by kps
That was true enough. At Cathy's prompting, Dev had reluctantly agreed to give equal time to each of the ladies invited, and he seemed faithfully to be fulfilling his promise. Too faithfully, Cathy thought with a twinge of jealousy. It would do him good to see her attended by another man and keep his interest in her from flagging-not that it had shown any signs of abating so far. The short absence would hardly draw notice from her guests, and already the danger of discovery inherent in such an escapade was luring her to accept the proposal.
"Have I told you that cousin Devlan and I are having our portraits painted for the family gallery, Charles?" Cathy commented in a voicie loud enough to reach the gossipy clique of older ladies sitting out the dancing in nearby seats. For a moment Charles appeared puzzled by the abrupt change of subject, but then the light of realization dawned in his eyes.
"No, you hadn't, m'dear. How very interesting … what artist have you retained?"
"Why, Reisewold, of course! What other artist's work would be good enough to hang beside Stuart's portrait of great-grandfather Nicholls?" Cathy hooked her arm in his and headed for the hall doors. "They're only partially finished, but I think you'll like the effect he's achieved.
The stands are in the gallery. I don't think Jacob would mind if I took just one person in to see his masterpieces. Really, Charles, the man's skill with shading is un ..." Cathy's voice trailed off as the couple neared the exit, and several of the ladies who'd been listening to the charade exchanged significantly knowing glances before sniffing the air in disdain.
Once in the safety of the hall, Cathy giggled and clutched at Charles's arm. "I don't think we fooled those old biddies, but they've never liked me, anyway. This will give them something to talk of for weeks!"
"That was a truly innovative excuse, though. Even they would have to credit you that!"
Charles complimented, leading the way down the hall.
Cathy nodded to a passing couple while maintaining a proper distance from her escort.
Halfway down the hall, she paused to pick up a tri-branched candelabrum to light the gallery. "I didn't completely make up the tale," she commented when they were alone near the gallery door. "We are having our portraits done, but they're set up in the East drawing room. Jacob claims the light's better there. He says it 'endows my heavenly countenance with an earthly radiance!' Can you believe –he said that, Charley?"
"At the moment, m'dear," Charles replied closing the hall door behind them and blowing out the candles, one by one, "I would believe anything-even if you were to say you loved me!"
Down the length of the foil-papered hallway, at the entrance to the ballroom, Dev leaned casually against the wall, watching. When the dim glow of the candelabra Cathy had carried into the gallery no longer showed beneath the door, he shook his head in wonder and grinned at her brazen confidence. After only a moment's pause, he turned and headed for the refreshment table and the glass of champagne he'd promised Anne de Lorimere. It struck him as oddly ironic that while the servant hired at his expense was pouring from a stock of the finest French champagne, the cousin who'd professed undying love for him, who'd arranged this costly, lavish affair in his honor, was lying stark naked on the gallery floor being skewered by a silver-haired dandy old enough to have fathered them both!
Accepting the two glasses of amber wine, Dev carefully wound through the crowd to the spot where he'd left Anne. She smiled at his return, and though she voiced a mild rebuke for the length of time he'd been away, there was no chastisement in the warm, dark eyes that flirted with his. As he engaged in animated discussion with the dark-haried beauty, Dev was considering how to handle his knowledge of Cathy's assignation.
Certainly she was a hot-blooded witch. There was ample proof of that in the long trail of scratches her nails had left on his back. Cathy was almost too much woman for anyone man.
Since his arrival, they'd 'managed to meet almost every night, and each meeting included several exhausting orgasms, so it didn't detract from his confidence in his virility to admit she was taxing as a love partner. What did bother him was the manner in which she'd gone about the indiscretion. With a houseful of guests, Cathy had trotted off like a whore with her latest customer in tow.
For one brief moment of madness, Dev considered assembling a small group of the guests for a tour of the finer appointments of the century-and-a-half-old mansion, beginning, of course, with the famous Nicholls's portrait gallery. A grin surfaced on his face as he imagined the shocked oohs and ahhs when the light first illuminated the tangled limbs of Cathy and her lover-of-the-moment. With a great deal of reluctance, he abandoned the idea. It might serve her right; but he hadn't quite had his fill of Cathy's particular brand of lust, and this might end it prematurely. No, he thought with another smile, when their affair ended, the time of revelation would be of his choosing, on his terms. He could afford to wait. After all, it wasn't as if he felt anything for this hot-blooded, cold-hearted cousin of his. He just hadn't had his money's worth yet.
"That smile does not bode well for whoever has displeased you, Mr. Cantrell," Anne commented, then added more softly, "Tell me I have not offended you in some way!"
"You, Miss de Lorimere?" Dev leaned forward, his eyes an intense shade of gold as he stared deep into her darker gaze. "You're teasing me now, aren't you, ma'am? How could' a lovely little slip of a girl like you offend anyone?"
Anne de Lorimere was entirely satisfied with the explanation for his mysterious, almost vengeful smile. After a moment she demurely lowered her gaze and fluttered her fan.
Twelve
Only one table lamp was lit in the master's suite, casting its flickering glow along the contours of the two naked bodies sprawled across the huge, fourposter bed. Dev lay on his back, Cathy next to him on her belly, and both were just beginning to recover from the languor that had followed a tempestuous session of lovemaking.
Cathy half-rose, resting her weight on her elbows as she studied the strong sculpted face of her lover at rest. The legacy Dev had inherited extended beyond material wealth. All of his features were bold but so finely drawn that there could be no doubt he was descended of a noble breed, elevated above the ordinary by independence and strength of will.
A contented sigh escaped her. She had actually fallen in love with this attractive and virile young animal at her side! In the beginning she'd coldly concentrated on neutralizing the threat that he posed to her welfare, but then she had surrendered to the only man who had ever satisfied her nearly insatiable appetite for sex. Dev was everything she admired in a man, .strong, aggressive, and as self-possessed as she was herself. Seven weeks, she thought in amazement, could it have been only seven weeks since he'd arrived, since that first, stormy encounter in the gallery? The time had flown by, further evidence to Cathy that she truly was in love.
And Dev? With the natural assurance of a woman who found it effortless to entangle men in the web of her beauty, Cathy knew he was falling in love with her. In a matter of time he must admit it to himself and then speak the words she was longing to hear. Closing her eyes, she imagined the sound of his voice, husky with yearning. "You're driving me mad, Cathy,"
he would say, and she would smile as he added a desperate, "I can't go on this way ...
knowing you don't belong to me!" Then she would cradle his head against the softness of her breasts and comfort him with the knowledge that they would soon be one, that as soon as he signed the annulment papers, she would ...
"Just what, may I ask, is the reason behind that intriguing little smile on your lovely face?"
Dev asked, interrupting her dreams of their future. He reached out, tousling the tangled, love-dampened curls at her temple, then sat up, plumping the pillow behind himself.
"Maybe I shouldn't ask, though," he added as a teasing smile curled the corners of his full, sensual lips. "No sense looking for trouble."
"Trouble? I could never cause you any trouble, Dev!" Cathy protested. "You mean too much to me-but surely you
know that?"
At that moment, though he knew her for the schemer she truly was, Dev could almost have believed the innocent disclaimer. Cathy's eyes were wide-stretched, gazing up at him with the beseeching appeal of a young, trusting animal. Then, almost demurely, she dropped her gaze to stare at the rumpled sheets and toyed with her hair, curling one of the spun-gold tendrils around her finger.
"Actually," she said, after a few moments of silence, "I was thinking about your annulment papers. They arrived over a week ago. You won't delay signing them much longer, will you, darling?" Her long lashes fluttered, and she glanced up.
Dev tensed. He hadn't been aware she even knew about the papers, much less had kept a watch on the source of the mail he received. The revelation of her sly, backhanded maneuvering destroyed the innocence she'd affected only minutes ago. They'd become too involved-at least, she had-and it was time to put their relationship in the correct light. "I'm not going to sign, Cathy," he stated firmly.
"But ... I don't ... why on earth not? Your wife doesn't mean anything to you-you said so yourself! She trapped you into marrying her." The shock glazed her green eyes. How could he even consider not dissolving the marriage, she thought dazedly, when she would be his?
"I wasn't trapped, Cathy. I don't know where you've gotten your information, but you're dead wrong about Jenny. As a matter of fact, she refused the first time I asked her ... it was at my insistence that we finally married."
Suddenly Dev realized that Cathy must have listened in on his conversation with Erasmus.
There was no other way she could have known what she did. It was just another one of her traits that he found disagreeable.
"She wants the annulment," Cathy asserted, desperately grabbing at straws to convince Dev he was wrong.
"I don't think she does," he replied. "It was just Jenny's way of letting me know I wasn't bound to honor the marriage because the reason for wedding her had disappeared. At any rate, I don't see that it's any concern of yours."
"Well, what about my feelings?" Cathy inquired petulantly. "Don't you think your decision has any effect on me?"
"Why should it?" Dev's voice was coldly cutting.
"Have you forgotten you're married, too? I'm afraid you'd be stuck with Bentley, even if I was free to marry you."
"But he doesn't mean anything to me, you do! Besides, there are ways to rid oneself of excess baggage." A flush of excitement colored Cathy's cheeks as she rushed on, unmindful of the disgust on Dev's face. "Dev, he's always drunk. Why, the servants are so accustomed to it, they're surprised when he's sober! It would be so easy to arrange an 'accident.' If Bentley were to wander too near the cliffs in one of his stupors, no one would believe he hadn't stumbled over by himself! I'd be free and you .. "
"Would still have a beautiful wife waiting for me in Montana," Dev finished for her. "I want no part in any of your ambitious schemes, girl. Do I look foolish enough to become the next mate of a black widow spider?"
Somewhere she had lost her powers to beguile Dev. Lost them, or never had them, Cathy thought unbelievingly. He was studying her with such unconcealed disgust that he gave the impression she was some horrible creature that had crawled into his bed. Why had she allowed herself to be so blind?
"You never were in love with me, were you?"
"Did I ever claim that I was?" Dev retorted. "You've confused sexual satisfaction and tenderness. I may have loved fucking you, my dear, but that was the extent of any loving feelings. Even that," he added with a stifled yawn, "has lost its freshness."
Cathy opened her mouth to defend herself, but Dev cut her off. "Don't try and claim you've been used or taken advantage of ... it won't wash, even with hysterical tears. You wanted what I did, but you mistakenly thought the idea of possessing you was so enchanting to me, I'd pay for it with my inheritance. Wrong again, Cathy. If I were you, I'd have the next in line pay in advance of possession. It would guarantee that no one suffered any disappointment."
"You'll pay for this, you dirty bastard!" Cathy hissed through bared teeth. She'd been a fool to underestimate him so, to believe that he was so enamoured of her that he would do anything to please her. The hot shame of rejection boiled within her now, overspilling in a flood of tears. She wanted to kill him, to erase any evidence of her folly. Her hand rose, clawing the air as she tried to strike at the mockery in his eyes.
Dev had been watching for just such an action and easily caught her hand before she even touched him. Securing both of her wrists, he slammed her struggling body backwards, until she was effectively pinned against the sheets. His anger was beginning to drain away, replaced by a growing irritation with her presence.
"What are you going to do?" Cathy glanced up at him, a strange mixture of desire and hatred battling in her expression. "I suppose rape isn't beyond you."
Dev sighed wearily. He'd hoped the inevitable parting scene could have been handled with less antagonism. A part of him realized how harsh he'd been; another part, the more dominant influence on his present mood, was sure she deserved it. She had left herself open to his insults by showing the single-minded possessiveness of her personality. "You couldn't have named a subject further from my thoughts," he told her. "Besides, force would afford you too much pleasure."
Cathy struggled vainly against the powerful grip of his hands, her mouth ugly with bitterness.
She started to curse him, calling into use every foul epithet she knew.
A moment later, she was silent, gaping at him in surprise. Apparently it had been some time since anyone had told Cathy to shut up, Dev thought, amused by her immediate obedience to his impatiently snapped command. He should have said it earlier. Now he went on before she could recover. "If I let go, will you be quiet for a while? I didn't mean for all this to come out so bluntly. I also didn't expect to hear of any plan for murdering Bentley."
"I was joking," Cathy lied, and the makeshift explanation sounded false and stilted, even to her own ears. To gain her freedom again, she agreed to his terms.
"I don't share your sense of humor, but that's beside the point." Dev cautiously loosened his hold on her and sat up. She made no move to strike back at him, just continued to glare spitefully as she rubbed at her wrists. "I finally decided it's about time I headed home."
"To fuck your raven-haired bitch?" For a second, Cathy was positive he was going to strike her. The muscles of his arm knotted as his fist clenched, and she tensed, deriving an odd sense of pleasure from the fact that she could still elicit some kind of response from him.
Then the fury faded from his face, almost as though he'd guessed at the perverted thrill such a blow would give her and had declined to let her have even that.
"My Jenny's a lady, Cathy," Dev explained in a calm, even tone. "A man doesn't fuck a lady, he makes love to her." The distinction in terms was not lost on Cathy. She blanched as white as the pillow beneath her head. Dev had struck at her with his words instead of his fists, and the blow to her ego was even more painful. She barely heard him as he went on, explaining that he'd asked Erasmus to come up to Canterbury at the beginning of the next week. "He'll draw up a settlement for you that should keep you comfortably, wherever you choose to live. As long as you stay away from Canterbury, the money will be forwarded to your account annually."
"I'm being pensioned off as what," Cathy snapped sarcastically, "a poor relative ... or a cast-off mistress? I can't believe you're turning me out of my own home."
"My home," Dev corrected, "and you won't be poor by any means. I'll be leaving the estate in Erasmus's care until Jenny and I decide where we want to live." He glanced around at the plush furnishings of the room and commented, "She'd feel at ease here; I don't think I would, though."
Cathy felt utterly defeated, but she needed to strike back at him. "You're so confident, Dev.
How can you be so sure she'll take you back? If she doesn't, you know, I won't be willing to forget this night or forgive your treatment of me!"
Dev was too tired t
o argue any longer. He'd considered the chance of Jenny's refusal to go on with their marriage and decided he'd meet that challenge if, and when, it arose.
"Whatever happens between Jenny and me doesn't have any effect on my decision to see you gone from here. It's finished, Cathy. Take what I've offered and make your exit as gracefully as you can."
The generous settlement he'd offered didn't matter to Cathy at that moment as much as the devastating blow to her feminine pride. She was no sweet-eyed innocent, but none of her lovers had ever tired of her first; she would take her pleasure and then leave them while they were still begging for a few more days, a few more hours of pleasure. She was miserable, and Devlan Cantrell would pay for that misery in a coin more valuable than what he had offered. If she had her way, he would forfeit everything to her, including his life!
Dev had lit a cheroot and was ignoring her now, studying the smoke that curled up from its glowing tip as though it were suddenly the most fascinating sight in the world. She had been dismissed, dealt with, and she could do nothing more than clutch at the shreds of pride left to her and make her exit as quietly as possible. She did so, without a backward glance or a recrimination to penetrate the heavy silence that clouded the room.
For a moment Cathy paused outside of Dev's room, leaning her head against the cool, polished wood of his door. The first heat of her fury was cooling now, replaced by the cold, precise calculations of a woman bent on vengeance. When she finally raised her head, she was smiling, and despite the lateness of the hour, her step was energetic as she moved down the hall and stopped before the door to Bentley's bedroom. In an extremely agile turn-of-purpose, Cathy was about to request the assistance of the very man she'd, in deadly earnest, contemplated murdering. It did not strike her as inconsistent to make use of Bentley. She felt free to employ any means to attain what she desired, and at the moment, there was nothing she desired more than Devlan Cantrell's complete destruction.