Devil's Own Bargain (London Lords)

by Mary Gillgannon

Jeanette giggled. “That’s the spirit, love. And, yes, I have given the matter a thought or two.”

  ~ ~ ~

  “Sir.”

  Devon jerked to awareness as his manservant entered the book room. He pushed the account books aside. “Yes, Ginter.”

  “I have come to convey a request from your wife: She asks if you will join her for dinner this evening. She thought that since the weather was so wretched, you might be available.” Ginter raised his brows meaningfully.

  “Yes, I will join her.”

  “I sensed a moment of hesitation, sir.”

  “We had some difficult moments earlier. She followed me yesterday and saw me with Rafe and Maureen. She completely misunderstood the situation and thought Maureen was my mistress. I set her straight, but it was awkward.”

  “How did she accept the news about Rafe?”

  Devon frowned. “Most graciously, I would say. She appeared quite understanding.”

  “I’m not surprised. Madam appears to have a practical bent, and she is also naturally considerate.”

  “Meaning?”

  Ginter shrugged. “I believe she cares for your happiness, sir. She is sensitive to your feelings. That is my impression, anyway.”

  “And, therefore, I should be sensitive to hers?”

  “It seems reasonable, sir.”

  Devon frowned. What was he going to do about his wife? He was having trouble appearing detached and disinterested. Her genuineness and compassion broke down the barriers he had erected and made him feel things he hadn’t felt in years. He didn’t want ‘to be cruel to her. And her request that they dine together was eminently reasonable. “Tell her I would be delighted to dine with her.”

  She had arranged for them to eat in the drawing room, explaining that it was much warmer than the formal dining area. A small table had been set up near the fire, and only a few feet separated them. As Devon sipped his wine, he found it impossible not to notice how the turquoise color of her low-necked gown set off her green eyes and made her creamy skin glow. He’d never seen her look like this. Gone was the sweet, proper miss he’d married. In her place was a provocative woman in a sophisticated upswept hairstyle and a near-scandalous gown. He could scarce keep his eyes away from her beauteous décolletage swelling above the vivid fabric, or the rosy sensuality of her full lips.

  Desire stirred in his loins, but he fought against it. He meant to defy Beaumont’s crass plans. There would be no grandson, no heir.

  But Caroline appeared so nervous and uncertain, the least he could do was try to set her at ease. “So,” he said, “how are your plans for the house progressing?”

  She gave him a radiant smile. “It’s a daunting project, I’ll admit. I’m not certain exactly where to begin. Should I start with the bedchambers and the areas of the house we actually live? Or, should I attempt the formal rooms, which will require the most time and effort?”

  He started to say that it seemed more practical to concentrate on the areas of the house they used frequently, but she continued on animatedly. “And then, there is the nursery and schoolroom area. I can’t help but feel it’s wrong for your son to dwell apart from you. He and his nurse should reside here in the manor. That way, you wouldn’t have to travel to see him.”

  Devon started. Her suggestion was so generous, so close to his own thoughts, it astonished him.

  “Of course, I can see why you didn’t install him in the present nursery,” she went on. “It’s so gloomy and run-down, completely unsuitable for a child. Children need to be surrounded by attractive colors and a pleasant, reassuring environment.”

  Devon thought of the nursery of his childhood. Cold and severe, with massive dark furniture that dwarfed him and made him feel inadequate. “You’re right, of course,” he said. “You’re certainly at liberty to arrange things however you see fit.”

  She nodded. “And you do agree that your son Rafe should live with us?”

  “Yes,” he said. “It’s my fondest wish.”

  A look of pleasure suffused her features as she looked down at her plate. “For that matter, I was hoping...” Her voice was a bare whisper. “I was hoping that we might... have other children together.”

  Dismay struck him as he observed her flushed, embarrassed face. It was obvious she wanted him to take her to bed. Now what the devil was he to do? As eagerly as his body embraced the idea, Beaumont’s mercenary arrangement haunted him. He didn’t want to act the stud, even for Caroline.

  He said nothing. She gave a little sigh and the silence stretched out between them. Thankfully, a footman brought the soup course, and they could both concern themselves with eating, although he was aware that Caroline consumed only a few mouthfuls.

  After a time, she put down her spoon. “I suppose that’s your answer.” Her voice quavered and he feared she was going to cry, but when she finally raised her gaze to his, it was anger that glittered in her eyes rather than tears. “I thought you were gentleman. I thought you were raised to honor your word above all else.”

  Her sarcastic words stunned him. He could not think how to answer her.

  She rose from her chair, her movements abrupt with barely restrained emotion. “If you will excuse me.” She strode rigidly from the room.

  Out in the hallway, Caroline fought to collect herself. She had all but begged him to take her bed, and he had declined. Politely, discreetly, but nevertheless, the expression on his face had been clear. He had no intention of making her his wife in the way that mattered.

  What should she do? Return to London and seek an annulment? Certainly, she had grounds. But if she did that, she would be announcing to all the world that her husband hadn’t desired her enough to take her to bed.

  Her other option was to allow things to remain as they were, to endure being his wife in name only. As Jeanette had said, she had his title, the advantages and prestige of being his countess. She could throw herself into renovating this grand old house and take satisfaction in being stepmother to his son.

  Not enough. The woman in her would waste away and die. The woman who wanted to be held and kissed and loved.

  For the sake of that part of herself, she had to go back and confront him. She turned and marched back to the drawing room. She met him coming out.

  “Caroline,” he said, “let me explain—”

  “No, let me explain.” She shut the door firmly behind her. “You made a sacred vow when you married me. You know it’s your duty to give me children, if you can.”

  “Caroline... I—”

  “But you won’t! You take my father’s money, but treat me like a nuisance in your life!”

  “If you recall, your father coerced me into marrying you.”

  “But you came out well enough, didn’t you? You have your hundred thousand pounds! You also have a wife—a wife you refuse to treat as one!” She raised her chin and glared at him. “I’ve grown up being sneered at and snubbed for being a tradesman’s daughter, but I have far more honor and sense of responsibility than you! You’re nothing but a coward!”

  She saw his look of shock, then his anger. A shiver of fear went through her. She’d gone too far.

  He approached her and grabbed the shoulder of her gown and pulled until the fabric ripped. “You think I don’t desire you?” His face was close to hers. His hazel eyes glowed amber. “You think I don’t want to rip off your dress and push you down on the floor and—”

  “No,” she whispered, suddenly taut with fear. What had she done? “Not like this.”

  He jerked the other side of her dress, baring her breasts.

  “No,” she repeated.

  “Why not?” he asked viciously. “Must you dictate the time and place as well?” He stalked to the door and turned the lock. “There, now no one will disturb us.”

  “I’m sorry,” she breathed. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just so angry, so frustrated.

  He approached her and touched her breast. “Frustrated?” he said softly. “What of me?
I have a beautiful, tantalizing wife. But if I touch her, I’m nothing more than an animal standing stud, my precious blue-blooded seed bought and paid for by your father.”

  His mood had changed. She could sense it. His nostrils flared in desire rather than anger, His vivid hazel gaze softened.

  “Forget my father,” she said. “Remember me. Caroline.” She shivered as he caressed her breast. This was what she had wanted so desperately, his strong warm fingers against her skin.

  “How can I forget him? He’s paying me to do this. If I get you with child and you bear a son, your father has promised to pay me another fifty thousand pounds.”

  “I don’t care.” She could hardly think. Her voice came out in a moan. “I’m the one who wants you.”

  She saw his turmoil, then his slow capitulation. He leaned near and kissed her neck, then mouthed his way down her neck. He lifted his head and looked at her, as if searching her face for doubt. “Do you want me, Caroline?”

  “Yes,” she gasped.

  “Here and now, without seeking out a bedchamber? However I wish it?”

  “Yes, oh, yes!” At this moment, she didn’t really care if he lay her down on the floor and ripped her gown completely off. She was consumed by the feelings his firm, deft lips aroused. At any moment, she might burst into flames.

  He released her, and she knew a moment of fierce desolation. Had he changed his mind? Then she saw that he was taking off his coat and undoing his cravat. She watched, entranced, as his gleaming, muscular neck was revealed, then the broad expanse of his chest, covered with swirls of black hair. They stood very near the candelabrum on the table, and she watched the play of the light on his smooth, amber-dark skin with a tremor of longing.

  His shirt fell to a floor in a ripple of white and he stood before her in masculine magnificence. Her gaze followed the line of dark chest hair down to where it disappeared into his black trousers. Flushing at her own thoughts, she jerked her face back to his face. A faint smile curled his sensual lips.

  “I do believe you desire me for myself alone,” he said. His fingers hovered at the waist of his trousers as he approached her. “But you are a gently reared virgin, and you don’t really understand what your eyes demand.”

  She shivered as he put his hands on her arms, then he lowered his head and kissed her. Not as he’d kissed her on their wedding day, but a deep, consuming merging of mouths. His lips slanted hard against hers, and she could feel him devouring her. She could taste him, smell him, feel him. Wine-sweet, velvet-warm, bronze-hard.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her hips against his groin. He gave a low moan and reached to cup her buttocks through her thin silk dress. Their mouths mated in shimmering rhythm. His tongue pressed against her lips, gently coaxing them apart. The rhythm altered, becoming more heated and primitive.

  Caroline felt her legs wobble; she could barely stand. She scarce needed to, for his strong hands supported her and forced her lower body against his. She could feel the hard ridge of his manhood, and the exquisite pressure caused an almost unbearable throbbing between her legs.

  She moaned, and moaned again. With a swift, graceful movement, he released her then swept her into his arms. Before she could even catch her breath, he’d carried to the chaise and laid her down.

  He leaned over her and pulled the remnants of her gown over her hips. Then his fingers sought the tie to her underdrawers and drew them down. She trembled as he freed her from the garment, realizing she was nearly naked. She’d kicked off her slippers as he carried her, and now she wore nothing more than her garters and stockings. Though it was not well lit in this corner of the room, she felt acutely vulnerable.

  His gaze moved over her, seeming to singe wherever it touched. Then, with a rapt, almost reverent expression, he began to stroke along her thigh above her stocking. She felt her legs part, as if her body sought his touch despite her mind’s uncertainty. Closing her eyes, she acceded to the impatient desire coursing through her.

  Heaven! His fingers were gentle, expert. They explored, enticed, teased. Delicious pleasure, but tinged with a swelling urgency. She felt the warmth of his body as he stretched out next to her, then his mouth found hers, and his tongue filled her with a rough pressure that soothed. Lower down, his fingers played, stretching her nerves in taut pleasure even as they stretched and tantalized her body.

  He left her once more, and she knew—eyes closed and her body rigid with longing—that he was shedding the rest of his clothing. Then he was back, as warm and alive as ever. Her legs were sprawled wide and that part of her body felt tingling and embarrassingly wet. Something hot and firm pressed against her sensitive flesh. His hands sought her hips, urging her to open for him, to yield.

  She did, as best she could, but still she gasped at the feeling of him entering her. A tweak of pain, then intense fullness. His mouth was against her neck. “Sweet,” he whispered in a strangled-sounding voice. “So sweet.”

  She nodded breathlessly. Every aspect of her being was directed to the place where they were joined. She wondered if there was more, or if she would simply die from the tension throbbing through her. Then he began to move, and she realized that there was more, much more. Waves of feeling, so intense she could scarce breathe. His body and hers, melded into one straining, violent creature.

  She felt him jerk suddenly and she was set free. She floated down on a long, subsiding current of bliss.

  “Mmmm,” he sighed. He started to pull away, but she snuggled against him, memorizing his scent, the feel of his hot, sweat-slicked skin.

  But gradually, satiation turned to discomfort. She realized how heavy he was, how sticky and hard the chaise felt beneath her. She released him and he sat up. He smiled down at her, white teeth dazzling. “That was wonderful—you were wonderful!’

  She smiled back at him. “You were quite magnificent yourself.”

  He began to gather up his clothing. “I don’t know why I was such a fool to wait so long!’

  “It seems to me that you’ve suffered a great many disappointments in your life. You were probably afraid to hope that things could turn out well between us.” She sat up stiffly. “Indeed, I was almost afraid to hope for that myself.”

  “But you did.”

  She nodded. “I’m not easily discouraged.”

  His mouth twitched. “You’re such a stubborn, willful minx, determined you would have it your way.”

  She allowed herself a small, self-satisfied smile. “I suppose I am. In that way I’m probably much like my fath—” She stopped abruptly, fearful she’d destroyed the comfortable, bantering mood between them. Indeed, Devon’s pleased expression vanished. “I’m sorry,” she breathed. “I didn’t think.”

  When he spoke, there was grimness in Devon’s tone, but also acceptance. “Although I can’t say I will ever be reconciled to your father’s coercive tactics, I don’t resent them nearly as much as I used to.” He glanced at her, his gaze traveling down her body with a lingering hunger that started her own desire ablaze once more.

  She gave a little gasp. He leaned over and kissed her, then stood. “But I fear we’ve scandalized the servants as much as we dare. If you wish to continue, I suggest we retire to my bedchamber.”

  She took the hand he offered and stood. Dampness trickled down her leg. “Oh dear, how are we going to manage our escape?” She motioned to her ruined gown, crumpled on the floor.

  “You’ll see,” he said.

  She ended up putting on the gown again, then wearing Devon’s coat over the non-existent bodice. After a few repairs to her coiffure and his assurance that she didn’t look too terribly wanton, they left the drawing room. Either the servants had guessed at what was going on or they were exercising exceptional discretion, for they saw no one as they made their way to Devon’s apartments.

  As he opened the door and guided her in, Caroline sighed in delight. The room was beautifully decorated. Heavy dark green curtains enclosed the massive bed and draped th
e tall windows. A carpet of rich brown edged with a subtle pattern of rust and cream cushioned her steps, and the brown chaise and chairs by the window looked invitingly comfortable.

  “I’m afraid I indulged myself by redoing these rooms when I first returned to England,” Devon said. “I didn’t realize then how deeply in debt I was.”

  “Well, it’s a relief to know there is at least a part of the house I don’t have to bother with.”

  “Yes.” Devon’s eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. “It is good to know that.” He took her hand and drew her toward the bed. “Especially since when you are in this room, I suspect you will always be otherwise occupied.”

  Seven

  Devon glanced over at his sleeping wife. She looked ethereally beautiful in the morning light. Memories washed over him: Her opulent, alluring body revealed in all its glory. Her hair like a golden cloud, floating around her beautiful face. Her lips, plush and pink with desire. Her eyes, lambent, cool green against the fevered gold of her skin.

  The recollection made him shiver with longing. He wanted to wake her and make love again. Something held him back. Lovemaking with Caroline had coaxed him into letting down his guard and revealing his inner self. It was something he hadn’t done in years, and the very idea of it made him uneasy. Go slowly, he told himself. We have the rest of our lives to get to know each other:

  Climbing out of bed, he dressed and left the room. When he reached the downstairs, Ginter was waiting for him. The manservant approached him, and after straightening his cravat and brushing an imaginary piece of lint from Devon’s coat, Ginter gave him a searching look. Devon put on his most forbidding expression. “Please remove that look of hopeful curiosity from your face. It makes you look like an eager spaniel.”

  “Of course, your lordship,” Ginter answered evenly. “Your wish is my command.”

  Devon started a little at the hint of sarcasm in Ginter’s voice. While the manservant often harassed Devon with his sorrowful, regretful manner, he had never before gone to such extremes to make his opinions known. It was obvious that Ginter was as bewitched with Caroline as everyone else. “Hurry and send someone with my breakfast,” he ordered the servant. “I have business to attend to.”