Taste of the Devil (18 page)

His mouth parted, yet her argument had temporarily befogged him. There was no way he could even answer it! He was doomed either way he spoke.

He weighed her with narrowed eyes.

Ginny rubbed her bottom lip. Her earlier assessment was right; apparently no husband, including the wastrel one, would allow a wife to dress as a man and go cavorting about an establishment like Frock’s.

Which was why she had never wanted to marry in the first place!

She had gone into disguise to write her articles and to observe another side of life. It had absolutely nothing to do with him.

“I don’t see why I have to explain myself,” she retorted stubbornly. “It is not as if we have an actual marriage.”

His brow lowered. The last person that so challenged him was making a bunk with the barnacles. Ginny was the only one to somewhat turn him into the Lord Devon he might have been had his life not been taken away by betrayal.

But he was who he was.

If she expected him to react like a dandified gadabout, she was about to learn differently.

“Have a care,” he warned in a silken undertone.

Showing not a lick of sense, she glared at him. “I will do as I please.” If Mabel had been there, she would have groaned aloud. One did not fire a pistol into the mouth of a loaded canon.

Tyler did not wait to hear any more.

Before she could say anything else, he yanked the cloth strip at her chest and tugged sharply. Ginny spun round and around as it unwound. Yelling all the while.

“Stop! Stop! Stop!”

He didn’t stop until the last scrap had been unraveled.

Her breasts sprang free, bouncing in front of him. The corners of his lips curled sardonically. “At least I will enjoy my pillow this eve, sir.”

Ginny gasped. She had no trouble figuring out what that meant. “You will do no such thing!”

“Aye, I will.”

“You, sir,” she pointed imperiously at him, “will behave yourself!”

A full throaty laugh was not the response she was seeking.

Chills skittered down her spine. It was not the kind of laugh that made one want to laugh along. By any means.

He was not reacting like the predictable wastrel the ton had gossiped about for all these years. There was a hidden authoritative command to the man she had never once suspected. It occurred to her that Tyler Devon was not a man that simply flaunted the rules of proper decorum; there was a part of him that was a renegade to such strictures altogether.

She started to back up again thinking she might actually get to make a dash for door. This stranger was unnerving her. She took one step forward.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” he intoned darkly.

The look on his fiercely handsome face was all the convincing she needed. She bolted.

He caught her up in his arms with just one move.

Powerful hands were around her waist like a vise; he effortlessly lifted her aloft. Ginny kicked at him, yelling bloody murder.

“Let me down you oaf! You cur! You...” A proper description defied her for a second. “You blackguard!”

“Blackguard? Now there’s a name for me, me heartie.”

He chuckled cynically as he walked over to the bath.

Ginny stopped struggling for a second. “What are you going to do?”

“This.”

He stripped off her pantaloons and buckled shoes and tossed her unceremoniously into the water.

Half of the contents of the tub splashed over the sides. The man paid it absolutely no mind.

The water had already chilled considerably during their confrontation. “Argh! It’s freezing!” she shivered.

He kneeled by the side. “What a pity.”

He did not seem sorry at all.

He seemed rather ruthless.

Instead of being contrite, as any gentleman would, he placed his palm at the back of her head and dunked her face straight into the water.

Ginny came up splashing. The wig she had been wearing floated to the surface between her legs like a splayed, drowned rat.

“You- you bounder!” she sputtered.

He did not respond; he simply took a washing cloth and began to scrub the garish makeup off. Ginny tried to grab at his wrists. It was as effective as a gnat pestering a dragon.

“Buggerall!” She’d heard that one at Frock’s.

“Tsk-tsk, where are your manners, my lady?” He dipped the cloth in the water to rinse it and then slapped it across her face again, scouring the last remains of Reggie off.

Fed up with his high-handed attitude, Ginny cupped her palms and hurled a water cannonade at his head. The propelled water sluiced over the side of the tub like a miniature tidal wave. It hit the target dead on.

With his palms still clamped on her shoulders, Tyler stared stonily at her as water dripped off his forehead and chin. His hair had caught the salvo as well; the silken strands below his shoulder sprayed droplets of cool water onto her arm.

His aquiline nostrils flared.

Was the rogue actually counting under his breath?

The absurdity of the situation suddenly struck Ginny.

How would she even begin to describe this bizarre scene to Henley?

Her sense of humor was ever her undoing. She threw back her head and roared with laughter.

He, however, did not appear to be as amused.

Ginny wondered if she had mistakenly eaten a bit of Sardinian plant at Frock’s and would soon keel over dead at the end of her maniacal, convulsive cackling.

What else would explain laughing on the precipice of one’s own doom? Perhaps she was being too dramatic...

Not by that look on his face.

She guessed correctly that his lordship was remembering every single torture she had ever put him through as Reggie Moore, fop extraordinaire.

There was an unsettling gleam in his eye.

“Let me see how else I can amuse you, my lady,” he purred ever-so-softly. Too softly.

Ginny broke off mid laugh. As if the silken threat wasn’t alarming enough, his heated stare now blazed a path over her exposed body clearly visible above and beneath the churning water.

Fustian! In all the commotion, she had forgotten she was starkers in the tub!

Her mouth parted in surprised dismay before she tried to cover up the embarrassing bits with her hands and the Lilliputian washing cloth.

Seeing immediately that it wouldn't work, she attempted to stand up. His hands held her put.

“Tyler, let me up! This has gone as far as it can go.”

He exhaled slowly and met her challenge dead on.

“Oh, it can go much farther.” A settled expression came over his face as if he had made his mind up about something. “And I think it’s high time it did, wife.”

So saying, he pulled her out of the tub and tossed her over his shoulder in one fluid move.

It took Ginny a moment to realize that she was now hanging upside down over the reprobate’s shoulder. His smooth skin pressed against her damp thighs. It was indecent! Yes, indecent.

She decided to bite him.

“Madam.” The flat of his palm slapped her bare bottom. Without a by-your-leave.

Ginny almost choked on her breath. “How dare you!”

she sputtered.

“How dare I?” he snickered. “How dare I not?” He glanced over at her rounded backside as it wriggled next to his chin.

The opportunity presented itself.

Lusciously.

He bit her back.

Ginny wheezed, horrified. “You, you sir, are not civilized!”

He agreed completely. “You do not know the half of it.

Ask anyone.”

He tossed her down onto his bed.

Chapter Seventeen

Ginny gazed up at him with a look of dread. “You wouldn’t.” Her traitorous voice quavered.

He stared down at her, all traces of the Tyler Devon she knew gone. ”Aye, I would.”

The expression on his set features told her he meant it.

She quickly dashed under the covers and pulled them to her nose. “I will not let you kiss me, Tyler.” Her voice was muffled from behind the counterpane.

Unconcerned, he flopped on top of the bed, next to her. Ginny kept the quilt firmly over her mouth.

He rolled onto his side and stared at her, brow arched. Ginny’s narrowed eyes were engaged for battle. Albeit above the edge of a fluffy blanket.

He snorted. “Exactly what are you doing, madam?”

“You are not to kiss me!” Her cheeks flamed as she realized he might not have been thinking of doing any such thing. Now she had gone and put the idea into his Casanova head. A small groan escaped her lips.

He viewed her askance. “What is this strange fixation you have with kissing?”

“Do not act as if you do not know.”

He gave her a deadpan look.

She sighed, disgustedly. “Do you not recall your promise to never kiss me? ‘Tis the crux of our bargain.

We are married in name only.”

“Aye, you have been named my wife...” His white teeth flashed as he gave her a sly grin. “Only.”

Did he think that interpretation to be humorous or witty? Her eyes narrowed further.

Tyler’s fingers brushed back some strands of her hair. Rather gently considering his overall mood.

“And I am your husband.”

“Very good. We know our titles. Now may I go back to my room?”

“No.”

“Why ever not?” She glared at him.

To board such an elusive ship, he was probably going to have to change course at full sail. He had always been a cunning adversary and much of his success had come from the simple fact that to win, he was always ready to change tack with nary a qualm.

So he battened down his ire. At least outwardly.

“This will be your room from now on, Ginny.” He drew her hand away from the coverlet and brought it to his pirate mouth. Soft lips pressed deftly against her palm.

Ginny started at the velvet touch.

The tip of his warm tongue swirled small, delicate circles in the center. He pulled his head back slightly and then gently blew on the damp spot he had just created.

His features were in silhouette, but she could discern a dimple carved next to the corner of that sensual mouth. Even those spiky lashes were comely.

She could see them clearly in the low light as he remained in profile.

Chills, both hot and cold, skittered up her spine.

If only he didn’t look so bloody handsome in the glow of the firelight... with that long dark hair sweeping like an ebony waterfall over his shoulders...

He turned her wrist up and captured the pad of her thumb between his even, white teeth.

Ginny closed her eyes. It tingled all the way up her arm. When she again opened her eyes he was watching her silently; it reminded her of the day they had their picnic and he had toyed with her toes in a similar fashion.

Only this time his gaze was more intense. As if there were no longer any reasons for him to bank the desire he felt.

And that worried her.

Like any great tactician, he used her temporary distraction to tug the sheets gently away from her clutches. As he continued to play and tease at her fingers with his lips, he stealthily slid under the blankets.

Only one word described a man of such techniques.

His arm came around her and Ginny could feel the hot skin of his naked body between the cool sheets and her. Almost touching...

Touching.

Speechless, her mouth parted slightly as he skillfully brought her against him. His teeth captured her little finger and played with the tip.

Ginny had the strangest feeling in the pit of her stomach. She squirmed slightly against him.

His teeth scraped along the length of her finger.

She sucked in a breath of air. Was he simply playing with her?

No, he seemed much too focused.

And he was enjoying himself as much as he was trying to get her to enjoy what he was doing to her.

Hence, the term rake, she realized.

Ginny recognized a leopard was a leopard with or without its spots.

She was not a stupid girl by any means. To the contrary, she was very quick-witted; she was just naive in these matters.

Nonetheless, she had a sinking feeling that the blackguard would consummate the marriage. He was breaching their contract.

“You are going to break your vow to me, aren’t you?” She asked in a small voice.

“Never, Ginny,” he breathed in the sweet scent of her hair. “Never.”

But, she had asked one thing and he had answered quite another.

His fingernails lightly stroked down her back. The heels of his hands massaged her lower back and hip.

It seemed odd to feel a man’s touch in such a way.

Not that she hated it.

It actually felt quite stimulating. The feather-light touches had a disproportionately strong effect. They made her tingle all over. Involuntarily, she arched into his next caress.

In response, his fingernails moved lower, strumming over her buttocks.

It was scandalous– no wonder the man had earned such a reputation!

She pressed against his palm to see whether he would do such an outrageous thing again. Just an experiment. Nothing more. To see if he...

Tyler recognized encouragement when it was presented to him.

His lips eagerly traveled to her wrist where he delivered a stinging little bite. Simultaneously, he kneaded the pert derriere that had caused so much trouble– yet so obligingly fit his palm. His touch lightly grazed along the juncture at the back of her thighs. He could already feel the moist heat of her.

Carefully he wedged his knee between her legs, sliding his thigh up along the inside.

Ginny’s breathing sped up.

He lifted her hand above her head then smoothly brought her other one up to meet it. Whereupon he captured both wrists in his hand lock.

Unaware that he had neatly trapped her, Ginny arched with her arms raised over her head. He was warm, and the scent of fresh breezes, spiced rum, and coconut seemed to emanate from him.

She almost smiled up at him, floating on the good will of divine pleasure.

Until he adroitly rolled on top of her.

She blinked. Hot male skin pressed her firmly into the mattress. It was like being encloaked in heavy, heated satin.