"All in good time, my sweet." He chuckled and withdrew to apply himself to the opposite thigh in like manner. This time, however, he dipped his head, parting her folds with one long, wet swipe of his tongue. She whimpered.
"But you didn't want the pleasure," he taunted. He plied teasing kisses to her belly just above her mons while his free hand delved into her wetness. He circled her passage with swirling strokes of his thumb. Her body tensed beneath him. "Have you changed your mind now, Diana?"
"Please," she whispered.
"Please what? Please pleasure me, Ludovic? Please, oh please, put your magnificent mouth in my sweet cunny?"
"Yes! I want your mouth. I want all of you. I've waited so very long!"
"How unchivalrous of me to keep you waiting." He chuckled. "But then again, I would have been happy to oblige you much sooner, had you only asked."
"You know I couldn't have. Stop tormenting me!"
"My dear, I have only just begun."
***
His laugh fired her ire as much as his breath tickled her skin. But then, dear God, her mind became a blur, lost in the sublime sensation of his glorious mouth buried in her sex. His hot tongue lapped, circled, and swirled, flicking over her clit, while his equally clever fingers finessed her labial folds and pierced her passage with wonderfully, rhythmic penetrations, filling her body with ineffable bliss. The past hour or more spent in sex play had reawakened her deepest and innermost yearnings. Her body craved the joining with him as desperately as her lungs craved air. She wondered why she had fought him so long and hard when surrender was so utterly sweet and sublime...yet it still wasn't enough. "Please, Ludovic, let me go!" She stifled a sob. "I need more than this. I want you. I need you!"
It was as if she'd uttered some magical phrase that suddenly caused the Earth to halt on its axis. He fixed upon her with glimmering eyes, his expression enigmatic. "More? You want me inside you?"
She met his gaze steadily and shook her head. "I do, but that's not what I meant."
He came over her, grasping both her shoulders in a fierce grip. "It is merely your passion that speaks," he said. "We are all of us mindless fools whilst in the grip of lust."
"And I am a mindless fool for ever accepting this wager. For ever thinking I could resist you." She pulled his hand to her left breast. "But it is not only my passion that speaks. It is also my heart. I can't do this anymore. So I ask you now to please let me go."
He answered by crushing her to him with a fierce kiss that tasted of her essence. "No, Diana. I'm not prepared to do that. I have no desire to let you go—not now or at any time in the foreseeable future."
"But you can't mean that," she said. "It's only because you haven't—"
"Untrue," he interrupted. "Shall I spend my seed just to prove it to you?"
She regarded him blankly. "Then where does this leave us? I'm completely at sea."
He caressed her cheek. "Didn't you just say it needn't be so complicated?"
"But how can we be together? May heaven forgive me, I would be your mistress for as long as this lasted, but how could we do such a thing to your brother and our friends? How could we inflict them with such a scandal?"
"Devil take them all! I'm not accustomed to living for others, Diana."
"Therein lies the gulf between us," she answered softly, feeling as if the weight of respectability, responsibility, and mostly regret were crushing the life out of her.
He cupped her cheek and murmured against her lips. "I won't be denied in this."
"And I won't deny you," she answered. This one last time.
When their lovemaking continued, the tone was transformed. No longer playful and challenging, it was slow, deliberate, almost reverent, as if they each wished to savor every moment. They kissed as he entered her in one deep, smooth thrust, their tongues engaging in the same languid lovers' dance as their bodies but then responding more fervently with the delicious, wet friction and the slap of flesh on flesh. Her own soft pants and sultry sounds of pleasure, her heels hooking his flanks, all seemed to incite him further, to drive him harder. Pounding into her with ragged breaths, he propelled them both ever closer to the brink of the abyss. As the first tremors of a magnificent climax broke over her in rushing waves, Diana raised her hips. Squeezing and milking him with her inner muscles, she offered all she had to give, sobbing in ecstasy even as she hurtled them both into rapturous oblivion.
He met her in that precious instant, roaring out her name with his release as his body convulsed in ceaseless spasms, spurting almost endless, scalding streams of his seed inside her. He collapsed into her beckoning arms and rolled beside her with a deep and guttural groan, completely and utterly spent.
Chapter Twenty-seven
It was barely dawn when Diana crept into her bedchamber at the house on Upper Grosvenor Street. Her bleary-eyed maid met her, candle in one hand and fireplace poker in the other. "Ye gave me a fright, my lady!" Polly exclaimed, dropping the poker with a clatter.
"Is everything awright, luv?" chimed a distinctly male voice, the body of which promptly emerged from the maid's chamber beyond Diana's dressing room.
"Pratt?" Diana exclaimed upon recognizing DeVere's head groom dressed in only his nightshirt. Polly flushed crimson. The groom and maid exchanged guilty glances. The candle flickered in the maid's trembling hand. Diana took it from her and set it on the mantle.
Freed now of candle and poker, Polly wrung her hands. "It's just...you said...we was not expecting ye for some days yet, my lady."
"Please, my lady." Pratt stepped forward protectively and took Polly's hand. "'Tisn't quite what it appears. I've every intention to make an honest woman o' her."
"You do?" Polly cried, appearing as if she would burst into tears.
"Then I suppose that gives me one less thing to worry about," Diana said with a wry smile.
"What do you mean?" Polly asked.
"There's been a change of plans," Diana said. "I'm leaving London immediately. There is a carriage awaiting me in the mews. I will need you to help me pack."
"Now, my lady?" Polly cast a wistful gaze to her incongruous lover. "Do you mean for us to return so soon to Yorkshire?"
"No, Polly. I suppose under the circumstances it would be best to send you to Epsom to wait upon Lady Vesta. I shall also provide you with a generous severance, but I'm certain she would be delighted to take you into her employ. I presume under the circumstances that Mr. Pratt will have no objection to escorting you there?"
"Nay, indeed." The groom tugged his forelock and offered a cheeky grin.
"But what of you, my lady? What has happened that you would depart so abruptly? It's him again, isn't it?"
Diana arched a brow. "I don't wish to discuss this at present. Suffice to say that with Sir Edward and Vesta both wed, there is little for me to return to. I have need of a change, Polly, and have decided to go abroad for a time. I will write later and explain everything, but for now, I wish no further delay."
***
Diana stared sightlessly out the carriage window, lost in deep abstraction. Though she never could have anticipated it, everything in her life had changed, and there truly was no going back, no retreat. Diana didn't know what the future would hold, but she had already experienced the emptiness of her past. Thus, she had resolved to brazen forth to meet her fate head-on with a bold audacity she hadn't even known she possessed.
After what seemed like interminable hours travelling in the unavoidable fits and starts of London's morning traffic, she finally arrived at her destination. The driver opened her door and let down the steps. She alighted to be greeted with a burst of damp, ocean-scented air. "Which is it?" she asked the coachman.
"The first one, my lady. The Sylphe."
No sooner had he answered than DeVere himself appeared, advancing toward her in long, purposeful strides, a look of immense relief replacing the strain that had briefly etched his face. He pulled her into an impassioned embrace, kissing her long and deep. "I had the
greatest fear you had changed your mind," he said.
"No, my love. I'm so sorry to have caused you any distress. It was only the traffic that kept me. I have had no second thoughts," she assured him. "But what of you?"
"None. Indeed, I have never felt happier. I'm damned-near giddy."
"Giddy?" she repeated dubiously.
"Yes. Positively drunk with bliss. You have charmed and enslaved me, my dearest."
"Have I, indeed?"
"Yes. You have," he said, all humor evaporating. They stood thus for an endless moment, searching each other's eyes. DeVere broke the silence. He gestured to the elegant yacht moored in the harbor. "Our vessel awaits, and I promise all has been prepared for your comfort, my love."
"Do you know, I've never been on a sea voyage, Ludovic? I've never been out of the country."
He took her arm with a brilliant smile. "Then adventure awaits, and once more, I'm delighted to be your guide."
"But where will we go?" she asked.
"My dearest Diana," he kissed her tenderly, "wherever your heart desires."
Chapter Twenty-eight
Tuscany, fourteen months later
Diana opened her eyes to the sun blazing into the Tuscan villa through the open terrace doors. She gave a lazy, feline stretch before a flash of white caught her eye. Throwing on her wrapper, she padded barefoot to find Ludovic perusing some letters over his coffee. He was dressed in only breeches and shirtsleeves, his collar open at the throat. He glanced up at her and instantly smiled, his teeth gleaming brilliantly white and his eyes startlingly blue in his handsome, sun-bronzed face. A mere flick of his finger saw a cup of frothy, steaming brew and a basket of sweet rolls and cake placed under her nose.
"You've been sleeping unusually late," he remarked. She noted the curious flicker in his gaze.
"Yes, I fear it's become an atrociously bad habit with me, but it seems I get very little rest at night." She fought to control the tug at her lips.
He tented his brows at her. "Is that a complaint?"
"Not at all, my lord," she reassured him with a grin.
"That's a good thing then, for I've no intention of moderating my nocturnal activities."
She raised her cup and blew on the coffee. "Then I suppose I'll just have to continue lazing abed in the mornings. Have you a letter from Hew?" She peered over his arm.
"From Hew and Ned both, actually. All is well with Phoebe and little Ned, and it seems I am soon to become an uncle as well."
"Hew and Vesta too?" she cried. "Already?"
"My brother is nothing, if not efficient."
"Efficient? How unflattering that sounds. I would have expected you to say something like virile or potent."
"Perhaps I choose to reserve those accolades for myself," he said with a significant pause. "By the by, Diana, when did you intend to tell me?"
"Tell you what?" she asked.
"Come now. You can't possibly think that I haven't noticed. Did you suppose I would be angry?"
"Angry about what? I honestly don't know what you're talking about, Ludovic."
"My dear, no woman is able to accommodate a man with such frequency as you have done these past several months. Add to that your unusual lethargy, which I won't flatter myself is entirely due to sexual exertion, I feel I must inquire, when was your last flux?"
"M-my flux?" She regarded him blankly.
"Yes, dearest. It is a normal cycle of nature that besets postpubescent females and plagues them at regular intervals for decades. I haven't observed you suffering this particular affliction for some time."
"Dear God! But you are right," she cried. "The last time I had my courses was when we were in Florence."
"Well over three months hence, my dear. Are you saying you weren't trying to hide it from me? That you truly didn't consider the possibility you could be—"
"It can't be. I'm barren!" Diana's hand shook. Coffee sloshed.
"Given the indications, you must forgive me for questioning the veracity of that statement. I regret that I became careless, but I believed it wasn't possible for this to happen."
"I'm sorry to have disappointed you!"
"That's not what I meant!"
She rose abruptly with her blood roaring in her ears and her entire being flooding with panic. Cup and saucer smashed on the marble floor.
"Please, Diana." He reached out to her. "We must speak of this."
"Do you think we can just go along as if nothing has changed? This changes everything! It's not only about you and me. It can never be the same between us now." She pulled away with a stifled sob.
For fourteen glorious months, Diana had laughed, loved, and lived to the fullest, only for all to crumble before her eyes. "I want to go home! Please, Ludovic," she cried, "take me home to England at once."
***
Diana had refused to seek the attention of an Italian doctor, choosing instead to savor a few more weeks of denial, though it was more like wallowing in misery, for time itself confirmed both her inexpressible joy at the tiny life growing inside her and her desolation that the grande passion of her life would perforce come to an end.
Ludovic had told her from the very beginning he would not wed, and she had accepted what he was willing to offer. She had not suffered in the exchange. Besides being a magnificent lover, DeVere was kind and generous, intelligent, witty, worldly, and polished, but had never treated her with condescension. And while she had always known their time would eventually come to an end, she had been far too happy in the present to dwell upon the future, but now that future reared its ugly head.
In the weeks at sea, the divide only widened. Every time Ludovic had tried to breach the subject about the future, about security, she had refused to discuss what now lay inevitably between them. If she continued as his mistress, she would soon face shame and ostracism as the mother of DeVere's illegitimate child, and worse, the product of their passion would be forever stigmatized as a bastard. That is what hurt the most and what Diana would never allow.
Upon arriving back in England, she made an immediate departure for Yorkshire.
"Please, Diana," Ludovic pleaded as she entered the coach, "it doesn't have to be like this. Just allow me some time to work out a solution." He looked almost as desolate as she felt.
She guided his hand to her rapidly expanding belly. "Time is a commodity in short supply, my lord."
"I told you I will care for you. You will share my residence if that is your choice. I would never allow you or this child to suffer any want."
"You seem to overlook the simple want of a name," she retorted bitterly.
"Damn it all, we are getting nowhere!" he cried, his features contorted with anguish. "I have to make you understand. This is not about love. It's about honor. For I do love you, don't you know that? More than I ever thought possible. But I am bound by my honor to my brother. I declared him my heir, he and his offspring. How can I rescind that? Don't you see how it is? If I produce a legitimate heir, the law will supersede my will. I can't do that to my only brother. Damn it all! A man should never have to choose between love and honor. This was not my choice!"
"I need time to think, Ludovic. Time alone. Please don't follow me."
"As you wish," he replied stiffly.
The door closed, and Diana swiftly faced away lest he see her come undone, for that's precisely how she felt, as if the very fiber of her being was slowly unraveling.
Chapter Twenty-nine
"Bloody, bloody hell!" Ludovic bellowed. "What the devil am I to do now, Ned? It's been weeks! She won't see me and won't even accept a letter. I cannot lose her like this! She's carrying my child, for Christ's sake."
"Have you consulted a solicitor in the matter of your title?" Ned asked.
"Yes! And there's naught to be done. I would willingly give up everything for her, but if I were to renounce my title, it would simply go into abeyance until my death. Moreover, Hew and I would both lose all income from the properties, which does no one any
good." He paced the room with long strides and spun around with a wild look.
"Do you know for a crazed moment I even considered declaring myself incompetent in order to confer the title directly to Hew? It is, after all, how I gained the bloody thing in my predecessor's lifetime. Two physician's statements and a private petition to parliament and voila, I became the sixth Viscount DeVere. I daresay there are any number of people who doubt my sanity of late." He gave a self-deprecating laugh. "In truth, I'm surely bound for Bedlam anyway if I don't get her back." He poured and downed a brandy in one draught. "Did you ever think you would see it, Ned? Ludovic, 'The Devil' DeVere brought to his knees by a woman?"
"This is nonsensical, Vic. You must tell Hew. He would never want this, certainly not under these circumstances."
"Tell Hew what?" asked the voice of Captain Hewett DeVere.
"Hew!" DeVere rose unsteadily to his feet. "When did you come to town?"
"I just arrived. I left the very moment Vesta told me about you and Diana. What is all this nonsense about?" Hew gave his brother a thunderous look. "And why the devil have you not married her already?"
"I've asked him the same thing, Hew," said Ned. "It seems your brother has a rather distorted notion of honor."
"I would be inclined to agree if he would suffer a gently bred woman to bear his child out of wedlock. Pray pour me a drink as well, big brother. I must surely hear this tale from your own lips."
DeVere gave a frustrated groan. "What's the point? You already know the crux of it. Diana is carrying my child, and I cannot wed her without breaking my vow to you."
Hew appeared stunned. "What the devil have I got to do with it?"
"I declared you my sole heir. That the title and all it entails is to be yours. It's the very reason you wed, after all."
"Rein back again, Vic!" Hew raised both hands in vehement protest. "Let me disabuse you of that notion right now! You did not coerce me to wed. When I returned from America, I wanted nothing more than to settle down with a wife at some small, country estate. You simply expedited my plan by providing a generous settlement. Now there is no man more content, for I have more than I ever dreamed of. And as far as the wretched title is concerned, I never recall at any time in my life expressing the least desire for it."
A Devil Named DeVere (The Devil DeVere) Page 27