Sarah smiled a thanks to the footman who was pouring wine. Daisy frowned anxiously. Charlotte took a healthy swallow of her wine and Jack ignored the question.
"Is he away from home, Charlotte?" Devon directed a quelling look down the length of the table.
"No," she answered. "I'm sure he's forgotten the time."
"He's a thirteen year old boy," Devon answered sharply. "He's not likely to forget his dinner."
Charlotte sighed. "I wish he could be more considerate of me, but that's always the way with children."
Devon nodded at the footman, who hurried over, and leaned down to listen to a few words Devon murmured in a tone that Miranda couldn't hear. The footman departed.
The first course was served, a delicious offering of seared scallops. Sarah began to talk about the upcoming garden party, and Miranda responded in order to keep the conversation going. But they all felt the weight of the silence from the duke's end of the table.
The footman returned, whispered something in Devon's ear, and Miranda saw the flash of worry in the duke's eyes. When he stood up, however, he was calm. He placed his napkin on his plate, indicating that he would not be returning to the meal.
"Please excuse me," he said. Clearly, he did not intend to provide any further explanation of his actions.
Charlotte gasped. "Mercy, Devonwood, don't scare me like that. What has happened to Godfrey?"
"I have no reason to believe anything has happened to him." Devon was already striding toward the door. "Merely, I would prefer to know where he is before darkness falls."
Miranda glanced involuntarily at the tall windows framed in ivory silk draperies that highlighted the gray of oncoming dusk. It wouldn't be long before night arrived.
Charlotte clapped a hand to her chest. "His sign is in the first quarter sun-moon phase today. His horoscope said that obstacles might be in his way."
"Indeed, Charlotte." Devonwood paused in the doorway. "Let us hope the moon will light our way as we're going out to search for him."
Jack pushed back his chair. "I'll come with you."
"That won't be necessary." Devon's voice was cold at best, bored at worst. Miranda swallowed an exclamation of annoyance. Couldn't he see that Jack wanted to be helpful? To have some adult role to play, rather than to always be treated like a useless schoolboy?
Sarah lifted her wine glass. "Let Devon worry about it, Jack." She smiled maliciously. "It's what he does best."
"Tyrant," Jack muttered under his breath.
"Precisely." Devon strode out of the room, leaving behind an uneasy silence broken only by the sound of his footsteps receding on the marble floored great hall.
Miranda wondered if Devon had heard Jack. It certainly wasn't clear to whom Devon had been responding.
Charlotte laid down her knife and fork on her plate. The twin clinks seemed to signal the end of the conversation about Godfrey. "Daisy, please sit up straight. We don't lean on the table."
Daisy's worried eyes moved to her mother. "Is Godfrey all right?"
"Of course he is, Daisy. We can't digest our meal properly if we're worrying about everything, can we?" Charlotte leaned back slightly so her plate could be removed.
"Don't worry, Daisy." Sarah smiled at her sister. "Devon will find Godfrey, right?"
Daisy considered that for a moment. "Yes," she finally said in a somber tone. "But he'll miss his dinner."
Sarah laughed. "He won't starve to death."
Miranda cast another covert look at Sharmie, rolling her eyes. That about summed up the lot of them. Charlotte bossed everyone pointlessly. Jack complained, but not too loudly. Sarah got to be the frivolous one. And Devon bore all the responsibility.
She was glad when the meal ended, although her concern was growing as neither Devon nor Godfrey appeared. Darkness had shrouded the windows by the time they rose from the table. They all milled into the hall, as if everyone was uncertain what to do next.
"Drat the boy," Jack said suddenly. "Where can he have gotten to?"
The front door opened suddenly, and Devon strode in. His cool gaze took in the group, stopping to rest on Daisy.
"Sarah," he said. "It's time for Daisy to go to bed, surely. Since it's the nanny's day off, could you attend to that?"
Without waiting for an answer, he approached Charlotte. "I don't have time for long explanations," he said in a low voice. His eyes watched Sarah and Daisy climb the wide staircase. "Miranda, if you could keep Charlotte company until I return with Godfrey, I would appreciate it."
"Devonwood!" Charlotte hissed. "What is going on? This is my son you are talking about. I demand to know where he is."
Devon's mouth tightened for just a moment. "He's somewhere on the grounds. He went out late this afternoon on his all-terrain vehicle."
Charlotte shrieked. "I knew you never should have bought him that machine. If something happens to Godfrey, it's all your fault!"
"Can we save the blaming for a later moment?" Devon headed for the stairs. "We're going out to look for him, and I need to change."
"Change?" Charlotte exclaimed. "This is not a fashion moment!"
Devon halted, one foot planted two stairs higher than the other. "The other ATV," he said, "is in the shop for repairs. You may recall that Godfrey took it out without permission two weeks ago and crashed it."
"If you mean to imply that he needs some discipline," Charlotte said, "I am sure that is a job for the head of the family."
"Or his parent," Devon snapped. "However, let's not waste time arguing. We're taking out all the available men and horses. I'm sorry to distress you, but I need my boots, at a minimum."
"Just a second," Miranda said. "Jack is a splendid rider. Don't you want his help?"
Devon turned back to look over his shoulder from her to Jack. "Jack?" The surprise in his voice indicated that he'd never thought of Jack, and Miranda winced for the young man standing beside her.
"Forget it," Jack snarled. "I know you think I'm useless."
"No," Devon said slowly, his gaze fixed on his brother. "Miranda is right. You're the best rider in the family. I could use your help."
Jack gave a big grin, though he tried to smother it.
"Don't take my mare," Charlotte cried suddenly. "She gets spooked in the dark."
"For God's sake, could we get the search underway?" Devon nodded to Jack. "Godfrey may be lost or—" He cut himself off. "It's a full moon. We won't risk the horses, Charlotte."
He bolted up the stairs.
Jack took off after him.
Sharmie clasped her hands together, in a gesture of worry Miranda recognized. "Why don't we wait in the drawing room?" she said to Charlotte. "Devon seems very capable. I'm sure he'll bring Godfrey back safe and sound."
"He had better. I'm holding him personally responsible." Charlotte pursed her lips. "Perhaps we should retire to the small sitting room. There's a program on TV that might be able to distract me."
Miranda would have laughed, but Godfrey's absence was a serious matter now. If, as seemed likely, he was hurt, it might be tough for the men to find him in the dark. She didn't know exactly how extensive the duke's estate was, but it wasn't small.
The housekeeper appeared and hurried over to Charlotte, speaking in a low tone, so Miranda and Sharmie waited politely. Thus, they were present when Devon and Jack bounded down the stairs, dressed for riding.
Miranda sucked in a breath that must have been audible, as Sharmie turned her head sharply to look at her. But no one could have been unmoved by the sight of the two men.
Devon's powerful thighs were clearly outlined by his tight, fawn colored riding breeches, and his black leather boots were shiny enough to feature in a Regency novel. He wore a red sweater, perhaps to make him more visible in the dark. A pair of black leather gloves flopped in his left hand.
Jack was similarly attired, right down to the red sweater. But his eyes were excited, where Devon's were cool and calm.
"We'll let you know as soon as we find
him," Devon said, not appearing to speak to anyone in particular. But his gaze caught Miranda's. He knew Charlotte wasn't really worried.
A footman appeared with two helmets, and announced that the horses were waiting in the drive. The butler swept open the massive front door, and the two men went into the night.
Miranda took Sharmie's arm, and they headed for the small sitting room.
At ten p.m., when Charlotte's program ended, she declared that she was simply too distraught to stay up any longer. She retired to her room.
Miranda urged Sharmie to also go to bed. She was still pale, and needed her rest.
"I'll wait up," Miranda said. "They may need some help when they bring Godfrey in."
Of course, she knew that wasn't true as both the butler and the housekeeper had been present most of the evening in the grand hall, and clearly intended to wait out the ordeal.
It was after midnight when her cell buzzed.
"I've called an ambulance." Devon's deep voice rumbled in her ear. "Godfrey is unconscious, and I presume he suffered a head wound."
"He had another accident?" Miranda certainly didn't know Godfrey, but he was always so quiet. Apparently, he let out his emotions on dangerous vehicles.
"This ATV is totaled," Devon said drily. "Perhaps Charlotte was right." He sighed. "Would you keep an eye out for the ambulance? We have to keep the horses at a walk in the dark, so it's slow going."
Miranda was unsure of the protocol, but she decided to notify the butler of what had happened. He could figure out if anyone else needed to be told.
She waited in the front hallway but, as she'd noticed before, Lotter seemed to have an innate sense of when people appeared on the property. He opened the front door just as the ambulance pulled up to the front steps.
Miranda went down to meet the ambulance attendants, but it was thirty long minutes before she saw the cavalcade of horses approaching. All of the outdoor lights at the front of the palace were on, and they cast long beams over the approaching men. Devon and Jack led the crowd, and Devon held Godfrey, clearly still unconscious, in front of him.
Despite their perfect posture and expert horsemanship, both Jack and Devon were spattered with mud and their faces tired. Behind them a crowd of eight or so men followed.
The ambulance attendants approached with a gurney and, after stabilizing him with a neck brace, they eased Godfrey onto it. Devon swung off his horse and handed the reins to a man who rode up beside him. He strode directly to Miranda. "I'm going in the ambulance."
"How badly is he hurt?"
"We don't know how long he was unconscious, but he was able to speak with us for a bit at one point. Be sure you tell Charlotte that."
"She's already gone to bed. Should I wake her?"
Devon's lips twisted in a sardonic smile. "I don't think she would appreciate that. But she may express some concern in the morning, and I don't know when I'll be back."
The ambulance medics were loading Godfrey into the car. Jack approached. "Can I go with you?"
Devon hesitated, and then he held out his hand. "You did a good job, Jack. Thanks."
Miranda's heart clenched when she saw how pleased Jack looked at the praise. The boy was so eager for approval, and a role in life.
The two men shook hands and then Devon said, "It would be helpful if you could follow us in a car so we have a way home. The other men can turn in for the night."
Jack bounded off toward the garage like an eager puppy.
Mrs. Wilkins walked down the broad steps in her stately manner. Two housemaids with linen-covered trays trailed in her wake.
"We have sandwiches and coffee," Mrs. Wilkins announced.
Miranda stared. Boxes were tidily placed on one tray. The other was full of stainless steel, covered coffee mugs. A white ceramic pitcher held cream and a plump sugar bowl stood in the center of the tray. A dozen stirrers waited in a tall ceramic cylinder. Mrs. Wilkins picked up one of the mugs and handed it to Devon. "This is yours, and I have one for Jack. The rest of you men can help yourselves. It's regular on the right and decaf on the left."
The men eagerly gathered around, fixing their steaming coffee and helping themselves to the boxed sandwiches. Miranda had to admit, the luxury of this level of service was nice.
Jack drove up in a Range Rover, and one of the maids walked over to hand him his coffee. Miranda noticed that Jack didn't rate the attention from the housekeeper that Devon had received.
But when she saw the pretty maid giggling at the rolled-down window of the Range Rover, she thought maybe Jack had the better deal.
A minute later, the ambulance doors slammed, and the car began to roll down the driveway. Miranda realized she hadn't even said goodbye to Devon. Of course, he'd also disappeared without another word to her.
She followed the servants up the broad steps, and the butler closed the door behind her. He stepped over to the side of the hall.
"You don't lock up at night?" she asked. Of course, they were fairly isolated in a large property, but still, she was surprised.
The butler calmly said, "I shall wait up for his grace, miss."
Ah, yes. Of course. The world revolved around His Grace. At least this world did. She'd be wise to remember it.
Following the example of Charlotte, Miranda went to bed.
She tossed and turned for a long time. She didn't know Godfrey, but she didn't like to think of how scared he must have been, or how serious his injuries might be. Clearly, Devon had been worried. He didn't advertise his fears, but his actions demonstrated an unease that spoke more loudly than Charlotte's lamentations.
She finally fell into a restless sleep and dreamed of long hospital corridors and thoroughbred horses ridden by faceless men.
Oddly enough, when she was awakened in the middle of the night, she wasn't afraid. No, her first impression was one of happiness. She knew immediately who'd slipped into her bed, probably because she already recognized his scent. He must use some kind of toiletry product that she associated with money, because wealth didn't actually have a smell. But his underlying male scent said money to her, and tonight it was clearly overlaid with soap and water. He must have just gotten out of the shower, she thought drowsily.
"Godfrey?" Miranda whispered.
"I left him at the hospital," a deep voice murmured in her ear. "He regained consciousness, and is sleeping."
He moved against her, and she realized, a little less drowsily, that he wasn't wearing anything but a condom.
"What are you—?"
"Shhh…"
Without another word, he pulled her nightgown over her head. "You should sleep naked," he said.
"I do," she snapped. "When someone interesting is in bed with me." She didn't know why it was her instinct to push back whenever he was bossy, but she knew she had to fight to keep herself from succumbing to his domineering ways. Because of his wealth and his station in life, he was too used to ordering people around. She did not intend to be another doormat.
He only chuckled. "Your wish was just granted." His hand moved to her breast. She was on her side, and his big body pressed against her, the most insistent part pushing against her backside.
She tried to find the determination to push him away. "You can't just come in here and assault me," she whispered angrily.
"Assault?" His fingers brushed over her breasts, her nipples, stroking and soothing and exciting her all at once. "You'll hurt my feelings with talk like that."
"Feelings?" she scoffed. "Who are we kidding?"
Another deep chuckle answered her. "I'm feeling you up, aren't I?" His hand moved down over her stomach, lower and lower, and then splayed against her to hold her in place.
Before she could drum up another thought, he thrust into her, big and strong and hard. He moved slowly, but she hadn't been prepared, and she felt the invasion reverberate throughout her body. She caught her breath.
"Is that too much?" he murmured, flexing inside of her.
She moaned, beca
use that was the only sound she was capable of making.
"Relax." He pulled out and then thrust slowly back in as his hand moved up and plucked at her nipple, forcing her into an abrupt arousal.
He laughed, a low sound in his throat. "Waking up?" he asked.
"Do you care?"
"Of course. Did my welcoming move not convince you?" He moved inside her again, telling her exactly what that move had been, and his low voice murmuring in her ear added another buzz to her senses.
"Quit talking." She couldn't concentrate on the delicious feeling of fullness as he began to thrust, pushing her a little on the bed, until he grabbed her stomach again and pulled her tightly against his own body.
He moved one strong leg over hers, and held her immobile, so that only their hips moved together. She moaned again.
He pressed his lips to the back of her neck, nuzzling at first, and then moving by degrees to sharper nips.
Her back arched against him and her toes curled with excitement. He kept her like that for long moments, thrusting gently inside her unmoving body. When his hands finally traveled down to caress her between her legs, she was lost. Her orgasm was almost instant, and was followed closely by his own.
In the midst of her sharp pleasure, she felt a pang of regret. Once again, he'd thoroughly aroused and satisfied her without allowing her to play any role in the seduction.
Before she could find the energy to move or speak, Devon stood up, turned on her bedside lamp, and disposed of the condom. He picked up his shirt from the chair by the side of her bed and shrugged it on. The crisp blue pin striped shirt was a sexy look when combined with his unshaven face. As if he heard her thought, he rubbed his jaw.
"Damn," he muttered to himself. "I'll have to shave."
Miranda stared at him. He'd basically forgotten all about her. While she'd been lying here, basking in afterglow, he had places to go and things to do. Her temper spiked, she opened her mouth, and the words tumbled out.
"You're leaving? Are you serious? Was that just a hump and dump, then?"
He swiped his pants off the floor and turned to look at her. "What are you talking about?"
"You come in my bedroom, wake me up, do me, and then bolt?"
Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015 Page 126