His Reluctant Mistress. Joanna Maitland

was a good chance that people would forget to guard their tongues in their company.

      ‘No doubt. But you must not miss the sights of Italy, sir. You will find it most rewarding. For example, I have spent the last few months in Venice. A beautiful city, sir, beautiful. Have you visited it?’

      ‘Alas, no. Due to the recent…er…difficulties, it has not been possible. But we do hope to journey there. In a few months. Perhaps, Baron, you would do me the honour of taking a glass of wine with me?’ Leo gestured towards the inn behind them.

      Baron von Beck shook his head. ‘Thank you, Lord Leo, but I am afraid I must decline. I am expected shortly in Vienna.’

      Leo did not press the invitation. The Baron was scrupulously polite, but there was something about his manner that jarred. Perhaps that stiff-necked pride? Whatever the cause, Leo had no desire to know him better.

      The two men took their leave of each other and Leo entered the inn. There, to his relief, he discovered that the innkeeper had more than a smattering of English, plus adequate French, so it was easy for Leo to order a light meal and a bottle of wine. His host showed him into a private parlour where a bright fire was burning in the grate, in spite of the warm weather outside.

      Throwing his hat on the settle, Leo sank gratefully into a cushioned chair by the fire and stretched out his legs towards the flames with a sigh of pleasure. A moment later, a pretty blonde servant appeared with his wine. She was wearing a plain gown with a very low-cut neckline that displayed her ample charms.

      Leo mumbled his thanks in his best German. She was attractive enough, and he had enjoyed the view, but he had never yet had to resort to the servant classes to find his mistresses. He did not mean to start here in Austria, even though he was beginning to feel the lack of a woman in his bed. Still, there was yet time. Once he was more familiar with the ways of society here, he would be able to choose safely. He was not so desperate that he would put his mission at risk for a quick fumble in a dark corner.

      The girl straightened and curtsied, saying something in a broad accent that Leo found totally unintelligible. It seemed that no response was expected, he was glad to note, for she turned and left the room.

      Leo felt a sudden draught hitting the back of his neck. She must have failed to close the door properly. No point in calling her back. He rose to shut it himself.

      Over the general hubbub of a busy posting inn, he heard raised, angry voices. A man’s and a woman’s. And the woman’s voice, though speaking in what might be German, contained an unmistakable thread of fear.

      Leo flung the door wide and strode out into the corridor. Baron von Beck was gripping the arm of a beautiful young lady shrouded in a long, dark cloak, and trying to drag her towards the inn yard. Her hood had fallen back, exposing lustrous black hair, coiled at the back of her head. She was trying, vainly, to push him off with small, gloved hands. Her frightened protests were being drowned by the Baron’s angry words. And all the inn servants seemed to have mysteriously melted away.

      Leo did not stop to wonder what might be going on. He simply seized Beck roughly by the shoulder. ‘You go too far, Baron,’ he snarled in French. ‘I suggest you let the lady go.’ When Beck made no move to obey, Leo tightened his grip and forced the man back against the opposite wall, holding him there with his superior strength. He would not free Beck until he was sure that the man’s cowardly attack would not be repeated. Behind them, the lady pulled her cloak more closely around her body, automatically putting up a hand to rub her injured arm.

      The two men stared at each other in open hostility for what seemed a long time. For a moment, Leo fancied they were about to come to blows. He stiffened in readiness, but the martial glint soon faded from the Baron’s eyes, to be replaced by injured pride as he recognised that he was outclassed. Leo was relieved. The last thing he wanted was an unseemly brawl at a public inn, especially with a gentle lady as audience. He allowed the Baron to shake himself free.

      ‘You are very quick to judge, sir,’ Beck said haughtily, pulling himself up to his full height. ‘And on this occasion, your judgement is wrong. Quite wrong.’

      ‘Nothing justifies such brutal treatment of a lady,’ Leo growled, dismissing the man. He was no longer a threat. Leo turned back to give his full attention to the lady. ‘Perhaps you would like to sit by the fire to recover your composure, madame?’ he said, still in French. The lady looked darkly exotic. He imagined she was more likely to speak French than English.

      She swallowed hard and put a gloved hand to her lips. Then she looked up at Leo with glowing dark eyes and nodded slightly.

      Ignoring the Baron’s spluttering outrage, Leo ushered the lady into his private parlour and closed the door firmly. She stood for a moment, gazing round the empty room as if she did not know quite where she was. She looked ruffled, Leo decided, like a bird caught by the wind from an unexpected quarter. ‘Will you not be seated, madame?’ Leo pulled forward his own chair and was glad to see the lady smile at last. She was recovering some of her composure. Good.

      With exquisite grace, the lady took Leo’s seat by the fire and accepted the glass of wine he offered her. ‘Thank you, sir. You have been most kind. Believe me, I am truly grateful to you for rescuing me.’ Her French was almost perfect, Leo decided. Almost good enough to pass for a native. Almost, but not quite.

      She was looking around the room again, and this time there was the faintest hint of a blush on her cheeks. She was becoming concerned to find herself alone, closeted with a man she did not know. Any virtuous lady would feel so.

      Leo hastened to reassure her. ‘May I fetch your maid to you, madame?’

      Her blush was subsiding, Leo was pleased to see. None the less, he kept his distance. She had been assaulted once already, and by a nobleman, too. He would not put her in fear of another such attack.

      ‘I…I am travelling with my uncle, sir. He is above stairs, at present. As is my maid.’

      ‘If you will give me your uncle’s name, madame, I will instruct the landlord to fetch him at once.’ Leo smiled across at her in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. She reminded him of a frightened doe, backed into a trap, her huge brown eyes wondering what dangers she must face next. Leo was a hunter, to be sure, and a connoisseur of beautiful women, but he liked them to come to him willingly, and without fear. He knew, instinctively, that this lady needed to be gentled. It would be a fortunate man who earned the right to unpin those tresses and spread them across his pillow.

      Leo felt his pulse start to quicken at the thought of this lovely lady in his arms, in his bed. Definitely too long since he had paid off his last mistress. His body was starting to become as demanding as the Baron von Beck.

      ‘I would not have you disturb my uncle, sir. Indeed, if that gentleman has gone, I should prefer to return to my own chamber.’

      Leo shook his head as she made to rise. The poor lady had escaped from the clutches of one man. Now she was doing her best to escape from the second, even though his intentions were purely honourable. Leo bit down on a smile at that. His body’s intentions were anything but honourable. Given the slightest encouragement, he would rip off her dark cloak in order to feast his eyes on the lush beauty that he sensed lay hidden beneath. But that would be a wicked way to respond to a virtuous lady. Especially this lady.

      He needed to put even more space between them. He took a couple of steps towards the door and was pleased to see that she began to settle back into her chair. ‘Better that you remain here, madame, and compose yourself,’ he said gently. ‘You will allow me to summon your maid?’

      This time, she nodded.

      He put a hand to the door latch, waiting. His eyes remained fixed on her perfect oval face. He would not soon forget the image she made. There was a quality of serenity about her which touched him deeply.

      ‘Thank you, sir. Pray ask for Teresa, the maid of Madame Pietre.’

      Ah! So she was Italian. Somehow, that pleased him. ‘At once, madame. I shall bid you farewell now, if you permit.’