“Yes. I do not believe I ever have, and I need to know the best way to go about it.”
“My wife is always most pleased when I bring her a present. She seems to be particularly fond of jewelry.”
Devlin’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “You have a wife, Reynolds?”
“For thirty two years and counting,” the butler replied.
“Did I know this?”
“Apparently not, Lord Heathcliff.”
“Hmmm…” Devlin shifted the towels to one arm. “Jewelry, you say?”
Reynolds nodded. “Jewelry.”
“Do I have any jewelry to give?”
“Not that I know of, Lord Heathcliff.”
Well that was certainly a problem. Devlin knew he had great strides to cover in making up for the way he had treated Sarah. His behavior had been abominable. He could not remember ever losing his composure like that before, not even with Moira. Sarah did things to him… She made him feel things he had never felt; to want things he had never wanted. He had no idea how such a quiet, unassuming girl could have such an effect on him after only two encounters; he knew only that she did, and he was helpless against the blossoming of new, uncharted feelings he felt deep inside his chest whenever he thought of her.
“Go down to the jeweler on Elms Street. Bring back the most expensive necklace they have. One with emeralds.” Emeralds would bring out the soft flickers of green in her eyes that Devlin doubted she even knew existed. He had never met a woman who was so blissfully unaware of her own natural beauty. “Oh, and Reynolds,” he added as the butler began to walk back down the steps.
“Yes?”
“What did I tell you about calling me Lord Heathcliff? Things are going to start changing around here, Reynolds. Next week I want you to bring your wife for dinner. Do you have children?”
For the first time Devlin could remember, the butler looked surprised. “I… Yes, Lord Heath—Sir,” he amended, shifting uncomfortably from side to side, as if the idea of calling Devlin anything but his formal title was physically daunting.
“Excellent. How many?”
“How many…?”
“Children, Reynolds.” Devlin rolled his eyes. “Good God man, no wonder you have to buy your wife jewelry. How many children do you have?”
“Three.”
“Three children,” Devlin mused. He would like children. At least three, he decided on the spot. Three bright eyed, laughing girls with their mother’s blond hair and their father’s love for horses. “Bring them as well. I want to meet them.”
From down the hall came the sound of something crashing and a muffled shout. Devlin spun around. “A necklace, Reynolds!” he called over his shoulder as he raced back to the master bedroom. “With emeralds. Lots of emeralds!”
The butler lingered on the stairs for a moment, watching the Viscount until he vanished from sight. Stroking his mustache, Reynolds grinned broadly. It was high time Devlin found love, even though he went about it in the most unconventional of ways.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“I want to go home.” Holding the water pitcher above her head in what she hoped was a threatening gesture, Sarah glared daggers at Devlin. “This is most inappropriate. You… You have kidnapped me!”
Devlin took a step closer. Sarah raised the pitcher higher. Her arms trembled from the weight, and he instantly retreated. “Put that down. You are going to hurt yourself.”
With a gasp, Sarah released her grip on the pitcher as her elbows gave way. The pitcher sailed through the air towards Devlin, but he ignored it to grab Sarah as she crumpled to the floor. Following suit with the plate she had thrown to get someone’s attention, the pitcher shattered against the wall.
“I am sorry,” Sarah moaned as Devlin helped her to her feet and eased her back into the bed. She let him arrange her limbs and tuck her under the covers as if she were a doll, too dizzy to complain. “I will replace the pitcher and the plate.” Closing her eyes, she turned her face into the pillow. She did not want Devlin to see her like this: weak and cranky as a child.
Sarah had not realized her head injury was so severe until she attempted to get out of the bed and was barely able to make it halfway across the room. Her entire skull was pounding from the inside out, the pain of it enough to cause her eyes to tear and her stomach to turn.
She could not remember anything between slipping on the ice and Devlin carrying her up the stairs. How he had been the one to find her was a complete mystery, as was why he had insisted on bringing her back to his home. It was ironic, really.
For two weeks she had spent every waking moment wondering where he was, and then suddenly – as if by magic – he had appeared when she needed him most. Except (quite selfishly) she wished their third meeting had not been under such unflattering circumstances. Soaked through the skin with an enormous lump on her head was hardly the way to make a good impression, nor, she admitted silently, was throwing a plate across the room. Perhaps that had been a bit extreme, but Sarah had panicked when the realized the implications that would arise from Devlin bringing her back to his house.
Surely someone had seen them, and surely that someone would tell another someone until it spread like wildfire through the Ton.
Of course that had been the original plan: to be caught in a situation that would force Devlin’s hand in marriage. But now… Now she did not want to force him into anything. If he loved her she wanted him to love her, and if he did not… well, then he did not. At least either choice would be of his own volition and not something falsely created by nefarious means, which made her current situation quite problematic.
She was too weak to leave on her own, but if she called for her parents to come get her there would surely be questions asked and answers demanded. That left only one person in the entire world whom Sarah trusted enough to rescue her from her current predicament; unfortunately that was also the only person in the entire world who would be happy she was in it.
No, for once she could not rely on Lily’s guidance. She would have to sort it through on her own, and that knowledge alone was enough to have another dizzying wave of pain sweep over her, so fierce it caused her teeth to clench and her hands to ball into small fists on top of the quilt. She heard Devlin murmur something, and then a warm cloth was pressed gently on her forehead.
“This should help with the headache,” he said quietly.
Opening her eyes, Sarah turned to face him, focusing on his worried blue eyes as he leaned over her, his hands braced on either side of her body. “Why are you being so… so nice to me?”
Devlin’s broad shoulders lifted and fell in a quick shrug. “Because I was rude to you before. On both occasions,” he admitted with a wayward smile that did something sinfully delightful to her insides.
Holding the warm cloth in place – it did feel quite good – Sarah leaned up on one elbow. Obliging as a well trained nurse Devlin automatically fluffed a pillow to put behind her shoulders and she sagged against it gratefully. “You were rather rude,” she said shyly, lowering her gaze to the flower pattern sewed into the quilt.
“Which is why I shall do my best to make up for it now. Is there anything else you need? A glass of water? Something to eat?”
Embarrassingly cognizant of her damp dress and tangled hair – her cloak and hat must have been lost somewhere along the way – Sarah nibbled on her bottom lip as she thought of the best way to phrase her next question.
“I can have a maid draw up a bath for you,” Devlin said, his smile turning rather impish as Sarah blushed. “And find a change of clothing as well. Arrangements have already been made. You can stay here for as long as you wish.”
Her eyes flew to his in startled alarm. “Oh, no, I could not impo—”
“You are not fit to leave this room, let alone walk home. Not to mention, we are in the midst of a snow storm.”
“A… A snow storm?”
There was an undeniable hint of smug satisfaction in Devlin’s tone as he crossed the ro
om and drew back the curtains.
Sitting up a little straighter and squinting, Sarah could just make out a flood of white falling with alarming intensity from the sky. Everything in sight was covered; the roads not even clearly visible. Traveling home, even if she did not have a pounding headache, would be nigh on impossible until the weather cleared.
Her shoulders drooping in defeat, Sarah sagged back against the pillows. “I suppose a hot bath would be very nice.”
Leaving the curtains open, Devlin turned to face her and crossed his arms, a faint smile capturing the corners of his mouth. “I will have one readied for you immediately.”
Not trusting the mischievous glint in his eye, Sarah said, “Of course it will be a very private bath.”
“Of course,” he agreed readily.
“And the change of clothing…”
“You will have your choice of nightgowns and robes.” At Sarah’s raised brow, he chuckled. “Very high necked nightgowns and robes fit for a grandmother. Not to worry. You shall be covered head to foot. I can assure you, Lady Dawson, I am not as much of a scoundrel as you seem to think I am.”
Saying nothing, Sarah merely pursed her lips.
“Well, perhaps I am a bit of a scoundrel. But nothing the right woman could not fix.” On that rather enigmatic note, the Viscount left the room. Through the closed door Sarah heard him requesting hot water to be drawn and the claw foot tub in the corner of the master bedroom, half concealed by a silk screen, to be filled.
Telling herself she would only doze until it was ready, Sarah closed her eyes… and fell instantly asleep.
When she woke the room was dark save the flickering light that danced out from a fire someone had started in the hearth. Staring at the flames helped Sarah remember where she was, for her family was not so wealthy they had fireplaces in every room, let alone the master bedroom.
The throbbing in her skull had subsided to a dull ache, and when she gently touched the lump on the back of her head she was relieved to discover it had already begun to go down. That would make going home in the morning all the more easier – as long as the weather cooperated.
Grasping the edge of the blankets, Sarah tossed them aside and swung her legs over the side of the bed. That was when she could not help but notice she was not wearing the dress she had fallen asleep in.
The pale blue nightgown was made of the softest cotton she had ever felt against her bare skin. It was quite beautiful, with delicate ivory lace along the neckline, and very modest as well, just like Devlin had promised – although he had not said anything about getting her changed in her sleep!
A piece of parchment on the nightstand caught her eye. The scrawl was unfamiliar, but she instinctively knew it was Devlin’s handwriting even before she read his signature at the bottom.
If you are reading this, it means you are
awake. Ring the bell, no matter the hour.
If you require assistance. I will be
there at once. Yours fondly,
- Devlin
Sarah reread the short note twice, then once more for good measure, seeking some
hidden nuance that would tell her the Viscount’s hidden thoughts. If she did not know any better she would say he was attempting to woo her. The signs were certainly there: whisking her away to his private residence, putting her in his very own bedroom, caring for her every whim, speaking to her kindly – no, flirtatiously – at every turn. She strummed her fingers against her chin as she considered the small silver bell he had left beside the note. There was nothing she required, per say. She was a bit hungry, but could easily wait until breakfast. She had no reason in the world to ring the bell. Except…
Except maybe want was reason enough.
She was not some wide eyed, blushing school girl. Well, perhaps she was rather prone to blushing, but she was definitely not a girl. She was a woman full grown. A woman who had never known the touch of a man. The feel of a man’s mouth sliding across her neck... The rough texture of a man’s hands as he grasped her hips... The husky murmur of a man’s voice as he whispered all of the decadent things he wanted to do to her…
Before she gave herself time to come to her senses, Sarah’s hand shot across the nightstand and she rang the bell.
CHAPTER NINE
The seconds that passed between the time she rang the bell and Devlin knocked at the door were the longest of Sarah’s life. Uncertain whether she should be in the bed or out, she hovered at the foot of it, her fingers twisting anxiously behind her back while she fought to steady her breathing.
At the sound of a hand rapping softly against the door she jumped like a startled doe and had to clear her throat twice before she managed to croak, “Come in.”
Devlin slipped into the room. The fire cast his profile into shadow, but there was enough light for Sarah to see he had changed clothes as well. His white linen shirt was unbuttoned at the collar and rolled up at the cuffs, as if he had been working before she summoned him. A lock of dark hair curled over one eye, giving him a rakish appearance, and as he stepped towards her he swept it back with an impatient flick of his wrist.
“You are awake.” His gaze swept down her body, studying her as intimately as she had just studied him, and Sarah fought the maidenly urge to cover herself. “How do you feel?”
“I… Much b-better. I feel much better.” Sarah took a step back and bumped into the mattress. Wrapping one hand around the carved mahogany bedpost to steady herself, she managed what she hoped was an entrancing smile and said, “Thank you for helping me. I do not know what would have h-happened if you had not come along.”
Devlin shook his head. “There is no need to thank me. I hope you do not mind, but I had one of the maids change you out of your dress. I did not want you to catch a chill from sleeping in damp clothing. I can even give you my word I was not in the room at the time.”
“Did you want to be?”
“Did I want to be what?”
Feeling as though a thousand butterflies were dancing in her belly, Sarah bit her lip and blurted out, “In the room.”
Devlin’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “I… That is to say… Is there anything you need, Lady Dawson?”
It was now or never. Looking Devlin straight in the eye, Sarah drew a deep, steadying breath even as her knees trembled and her heart threatened to beat right out of her chest. “You,” she whispered. “I need you.”
This time there was no mistaking the Viscount’s shock at Sarah’s forwardness. His entire body stiffened and he took one step towards her before he stopped himself, jaw clenching tight. “Lady Dawson, you do not know what you are saying.”
Now that she had admitted her deepest, darkest desire Sarah felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Of their own accord her feet began to move, carrying her purposefully across the distance that separated her from Devlin. His arms remained rigid at his sides, the only sign he was having difficulty controlling himself in the clenching and unclenching of his fists.
Tipping her chin up Sarah studied the fathomless depths of his stormy blue eyes and what she saw caused her lips to curve and an unprecedented sense of confidence to settle serenely on her shoulders.
“Call me Sarah.” She raised her hands and pressed them flat against Devlin’s chest. He inhaled sharply at her touch, and Sarah’s smile grew. Through the thin fabric of his shirt she could feel his heartbeat. It thundered under her palms, revealing Devlin was not quite as composed as he would have her believe. “And I know exactly what I am saying.”
“Sarah…” he spoke her name on a ragged breath, his expression pained as he gazed down upon her. “Are you certain? I do not want you to regret—”
Sarah rose up on her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to Devlin’s, effectively silencing him. For a fleeting moment he did not move, and she hesitated, suddenly unsure if she had been mistaken in her assumption that he desired her as much as she did him, but then on a muffled groan his arms closed around her slender body a
nd he pulled her into his embrace.
For Sarah, whose only experience with kissing came from what she had heard whispered at tea parties and balls, the sensation of having Devlin’s lips contoured to hers was blissfully new and exciting. She had no idea what to do, but he guided her patiently, running his tongue along her bottom lip, nibbling at the corners of her mouth, and – surprises of all surprises – kissing inside her mouth.
His hands moved in soothing strokes up and down her spine, slipping lower and lower with every pass. Instinctively Sarah moved closer to him, pressing her body tight against his and winding her fingers up through his hair.
Firelight bathed them, flickering over their joined silhouette as Devlin easily scooped Sarah up and carried her to the bed. He laid her upon the mattress with reverence, his gaze boldly traveling the length of her delicate frame before he stretched out beside her, wrapping one arm around her ribcage while the other cupped the back of her head.
“Relax,” he whispered against her ear before he lowered his head to nip at the exposed curve of her neck. Sarah shuddered, then sighed with pleasure as he pressed his mouth to hers and drew her tongue to his. “You taste like honey.” The hand at her waist began to slowly wander up towards the swell of her breasts. He cupped one and then the other, his thumb flicking over her hardened nipples through the soft cloth of her nightgown while she arched her back and gasped in wonder at the feelings he was bringing to life inside of her, as if she were a violin and he a musician, plucking notes from her body she had never even known existed.
With a deft pull Devlin undid the laces at the top of her nightgown, baring her shoulders and breasts to his hungry gaze. “Beautiful,” he murmured as his fingers trailed over her creamy flesh, leaving goose bumps in their wake. “Perfect.” When his mouth followed his fingers Sarah’s eyes flew open in shock and quickly darkened with pleasure. She was burning from the inside out, her body aching for someone she could not put into words.
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