Duke of Darkness (25 page)

“Now that I’ve introduced you to everyone, they are your friends too. Remember that.” Julia moved closer, her face concerned. “Let’s share a few more minutes alone. It is too crowded in there anyway.”

The tranquillity did serve to relax her, although Alexandra’s heart ached for the abject censure shown whenever Devlin entered a room. It was no wonder he had dropped from society without a backwards glance.

“Julia, why does everyone treat Devlin so poorly? He told me about his mother’s sorrowful end and the state of his father. But Devlin is a different man. The tale is sad enough without society twisting the facts. Do you know anything else about his past?”

Julia sighed, her curls swaying with the gentle nod of her head. “That is all I know as well. Whenever I’ve asked my brother, he tells me in no uncertain terms to mind my own business. Phineas is a veritable vault with information.” She grimaced, regret on her face. “I only knew of Widow Penslow because some detestable woman mentioned it at my mother’s card party a few months ago. You shouldn’t let it bother you. I am sure it was meaningless.”

Alexandra managed a small laugh. “Perhaps. Does it matter anyway?”

Julia embraced her in a gesture of sincere friendship. “Don’t jump to any conclusions.” She pulled away slightly, although they continued to hold hands. “Most of all, follow your heart. It may very well be your dance card isn’t full because it is so easy to see you and Devlin belong together. Any gentleman with a whit of sense knows they do not stand a chance at winning your affection.”

“Thank you, Julia, you are a true friend.” An easy smile curled her lips. “A dear friend who is missing every dance on her dance card. You will appear to have no manners. Please go back inside. I am perfectly fine out here in the moonlight.”

And then Devlin appeared, his formidable size silhouetted in the doorframe, his appearance in formal wear just as breathtaking as when he met her at the foot of the stairs. Her heart skittered and her pulse thrummed to life.

He looked tense and a muscle ticked in his jaw, but as Julia whirled to bid him hello, his expression transformed into a façade of calm greeting.

“I’ve come for my waltz.”

Julia rushed past them and Alexandra hardly noticed. Her eyes never left Devlin as he stepped closer. He tipped her chin up with his forefinger and his eyes searched her face.

“Is everything all right?” His husky murmur was filled with concern.

“Yes. Absolutely.” Her tone revealed more than she wished, yet it was concern for him that made her throat tight.

“Has something upset you? Someone?” A sentiment akin to anger laced his voice. “We can go if you no longer see charm in the evening.”

Part of her wanted to leave, but to do so would be to capitulate to every comment and bit of gossip heard throughout the evening. She was made of stronger fibre. She shook her head and he gently squeezed her chin before he released her.

“So you’ve come to claim a waltz? I will have to check my dance card.” She managed the amusing quip although she was sure he heard her voice shake. She lifted the blank paper and retrieved the short pencil. It remained empty save for Devlin’s name and she tilted it in his direction as she spoke. “You may have this dance.”

He viewed her a long moment, his obsidian eyes a caress to her soul, and she read a promise there. Without a doubt he would stand beside her throughout the remainder of the evening. He took the card and pencil while she still considered the heated intention of his gaze. His eyes flicked down and his brow furrowed for a heartbeat.

“How am I to read this in the dark?” He made brisk strides to the hanging lantern on the other end of the terrace and turned his back to her.

When he returned a second later, he handed her the card and offered his arm. “Shall we dance? I believe I have this waltz.”

She glanced at the card and her heart thudded a heavy beat. He’d listed his name in every empty slot. “You can’t have every single dance. It will be scandalous, to say the least. Never mind two waltzes in a row. Etiquette dictates—”

“My darling, I can do anything I care to do. They already believe the worst of me, don’t you forget. Surely everyone in the ballroom hasn’t. Now kindly take my arm, make me the happiest man at this interminable affair, and dance the night away with me.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

It had been years, maybe decades, since he’d danced, and Devlin doubted he remembered the steps, but the two of them graced the parquet floor as if born to be there, their bodies communicating in fluid ease with the orchestra’s melody and on another level altogether, where no words or effort were required.

He swirled Lexi through a turn, her eyes aglitter from the abundant chandelier candlelight strung above, her dimpled smile evidence of her delight. For the span of a song, he dared to consider life as joyful and free were she to remain at his side and for ever in his arms. His future held him captive, perhaps in a prison of his own making, but he’d endured in the past for so long, he knew no different. Tonight, their waltzing uncorked a well of happiness that spilled over in abundance, saturating every corner of his world and banishing the dark recesses of his loneliness. Would he allow it to overtake him, or was the risk too perilous?

They danced every set and left the ballroom agape with gossip. Devlin relished the moment, and mocked the censure aimed to ruin their evening. It felt wonderful, exhilarating and altogether wicked. Exactly something a wildly mad duke would achieve on a whim.

Silence, heavy with emotion, overtook them as they returned to Kenley Manor. He wanted to tell her how much he’d enjoyed himself, how beautiful she looked, her hair a little mussed from their dancing adventure, her skin a little pinkened, but something kept him silent. Perhaps he did not trust himself to stop at mere words.

Despite his greatest effort, the entire time they’d danced, he envisioned them together in an altogether different manner, skin against skin, her sweet, sensual body beneath his. His mind soon became muddled, the steps uncomfortable to perform as his body betrayed him, but the image lingered and he clenched his fists now, in restless want of something out of his reach. He should have stopped his silent fantasies as he escorted her in elegant spirals across the dance floor, but he craved her closeness as much as he required food or needed oxygen.

And his fantasies did not disappoint.

His hand held the small of her back with the lightest touch, meant to lead her, but in truth were he to press her closer and bring his mouth to the tempting curve of her neck, he would have stripped her bare and devoured her on the dance floor in front of the ton. A smile played at his lips. That would keep the old tongues wagging.

He viewed her now, reclined against the velvet seat, her eyes veiled by long lashes, her pink lips in a slight curve of secret bliss.

“What are you thinking about, my sweet? You look like the cat that swallowed the cream?” It was the wrong allusion and he shifted uncomfortably on the bench as restrained tension rippled through the muscles of his thighs.

“I heard some interesting tidbits about you with our last two sojourns into London.” She hadn’t opened her eyes nor turned to face him, but he could easily hear the playfulness in her voice. Good lord, he was the luckiest man in the universe.

“Really. Care to share?” He teased, dared her, actually. Two could play at her little game.

“Do you really have a mirror over your bed?” Her voice was calm, but he suspected curiosity burned for his answer.

“Preposterous rumour. Why ever would I wish to view myself while asleep?”

“Hmm. I see your point.” Her smile increased, and so did his. “And have you endeavoured engagement of intimacies while riding in your carriage? Perhaps this very carriage where we sit right now?” She ran her hand in a slow caress across the red velvet seat, and she might have stroked his skin, so much did he feel the sensation.

His voice was a low murmur when he managed an answer. “I can say with complete honesty I have never done such a wicked thing in
this
carriage.”

One elegant brow climbed.

“Or any other. Although the idea holds merit. Would you not agree?”

She giggled, a soft sound, and he laid his palm on her knee, covered by the folds of her gown.

“Fashion dictates all these layers, yet I can feel your touch as if your hand caressed my bare skin.”

Her whispered admission stoked the fire that consumed the small confines of the carriage. Desire, hot and hungry, leapt between them like flames in the hearth, licking the sides of the coach, and tempting them to surrender to a dangerous game.

“Let us test your theory, minx.” His fingertips inched her gown upwards. The deft endeavor exposed her ankle, calf, knee, in nothing more than a thunderous heartbeats.

“You do that exceedingly well, Your Grace.”

Her voice, a little raspy, encouraged him to continue. “Is that so?” He skimmed her calf with the back of his knuckles, and his touch burned through the silk stocking to send a shiver through her. “Exquisite, my love.”

She gasped, from his words or his caress, he had no way to know. He reached the top of her thigh, and her warmth, her silky skin against his fingertips, proved his undoing. He worked to untie the ribboned tape of her drawers, his breathing broken and forced. Lost in the moment, she reclined against the backseat, a wanton offering for his delight, and he groaned, set on devouring her bit by bit by bit.

The carriage pulled to a sudden stop and jolted them both to awareness. He cursed sharply and swallowed hard as Lexi smoothing her gown, as lost to their interlude and entranced as he.

When the footman opened the door and extended the steps, he grasped her hand, a little too hard, desperate to touch her before she disappeared into the estate, into her bed and not his. He led her down the gravel drive in silence, barely hinged on maintaining control. And when they reached the hall and Reeston took her wrap, Devlin released her arm with tangible reluctance; as if to break contact would be to obliterate the bewitching spell cast in the heady moments shared during the ride home.

Yet she did not immediately leave, his sultry temptress, and she turned to him with a glimmer of enchantment in her eye and embraced her newfound power over her very willing gentleman.

“I released Tillie this afternoon.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, although no one existed in the hallway aside from the two of them. “Would you be so kind as to help me with the lower buttons?”

“The buttons?” His heart pounded in his chest. Was he being invited to her bedchamber?

“Yes, the buttons. Troublesome, they are, the lower ones. Impossible to open, unless one takes hold and rips them apart, anxious to be out of one’s clothing.”

He went rock hard.

Any sudden response dissolved and he stared for several heavy beats of his heart, taking in every detail, revelling in the enticing woman that stood before him and played coyly at seductress.

“It would be my pleasure, milady.” His voice sounded as tight as his body. “May I find you in your bedchamber in ten minutes?”

“I will wait for you then. Try not to be late.”

He almost smiled at her boldness. “I would not dare.”

She hurried up the staircase and turned down the long hallway to her room, but he took the stairs at a slower pace. His body burned for what she offered. Wanted it like nothing he’d ever desired in his life, and he’d experienced difficult stages when he’d wished for many things. But to take what Lexi offered signified something irreversible. She was an innocent. His aunt had entrusted him with the duty of her care. He scoffed, and turned the knob to enter his bedchamber. Aunt Min must be spinning in her grave at the present pace of events.

He should go to Lexi and explain his reservations. Damn it all to hell, she would take it as rejection. It was horrid enough she’d endured whatever censure crossed her path this evening. Who knew what she’d overheard. If that wasn’t troubling enough, he’d seen Widow Penslow milling about. He hoped she was not so bold as to approach Alexandra in anger.

And yet, Lexi hadn’t complained. She’d weathered it rather well, actually. He removed his waistcoat, then his cravat, and unbuttoned his collar, his mind so muddled with pure carnal desire, he could not hold a thought long enough to see his way through. All he could envision was Lexi in the carriage, reclined against the squabs in their little game of hide-and-seek. A surge of desire begged he answer his yearning. Instead, he emptied his pockets on the bureau, the silver cinnamon tin catching the light from the single lantern. He raked his fingers through his hair and stared at his reflection in the cheval glass, the ticking of the clock on the mantel the only sound in the room other than his harsh breathing. Decision made, he walked to the door and took the steps needed to reach her chambers.

Alexandra stood in wait. Minutes passed and doubt replaced confidence. Then a nearby door sounded and she heard his footfall against the carpet of the hallway. A second later her door opened and closed.

He was there. Incredibly handsome and entirely hers. She stood motionless, in only her white silk chemise. She’d removed her stockings and slippers, even her underclothes and corset, yet her fingers shook so terribly, she’d given up on her jewellery and wore the ear bobs and pendant still. A beguiling mixture of fancy and sweet.

His shirt hung open to the waist. His skin was all carved muscle and male strength. The dark mat of hair across his chest narrowed to the band of his trousers, and further below. Her eyes followed its path and her heart beat a heavy rhythm. She’d reviewed every insult cast her way at the ball and stood determined to play the role of courtesan. She hoped she knew what to do.

She sauntered forward and raised her arms to encircle his neck, bringing his mouth to hers in fluid invitation. His lips took hers with fervour, but she withdrew as he deepened the kiss, not wishing to relinquish her newfound control. She laughed at his growl of protest, a low throaty sound, and slipped her hands into the sides of his shirt to coast across his skin, over his broad shoulders, to release the garment in one quick motion. He reached for her again and she evaded his hands.