“If we do see DeVere and Hew matched against one another, who would you put your money on?” Diana asked.
“We’ll that’s an interesting question.” Edward laughed. “We’ll just have to wait and see now, won’t we?”
Annalee squeezed Diana’s hand. “Let us just hope Hew and the mare have a great run.”
The contenders jigged and pranced to the starting post, six sleek and snorting specimens of muscle and sinew. At the starting signal, the pack bolted, their thunderous iron-shod hooves quaking the ground and hurling projectiles of turf heavenward in a unified stampede that in mere seconds was lost on the horizon. Edward pulled out his timepiece. “By my reckoning, the herd should come back into view in about two minutes.”
To Diana, it seemed an eternity.
The same earth-shaking rumble preceded the herd. Diana shaded her eyes as she strained to determine the color of the lead horse and the jockey’s silks. There were two riders neck-and-neck, lengths ahead of the rest as they approached the finish. Diana perched at the edge of her seat, her heart galloping in rhythm with the hammering hoof beats to see an emerald green rider on a lanky, dappled grey and a red and gold jockey on a horse the color of copper. It was Hew! With just a few furlongs to go, Diana’s fists were clenched, her nails gouging the flesh of her palms. She held her breath until she was lightheaded, and still, they battled for the finish. With only yards to go, she could bear it no longer; she closed her eyes on a prayer.
“She did it!” Annalee shrieked. “Diana, your horse has won her race!”
***
The two DeVeres dismounted at the stables, handing off their respective horses for hot walking whilst bantering and chiding one another in true brotherly fashion. With a number of lesser matches taking place before the event culmination, Ludovic had planned a grand al fresco nuncheon at Woodcote Park for the owners and other eminent guests, but now all he could think of was Diana and how soon he might get her back in his bed.
She was a damned handsome woman and an enthusiastic lover, but there was much more than that. Something about her appealed to him at a distinctly visceral level he had never experienced. Perhaps it was the raw honesty of her emotions, the vulnerability that she tried so hard to conceal. Whatever it was incited a peculiar and contradictory impulse to both exploit and protect her.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so bloody distracted by a woman. He’d barely been able to concentrate on his earlier ride. He would be in no condition to ride against Hew unless he could somehow manage to get her alone for a surreptitious fuck in the interim between races. Surely that would take the edge off. He returned to the house eager to engineer just that, but was waylaid by well-wishers.
“That was quite a ride, Vic!” Ned clapped him on the back. “Can’t decide where to lay my money now between you and Hew.”
“There’s really no question, Ned. Although the mare’s a superior specimen of her gender, she’s no match for the stallion.”
“Don’t let Diana hear you say so! She’s convinced the prize money is already in her pocket.”
“Is she now?” DeVere smiled at the unintentional segue to his subject of most interest. “And just where is the proud owner? I should like to offer my congratulations.”
“She and Annalee went up to refresh before nuncheon.”
“I think I’ll do the same.” He turned to his brother. “Hew, pray fill in for me. I’ll return shortly.”
“Right-oh, brother mine. You might, indeed, need to rest that decrepit body before we meet on the field.”
“Decrepit, my arse,” DeVere replied. “I’ll trounce you as usual, insolent whelp!”
“We’ll see about that, Vic. I have powerful yen for those colors you promised me.” Hew grinned and swaggered off.
“He would do the dragoons justice, you know,” Ned remarked.
“They’d be damned lucky to have him,” Ludovic agreed. “But he’s my heir, and the war is going badly. If anything should happen to him…”
“You surprise me with your protective streak, but Hew needs to be his own man now.”
“I know,” Ludovic said. “That’s why I’ll eventually concede, but I don’t intend to make it easy for him.”
“No, I don’t imagine you would!” Ned laughed.
***
“The footman brought a message for you, my lady,” Polly said.
“Thank you.” Diana accepted the foolscap. Noting nothing to identify the sender, she broke the plain, wax seal.
My private study –D.
Her hands trembled slightly as she refolded the note and slid it into the pocket of her petticoat.
“Is sommat amiss?” Polly asked at her mistress’s frown.
“No, nothing of import,” Diana replied with a blithe smile. “But I won’t be changing my gown quite yet. I have a small matter to attend to first.”
***
Diana closed the study door with a quiet click and turned to find DeVere looming over her, his blue eyes glittering dangerously. Without a word, he spun her back to the door, bracing one arm beside her head and reaching for the key with the other. She heard the tumblers turning in the lock, and then there was nothing but DeVere. Her world retracted to his mouth devouring hers, his hard thigh pressing against her and his hand inching up her skirts.
Diana’s head was spinning, her thoughts scattering like leaves before a tempest. The combined assault of warm, hard, musky male and her own urgent desire overpowered her stymied senses. She clutched his hair and pulled away from him only long enough to gasp out. “There’s something you need to know.”
“I only need to know my cock is buried inside you,” he growled back, his clever fingers freeing a breast from her stays. He closed his mouth over it, his hand sliding between her bare thighs. He groaned as his fingers entered her slick sheath, and she was lost to all brain activity beyond the unadulterated need to join with him.
Diana’s frenzied hands moved to his breeches, caressing, squeezing, fumbling, and finally freeing his engorged staff. Both his hands were now under her skirts cupping her buttocks, his arms sliding beneath her thighs.
He tore his mouth away, his arms supporting her legs, guiding them about his waist. “Hands on my shoulders,” he grunted and lifted her against the wooden door panel. He slid home in one solid thrust, pinning her to the portal. His tight buttocks began pumping a furious rhythm, and her conscious reduced to the most primal instincts. She squeezed her thighs tight, meeting each driving plunge with her own grinding hips as he pounded into her, hammering her to the door in a coupling that was both feral and sublime. Her orgasm came upon her fierce, frantic, and forceful. Tears were streaming down her face when he caught her cry in his mouth. She swallowed his own shuddering groan as he withdrew and spent between her thighs before they both collapsed to the floor.
***
Ludovic was in exceedingly good humor upon rejoining his guests after the brief but torrid interlude with Diana, but his revelry was curtailed by the interruption of his head groom.
“Pardon yer lordship, but ‘tis a matter most urgent.” The ashen-faced jockey nervously twisted his cap.
“What the devil is it, Pratt?” DeVere demanded. “I’ve fifty some guests at present. Are you certain it cannot wait?”
“I fear not,” Pratt answered his master with a grim face. “Mayhap it be best you come to the stables, milord. ‘Tis sommat you must see for yourself.”
DeVere made an irritated sound. “All right, then. Hew, pray see to the guests. I’ll return as soon as I’m able.”
Pratt led his master down to the stable block housing his guests’ horses.
“Now what has my unflappable Pratt in such a lather?” DeVere demanded.
“Here, my lord,” Pratt said, stopping in front of the oversized box which had earlier housed Lord Reggie’s stallion.
DeVere frowned. “Where is the horse? And why did he not run this morning?”
“The poor beast was in a great agita
tion when we found him, my lord. Horses have an innate fear of death.”
“Death?” DeVere repeated. “What the hell do you yammer on about?”
With trembling hands, Pratt slid the stall door open on its track. “’Tis a most gruesome sight, but we durst not move the body wi’out your express leave.”
“Sweet Jesus!” DeVere cried out at the gory spectacle, his stomach lurching at the splattered blood and brain matter that clung to the walls. Adjusting to the initial shock, he stepped inside, taking care not to disturb the remains of Baron Reginald Palmerston-Wriothesley. “There’s a pistol still in his hand.”
“Aye, my lord. One would think he’d have dropped it.”
DeVere was thinking the same thing. Something was horribly amiss. He stepped out with an impatient wave of his hand. “For God’s sake, man, close it! What more do you know of this?” he demanded of Pratt as soon as the door slid shut.
“Almost nothing, my lord. His lordship’s horses was cared for by his own groom, Johnson.”
“And what of Johnson?”
“He be in fair sad condition hisself. We found him beside the baron. Looks like he was beaten senseless.”
“Yet he lives?”
Pratt shrugged. “For now.”
“Where is he?”
“Bedded down at me own cottage. Dr. Stone’s been sent for, but little good t’will likely do.”
“Has anyone yet notified the magistrate?”
“Not yet, my lord.”
“Sir John Gooding is the Justice of the Peace, is he not? Pray locate him for me, Pratt. And send some men out to make discreet inquiries. I wish to know who was about during the races.”
“Aye, surely, my lord.” Pratt tugged his forelock.
“And Pratt, you know that the Baroness is amongst my company. It is my particular wish to shield her ladyship from any word of this. She had best not hear anything except from my own lips. Do you understand?”
“Aye. But what of the afternoon race, my lord?”
“Regardless of my personal dislike for the man, one cannot ignore that a death has occurred under my own roof. There will be no further racing this afternoon.”
***
Diana waited with fretful anticipation for DeVere after learning of his departure and hearing Hew’s vague explanation. “There was some commotion in the stables that demanded his attention, but I’m sure my brother will return shortly.”
“But what of Reggie?” Diana asked. “He has not come back either.” Wondering if her husband was the real cause of DeVere’s unexpected departure, her unease was rapidly increasing.
“I have seen nothing of Lord Reggie since this morning,” Hew said. “If you will please pardon me now, my lady, it seems I must dance attendance on our new arrivals.”
“Of course, my apologies for keeping you.” She gave him a nod.
Diana then took herself out to the back terrace where she would have a view of anyone approaching from across the park separating the house from the stables. She wondered if Reggie had confronted DeVere and how he might perceive the situation. Would he believe that she had set out deliberately to seduce him to give Reggie grounds to sue? After all, it was she who had come to him in the dead of night. Dear God, she was out of her depth!
After a half hour of restless pacing, she’d had enough. With her skirts in hand, she sallied forth across the park with a distinct sense of foreboding.
They came together near the yew maze. Although she wanted nothing more than to throw herself into his arms, she halted in her tracks at the grim lines that hardened DeVere’s features the moment he saw her. They faced one another for an interminable moment, each silently struggling to read the other. Her heart sunk. “You’ve seen Reggie,” she said, certain now that he suspected her of conspiring with her husband.
DeVere’s cobalt gaze bore into her. “I’ve seen him all right.”
“I told you earlier there was something you needed to know, but you never gave me a chance to speak. Please believe me. It’s not what you think.” She noted with dismay the sudden tension that gripped his body and the distance he maintained between them.
“Not what I think?” He sounded like he would choke on the words. “And what precisely am I to think, Diana?”
“That Reggie is a desperate and unprincipled man who would use anything at his disposal to achieve his ends,” she answered.
“Yes,” he said with an accusing look that made her throat go dry. “Desperation does, indeed, bring out the very worst in all of us.”
“Please, Ludovic.” She grasped his sleeve, praying he would believe her. “I have nothing to do with this. I came to you for reasons of my own.”
“By God, but you’re good! I was completely taken in last night when you played the reluctant seductress. You would be a credit to the stage.”
“You accuse me unjustly!” she said.
“Unjust! It’s a bit late now to play coy, don’t you think? I thought briefly in the beginning that you might have used the race as an excuse to lure me, to reclaim the deed, not that I really gave a damn because I wanted my cock inside you so badly. But then another better alternative occurred to you, or did you have this planned all along? I never would have suspected you of such duplicity, such ruthlessness. Did you come to me last night purely for my protection, thinking I might actually shield you?”
His harsh words struck her as a blow, yet she pressed on, determined to make him understand. “I hoped it would not come to that, but then I imagined how I might never be free of him without your help. I don’t believe he would ever agree to a divorce, Ludovic. Thus, I did consider seeking your protection—if it became necessary to do so.”
His gaze hardened. “Then you take much for granted, Diana.”
She looked away with dismay. “After last night, I thought perhaps you might wish…”
His gaze narrowed, his jaw twitched. “I wished many things after last night, but matters seem to have taken a rather disconcerting turn. I may be a libertine but this? This, madam, is far beyond even my level of tolerance.”
Her lips quivered. “Then I’m a fool.” She had felt such a connection, such intimacy with him last night, that it had never occurred to her it wasn’t mutual. But now it was clear she meant nothing to him beyond an evening’s entertainment.
He laughed, a harsh sound. “No, my dear. Fool is the last word I would use to describe you. I would rather call your solution exceedingly clever. The set up. The timing. The alibi. All of it is quite brilliant, actually.”
Set up? Alibi? Diana was baffled. “I don’t understand you, Ludovic. Are you implying I had something to do with fixing the race? How can you suggest such a thing when your own brother rode my mare?”
“The race?” It was his turn to look confused. “My dear, the race is inconsequential at this juncture. I’m only concerned about how I’m supposed to deal with the dead body in my stables.”
Diana felt the blood drain from her face.”D-dead body? Dear God, Ludovic, what are you talking about?”
***
“Your dead husband’s body!” he snarled. “What the devil other body could we be talking about?”
Diana looked stunned. “R-Reggie? Dead?”
“Yes, dead.”
“But how can that be? Was there an accident? Is that why the horse didn’t run?”
“An accident? I suppose one might call it that if one could mistakenly place a pistol in one’s mouth and pull the trigger.” Her horrified expression made him instantly regret the blithe remark. He feared she might collapse.
“A pistol? In the mouth?” she repeated woodenly and sank to her knees in the grass.
With a groan of frustration abetted by sheer confusion, Ludovic squatted down beside her. “Do you mean to say you truly didn’t know?”
“Know?” she whispered. “How could I possibly know such a thing?”
He clawed a hand through his hair. “Then what the devil were you saying just a moment ago? Please believe
me, Ludovic. It’s not what you think. Bloody hell! What am I to think when you just confessed to seeking my protection!”
“Protection as in becoming your mistress! Not as in shielding a murder! You think I killed him?” she answered incredulously. “How? How could I have done such a thing? I was with Edward and Annalee the entire time.”
“Damn it, Diana!” he cried. “I thought nothing of the kind until you began talking nonsense about secrets and things I should know.”
“I was trying to warn you that Reggie threatened extortion. That he found out about you and me and intended to take you to the courts of law.”
“That’s nothing less than I would have expected from that pusillanimous pile of—” He caught himself. “I’m sorry.”
She waved the apology away, but her lips quivered, and her eyes glistened. He couldn’t tell if it was with grief or rage. “How could you think me capable of such wickedness?”
Rage then. He groaned. “What the hell was I to think?”
“But to even imagine for a moment!” she argued.
“Look, Diana,” he retorted. “I’ve just seen a man’s brains splattered on a wall. I may not be in the most lucid state of mind at the moment.”
“Dear God!” she whispered. “What happened?”
“I don’t precisely know. In brief, my man, Pratt, found two bodies in your stallion’s box. One was your unconscious groom, the other was what remains of your husband after he took a bullet through the mouth. The offending pistol was still in his hand.”
“Suicide?”
“A highly suspicious one, if you ask me, but there will, of course, be an inquest. I have sent word to the J.P. I believe he will take charge of the entire affair.”
“Reggie’s really dead, then.”
Was it shock or relief in her expression? “No man could survive what I saw.”
“And Johnson? Has he spoken to anyone yet?” she asked.
“Johnson may never speak again. It’s doubtful he’ll recover his senses.”
“Dear heavens.” She sat in a protracted silence, her fingers convulsively ripping at the grass.
He gazed down on her with a feeling of puzzlement. “Are you all right, Diana?”
Seven Nights of Sin: Seven Sensuous Stories by Bestselling Historical Romance Authors Page 62