Fallen Angel (28 page)

"Maddie," he groaned, and he nudged the valley between her soft woman's thighs with his fully erect member. The message was unmistakable.

"Oh," she said, and buried her face deeper in the pillow.

His voice was low and ragged, a mere whisper of sound, gentling her fears, seducing her to accommodate his need in the age-old manner of the male with his mate.

"Let me!"

"Be generous, love."

"Trust me."

"I need you. I love you."

"Like this, oh yes, like this."

A touch, a gesture, and her smooth limbs and rounded contours were arranged for the perfect fit of his body. He locked one arm around her waist and raised her hips. Slowly, with infinite gentleness, he entered her from behind. Her head arched back on his shoulder. He began to move, rocking her rhythmically, voluptuously, sinking into her with deep, leisurely strokes.

"Jason," she warned, and tensed beneath him.

His arm slipped lower, locking her body to his. "It's all right, love. I want you to—"

Her cry of rapture, abandoned, full-bodied rose like the wail of a banshee to fill the room. Swiftly, he cupped her mouth with his open palm to smother her pleasure sounds. Her body convulsed, contracting around his pulsating shaft with hard, rhythmic spasms. Desire exploded through Deveryn. Bucking, rolling, in a frenzy of passion, he rode her to a quivering, breathless finish.

They lay for long minutes, panting, his mouth open at the nape of her neck where his teeth had administered several sharp nips whilst they revelled in the throes of their passion. He rolled from her and threw one arm over his eyes. No woman had ever affected him like this before. He was a skillful, considerate lover. Where did his art go when he laid a hand on Maddie?

God, he didn't care! He felt more alive than he had ever felt in his life.

Blindly, he reached out a hand and dragged her into the shelter of his body. Her breath tickled his armpit.

"You're damn good in bed for a beginner," he teased. "Also noisy." God, she could drive him to fever pitch with those pleasure sounds.

"And you're greedy," she disparaged with equal candour. And she hoped he would never lose his voracious appetite.

"Not at all," he countered. "It simply occurred to me that it were prudent to leave our bed somewhat less than perfect should the innkeeper ever be called upon to give proof that our marriage has been consummated.

They raised on their elbows and looked about them. The bed looked as if a hurricane had hit it.

He smiled in unholy appreciation and sprang
to*
his feet. With arms above his head, he stretched, his muscles bunching along powerful shoulders and chest. He scratched one armpit, then the other, and leered at Maddie over his shoulder.

"I feel marvellous. How about you?" A very delicate part of her anatomy smarted from the splinter he had so solicitously removed before tumbling her on the bed; she could have sworn, if she didn't know better, that a swarm of angry bees had descended on her neck; and her loins throbbed with an unfamiliar tenderness.

She glowered at him.

A wicked bark of laughter was her reward. "You'll get used to it," he consoled with unabashed masculine unconcern and strode to the washstand with a confident swagger.

Thirty minutes later saw Lord Deveryn handing Maddie, now restored to her blacks, into his waiting carriage. He followed her in, but did not immediately give his coachman the office to start. Maddie carefully stowed the box with its precious wedding gown under the flap of the front seat. She became conscious that Deveryn was waiting patiently till she should complete her task. She settled herself comfortably and threw him a questioning look.

"This will only take a moment," he began.

The intelligence that her husband intended to stay on in Edinburgh for another day or so to conclude his business with Forsythe, she accepted without demur. But the next calm disclosure rekindled every misgiving.

"Why must our marriage remain a secret?" she demanded, eyeing him with marked suspicion.

There were a number of cogent reasons. Cynthia was one of them. He did not relish the long drive to London in the close confines of the coach with a woman who, in some sort, might regard herself as scorned. He could remove himself from her spleen by the simple expedient of acting as outrider. But Maddie had to be considered, And there was a more compelling reason.

"In a word, your grandfather. He deserves the courtesy of being the first to learn of our nuptials. He is, after all, your closest male relative."

"That doesn't signify. To my knowledge, he's never concerned himself overmuch with my welfare in the past. I think you know how shabbily he treated my parents when
they
eloped."

"Precisely. I shan't make the same mistake your father did," he answered reasonably. "We're married. Period. Your grandfather can like it or lump it. However, I've no wish to provoke him unnecessarily. On the contrary,
I'm
hoping for his active support."

"Why should you care?"

"Not for myself," he explained patiently. "But for you. I wish to spare you any unpleasantness. There's bound to be talk. Your grandfather's acceptance of what is, after all, a
fait accompli,
should dispel some of the speculation, help smooth your entry into Polite Society."

The man seemed to have an answer for everything. She did not think that he was in humour to hear that she deplored the manners and mores of Polite Society and would deem it no great loss to be barred from its rarefied atmosphere. More to the point, her one brush with the ton had convinced her that Polite Society would not lament her loss by one whit less.

"Oh, very well," she agreed, suddenly resigning herself to the force of his logic. "I shan't say a word to anyone."

Deveryn smiled at Maddie's unaccustomed meekness. "Good girl. And now, there is one other small matter about which I must take you into my confidence."

He had chosen his moment with forethought. They were wed. The marriage had been consummated. They were in perfect amity, more, for in his own mind he saw their marriage as a love-match. And time was of the essence, for Cynthia might very well enlighten Maddie before he had a chance to explain himself. That could be disastrous. Still, he groped for words, trying to frame his thoughts in a way that would cause Maddie least offence. She sensed his difficulty and became alert.
Oh hell,
he thought,
there's no easy way to say this,
and he plunged into speech.

"When I see Forsythe tomorrow, I'll be signing papers on the future disposition of Drumoak."

"Yes?" She could not perceive the reason for his hesitation. Their marriage had removed Drumoak as a source of conflict between them, for the laws of the land stated unequivocally that what was his was his, and what was hers was his also, a cause for scandal to all thinking women. She wondered if perhaps he meant to make Drumoak part of the marriage settlement. That hope was dashed at his next words.

"Cynthia has some claim on the estate. I wish you would admit that."

Instinct made her cautious. "And if I don't?"

His lips tightened fractionally. "If you don't, it makes no matter, save perhaps to your own peace of mind."

A thousand thoughts circled in Maddie's brain. Sudden comprehension jolted her. "My God, you're giving it to her, aren't you? You're giving my father's house to
her."

"Not exactly. Only a home for her lifetime or until such time as she marries. Eventually, the estate will revert completely to you or your heirs. So you see, Drumoak isn't lost to you. I think I've come up with an equitable solution."

Maddie digested his words in shocked silence. It was a moment or two before she found her voice. "That's what Cynthia meant when she told Forsythe that you were her advocate," she said weakly. "That's
why
you tore yourself away from London to come to Drumoak." Her voice grew stronger, more incredulous. "This whole thing has been premeditated. She didn't want my father, but she wants his estate. And you're going to give it to her on a platter! You always meant to!"

"Calm yourself, Maddie. Drumoak is scarcely Carlton House. We won't miss it. And you owe it to Cynthia, to your stepmother, to see that she is provided for. Your own conscience should tell you so."

He tried to take her hands, but she would have none of him. She threw them off and stared unseeingly out the coach window. Her eyes were very bright. For no reason he could think of, he felt like a cad. He fingered the silk of her skirt and said in a low, placating tone, "I've told you. We'll come back for holidays, put the place to rights, make it a show place, if you like."

"For Cynthia to enjoy? No thank you."

"It's not likely that she will be there," he reasoned. "Cynthia isn't interested in the estate. I daresay she may spend the odd month or two in Scotland when she has nothing better to do, but even that is doubtful." He tried to inject a note of humour. "Scotland isn't to everyone's taste, you know."

Maddie could scarcely make sense of what he was telling her. "You've just told me that Drumoak belongs to her."

"I can't see her spending much time there. London is her setting. It's the income from Drumoak which Cynthia is interested in."

"What income?" asked Maddie coldly. "We were scarcely self-sufficient."

He mistook her rigid control for calm and spoke carelessly, without thinking. "Naturally I shall provide Cynthia with an income until such time as the estate begins to show a profit. It's the least I can do under the circumstances."

"How very convenient," she said acidly.

"What?" Her tone left no doubt as to the state of her emotions.

"To pension off your mistress with the profits from your wife's estate! Very astute of you, Deveryn, though a trifle tight-fisted. And they say the Scots are parsimonious! Piffle! We can't hold a candle to you English."

His eyes flashed then faded to an icy transparency. Belatedly, he recognized that Maddie's temper was at boiling point. He had prepared himself for entreaties, persuasions, tears perhaps, but not this unwarranted display of venom. Moreover, he found her immutable antipathy to Cynthia childish and petty. And that she was determined to misunderstand him when his motives were as pure as a fresh fall of snow cut him to the quick.

"Don't take that tone with me, my girl," he said, unconsciously adopting her tone, "or it will be very much the worse for you. And on the long drive to London, you'd best keep a civil tongue in your head if you know what's good for you. Cynthia, as I've no doubt you've learned to your regret, will cut you down to size as soon as look at you. And I have no intention of protecting you from the sharp edge of her tongue. Remember that!"

Her look of loathing could not have been more marked if she had discovered a cockroach at the bottom of her porridge. "You held off telling me all this, deliberately, didn't you?" she accused. "You knew that wild horses could not drag me to the altar if I had known that you meant to serve me such a backhanded turn."

It was true, of course. But he wasn't about to confess that he had done wrong when he had meant everything for the best.

"I thought you would be in a better frame of mind to accept things after we were married," he admitted angrily. "You'll be mistress of Crammond. And one day of Dunsdale. What can Drumoak signify compared to
that?"

"For all I care, Crammond and Dunsdale can sink to the bottom of the ocean and Cynthia with them. Especially Cynthia," she shot back.

They were nose to nose, glaring balefully into each others stormy eyes, their voices gradually rising to a pitch that was audible to the coachmen. The coach rolled on its springs. A horse whinnied. Deveryn became aware of the impropriety of their position. Maddie did not care. He descended the carriage steps and shut the door with a clatter. Through the open window he said in a terse undertone, "I'd be obliged if you would send the coach back for me in the morning with my valet and a bag. Martin will know what to pack. Expect me in two days, three at the most. We'll talk of this later,"

At his word of farewell, she managed a cool, distancing nod. She heard his command to the coachmen with unmitigated relief. As the horses moved forward, she sank back against the squabs and closed her eyes, thankful that there was no one present to witness her misery.