Well, she had her own wolf to tame, and why was Devon leaving her to defend herself? She knew he’d been watching her, although she had not known he was planning to come to the park. It had sent a shock of pleasure down her spine to discover him leaning in the concealing shade of a tree, studying her in unnerving silence.
Still, as long as he was in view, she felt assured she could keep this forward gentleman at bay.
She raised her brow at the brush of a gloved hand across her shoulder.
“I understand,” he said, “that your husband runs with a very fast and entertaining set.”
She edged away. “I can’t vouch for his friends,” she replied. “You see, I’ve actually never met—”
He smiled, walking his fingers up her forearm to her wrist. “I don’t care about your husband’s friends.”
Jocelyn stared down at his hand as if it were some annoying insect that had dropped out of a tree. She realized it was fashionable to flirt, for she had already observed that her sister-in-law Chloe was a natural at the game. Indeed, Chloe seemed capable of teasing the gentlemen who admired her and accepting all their careless compliments without giving either invitation or offense in return.
“I am on fire,” her admirer announced with almost frightening passion.
Jocelyn studied him for several moments. “Would you like me to push you in the lake to quelch your flames?”
He closed his eyes. “Wit and beauty in one woman. I fall to my knees and die.”
“Then do us both a favor.” She pulled her hand free from his unwelcome grasp. “Die at someone else’s feet. I already have a reputation for putting men in coffins.”
It appeared, however, that this headstrong gentleman took her rejection as a challenge. With an alarming absence of propriety he pursued her around the bench she had hoped would place distance between them. “Do behave yourself,” she muttered. “My husband is watching. He shall call you out if you persist in your nonsense.”
“Your husband isn’t watching,” he said in a devilishly sly voice. “He’s gone off with his friends. Don’t be such a doorknob, darling. The whole world knows that your marriage was arranged, and that in these unhappy situations, one is forced to find one’s pleasure…elsewhere.”
She whirled, infuriated because she resented being thought a lightskirt, because what he said about her marriage was true, but more because Devon had apparently sauntered off and left her at the mercy of a complete lackwit. Gabriel was suddenly standing under the tree where her husband had been.
“What I am forced to do,” she said, plucking the hand he had laid once again on her person, “is to summon my husband to rid me of your unwelcome presence.”
His thin lips lifted in a knowing smirk. “You’ll become a most lonely lady if you await his attention. I’ll wager that in a sennight you’ll be seeking me or another out to ease your longing. Everyone knows your marriage is no love match.”
“And everyone also knows,” said a deep mocking voice from the direction of the path, “that a gentleman who forces his attention on a lady has planted one foot in his own grave.”
Jocelyn glanced around in relief even though she knew her dark rescuer was not Devon but his cousin Sir Gabriel.
Not her husband, who had disappeared at the very moment she needed him the most.
Still, in the light of Devon’s disinclination to shield her from this unsavory encounter, she was grateful for Gabriel’s intervention. It gave her the respite she needed to manage a graceful escape.
She wheeled, looked up, and found herself standing directly in front of her husband. At least it appeared to be Devon, although he did not sound like or resemble the indifferent devil she had come to know and desire. This low-voiced man exuded an unfriendly aggression that forced her to step back in self-defense. He did not even glance at her.
Gabriel was strolling up behind him.
Her husband’s voice frosted the air with a forbidding chill. “Chloe has been waiting for your return, Jocelyn. And, you, sir.” He stepped around her to confront the man who stood before him in white-faced apprehension. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had the displeasure of making your acquaintance. Kindly give me the name of the man I wish to kill.”
Devon was not a man easily provoked to anger. Yet suddenly he found himself confronting a man whose countenance he did not recognize but whom he had an unreasonable urge to murder.
A firm voice spoke behind him. “Do you want me to stay or to take the ladies away?”
Devon did not turn around to acknowledge his cousin. “Take them home. I demand retribution from this person who dared put his hands on my wife.”
Jocelyn looked up at him in alarm. “It was nothing.”
“It wasn’t nothing. I saw him.” Devon advanced on the other man, who by this point could no longer maintain his mask of bravado. “He touched you. I saw him with my own eyes. Damn him. He touched you.”
“I merely brushed a leaf off her shoulder,” the gallant stammered. “I meant no offense to either you or your wife.”
A muscle tightened in Devon’s cheek. “You bloody mushroom. I’ll brush your goddamned head off your—”
“Not here.” Gabriel forced himself between the two men, his voice urgent. “You were in enough trouble last year over a certain coaching incident that I recall.”
“This is different,” Devon said between his teeth. “I thought you were going to leave.”
“Please, Devon,” Chloe said, arriving to take Jocelyn’s arm. “There are children in the park. And your friends, well, everyone can hear you.”
The shaken gallant drew a silk handkerchief from his pocket to dab across his forehead. “Will you not accept my apology? I mistook the lady’s kindness for something else.”
Devon cast an involuntary glance in Jocelyn’s direction. He barely noticed that his friends had drawn near. “Why would you presume to seek her out at all?”
The man shook his head in bewilderment. “I’m not sure myself. I’d heard a rumor that she was—”
Devon’s gaze darkened. “She was what?”
“Only that she was unaccustomed to London ways, as I…I am,” he concluded somewhat lamely.
Devon gave him a murderous look. “Then perhaps you ought to return to your place of origin until you learn more of London ways yourself, one of which is that a man does not take liberties with the wife of another.”
“With your permission, my lord, I…I think I will.”
Jocelyn could not decide how best to break the tense silence that befell the small gathering as her offensive admirer executed an escape between a pair of governesses and her young charges.
Gabriel was staring down at the ground, his expression unreadable.
Devon stood with his arms folded across his chest, his eyes still smoldering with anger.
“Well,” Chloe said with an uncertain attempt at a laugh, “this has proved to be an eventful walk. It seems we can’t leave your lovely wife alone,” she teased, one arm still protecting Jocelyn, the other extended to Devon. “I am quite impressed at your self-restraint. And good sense.”
“Well done, Devon,” Gabriel said, nodding in approval. “I hope you didn’t resent my interference.”
Devon merely shook his head.
Chloe gave him a worried look. “Why don’t we—”
Devon pivoted and strode away before she could finish, Jocelyn gazing after him in concern. How on earth had a casual afternoon ended so unpleasantly? She wished she’d given that obnoxious man a good shove into the lake when she’d felt like it. Surely Devon didn’t think she’d given him any encouragement?
“Don’t fret, Jocelyn,” Chloe said, her tone lighthearted, her eyes denoting a darker emotion. “Devon shall have to accept your appeal to other men, and this tiny scandal will be forgotten by tomorrow.”
Devon leaned against the billiard table in his library, struggling to understand his behavior today. He’d left the park without any explanation, half-hoping he would
run into that presumptuous upstart again and could purge himself of the anger he’d reluctantly suppressed.
What had the bastard claimed as his defense?
That he’d heard a rumor about Jocelyn. That she was unaccustomed to London ways.
And that feeble rationale had given another man leave to approach her?
He wouldn’t stand for it. He didn’t care if it had only been a harmless flirtation. He would not tolerate it.
How many times had he laughed at his friends who’d dueled when jealousy had gotten the better of them? Why had he thought himself above emotional entanglements? For several terrifying minutes today, reason had been unable to penetrate his rage. He’d thought he’d escaped the curse of his passionate Boscastle lineage, but it had only been lying dormant inside him all along, waiting for the right moment, the right woman, to emerge.
He picked up his cue and stretched at the waist to take a shot. From his peripheral vision he saw a figure in light-green silk slip into the room, her hair catching glints of candlelight.
“You’re brave to beard the lion in his den,” he said without turning around.
“Is the lion a danger to me?” Jocelyn asked in her soft, enticing voice.
He sank the ball into the center pocket and straightened, his gaze drifting over her. “Not to you, ever.” He paused. “Was there anything on your shoulder today?”
She smiled reluctantly. “Only his hand.”
He threw the queue down with a clatter and cursed. “I should have beaten the bloody guts out of him when I wanted to. Why did everyone try to stop me?”
“We were in the middle of the park, Devon.”
“I don’t care,” he exclaimed. “No man is going to touch my—”
She walked slowly toward him. He felt heat ignite in the marrow of his bones, a heat that made him forget what he’d been about to say. He braced his hip against the table, waiting. He told himself that he could resist her if he felt like it.
Then she inquired in a silken voice that tore his intentions to shreds, “Will you come upstairs with me?” And he knew he could not resist her at all.
She had been determined to learn more about her husband. Yet moment by moment it seemed she discovered something unknown about herself while Devon remained a perplexing mystery.
She was not so unworldly as to imagine that either sexual pleasure or an arranged union equaled love. She knew there was at least as much decency in Devon as indecency.
She had learned it was far easier to incite a man’s lust than his undying love, even if he incited both inside her.
She could not say exactly what occupied his time away from her. Perhaps she did not want to know. But when he came to her bed, he was hers, and she was determined that soon he would not want to leave.
She had decided upon leaving the park today that there was more hope for her marriage than she’d first realized. True, her father had insisted that Devon do the honorable thing. But his card of influence had been played.
The rest was up to her.
Perhaps it would be helpful to view her situation as a military operation. She could either bring her husband around to her camp or forge out blindly to battle him on his turf. And most likely lose.
A strategy was not only desirable but essential.
She wondered what weapons she could employ. She counted Chloe and Mrs. Hadley as her allies thus far. One could not undertake a war of this nature unarmed or lacking support and hope to win.
Of course, it did not take her long to decide what weapons she should use. She had only to follow her instincts.
Still, instincts or not, she was a little unsure of herself, that night in their chamber, when he removed his silk-lined coat, vest, and heavy muslin shirt. She stared at his beautifully sculptured back as he turned to lock the door.
She backed into the window, aching to offer herself to him. She decided that she would memorize the ridges of muscle interspersed with small white scars on his torso as long ago she had learned the winter constellation. Her gaze followed the sprinkling of dark hair that tapered from his flat belly into the pantaloons he had begun to unfasten.
He glanced up in that devilish way he had, the way that disrupted such basic functions of speech, thought, and the mere ability to breathe.
“What are you looking at, Jocelyn?”
She couldn’t admit she’d lost all cognition so she swung her gaze to the window and answered, “The stars.”
“The what?” he asked in amusement.
“I used to study the constellations from my window in the country,” she said, glancing at him over her shoulder.
He pushed down his pantaloons and linen drawers to stand nude before her. “Perhaps we’ll study something else tonight.”
A cascade of chills started at the nape of her neck and spread through her body. How could she pretend to hide her own hunger for him when he had only to disrobe to immobilize her with such a damnable pang of desire?
How immodest, she thought suddenly, were the demands made upon a married woman. Still, those demands should be met. Her husband had certain needs, and he was a masterpiece of a man. And…she had invited him to come upstairs.
“Which constellation were you contemplating, anyway?” he asked in a pensive voice.
She said the first thing that popped into her mind. “Taurus?”
“The bull?” he asked with a laugh.
She pretended to peer out the window again. Of course, being a cloudy night the stars were completely obscured. “Perhaps Orion.”
A shock of blue-black hair fell across his cheekbone as he laughed again. “The Hunter? Can you really see it from the window?”
“Well, I…I thought I did a moment ago.”
He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I don’t see a damned star in the sky myself, but who knows? Perhaps if we lie in bed together long enough, we’ll see a meteor shower.”
Chapter Fifteen
Devon resisted the urge to linger in bed after making love to his wife. She was drowsy and replete, curled sweetly against his own satisfied body. Satisfied?
Siren, he thought, kissing her shoulder. Sorceress. And the dying remnants of his former life fought to reassert themselves.
He rolled out of bed and quietly donned his clothes, sneaking with his boots toward the door.
Somehow it felt safer walking the misty streets of London and taking the risk of whatever physical dangers came his way than remaining at Jocelyn’s side. He debated stopping off to see one of his brothers. But he wasn’t in the mood to be teased about his marriage, or to answer the well-meaning questions his sisters-in-law would ask about his wife.
Before he knew it, he had reached his club, assuming that the familiar male haven would take his mind off all things that threatened his basic sense of survival.
He entered the candlelit sanctuary and waited for the usual diversions to tempt him. Yet instead of stopping he merely nodded at the three men who slouched indolently in armchairs around a circular table. One was Captain Matthew Thurlew, the elder brother of his old friend Daniel. The other was Lord Burnham, an earl’s son; the third a known rakehell. They were engaged in a graphic discussion of a certain Cyprian’s sexual agility.
Their aura of world-weary discontent made him feel as if he were staring at his own distorted reflection in a distant mirror.
“God, it’s Boscastle,” Thurlew muttered, brightening. “Let there be sin.”
“Are you betting tonight, Devon?” Burnham asked, his eyes half-closed.
“He’s on honeymoon, you dolt,” Thurlew retorted.
“Well, he won’t be the first devil to spend his honeymoon at the hazard table.”
The hazard table. Gabriel liked to gamble. Suddenly Devon knew he had found the distraction he sought. He had unfinished business with his cousin.
He summoned a waiter. “Has Sir Gabriel been here tonight?”
“No, my lord. If he appears, shall I mention that you were look
ing for him?”
Devon’s mouth thinned. “Yes.”
“No other message?”
“The rest I shall deliver in person.”
As he left his old haunting ground and walked outside, he found he had been followed by Thurlew and his two companions. They stumbled up beside him on the way to their carriage. “Shall we drop you off somewhere?” Thurlew asked.
Lord Burnham laughed. “In the Thames, perhaps? Bad luck getting caught, by the way. Are you already so bored of your bride that you’ve escaped her this early in the game?”
An unbidden response came to his mind. No, she’s so damn appealing that I escaped to preserve my own sanity. “Where are you idiots going, anyway?” he asked instead.
“Audrey Watson’s,” Thurlew said. “We’ve a mind to bring down Babylon.”
He laughed. The most exclusive bordello in London would never admit this unsavory trio.
“That’s a thought,” the younger man said, swaying into Devon’s side. “If we escort Boscastle there he might get us an invite upstairs.”
Devon shook his head. “She’ll have you tossed onto your drunken arses before you can knock at her door. But drive me there all the same. You’ve given me an idea about where Gabriel might have gone.”
Jocelyn had drifted off into a light sleep after she and Devon had made love, not even wanting to talk. She was more than content savoring the warm intimacy of lying beside him. Surely this closeness would serve as a milestone in their marriage.
She opened one eye just as he rolled off the bed and donned his clothes, sneaking with his boots in one hand toward the door.
She sat up in disbelief. So much for intimacy and milestones.
Her impetuous husband had taken the pleasure she offered and given her pleasure back, only to leave her without a backward glance. For several moments she stewed in her simmering indignation until some glimmer of instinct brought a strange clarity. It didn’t matter that he was more experienced in sexual matters then she. For even if she did not know where he had gone at this time of night, she thought it unlikely that he had quit her bed to seek another.
The Sinful Nights of a Nobleman Page 15
