Sweet Torture

by Dayna Quince

She was suddenly overwrought with guilt. She wanted to tell him all, but if she did, he might only marry her out of duty and obligation. She wanted his love; she wanted a marriage bursting at the seams with it. Would he hate her for lying by omission, or understand that her motives were for his benefit as well as hers? She wanted him to be able to walk away from her if he truly wanted to, but could he walk away from his own child? Lydia had already resigned herself to raising a child alone in obscurity, with only her mother for support, before Devon was found. Now he was here, wistfully contemplating the joys of becoming an uncle, and all the while, he was soon to be a father. Would he hate her?

  She turned away again and pretended to look out over the lawn. Her heart sank. All at once, her plans seemed foolish, manipulative, and doomed to fail. She covertly wiped at a tear and tried to steady her roiling emotions by taking calm, even breaths.

  “You’ve gone quiet,” he said behind her.

  “Just thinking about what you said,” as she tried to sound serene. “Olivia will make an excellent mother.”

  “She’s had lots of practice between the two of us.”

  Lydia laughed unexpectedly. “That’s true enough.” She quickly dabbed her eyes dry before glancing back at him. “Will Captain Colton retire from the sea?”

  “Perhaps, or at least keep the trips short. He’s a besotted husband, if I’ve ever seen one. It’s positively nauseating to be in the same room with them.”

  Lydia smiled and turned to face him again. “I think it’s sweet. Olivia has always been such a hopeless romantic, and now she has all the romance she needs.”

  “Don’t remind me.” He made a disgusted face.

  “You are the one who brought up breeding,” she said.

  “That was rather crass,” he admitted.

  “You, crass?” She widened her eyes in mock surprise.

  He smiled at her, a true smile of enjoyment that turned her stomach to butterflies.

  She looked away, her cheeks incredibly hot. “We should get back.”

  “Anxious to get me back to bed?”

  Her eyes snapped back to his, her cheeks positively on fire now. “Certainly not! I mean—”

  He laughed, and she fumbled for words. His bold teasing had scattered her wits. She wasn’t prepared for flirtation, not when her heart felt so brittle. If only he knew how often she had lain awake at night remembering their one night together.

  “That isn’t funny, Devon, not unless you mean it.” The words shot out on their own accord, and she turned away from him, half in anger, half in embarrassment.

  “Lydia…”

  She kept her back to him. “Can you make it to your room alone? I’ll send Henry to pick up after us, and if you wait, he will assist you.” She left him there, rather stunned she suspected, and made a full retreat for her room.

  * * *

  Devon watched her leave in stunned silence. What did she say? His foggy mind struggled to recall the words.

  Not unless you mean it?

  Dear God.

  Those words had bowled him over like a runaway carriage. Did she want to sleep with him? A wave of longing so acute washed over him, and it changed everything. Every poisonous word he said to her, every meaning of every thought and action. He was a bloody fool to pretend he didn’t want her. She had made herself clear about what she wanted from him, the stuff his deepest fantasies were made of, and he had thrown it all back in her face to hurt her. But it was all lies. Of course he wanted her, but fear is a dark and tangible thing. It’s insidious and makes one doubt even the most obvious of things.

  Like love.

  Not unless you mean it.

  It wasn’t funny at all—no scenario of taking Lydia to bed was remotely humorous, but it was enlightening. She has changed quite a bit, his Lydia. She was stronger, surer, more intense, and more vivid. She knew what she wanted now, undeniably, and she wasn’t going to let anything stop her, not even him. Thank God, the thing that she wanted most was he. He closed his eyes, the dapples of sunlight causing blotches of light and shadow behind his eyes, and a strange feeling came over him. It was almost like the first time he had smoked opium. Warmth sweeping through his body, tingling, giddiness, supreme relaxation, and a peace unlike any other. However, this time it was not the opium. He was experiencing a change within himself, a shift away from the darkness and into the light. A golden warm light shed by Lydia. She had been his downfall, and now she would be his savior.

  But how to go about it? Parts of his body immediately offered up seduction as a means to a satisfying end, but no, that was too easy. He smiled wolfishly. Not that it wouldn’t play a major role, but he would have to be craftier than that. He would need to prove that his feelings went beyond the physical; otherwise, she might think he was taking advantage. He couldn’t have that. This was a new beginning, a second chance for both of them.

  He opened his eyes, and Henry was standing over him looking perplexed.

  “Are you feeling ill, my lord?”

  “Never been better, Henry. I will need help to my room though.” Devon slowly got to his feet. His stamina was subpar, and that would take time to recover. He hated feeling like such a weakling, but he could use it to his advantage. He could seduce Lydia slowly, reawakening their shared desire little by little until it grew bigger and brighter than before.

  It was a short walk back to his room. Sending Henry away, Devon entered and collapsed onto his bed. He smiled a deliciously diabolical smile. He couldn’t wait to put his plan into action.

  Chapter 19

  Lydia contemplated not returning to Devon for the rest of the day, but those thoughts reeked of cowardice, and she didn’t have the time for such things.

  She knocked softly on his door and entered when she heard his command to do so.

  “So you’ve returned to the lion’s den.”

  He was sprawled on his bed, looking very much like a lion in his lair.

  “Hardly. No one else will put up with you now. I’ve brought books.” She tossed them on the bed at his feet, not willing to move closer.

  He had an odd look about him, a deviant look that made her uneasy.

  He slid to the foot of the bed on his knees as he picked up one book and then another to inspect them.

  “Hamlet? The Art of Growing Succulents?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “Reading stimulates the mind.” She turned away from him and pretended an interest in the painted landscape above the mantel.

  “You think I need stimulation?”

  Lydia bit her lip. She didn’t need to look at him, as she could tell by his sultry tone that he was in a wicked mood. Something had clearly changed this afternoon. Suddenly her bodice felt too tight. Was he changing his mind already? It felt too good to be true, perhaps he was merely teasing. Perhaps he was returning to his older, devilish self and—as before—she was the easy target for his salacious wit. Or perhaps he had decided, given they had already been intimate and combined with what she had said this afternoon, that he had other ideas for how they could spend their time together.

  The thought alone brought a fever to her skin. She surreptitiously cast a glance at the door, and she was relieved to see she had left it open. She smiled serenely and turned to face him.

  “Reading is an exemplary pastime when one is ill. Shall I read to you? Or I can fetch my needle work while you read silently to yourself?”

  He narrowed his eyes at her.

  She tilted her head coyly to the side and folded her hands behind her back. “Is there something else you wish to do? We can play cards. If you are feeling up to it, we can move to the library and invite Colton and Olivia to join us.”

  “No.” He scowled and moved to sit back against the pillows.

  She thought about asking him directly what he wished to do, but she feared his answer would be equally direct and altogether, positively wicked. She sighed and moved to sit in the chair by the fireplace. “We can sit in silence then.”

  Devon rolled his ey
es. “Why don’t we play cards, just the two of us? Olivia put a deck here in the drawer for me days ago.”

  Lydia nodded and looked about the room. “Where shall we play?”

  “Here on the bed, there is plenty of room for two.” He winked.

  Lydia folded her arms against her chest and raised a dubious brow. “That is highly—”

  “Improper, yes, but so is your playing a nursemaid to me. So let’s dispense with any notion of propriety altogether, shall we? Our time together will be infinitely more entertaining.”

  Lydia hesitated. “Why do I feel as though I am consigning my soul to the devil?”

  “We are far past the mere consigning of your soul, princess, as I already own your body.”

  Lydia’s mouth actually popped open in surprise.

  “Let’s not pretend, Lydia. We are much too old for such childish things and playing the maiden won’t work either. There is nowhere else we can be more ourselves than in this room together, alone.” He reached over to the bedside table and pulled a deck of cards out. “What’s the matter, lose your voice?”

  Lydia anxiously looked over at the door.

  “I certainly would prefer it closed, but I will leave up to you.” He gave his attention to shuffling the cards as he sat cross-legged on the bed.

  There really was plenty of room for them both to sit without being scandalously close, but then again, this was Devon, and in this arena, he had ways of turning any situation into an opportunity. Did she really object? Her wanton heart whispered no. Her head warned her to be cautious, but then again, there were certain benefits to being close to him. If he physically wanted her, surely that meant his heart was not far behind? What did she have to lose?

  “I suppose.” She bit her lip and caught his half smile as he looked down and shrugged nonchalantly.

  He was playing some game with her, she was sure of it now. She boldly walked to the door and closed it, then returned to the bed and scooted onto the mattress. She sat on her knees and adjusted her skirts around her as he dealt the cards.

  “Do you know how to play Put?”

  Lydia nodded, and she picked up her cards when he finished dealing.

  “What prize should the winner receive?” he asked slyly.

  “Isn’t winning sufficient?”

  “Have a little imagination,” he teased.

  Lydia bit her lip. Her imagination functioned just fine. In fact, it was busy imagining all the ways a simple card game could end with her in his arms, and she was feeling quite warm now.

  “What is it you would wish to win?” she asked.

  Devon stroked his chin thoughtfully, “An article of clothing for every point won?”

  “You want to trade articles of clothing?” She laughed.

  “No, minx, I want you to remove an article of clothing for every point I win.” He smiled wickedly.

  Lydia gasped. Trails of excitement skittered across her skin, but she would never agree to something so scandalous. “Try again.”

  He pouted. “I would be happy to do the same for every point you won.”

  “I have no doubt of it, but it will not be happening.”

  “Fine,” he snapped. “Should I win, you shall have to kiss me. If you don’t agree, then my suggestions will only become more radical and a mere kiss will be like a godsend.

  Lydia doubted it. “And if I should win?”

  “What ever you desire, you may have,” he said valiantly.

  “I will take a favor, then.”

  “A favor?” he asked with scorn.

  “Yes, a favor. At some time in the future, I will call in a favor, and you must fulfill it, whatever it may be.”

  His shoulders slumped in exaggerated defeat. “Fine. I’m telling you now that I won’t be easy on you. We would both enjoy it if I win.”

  Lydia didn’t comment as she looked at her cards, but she bit her cheek to keep from smiling.

  “Best of three,” he said tersely, and they started to play.

  With each hand, Lydia’s excitement built. He tried to distract her with taunting jests and lewd comments, but she held her own. She had won the first game, he had won the second, and now they were neck and neck for the third with two points each. Either way, she was going to win, but he didn’t know that, and she could see he desperately wanted that kiss.

  She wanted it, too.

  Heat and joy spread through her body. She tried to look serious, as if she were focused on winning the game, but it took all her effort not to smile and laugh at him. She held three cards in the end, all destined to defeat him.

  Her pulse quickened as first one hand tied, then the second, and then she put down her card and scored the only point.

  She looked up and smiled. Devon was scowling blackly at the cards.

  “I believe you now owe me a favor, Devon Brentton.”

  “Blooming cards,” he cursed. “What will it be?”

  Lydia took a deep breath. She felt shaky as she leaned over the discarded cards and grabbed the neck of his shirt.

  His eyes widened, but he remained motionless, his face blank with surprise.

  She pulled him forward and pressed her lips to his. It was brazen and bold, and entirely unlike her, but that made it all the sweeter. She had already lost everything before, now she would take risks to gain it all back.

  At first, he remained stunned, his lips unmoving, but then they molded to hers. He came to life in front of her, coming up on his knees and pulling her against him. He was so warm and alive, like holding one’s body against fire without being burned. He held her tightly and delved into her mouth. She let him take over, to kiss her as roughly and as passionately as he wanted. Emotions and memories flooded her, a tidal wave of sensation and want that took her breath away and scattered her wits.

  He broke the kiss and clung to her. She could feel him shaking. Was he as affected by it as her?

  “Oh god, Lydia, I dreamed of this moment.”

  “So have I, Devon.”

  He pulled her hips tightly against his, and she could feel his arousal. She was shaken to her core with her own need but… She wasn’t ready for this. She already knew that she could succumb to him, but that didn’t mean he was ready to forgive her. Would this be anything more to him than physical desire?

  “I want you,” he growled

  “I want you too, Devon, but I won’t be trifled with.”

  He pulled back and stared at her. “Haven’t we discussed this before?”

  “Yes, but what I want from you is much more than just the physical. Until you are ready for that, this cannot go where we both want it to go.”

  “You’re torturing me, Lydia,” he said in exasperation.

  She desperately wanted to put an end to his misery and her own, but there was so much at stake. She couldn’t afford to let him think he could use her and then turn his back on her.

  He sat back on his heels. “Do you honestly think I would use you like that? Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?”

  Lydia balked. His words stung as if he’d slapped her with them.

  “I was up front from the beginning about what we had between us. It was you who changed the rules.”

  “And do you regret it? Do you regret falling in love with me?” He sat up again, and he was only inches away.

  She could feel the heat from his body, and her own need roared in her ears. “I regret nothing except the end. I regret every moment we’ve been apart. I will never stop regretting that. I still love you, Devon, but I won’t give myself to someone who doesn’t want to love me back.”

  “Lydia.” His eyes were so intense. They glittered fiercely and his hands came up to her shoulders and gripped them tightly. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

  “Do you think me unscathed?” she asked incredulously.

  “We have both been wounded, but you ripped my heart out. I cannot forget how you betrayed me…betrayed yourself.” His fierceness faded, leaving a bleakness s
o aching that she felt the sting of tears in her eyes.

  “I will help you,” she declared. “You will never know a second without my love, and I will earn yours back. When you can tell me you love me with an open heart, then I will give myself to you in every way you desire.”

  He groaned. “You will be the death of me.”

  “I think your being overly dramatic.”

  “No, Lydia, not being inside you is slowly killing me. I can’t not touch you when you insist on being near me.”

  “I didn’t say you couldn’t touch me,” she said huskily.

  He pulled her tightly against him again, and they lost each other in the flames of another kiss.

  The dinner gong rang throughout the house. They pulled apart reluctantly.

  “I should go. Perhaps you should come down to dinner?”

  Devon looked down at the bulge in his breeches. “I’m going to need an ice bath—civility may be beyond me yet.”

  Lydia rolled her eyes. “Your parents want to see you. Olivia and Colton want to see you.”

  “Nothing is stopping them from coming here.”

  “Well… I sort of asked for privacy for us.”

  “What?” His face blanked. “I still cannot wrap my mind around the idea that your mother and my mother are turning a blind eye to you spending so much time alone with me. Has everyone gone mad?”

  “I’m fairly positive we all have. I didn’t tell them outright that it would be me and only me tending to you, but I did enlist Olivia’s help in keeping everyone at bay. She can be quite ingenious, it seems.”

  “You have no idea.” He pulled her close again.

  This time it was Lydia who groaned. “Although I enjoy flying close to the sun with you, I don’t wish for your mother to view me as a light skirt. I’m sure on some level, they know what we are up to, but I’d rather not be vulgar about it. I still have pride.”

  He rested his forehead against hers. “I need to be inside you, Lydia.”

  “I need more than that, Devon. I need your forgiveness and your love. I want the moon and the stars.”

  “You don’t know what you’re asking.” He pushed away from her. “I don’t think you understand the scope of wreckage you left me in.”