Camille shook her head. "That didn't last long."
"Are you happy, Mrs. McKade?" His darkened blue gaze moved over her body. Camille lay back in the bed, clad only in a sheer chemise.
"Hmmm?" Camille felt only excitement under his perusal.
When his shirt slid from his broad shoulders to be discarded and he pulled off his trousers, Camille devoured every inch of his muscular body, unable to tear her eyes from the man who would be hers for the rest of her life.
He straightened and immediately she focused on his thick erection. "Why yes, Mr. McKade. I am so very, very happy."
She opened her arms inviting him to join her and he did.
THE END
Other Works by Hildie McQueen
(In reading order)
Single Titles
The Widow's Choice
Beneath a Silver Sky
Under a Silver Moon
Heading West Series, Western Historical
Where the Four Winds Collide
Westbound Awakening
Where the River Flows
Historical Western, Shades of Blue Series
Big Sky Blue
A Different Shade of Blue
The Darkest Blue
Every Blue Moon
Blue Horizon
Montana Blue
Midnight Blue
The Gentrys of Montana
The Rancher
The Marshal
The Outlaw
Moriag Series, Highland Historical Novellas
Beauty and the Highlander
The Lass and the Laird
Lady and the Scot
The Laird's Daughter
*Not published as of this publication
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
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THE DEVIL YOU KNOW by Victoria Vane
When dealing with the Devil, it's easy to get burned…
Who can find a virtuous woman… Beautiful, respectable, and dutiful, Lady Diana Palmerston-Wriothesley has long resigned herself to her twelve-year loveless and childless marriage to a feckless husband…until his gambling pushes them to the brink of financial ruin.
Sometimes the devil is disguised as a gentleman… Viscount Ludovic, "The Devil” DeVere is accustomed to taking what he wants heedless of the cost, until he encounters a woman who won't be had at any price.
She found heaven in the devil’s arms... When Diana discovers a secret that shatters the carefully built façade concealing her private pain, she seeks aid and comfort from the most unlikely place…the devil's arms. But will a single night of heavenly passion damn them both forever?
**NOTE** This is part one of Diana and DeVere's story that continues with THE DEVIL'S MATCH
LIBRARY JOURNAL BEST E-BOOK ROMANCE 2012
“The “Devil DeVere” series is a variation on the rake’s progress, or the rake’s reformation, except that is doesn’t start with said rake as the main character—a device that is amazingly clever on Vane’s part and allows her to circle in on DeVere without revealing too much at the outset. In the first two books DeVere is the puppet master, rearranging his friends’ lives. But in the background, readers catch hints that there’s more to him than the debauched reprobate they see. By the time we find out his story, we’re invested. The series is erotic and sexy, and sometimes you want to shake the characters until their teeth rattle, but it is absolutely marvelous. This one should be read with bonbons. And a fan!” – Marlene Harris for Library Journal
The Devil DeVere Series
A Wild Night's Bride ( #1)
The Virgin Huntress (#2)
The Devil You Know (#3)
The Devil's Match (#4)
A Devil's Touch (4.5)
Jewel of the East (#5)
The Devil You Know (The Devil DeVere #3)
Copyright© 2015 Victoria Vane
Editor: T. S. Chevrestt
Cover Art: www.romance-covers.com
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
PROLOGUE
Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens, 1768
THE MELODIOUS STRAINS OF THE CORELLI AIR GREW FAINTER, the lamps swaying gently in the evening breeze sparser, and the tree-lined pathway narrower, while the stars glimmered in the clear night sky like diamonds against black velvet. It was all seemingly custom-ordered for the two couples who meandered the lesser-traveled Lovers’ Walk. While the first pair perambulated arm-in-arm, pausing upon occasion to steal a laughing kiss, the second lagged farther and farther behind until the young lady caused their progress to halt altogether. “Ouch! Pray stop,” she cried, clutching her companion’s arm.
“What is it, Caroline?” asked Ludovic, Lord DeVere.
“Only a minor nuisance. I’ve a pebble in my shoe.” The couple ahead, Sir Edward and Lady Annalee Chambers, immediately turned back.
“No, no.” Lady Caroline waved them onward with a smile. “Don’t trouble yourselves. Pray go on ahead. I just need to find a bench where I might remove my slipper. We’ll catch up with you directly.”
Lady Chambers looked to her husband with hesitation. “I don’t know… I would hate to be deemed a negligent chaperone.”
The two men exchanged a conspiratorial look.
“I promise she is in good hands with me, Annalee,” Lord DeVere reassured. “Why don’t we just meet up with you at the Ruins of Palmyra?”
Lady Chambers’ brows met in a frown until her husband whispered something reassuring in her ear. Her mouth formed a perfect O, and then she smiled. “Very well, then. Ned and I will walk slowly, but pray don’t be too far behind.”
Waiting until the Chambers disappeared into the darkness, the remaining couple cast a last furtive glance up and down the path to ensure their privacy before coming together in a fierce and impassioned embrace. Panting, clutching, and moaning between fervent kisses, the lovers backed deeper into the privacy of the trees, tugging at cravat and laces, tearing at clothes.
Her bodice loosened, DeVere freed Caroline’s breasts from their confinement and pulled a nipple eagerly into his mouth. She threw her head back with a cry and groped for the placket of her lover’s breeches. He raised his head from her half-bared bosom with a groan and halted her progress by encircling her delicate wrist in his iron grip.
“What a delightful wanton you are, but if you seek proof of my desire, I’ve already given you undeniable evidence. There’s no need to torture me further.”
“But I have a very special birthday gift for you, my darling.”
“Do you, indeed?” he asked, his interest growing in tandem with his erection.
She glanced down with a half-smile at the huge bulge in his breeches. “I want to feel your desire, Ludovic.” She ran her fingers leisurely up the length of him and brazenly cupped his straining cock through his breeches. “Oh my,” she voiced her delight as if she’d discovered an unexpected bounty.
Damn the vixen! ‘
Oh my’ isn’t the half of it. He was already hard as a rock, and her boldness only pulled at his last shreds of restraint. He was actually trying to behave with circumspection…for a change.
“Yes,” she gushed. “A very special gift.”
“You play with fire, Caroline,” he warned. “You know we mustn’t take this much further.”
She met his gaze with a guileless expression. “You do intend to marry me, don’t you?”
“I have already asked to speak to your father. Surely, he knows my purpose.”
“He won’t have the slightest objection to your suit, I assure you. Papa only wishes to see me happy and will agree to whomever I choose…so long as he’s noble…and rich,” she added with a laugh. “So what harm is there in seeking a bit of pleasure while we can?”
She removed his hand from her breasts and brought it to her lips. Wetting it with her little pink tongue, she slowly drew his index finger into the hot confines of her mouth. Her other hand squeezed the bulge in his breeches.
Ludovic ground his teeth. “Methinks you don’t know what you do, Caro.”
She sucked harder, sending a jolt of molten lust to his throbbing staff and then withdrew his finger, using it to trace a sensuous path over her full mouth. She gave him a slow, evocative smile. “But that’s where you are quite wrong, my darling. I assure you, I know exactly what to do.”
Words filled with prurient promise. Bugger it all! Ludovic flung his best and most expensive silk frockcoat to the ground, spreading it wide for her to kneel upon, a willing sacrifice to the gods of pleasure. With her gaze fixed upon his face, Caroline lowered herself to her knees, plucking her gloves off with her perfect, little teeth while he manically struggled with the straining buttons holding his jutting cock at bay. Once freed, his entire hot, hard length sprang forth into her hand.
She slid it slowly up and down his shaft. “I don’t know who has the better gift, you or I.” She chortled, low and husky. Gazing into his eyes, she darted out her tongue, stroking the underside of his length, teasing him with little flicks and darts. He inhaled sharply, his cock reflexively jerking in her hand. With a look of devilment, she slowly circled his crown of smooth flesh between her parted lips.
“Dear God in heaven.” He threw his head back with a groan. His bollocks contracting in anticipation, he clasped her nape in encouragement.
“And the same heaven awaits you,” she murmured before taking him slowly and completely into her delicious and decadent mouth.
***
“There you are, my dears!” exclaimed Lady Capheaton when the two couples returned to their supper box. “I’d begun to fear you’d become lost.” Lady Capheaton gave her daughter’s escort a scathing look.
“Pray forgive us, Mama. It is entirely my fault, “Lady Caroline said. “I didn’t mean to worry you, but I was so completely engrossed by the mural of the Ruins of Palmyra. Lord DeVere has been there, you know, to nearly all the ancient ruins. When I discovered him a veritable fount, I took obscene advantage of him.” She looked to him with artless innocence, and DeVere thought he would swallow his own tongue. Fount, indeed! She nearly sucked me dry.
In one night, his proposed bride-to-be had revealed a depth of cunning and guile he never would have thought she possessed. In truth, their entire assignation had been purely her design, a revelation as equally disturbing and sublime as was the expert skill with which Caro had brought him to completion.
But while he’d initially been excited by her lively sense of adventure and even more delighted to know he wouldn’t experience a cold marriage bed, her actions now provoked myriad questions. Foremost was just how she had come by such intimate, carnal knowledge. Although Ludovic had never possessed a jealous nature, he had also never entertained the notion of sharing his future wife with another man. That one, or more, may have already preceded him was both irksome and highly disconcerting.
“We have an especial guest who has been patiently awaiting your return, Caroline.” Lady Capheaton’s voice interrupted his ruminations.
“Oh? And who might that be, Mama?” Caroline asked with barely veiled disinterest.
“Why, it’s his Grace of Beauclerc who honors us with his presence,” Lady Capheaton answered in her cloyingly sycophantic style.
A mincing, middle-aged dandy broke from conversation with Caroline’s father with a sweep of his leg and a flourishing bow. His coat cut from midnight velvet, his red-heeled shoes adorned with diamond buckles, and his elaborately-embroidered silk waistcoat could only have come from Paris. Caroline’s eyes widened in surprise while the duke’s glimmered with interest.
“Then I am honored, indeed, Your Grace.” Caroline abruptly released Ludovic’s arm to puddle her petticoats in a deep obeisance to the duke.
“My dearest Lady Caroline.” The duke took her hand as she rose, smoothing his lips over her fingers. “The reports of your pulchritude were sadly understated.” Ludovic noted a display of uneven and discolored teeth when he spoke.
“The duke is an old and dear friend of your father’s and newly widowed,” Lady Capheaton explained to her daughter. “Recently out of mourning, he has come to join our party with a particular desire to meet you.”
“You honor me too much, Your Grace,” Carline replied breathily, fluttering her lashes over modestly downcast eyes.
What the hell is the vixen playing at? Does she think to make me jealous? Ludovic discarded the notion as meritless, as he’d already expressed his intent to wed her. He stepped forward to put an end to the game and was met with the duke’s supercilious stare. Until that moment, Ludovic had watched the interaction between the duke and the Capheatons with a sense of detached amusement, but the haughty stare sent his hackles rising as if they were a pair of gamecocks being set-to for a match.
“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” Beauclerc lifted a penciled brow.
“DeVere,” he answered.
“The Viscount?” asked the duke.
“His heir,” Ludovic volunteered more defensively than he would have liked. He made a second effort to mark his claim. “The Lady Caroline and I have just returned from a most delightful little promenade.”
The penciled lines became ludicrous squiggles. “Have you, indeed?”
Casting Ludovic a reproachful look, Caroline blurted, “Lord DeVere refers to the Ruins of Palmyra. From a distance, one would surely believe it real. It is so life-like, it stirs the blood. Have you seen it, Your Grace?”
“I don’t believe I have,” the duke answered. “But since it is a while yet before the illuminations, perhaps you could show it to me?” He offered her his velvet-clad arm.
Caroline’s gaze flicked from Ludovic to the duke and back again. Her lips formed the slightest moue as if she weighed upon the scales of her mind the relative merits of a mere viscount-to-be against the certainty of a ducal cornet. DeVere realized she had found his side of the scale wanting when, with no more than an apologetic shrug, Caroline placed her dainty, white-begloved fingers upon the sleeve of the Duke of Beauclerc. Without even a final glance back at her erstwhile lover, Caroline and her duke departed.
Ludovic was incredulous. Although his first inclination was to wipe the duke’s smug expression from his bloated face, preferably with his fist, he realized the true rage he should have felt never surfaced. Certainly his pride was injured, but he would have expected to feel far more upon being so properly jilted. Right curious, that.
Chuckling at his dispassionate conclusion, Ludovic took up Beauclerc’s abandoned drink with an inward smile as another consoling thought came to mind. The burning question of Caroline’s capacity for fidelity no longer plagued him, but he would soon ensure that it plagued the good duke instead.
***
“Damme,” said Ned a few hours later in Ludovic’s crested carriage. “I’m stunned. Ludovic Lord DeVere, legendary lover, cast aside like some old shoe?”
“Lady Caroline and that old fop? I never would have believed it,” Annalee agreed.”It
’s truly beyond comprehension. You were, by all appearances, the perfect couple.”
“Your naiveté astonishes me,” Ludovic said.
“I must say I regret to see your cynicism prove itself yet again,” Ned replied.
“Cynicism?” Ludovic laughed. “I am nothing if not a realist, dear Ned. In all fairness, do you honestly think that in Caroline’s stead, you would not also have grabbed for the golden goose? Damned if I wouldn’t have!” He smiled, a broad flash of even, white teeth. “But don’t fear I shall spend any tears over it, ol’ chum, especially when she consoled me in advance with such a magnificent parting gift.”
“What do you mean?” Annalee asked.
DeVere’s lips twitched. “Dear, sweet, innocent Annalee, I leave it to your devoted husband to illuminate you.”
Ned scowled. Annalee blushed. “So it’s truly over between you?” she asked.
“Truly, it never was,” DeVere said. “I never even made the formal proposal and would not have pursued her in the first place were it not for my damned Pater. Though he didn’t take to the shackles himself ‘til he’d turned the half century mark. If there’s aught that I can’t abide, it’s hypocrisy. The bloody devil rebuking sin is what that is!”
“Surely one can’t blame a man for wanting to ensure the continuation of his line,” Annalee remarked.
“It’s a damnable obsession,” DeVere said. “He’s bloody well fixated on his death, though he’s already managed to linger at its door far longer than is considered civil.”
Seven Nights of Sin: Seven Sensuous Stories by Bestselling Historical Romance Authors Page 52