Hot Silk (13 page)

He bowed over Grace’s hand. “Allow me to assist you to your room,” he murmured.

“You shouldn’t.”

“No lock would keep me out.”

But his teasing produced no smile. “She might be ill,” he said.

It was also possible the countess had sent the note, then changed her mind. He knew what many titled women were like. Hell, he’d bedded enough of them. A bit of gossip, the opportunity for a new lover, and they cast aside all other thought.

Not that his mother, who had been the daughter of country gentry—the daughter of an unlucky and unskilled gambler—had been any different. He’d grown accustomed to sleeping outside, for she had often locked him out of the small cottage. Even then, a lock couldn’t keep him out—but he hadn’t wanted to be inside where he would hear her moans. She’d always screamed and moaned for the men who’d fucked her, in the hopes they might enjoy her enough to stay.

They never did.

“What if she is not going to see me at all?” Grace asked.

He admired her for having the courage to voice her fears. He offered his arm. “That’s something we don’t need to worry about yet.”

“Thank you.”

She spoke it so softly he wasn’t certain he heard it, but he did hear her mutter, “Oh! Blast!” as she stopped abruptly. Devlin had to tear his gaze from her wide green eyes to see what had shocked her.

“Blast is damned right,” he groaned. His half brother, Lord Wesley, was walking down the corridor with Lady Prudence at his side. What in blazes were his half siblings doing here? The hairs stood up on the nape of his neck. Damnation, probably Wynsome was here to attend to his relative, Lady Warren, and had invited bloody Wesley.

Prudence gasped and stopped, which forced Wesley to pause, to notice Devlin and Grace. Prudence’s mouth hardened into a cold line; then she tipped up her chin, and her eyes took on a blank, icy haughtiness. She wheeled about on her heel and sniffed to Wesley. “Let us go this way.”

As though they did not exist. The famous cut direct used by society women to vanquish their foes.

Devlin laughed. They might possess noble blood, but God, they were small-minded and pitiful. He glanced down and saw Grace’s freckles, stark splotches of gold against ivory cheeks.

Hell, Prudence’s rude cut had wounded Grace, had fed into the fears and doubts she kept close to her heart. He knew, because he had carried those fears too.

He was not a gentleman. He was nothing. Worthless.

He knew that was what Grace feared. That she didn’t belong.

He was not about to let Grace tear herself apart over the bloody ton. “Come with me. To your bedroom.”

“You cannot possibly come in,” Grace protested, but Devlin grinned like Lucifer. Ignoring her command, he took a bold step forward, forcing her to retreat into her bedroom and let him in. At least he glanced up and down the corridor first to ensure no one had seen him.

She did wish he would listen to her for once.

But of course he was not going to.

“Well, you’d never fit on that bed,” she warned, folding her arms beneath her breasts.

Devlin laughed at that and sauntered over to it. He bounced on it, testing it first, then flopped back on the yellow counterpane. She rather liked the modest room—with its yellow sprigged wallpaper and buttercup lace-trimmed curtains.

Devlin spread his long legs so his boots touched the floor. But her gaze strayed to the way his trousers tightened over his thighs, his hips, his crotch.

“Do you still have the letter your grandmother sent?”

She hadn’t expected that. “Yes.” She withdrew it from her reticule, gave the folded sheet to him, then dropped the bag to the vanity. She waited by it, nervously, as he read. “A maid might come—to unload my belongings.”

He pillowed his arm beneath his head and laid the letter down beside him on her bed. Her throat tightened. She wanted to lie on top of him.

But that reminded her of Wesley, of her past stupidity, and her stomach churned. Wesley’s hands gripping her breasts. Wesley smirking up at her. His crude talk of her tits. And she, fool that she was, had been excited by it.

Why could she not forget him? Why did she keep remembering that horrible experience?

Why in blazes did he and Prudence have to be here? She’d waited her entire life to see her grandmother. What if Prudence and Wesley spoke to Lady Warren, ruined her chances?

She had to grip the bedpost.

“There’s something about this letter—”

Devlin’s words snapped her thoughts back and she saw him frown.

“Who knows you are the granddaughter of the Earl of Warren?” he asked.

“What do you mean? You think my grandmother did not write it? That makes no sense. Hardly anyone knows, outside of my family. Marcus and Dash, of course. Marcus’s sister, I think, along with Dash’s. But they are family.”

“Anyone else?”

“No. What would be the point in telling anyone, only to be denounced for it?” A hard and heavy pain knotted her stomach. “I wanted to tell Prudence, even, but I didn’t.”

“Why did you want to tell her?” Then he groaned. “To prove you had noble blood. To prove you are as good as her.”

“I don’t know. But anyway, I did not speak of it. I knew I wasn’t supposed to. Anyway, what is it that you don’t like about the letter?”

“I never believe a woman of the ton reveals emotion.”

She shivered at the cold, hard tone of his words. Obviously he had been badly hurt, and she wanted to ask more around the sudden knot of jealousy wedged in her throat, but the bed creaked as Devlin shifted.

He held out his hand. “Sweeting, why can you not understand that you do not have to prove anything to anyone?”

She really did hate it when he gave her advice. He was a man. He could do whatever he wished. She launched away from the vanity and stormed to the side of her bed. “Should I also pick up a pistol and rob innocent people? Is that how I should carve my way in the world? I do not have the luxury of being wild and rebellious.”

He rolled onto his side, his greatcoat fanning over her bedspread. “You’re wild inside, Grace—”

“It is not something to be celebrated,” she protested. “You are merely suspicious of the ton because they never accepted you either.” She waited but he added nothing—nothing to give her a clue as to why he specifically did not trust ladies of the ton. Irritated by the gallop of her heartbeat, she snapped, “And you really must get off my bed and find your own.”

“Trysting is what the ton does at house parties.” Devlin swung his legs around and sat up, but instead of getting up, he undid his cravat. “I’m only doing what Quality does, love.”

“What exactly do you think you are doing?”

“Taking off my clothes.”

Devlin saw Grace’s delicate jaw drop as he pulled off his coat, waistcoat, boots, and trousers. “You know, I’m glad I’m a bastard and not a ‘gentleman.’ I’ve never met one worthy of the name.” He gave her a grin. “Do you know what I do with the money I steal, love?”

She pursed her lips, transforming her sensual mouth into a prim, pinched line. “Support your harem?”

“I use the money to help ordinary people ignored and abused by our society. The ruined women who are cast out, the orphaned babes, the men who were wounded in war and are now forgotten.”

“So the ton is cruel, and you are Robin Hood.” But her gaze betrayed her, raking over his body, and he felt his skin flame in the wake of her wide eyes.

“I’m not a saint. But neither is any member of high society.” Hell, his instincts warned him that Grace was in danger of being emotionally hurt. He’d never met the Countess of Warren, had never had the pleasure of holding up her coach, but he didn’t trust her.

“I am going to wait,” Grace said firmly, “and meet my grandmother.”

“Then come and climb on top of me, love, while you’re waiting.” Sprawling back on her tiny bed, Devlin heard it groan in protest. All he wore was his linens, and his cock was a rigid bulge beneath them.

He saw anger turn her eyes to brilliant green and then the heat of desire flare in them. But she shook her head and her breath caught. “No. I don’t like to…to do it that way.”

Then he understood. She’d done that with Wesley, and the bloody blackguard had broken her heart. Pain flitted across her eyes and she lowered her lashes. He shifted to lie on his side on the narrow bed. Patted the warmed space beside him. “Come here.”

“You are not going to leave, are you?”

At the slow shake of his head, she bit her lip. “Take off your linens.” Her throaty voice slid over him, making his cock buck as she sashayed to the bed. Her pain seemed to have vanished, replaced by fiery need. She was still dressed in her gown and pelisse that fit skintight to her full breasts and generous hips. Normally, he liked to be the one dressed with a naked woman, but he had to admit he was enjoying this.

He peeled his small clothes over his hard cock, watching the thick shaft spring out, and she kneeled on the bed and bent to the head. “If you aren’t going to leave, then—”

He groaned, watching her plump lips get closer. Her tongue snaked out and licked the head of his prick. Hot. Wet. Pressing into his sensitive head.
God
—

He let his head drop back as pleasure streaked up from his heavy cock to his brain.

She planted a hot, wet kiss to the dripping tip and his cock bobbed its approval.

“I’ve fantasized about this for two years,” she whispered.

Devlin couldn’t breathe. Her lips parted, slick and shiny with the fluid oozing from him. Her tongue traced the curve of her lip. “Delicious,” she murmured.

Hell, he wanted her to like this. He wanted it so damned badly he ached for it, but he wanted it to be her choice—

She opened her mouth wide and took him in. Heat engulfed the swollen head, then the shaft, and her tongue teased the ridges and veins. Her mouth fit snugly around him, surrounding him with mind-melting pleasure.

Noisily she slurped him in and out, and it was the most erotic sight to watch his cock vanish between her pink lips. His hips began to pump to her on their own accord. He wanted to slide his entire length into her mouth, he needed to, and he fought for control.

He didn’t want to hurt her. He had to give her the control.

Then she hollowed her cheeks, sucked him deep, and toyed with his balls.

“Grace, God—” His fingers drove into the counterpane, the pillow. He felt fabric tear and he clenched his teeth, trying to hold back his climax. He’d never surrendered like this before—

She sucked him deep, her eyes watered, and her clever fingers caressed his aching ballocks and his tight arse.

“Lord!” He jerked forward as his muscles exploded with his fierce climax, as his entire body bucked with the searing heat and intense delight, and he roared with it. Roared. Shouted. Howled as his steaming come rushed out.

She drank it. Suckled it. Took it all. And he fell back on the bed, groaning as her lush lips kept teasing him, as her tongue pressed hard against him and the suction kept coming. Kept
him
coming, to the point where he was so damned sensitive, he was in agony.

“Sweetheart—” He coaxed her to release him, watched, stunned as she swallowed again. Then he grasped her shoulders, pulled her on top of him, and kissed her hard, tasting his semen on her lips.

She drew away from the kiss. “I think you were loud,” she accused.

Damn. Discretion. He’d forgotten about that. “There’s other ladies’ rooms on this floor. Just look innocent and no one will know it was your room.”

She backed off the bed, away from him, and he shivered at the loss of her warmth. Her expression was troubled.

“I have to stay away from you, Devlin.”

After that, she was threatening to stay away? “Not going to happen, love. I intend to stay close. To protect you.”

“By ruining me? Devlin, it doesn’t matter to me anymore if I am ruined. But it will devastate my family. I cannot just live for the moment. I cannot risk making a mistake. You have to get up, get dressed, and leave.”

He stayed on her bed. She would have to drag him off it. “I want to come to you tonight.”

“Don’t. My door will be locked, my window barred.”

If she locked her door, he had half a mind to kick it off its hinges. But what would that gain him? It was his bloody problem—his stupidity for hungering for a proper lady.

He got up, the bed creaking. She was right. If their affair was discovered, she would be ruined. He clenched his fists. Bloody, hypocritical ton. They’d relish in her downfall—the way Lady Prudence had attacked with the cut direct.

Her cheeks were pink, her breasts heaving, and seducing her now would mean he would be trying to seduce an adversary.

Once he would have found that exciting. Now it left his heart cold.

As he dragged on his clothes, he could not help but give her a last piece of advice. “The opinions of women like Prudence do not matter.”

“Yes,” she said simply. “In my circles, they do.” She bent her head, and muttered, “I’ve spent two years carefully avoiding Lord Wesley, and now I am trapped in the same house with him.”

“Wesley?” Damn, she had been in bed with him and now was thinking of Wesley. What the hell? Devlin’s heart pounded as he slanted a glance to her face. She was nibbling her thumbnail. Pensive. Worried.

At once he tensed with icy cold, but a red-hot rage flared in his brain. Wesley was of Grace’s world; he was not. Could it be she still loved the bastard? Damn and blast. From her thoughtful gaze, her troubled eyes, he couldn’t tell. He’d practically read the thoughts of British Navy captains at they stared him down over cannons, but he couldn’t guess at Grace’s feelings.

She yearned for acceptance by the ton. It was a bloody foolish goal, but he understood it.

He couldn’t risk destroying everything Grace wanted by forcing his way into her bedroom.

And even if he could convince her to give up this mad goal, he will likely end his life in prison. He could never offer her a future.

He had to walk away.

I
ronic that he chose to stalk to the cliff edge in the dark to look out over the water, clenching an unlit cheroot between his fingers. Women had driven him to the sea years ago, when he had no money and no future. When he had made the mistake of falling in love with a titled woman.

Devlin crossed his arms in front of his chest, his body buffeted by the wind, and he remembered.

Remembered how the beautiful Countess of Dorchester had loved him in her bed.

And how she had feared someone might see him in her parlor.

Moonlight shimmered over the surf crashing onto the rocks below. Salt in the air touched his lips and skin—it tasted like he stood on the bridge of a ship. Clouds had rolled in, obscuring the stars.

He understood why Grace wished so much for her grandmother’s acceptance. For well over two years, throughout their affair, he had been a young, starstruck man, wanting to hear his countess admit that she loved him.

She never did.

Finally she had bored of his passion and devotion and had dismissed him. She had sent him a letter, softly perfumed with her unique scent. Only one line had been written inside.
You have been replaced with Rupert.
The younger son of a duke, Rupert had lineage, bloodlines, and all the qualities of a fine stud.

So Devlin had seduced hundreds of women, trying to prove that he was damned valuable. That he could not be so easily discarded.

Eventually he’d realized he would never believe it, no matter how many women he bedded to convince himself.

So he did what any brokenhearted man did—he ran away to the sea. Deftly avoiding the navy press gangs, he’d intended to go on his own terms, and one drunken night had found him as part of the crew of the
Black Mistress
. From there, he’d become a notorious pirate, with a reputation for superb sexual skill and he’d discovered, without a doubt, that women found bad men enticing.

With stolen money, women came easily. With foreign travel, he learned there was much more to sex than mounting a woman and slicking his pole in and out of her creamy cunny. He’d learned the art of tipping the velvet until a woman tore at his hair and begged him for mercy. He’d learned secret arts of control that allowed him to indulge in bouts of sensual play that lasted hours. He’d encountered an Englishman who had created his own harem on a tropical isle—a harem of lovely women who possessed skin the color of clover honey. He’d taken a ball in his shoulder for sampling most of the sailor’s tempting “wives.”

They were memories that made him smile but that didn’t fill his heart.

Crunching leaves warned him that he wasn’t alone. He retreated into the shadows as Wesley strolled down the path. Gritting his teeth, Devlin spied a woman also walking down the path, behind Wesley. Her arms were folded over her chest, her head bowed, and her pale gray pelisse and golden hair shimmered under the moonlight. He didn’t have to see her face to know it was Grace.

Had Grace come deliberately to speak to Wesley?

He had to know. And he had no option but to retreat to the shadows to watch as Wesley stopped and turned. A grin spread over his half brother’s face that Devlin longed to erase with his fist.

Wesley ran his gaze over Grace’s curves, his eyes hot and lusty, and Devlin had to push his fist hard against a rough tree trunk.

“You are following me, Miss Hamilton,” Wesley called out. “Reconsidering my offer?”

The hairs on Devlin’s nape rose.

Grace’s back was to him. “Of course not,” she said to Wesley. “I simply wished to walk, and on seeing you realized I could accomplish two courses of action.”

She had wanted to speak to Wesley? What the bloody hell for?

Wesley stepped closer to her and she stiffened, her arms tightening, but she did not move. His half brother lifted his hand to Grace’s face and brushed her full lower lip with the back of his hand.

What was she doing? He could see Wesley leaning in to capture her mouth and Grace was staying put.

How could she do this? She should slap Wesley’s face.

Her shoulders trembled even as she held her spine defiantly straight. “Don’t touch me.”

So she didn’t want him.

“You have behaved with perfect propriety since our night together, haven’t you, Grace—”

“Miss Hamilton,” she corrected.

Wesley’s lips lowered toward hers, lips drawn back from his teeth in a cold grin. “Not anymore, love. We’ve been intimate, and that is something that can never be erased. You are ‘Grace’ to me now. You always will be.” He bounced one of her curls on his hand and Grace drew back. “You’ve refused marriage proposals. And, to my knowledge, you’ve been no man’s lover. Why punish yourself, Grace? When you could so easily say ‘yes’ to me?”

“Saying ‘yes’ to you would be punishing myself, Wesley.”

Why did she not slap his brother’s smug face?

“You are a lusty woman, Grace. You can’t spend your lifetime alone.”

Devlin could not hear her answer, goddamn it, as the cold sea breeze swept over them, rustling branches and leaves. But he heard the bloody triumph in Wesley’s upper crust accent as he continued, “You can’t, love. You will bend—you will break. You will yearn to go to a man’s bed and, to be honest, sweetheart, eventually the offers will not be so generous as mine. The position as my treasured mistress—any number of women would leap at the chance.”

For one moment, Devlin’s gut twisted. Anything he could offer to Grace could not compare to life even as Wesley’s mistress. An icy rage swirled in his gut. But what had he expected? He’d been born to shame and he’d thrown himself into deeper scandal out of pride.

Why did Grace not cut Wesley? Damn it, woman.
Leave.

“What will you give me, Wesley?” Grace asked softly. “A reason to despise myself every time I wake up in the morning? You cannot buy me. And you certainly won’t convince me that I will die of loneliness if I don’t bed you. But this—” She shook a folded piece of paper. “This will have to stop. You don’t care if someone sees you sending these notes, if someone catches you leaning too close or touching my bottom or taking a grope of my breast. But I care, and I won’t stand by quietly and allow you to do it anymore.”

Hell, he had left Grace alone for one dinner. He had not gone to eat with the others. And in the space of a few hours, Wesley had groped her and sent her notes?

“Come to my bed,” Wesley growled. “Let me take care of you, and we can have some fun.”

“You make me want to vomit.” She turned on her heel, lifted her skirts, and started up the path.

As Devlin expected, Wesley lunged and grabbed her arm, driving in his fingers to force her to stop. “You aren’t offended. I remember how hard and how wildly you fucked me—”

He stepped forward as Grace spun around and slammed her fist against Wesley’s chest. “You told me you wanted to marry me. You told me you
would
marry me.”

His half brother gave a harsh laugh. Cruel amusement glinted in Wesley’s eyes. “How could you believe it, love? Of course I’d want to claim you, but you know I couldn’t. You are the daughter of an erotic artist. Of a woman thrown out of her home over a love affair. You had to know it was impossible for me to marry you—”

“Of course I knew it,” she said and Devlin sucked in a hard, angry breath.

He had had enough.

Bless her, she spun suddenly and lifted her pale skirts, placing her knee on a collision course with Wesley’s groin. But his half brother darted deftly to the side and caught her arm as he did, pulling her off balance.

Devlin stepped out of the dark, into the silvery-blue gleam of the moonlight. Gazes locked on each other, neither Grace nor Wesley turned to him. His step had been instinctively silent and neither had heard him.

“You’re passionate about me, aren’t you, love?” Wesley released her wrist and his voice softened. “You made love to me knowing that we couldn’t have marriage.”

“You hurt me afterward. Viciously. Deliberately. I will never stop hating you for that. I did not deserve to be hated for giving you my heart, Lord Wesley.”

“But I deserve to be hated for breaking it.”

On the path, Dev paused as he heard Grace’s sudden sharp breath. Damn Wesley for knowing exactly the thing to say to make Grace pause. To make her vulnerable. To turn her thoughts upside down.

Moonlight painted her face, making her green eyes and her parted lips ethereal. Her hand, about to shove against Wesley’s chest, landed weakly against his brother’s shoulder. “Then why won’t you give up and leave me alone?”

“Because I haven’t yet gotten what I wanted. And what I want is you.” Wesley stepped up to her so his legs splayed on either side of hers and he hauled Grace against his body. “I know you, Grace. I know you’re lusty. And I know you enjoy it rough, hot, and sweaty, Grace.”

“No! Stop this. Stop. This.”

Devlin jerked his brother around by the shoulder and let his right fist fluidly connect with Wesley’s jaw. He had to groan in pleasure as his knuckles split against his brother’s chin and Wesley staggered back. Burying his wounded right hand into the gloved palm of his left, he glowered. “Get the hell out of here,
my lord
, before I kill you.”

For one moment he thought Wesley would throw a punch in return. For one moment he thought Wesley had gained a bit of courage in the last two years. But Devlin knew he had hit his superior younger brother too many times over the years not to have proven that wealth and title did not always come out on top. Wesley spat blood. “Bloody hell, you damned bastard. I should turn you over to the magistrates.”

“You’re welcome to try,” Devlin goaded.

But Wesley took two steps back along the path, his hand at his bloody face. “You’re welcome to her.” Then he turned and ran, and Devlin let his laughter follow his brother.

His chuckles died in his throat as he saw the murderous look on Grace’s face.

“
What
were you thinking?”

“I could ask the same of you. Why in blazes did you follow him out here? What did you want, Grace? Did you want more of his lies?”

“No. No. Stop it, Devlin.” She brushed past him and lifted her hems.

“Did you hope he’d tell you he loved you?”

The moment the words came out, never to be retracted, Devlin wanted to kick his own arse. That was a weapon he should have never used. It just hurt so damned badly that she considered Wesley—the smug little weasel—superior to him. He’d seen the truth of that in her eyes.

He needed to make love to her. He couldn’t live without the pleasure of taking her to orgasm, of watching her surrender to ecstasy with him when she knew she shouldn’t.

It made him feel more powerful than anything had ever done.

“Grace,” Devlin said softly, because she still stood there, obviously trying to find some response to his question, some cutting way to retrieve her pride. “Grace—” he repeated her name with all the reverence and desire it deserved. “Can you not tell when a man is in love with you?”

“Leave me alone, Devlin. I came to tell Lord Wesley to stop his horrid pursuit. Please, Devlin, just let me be—”

He couldn’t. Damn, but he couldn’t. He pulled her abruptly to his chest. The impact made her gasp sharply and he pressed the advantage.

Her lips were tilted up to his, shining with dampness, plump and beautiful. He felt the soft puff of her warm breath; then he slanted his mouth over hers and drew her tight against him as he kissed her hard.

The world dropped away from him. The wind vanished, the roar of the sea disappeared. His world condensed to his mouth on her hot, soft lips. To the play of their tongues. To the supple, sensual beauty of her body tight against his.

Was this why he’d come back to England? What he’d been looking for without knowing? He eased back from the kiss, twisting his mouth at the irony of it.

He was panting because she’d stolen the breath from his lungs, the thoughts from his brain.

“You are right, Grace. I left England to escape love, and I’ve come back to something far more intense than what I’d run away from. But now, for your protection, I intend to escort you right to your bedroom door.”

Grace tried to wrench her arm free of Devlin’s firm grip. “This will stop now. You cannot. How will I explain it? I was lucky this afternoon when you shouted in my bedroom and no one heard. I can’t risk it again. I can’t risk a scandal that will destroy my family.”

Grace swallowed hard as Devlin’s throaty laugh washed over her. Just the sensual sound made her nipples lift beneath her shift.

“I have to know you’re safe, Grace.”

A teasing flutter raced over her skin as his fingers closed over hers, as he tucked her hand chastely on his arm and walked dutifully at her side, taking her along the path back toward the house.

He was determined to behave like a gentleman.

To protect her.

Sea breezes tossed his unfashionably long but audaciously attractive blond hair around his shoulders and cast a few strands across his wicked smile.

“This is not right, Devlin. There is no way that you can take me to my bedroom without causing a scandal—”

His proud grin, the slight swagger in his step, brought her up short.

“You are trying to think of a way, though, aren’t you, Grace?” he teased.

Her lips still pulsed with the hot pleasure of their kiss. “You are incorrigible.”

“I’m a pirate, love.” He stopped when they were dangerously near the open grounds surrounding the house. Before she could protest, he cupped her cheek. The brush of his thumb sent a blaze of heat through her body.

This was madness. She had to resist. If she ruined her reputation here, she would be destroyed everywhere.

As Devlin’s lips moved to hers, she had to close her eyes. Tears touched her lashes. Why did she have to turn away the one man who accepted her?

Devlin stopped, his lips so close to hers she could feel the electricity tingle on her lips. “What did Welsey put in that note? I’ll rip his throat out.”

“No! Don’t! You see, I tried to speak to Prudence again, at dinner, and once again she gave me the cut direct. As for Wesley…he will never stop this. He believes he can make any crude suggestion, treat me like a harlot, simply because I opened my heart.”