Duke of Darkness (13 page)

She reached the corner where she’d first noticed Devlin, but he was gone. Instead, Julia emerged through the surrounding crowd with a gentleman in tow.

“Lady Alexandra, may I present Lord Spens.”

And so her evening progressed as methodical and predictable as her dance card. She never found Devlin and quaked at the fact he’d left her bereft and departed. Had he ventured out on a terrace to create more gossip for the insensitive guests anxious to create scandal? With the exception of the Fenhurst relations, no one in attendance understood Wharncliffe as a person. They regarded him as some mysterious mythical legend. Alexandra shifted her eyes to Phineas. He would know to where her guardian disappeared. Besides, he was her next dance partner. She made her way across the ballroom in search of some answers.

Nothing had changed. In all the years since he’d attended societal functions, nothing had changed. Devlin possessed no energy to consider it and drained his glass before setting it aside on a servant’s tray. Had he stayed long enough to give the appearance of politeness? Was Lexi having a good time? He could no longer stand in the ballroom and watch her charm every gentleman who glanced in her direction. Nor had he the stomach to endure the blatant stares that viewed him with invidious curiosity. Indeed, nothing had changed.

When it came to his acceptance within the aristocracy, he was a chameleon of sorts, able to change his mood or behaviour according to his surroundings; unwilling to present his true self. Years ago, he tolerated it better. But he’d grown tired of the whispers and exaggerated tales that trickled down to his ears through Phineas or Julia, and outraged to be seen as a form of entertainment rather than as an equal. It took very little for him to abandon the ton and never glance back.

Yet here he was again, albeit Fenhurst Manor wasn’t exactly a full thrust into society. He would endure it for Lexi. She deserved her chance at true happiness even if he was denied his.

Determined to check on the status of his ward, he walked to the terrace doors at the same time as Phineas found his way out.

“Ah, there you are. It comes as no surprise your tolerance for this evening is at a low point. I admire your temerity, though. What of the chaperone business? Any luck?”

Devlin shook his head, his face a mask of disgust. “None. One of the old windbags merely sought a peek inside Kenley Manor. I don’t think any of them gave serious consideration to the task. Tonight solidifies my belief that little has changed in way of the ton’s opinion of my worth or reputation.” He paused and exhaled a long breath. “But I will resolve it. I have no choice but to do so.”

“Perhaps your term as guardian will not be overlong. My sister has taken the role of mentor to new heights. Alexandra’s dance card was filled in before she arrived, and as I suspected, your ward has elegantly endured even the clumsiest of dance partners. She really is a wit, you know. I have no doubt she’ll entertain offers from a great number of suitors before the week’s end. It might be easier to find her a match than a chaperone.”

The words were meant to lighten the mood but they had the adverse effect and Devlin’s chest tightened. He eyed Phin with cool unease. They’d exchanged words at the onset of the ball and he felt no better for it. He wasn’t a suspicious man, but his desire for Alexandra clouded his judgement and transformed his once accepting nature into one of a man who watched every gentleman with wariness and anger. He wanted Lexi for himself. He almost choked with the realization. He cleared his throat instead.

“Indeed, your sister is dedicated to the task. I’ve seen her partner with every man she placed on Lexi’s dance card. Do you think Julia is encouraging candidates on my ward’s behalf or interrogating them to make sure they are worthy of her new best friend? Either way, I suppose I am glad for it.” Devlin considered Julia’s actions. The female mind remained a mystery, yet when Julia set herself to a task she always met with success. The poor fools on the dance floor didn’t stand a chance. He watched her now through the terrace windows as closely as he watched Lexi and when Julia danced, she chatted the entire time. What was the girl up to now?

“I don’t know what my sister is scheming, but she considers this a favour to you and is committed to success. Lord Kirkhill is the favoured candidate at the moment.”

Devlin moved towards the glass doors and scanned the ballroom. It took less than an exhale to locate Lexi on the dance floor. She put every other debutante, lady and female into a lesser category, her beauty beyond compare. True, there were fairer faces in attendance, but no one combined the elegance, exquisiteness and sheer passion for life that Lexi exuded without effort. He would be hard put to chase the vision of her out of his mind tonight. Her silk gown hugged every luscious curve and bright candlelight danced in the blue crystalline depths of her eyes. She was laughing, her skin flushed a fetching hue of pink from the rigours of a country dance. Lexi glittered among the crowd, a diamond among stones.

“Dev?”

He dismissed Phin’s bid for attention, damned to pull his gaze away, and threw words over his shoulder in an irritated tone. “Lord Kirkhill is dumber than a box of hammers.” Yet who was more ignorant, the man who embraced Lexi and escorted her through a promenade, or the fool that stood on the terrace and wished he was the one who held her?

Chapter Sixteen

Unable to wake and suffocated by his laboured breathing, Devlin struggled against the erratic surge of his heart, the furious rhythm more violent than ever before. Perhaps death had finally come to call. His body thrashed and his muscles tensed in objection, his moans lost in the rustle of sheets, the pillowcase damp with sweat.

The tremor wound him tight tonight; gripping him an hour after he’d snuffed the bedside candle. If only he’d ignored his misplaced shred of hope and requested Reeston pay heed. At times the elder butler knew before Devlin awoke from his own thrashing but this was not to be.

Unable to break loose, his arm lashed out and struck the tumbler of water at his bedside. Shards of glass scattered across the wooden floor, the water buffeted the sound. His pulse raced on as the tremor held him prisoner, his blood thudding through his veins, begging for freedom. Helplessness swamped his subconscious as he pleaded his body to calm, to regain control and open his eyes, but the tremor continued to taunt with relentless dark torture.

It was too late to be walking the hallways. Restless agitation hurried her feet on the carpet while her mind spun with the cause of her unrest. Was it the disappointment of Julia’s attitude or Devlin’s disinterest? Perhaps it was the horrid gossip that kept her awake. Her heart supplied the answer. Devlin’s dismissal battered any hope that she mattered to him. His angry demeanour as they travelled home combined with his curt bid goodnight didn’t make sense.

What transpired to change the smiling, handsome rakehell who gifted her with a diamond pendant at the beginning of the evening into the silent angry gentleman, as distant as a stranger, by night’s end?

Her feet carried her forward, lost within dismay, until she stalled in realization of where she’d wandered; across the expansive third-floor landing. She peered down the long hallway. Candles burned in crystal lanterns at regular intervals. Otherwise the corridor stood dark and silent.

She heard something. Nothing more than a word. Then it came again.

Was it glass breaking?

Up ahead, a door stood ajar, no more than a few inches. She peered through the crack and into the master quarters to discover a sitting area attached to a dressing room and full bedroom beyond. She nudged the door with her fingertip and stepped inside.

The furnishings were unmistakably Devlin. Burgundy velvet curtains framed the high windows allowing the moonlight glow to flood the room. A single candle burned on a far table. She advanced further and her heart beat a hard tattoo. The room smelled spicy, masculine. She closed her eyes and inhaled; the scent a reassuring balm to her frayed nerves.

Another moan, louder and indistinct, echoed from the adjoining door. Without hesitation, she strode to the other side and froze.

Before her in a bed resonating the strength and vitality of the man who claimed it, lay Devlin, help captive in the grip of a nightmare. He barely moved, his voice discordant with the moonlight bathing him in disjointed shadows. She approached the bed with tentative steps and perched on the edge of the mattress in a delicate motion. He moaned small, tortured sounds, his head pressed into the white pillow. She reached forward and placed a hand across his cheek. How pale her hand looked against his skin. His chin jerked up and his face turned inward to caress her palm.

And then he fell silent as if she’d imagined the entire scene. Evidence of his struggle within the nightmare remained, the linens covering his chest were twisted and damp from perspiration and his skin held the sheen of his struggle. Otherwise, it appeared he slept soundly.

Alexandra assessed the man before her with appreciative acuity. The white sheet edged across his shoulders and they were magnificent shoulders. Her breathing kicked another notch and her heart nodded in agreement. She knew the male form from art study of statues and sketches, but never had she been this close to masculine perfection. Every inch of Devlin was flawless muscle, his strong arms well formed, his skin smooth and bronzed.

She eased her hand from his cheek, across the slight growth of whiskers, and further to the warm, sensual rub of his beard. Heat blossomed in her breasts, sinking lower, to settle in her most intimate place. Desire pulled at her heart and her fingertips itched, restless with yearning, to skim over his biceps and touch his skin, to explore the dark brush of hair from his chest to the narrowing path that dipped with invitation below the sheet.

Devlin turned with a deep murmur and a lock of hair fell across his brow. Without thought, she pushed it back into place. His eyes fluttered open.

She swallowed and caught her lower lip between her teeth with an anxious breath. His eyes clouded as he struggled to understand the situation. She could well imagine the confused impropriety, but she assuaged this revelation with the fact she resided in an unconventional household and meant only to aid someone in need.

“Lexi?”

His voice, husky and sensuous, sent a wave of silky temptation through her, but she remained quiet. He searched her eyes for understanding.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was stronger, although it remained an incredulous whisper. Perhaps he wondered if he dreamed still. He jerked his body from where she sat on the mattress edge and angled in an effort to remain covered, gripping the sheet and pushing back to sit up.

“I couldn’t sleep. As I walked through the hall I thought I heard someone cry out.”

His eyes shuttered at her response, closing off the vulnerable man who’d just awakened.

“You shouldn’t be here. You need to go.” His voice held little conviction.

She didn’t move. He was the only constant in her life. She refused to leave until she better understood his sudden withdrawal.

“Of what did you dream that caused you such unrest?” He could not mistake the concern in her voice.

“I wasn’t dreaming. I haven’t had an episode in weeks.” His voice laced with anger and despair. He took a cleansing breath and exhaled in slow measures.

What weighed so heavily upon his heart?

She watched the rise and fall of his chest, entranced by his masculinity and confused how to respond.

“These tremors will be the death of me.” He raked his fingers through his hair in frustration, while she found her first smile.

“Falling off the roof will be the death of you, Devlin. Riding in the dark. You are not a man to succumb to death when you are not alive, awake and ready to fight.” Emotion riddled her words, her tone passionate, no matter her attempt to conceal it.

Something changed. The way he viewed her, the way her heartbeat stilled.

“So wise and so beautiful.” He leaned forward from where he reclined on the wooden headboard, and in a swift motion brought his hands to cradle her face.

His palms, warm and strong against her cheeks, jolted her heart back to life, and some unknown emotion surged through her with determined force. How had the tables turned where he comforted her when she’d sought to soothe his nightmare?

“Lexi, Lexi. My sweet, precious Lexi.”

He drew her closer and his breath brushed her cheek, heavy with unsaid emotion, his lips a hair’s width away. She clenched the edge of the mattress, unable to act on impulse. She wanted to know the heat of his kiss, to experience the desire that rippled through her.

Their gazes locked, his eyes dark and vulnerable, and anticipation stretched between them, chased by some other powerful emotion she could not label. Something intangible and important, yet secretive and illusive. Like a harp string pulled taut, she waited, yearning to close the smallest space and kiss his lips.

“Your Grace?” Reeston’s voice sounded through the door. Then a soft knock preceded a more assertive entreaty. “I’ve brought a tonic. For the tremor, Your Grace.”

Devlin dropped his hands with a sharp mutter and she rose from the bed in a furtive step. He raked his fingers through his hair once again.

“One moment, Reeston.” He slid his eyes from the doorframe to where she stood. “When I call him in, you may leave through the sitting room door, the same way you entered.”

She nodded her agreement, unable to form an answer, and turned to follow his instructions, until his husky whisper caused her to look over her shoulder where he remained in the bed.

“Thank you, Lexi.”

She did not reply and skittered from the room like a frightened rabbit. Only later, when she lay in bed and reviewed the scene for the umpteenth time, did she damn herself in forgetting to check for a mirror over his bed.

Chapter Seventeen

Julia was upset about something. He knew as sure as the sunshine warmed the back of his neck. The four friends were having a picnic, and even though Devlin never wagered, he’d bet Julia was unsettled about an incident occurring the night before.