He never imagined it could.

He had been intrigued.  More than that.  Captivated.

He had also burned with need.  For the first time in his life, Jeremy felt his body go up in flames, just from looks and not from touches.

What was wrong with him?

Nothing, it seemed.  Nothing was wrong with him.

Except that he couldn’t have her.

And he wanted her.

It made no sense.

There were other women he couldn’t have and he didn’t desire them.  Not the way he desired her.

You give me more credit than I deserve, Lord Raven.  Jeremy thought he could see a pretty blush creeping up her cheeks.  I am not the sort of lady a gentleman desires.

An innocent then, as he had suspected, especially given who she was.

On the other hand, she had been seen in the company of that Runner who was several years her senior.  He could be passionate, or so the rumors went.

Reviews for His Temporary Mistress

[Leena Aluru · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

Oh God! Again a 100 page novella turned into a full fledged 400 pages novel. The only meat in this book is around the 300th page and extends for exactly 5 pages. She needs some form of an award for continuously churning out large novels with a minuscule story.