Perfect Bride (26 page)

His gaze pinioned hers.

“Devon,” he said, his voice very low, “last night was very precious to me. And I should like to savor it.” He paused, and she sensed he was at an unchar
acteristic loss for words. “Accept that what we shared was something very rare. Something very unique. Because it is, you know.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“I want nothing to ruin it. Are we agreed?”

Devon nodded mutely, incapable of doing more. Imprisoned deep in the web of his gaze, in that mo
ment she could deny him nothing. His husky decla
ration made her insides turn to mush.

Lean fingers slipped beneath the tumbled cloud of her hair. His kiss was long and thorough. She sighed, feeling as if she’d been turned inside out.

It was a long, long time before Sebastian lifted his head. They gazed at each other, each with a silly little smile.

“Well,” Devon murmured after a moment, “I sup
pose I should rise.”

“Stay right where you are!” came his swift, vehe
ment order. “I’m coming back to bed. I’m feeling dis
tinctly lazy.”

“Lazy! You?” It was a comment made not entirely in jest. “You are a very busy man. I’m sure you’ve correspondence to attend to, the business of your es
tates and such.”

“All that can wait.
You
cannot. And I give you fair warning. We may very well not leave this room for an entire week.”

“A week! What about your work? Your duties?”

“To hell with the future. To hell with duty. I have you alone. All to myself. And I intend to take every advantage of it.”

He started to slip off his robe, but she stopped him with a protest. “No,” she said. “Let me.” Her finger
tips stole beneath the shoulders of his robe, tracing over the knotted hardness of his shoulders, sliding along warm, hard flesh.

“Are you making advances toward me, my good woman?”

He’d teased her unmercifully just a short time ago, but perhaps it was time he discovered turnabout was fair play. “I am, good sir,” she replied.

“Remember last night?” he murmured silkily. “You said you were glad it wasn’t daylight. You were shy about being seen in the light, I believe.”

“So I was. But I do believe I’ve changed my mind. In fact,” she stated, “I’m wondering what you would look like in the daylight.” She paused, a little amazed at her own daring. “
Naked,
” she emphasized.

He played along. “But I’m not,” he said. “Naked, that is.”

“Not yet you’re not. But you soon will be. And then, sir, why, I may even do a bit of ogling myself.”

He laughed huskily. “I do believe I hear a sultry promise in your voice.”

“I do believe you’re right.” Boldly she pushed the robe off his shoulders.

His eyes had gone dark. “Devon,” he whispered, “you’re so beautiful.”

“And so are you.”

“I’m not. I am a—”

“You
are
,” she insisted. As if to convince him, nim
ble fingers made quick work of the knot at his waist.

“Next to you, I feel like a great oaf.”

“Ah,” she said, her eyes gleaming, “but I like that. I like that you’re so large and strong. You make me feel safe and warm. And I especially like this.” She tangled her fingers in the springy dark hair on his chest and smiled directly into fiercely glowing gray eyes.

He wanted her, she thought, glorying in the reve
lation.
Sebastian wanted her
.

“Why,” she went on, “this very morning I was thinking about the first time I saw you, looking so stiff and starched, your jacket fitting you so tightly there was nary a pucker or a wrinkle. I never guessed that your chest was covered with this dark, wonderful hair...But I liked it when you took off your jacket. And it sent a little thrill through me whenever you would roll up your sleeves. I used to look at your arms. Your hands. And I imagined what the rest of you might look like.”

“Devon,” he said hoarsely.

The sheet had slithered down her body long ago. Leaning forward, she pressed her nipples against the dark fur on his chest. She shifted, carefully strad
dling his thighs. She pressed her mouth against the cleft of his chin, allowing her tongue to trace the tiny indentation.

“Do you know,” she said with a tinkling little laugh, “I’ve always wanted to do that?”

“My God, Devon”—strong hands settled posses
sively on the nip of her waist—“do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

“What, good sir? What am I doing to you?”
“Look down, my dear.”
She obeyed without thought...Her eyes opened
wide. “Oh, my,” she gasped. “Oh, yes,” Sebastian groaned thickly. “Oh,
yes
.”

he next three mornings were spent in similar fashion, in lazy contentment marked by long, languorous hours wrapped in each other’s arms. London was a world away. Throughout each day, scarcely a moment went by that Devon was not at his side. They walked in the garden, her hand engulfed snugly in his. They wandered along the river and basked in the sun, sometimes in amiable silence, sometimes in laughing playfulness.

It wasn’t difficult to understand why Sebastian loved Thurston Hall the way he did. That day in the portrait gallery, he’d stated the Hall was nearer and dearer to his heart than anything else. There was a simplicity of life here in the country, a blessed peace
fulness that pervaded all, a calming serenity that could never exist in the frenzied pace of London. Here the rest of the world was shut out, eons away.

He’d told her that what they shared was some thing rare. Something unique. And how right he
was! He touched her often—the fleeting sweep of a finger along the line of her jaw, the merest caress of his fingertips against hers. It was as if he couldn’t get enough of her!

He cared for her. Cared for her deeply. It was there in the sizzle of his gaze when he made love to her, in every intimate glance that passed between them, every kiss bestowed upon her lips.

When she was with him, she felt like bursting with all that she felt. She loved him with every beat of her heart, every pore of her body, every fiber of her soul. And being with him like this ...there could be no greater pleasure. She wanted it to go on and on, to never end. For when she was with him, there was no tomorrow. Only now. Only today. Only the wonder of belonging to him, of
being
with him.

And knowing Sebastian felt the same was sheer bliss.

One week after their arrival, they retired to the li
brary after dinner, where they spent the next hour. Their game of chess concluded, Devon rose and moved to stand before the terrace doors. She stood there a moment, idly locking her hands behind her back and gazing out where a crescent moon shim
mered in the sky. Turning back to Sebastian, she saw that he’d ambled to his feet.

“I have the feeling I’m boring you to distraction, Devon. I can’t have that, now can I?” His brow raised in a show of rakishness. “We’ve played cards. Enjoyed a game of chess. Pray tell,” he drawled, “is there some other sort of entertainment in which I might interest you?”

“There may well be,” she countered daringly, even
as she blushed. “Perhaps you have some sugges tions?”

His eyes turned to smoke. “I have several, in fact.” Heat simmered in his eyes, so intense she felt scorched by it. “Come here and I’ll see if I can tempt you.”

Devon’s pulse began to race. Her steps carried her forward without conscious thought. The instant she was within reach, he trapped her against him.

His hands rested on the swell of her hips. His lips hovered just above hers, so near the breath they shared was the very same. “I may shock you,” he ad
vised silkily.

A thrill went through her. “Shock me,” she invited recklessly.

She caught a glimpse of his eyes, fiery and aglow, in the instant before his mouth swooped down to capture hers. A hand at the small of her back, he fit
ted her against him, allowing her to feel the rigid pulse beat of desire throbbing in his loins. Devon shivered, drowning in the hot, melting splendor of his kiss.

Neither of them was aware that the library door had opened and closed.

Justin took one look at the pair and swore, a blis
tering oath.

Devon started. Her hands caught at his jacket. “It’s Justin,” she gasped.

Sebastian paid no need. His grip on her waist tightened. He went right on kissing moist, passion-drenched lips. “Go away, Justin.” He spoke without looking at his brother, without even raising his head.

“Sebastian,” came a blunt, arch demand, “please
do me the courtesy of looking at me when I speak to you!”

Sebastian finally lifted his head. His arms tight
ened protectively. He gazed at Justin over the top of Devon’s head. “What do you want?” he asked curtly.

Devon’s initial shock at Justin’s presence had been replaced by an acute embarrassment. She longed to bury her head against Sebastian’s chest and burrow inside his jacket, but...well, it wasn’t as if either of them could hide! She was going to have to face Justin sometime, so it might as well be now. Hauling in a deep breath, she turned and stepped to Sebastian’s side. Sebastian allowed the movement, but kept a possessive hand at her waist, anchoring her close.

Justin, she saw, had taken up a stance near the card table. His expression was a stone-cold reflection of his voice. “I think you’d better let go of her.”

Sebastian stiffened. He gave his brother a frosty stare. “I think not,” he said in clipped tones. “And the next time, please do
me
the courtesy of knocking before you enter.”

Justin’s eyes narrowed. “Do you think I don’t see what’s happening here? You have no business touching her, Sebastian, and you know it. You cer
tainly have no business
kissing
her. So I suggest you leave her alone,” he said, his tone hard, “before she’s ruined—”

All at once he stopped short. He glanced from Sebastian’s taut features to Devon. “Dear God,” he said numbly. “It’s too late, isn’t it?”

Devon’s face had turned scarlet. Heat scalded her to the very tips of her toes.

“Justin,” she said faintly, “it’s all right.”

“No, Devon, it’s not all right.”

Devon’s fingers coiled in her skirts. Her lips parted, but no sound emerged. Justin was angry with Sebastian, not her. Something surfaced in his eyes, something she couldn’t decipher. Pity?

He gazed at her directly. “This can’t happen, Dev
on. It can’t.”

There was a horrible constriction in her throat. She wanted to clamp her hands over her ears so she didn’t have to listen. She gave a shake of her head. “Justin—”

“It’s not my intention to hurt you. I’m only trying to spare you! Damn it, do you have to make me say it? He won’t marry you.”

The words burned clear to her heart, gouging her to the core.

“He won’t marry you,” Justin repeated, as if once weren’t enough. “He’d never risk the scandal.” A shattering pause. “He’ll marry someone like Pene
lope Harding.”

Her breath left her lungs in a rush. Sebastian’s arm had slipped away. She stood rooted to the floor, alone as never before. She raised a hand to her lips, still swollen from his kiss.

“Devon!” Justin implored softly. “Do you hear me? He’ll break your heart.”

No power on earth could have stopped her then. Trembling both inside and out, she transferred her gaze to Sebastian, to his frozen expression, to the tight lines etched around his mouth and eyes. Beside her, his body had gone taut and rigid.

He looked away.

And Devon knew.
She knew
.

Something inside her withered and died. It wasn’t that he couldn’t. He
wouldn’t
. And there was a world of difference.

It wasn’t Justin’s frankness that wounded her. That she could accept. But Justin was wrong, she thought distantly. Sebastian couldn’t break her heart. It was already broken. She could feel it shatter
ing into a million shards...If he had wrenched it from her breast, the pain would have been no less.

With a stricken cry, she bolted for the stairs.

Sebastian grabbed at her hand. “Devon!” He would have been right behind her, if Justin hadn’t stopped him.

He grabbed Sebastian’s elbow. “Leave her alone.”

Sebastian spun around. “Take your hands off me!” he hissed. “Haven’t you done enough?”

Justin released him, but he didn’t back down. Toe-to-toe, they faced each other. “I was honest, Sebas
tian. That’s more than you can say.”

“Stay out of this!” Sebastian warned sharply. “This is none of your affair.”

“I’m
making
it my affair! My God, don’t you realize what you’ve done? You. Ever proper. My sainted brother—”

“I’ve never pretended to be a saint, Justin! You know that!”

“Oh, now there’s an excuse.” Justin’s tone was scathing. “God, and they call me a scoundrel!”

Sebastian’s eyes were burning. “Who the hell are you to lecture me?”

“Exactly.
Exactly
. Christ, you even convinced me I was wrong about the two of you. You told me I was! I thought you could be trusted with her. I thought you were too noble to do anything
ig
noble. I thought that you, above all people, would do the right thing and leave her alone.”

“Shut up!” Sebastian snarled.

“I will not! Do you think I didn’t see the stars in her eyes? She was an innocent, wasn’t she?”

“That’s none of your business!”

Justin made a sound of disgust. “I came here with a list of suitable candidates for her hand, yet what do I find? The very thing we were supposed to prevent—Devon in the master’s arms. Ah, but I wonder”—his tone was cutting—“what man will want your leavings? She deserves someone who’ll love her, Sebastian. Someone who’ll take care of her. Who’ll give her everything she’s never had. Or do you think to keep her here at your convenience, to make her your whore?”

Sebastian’s hands balled into fists. “She’s not a whore!”

“Oh, pardon me. Your mistress then. Your wife, when you deign to choose one, will surely love that.” Justin gave a harsh laugh. “Oh, but I’m sure you’ll figure out something. Planning was always your strong suit, wasn’t it?”

Sebastian’s breath whistled in. His big hands clenched at his sides. He wanted to pummel his brother’s pretty face.

“By God,” he said through clenched teeth, “if you weren’t my brother, I’d—” He took a step forward, only to abruptly check himself.

Justin’s eyes glittered. “Go ahead,” he chal
lenged. “I do believe we’re both spoiling for a little rough-and-tumble.”

Tension sizzled between them. Their eyes locked. They matched each other, blistering stare for blister
ing stare, a moment of sheer, utter tautness.

It was the closest they’d come to blows since they were children, and they both knew it.

It was Sebastian who ended the brittle stalemate.

His lips ominously thin, he walked stiffly to the door. “Get out, Justin.” His expression was icy, his tone glacial. “Get out before I throw you out.”

Devon lay curled on the bed, huddled in a tight little ball. She couldn’t cry. In all her days she’d never ex
perienced such depth of despair. When Mama had died, she’d felt as if a part of her heart had been chipped away. It was only now that the pain had be
gan to ease.

But this was a hurt that went far beyond tears, a pain she feared she would carry inside forever.

This last week with Sebastian ...She’d wanted so desperately to believe it could go on forever. That what they shared was more than moments of raptur
ous ecstasy, of churning, twisting limbs and clinging lips. She wanted to believe that their hearts were en
twined as surely as their bodies.