Sinfully Yours

by Cara Elliott

  There was a strangely vulnerable note in his voice that belied the sardonic words. She caught his wrist, the sudden movement causing the lantern flame to flicker wildly within the glass globe. “Why is it that you keep casting yourself in such a harsh light? I think you are far more noble than you care to admit.”

  “I assure you…” He freed his hand with a quick flick and touched the top fastening of her shirt. “I am not feeling remotely noble at this moment.”

  Was she willing to step beyond the boundaries of her world? Anna watched the starlight skitter over the rough stone below the window. This time, there would be no going back.

  “Neither am I,” she whispered.

  Devlin hesitated, as if giving her a last chance to rescind her words.

  “I’m not afraid,” she added. In truth, she was, just a little. The unknown was frightening—but also exhilarating.

  Sinner or saint? Perhaps the difference wasn’t black and white but a shadow-kissed shade somewhere in between.

  Reaching out through the hazy half-light, Anna feathered a fingertip along the line of his jaw. “I’m not afraid,” she repeated, this time a little louder.

  The physical touch seemed to dispel whatever misgivings held him in thrall. Expelling a sharp whoosh of air, Devlin seized her wrist and pressed a kiss to her palm.

  The petal-soft caress of his lips sent a spear of heat through her core. A sound—it must have come from her, for the automaton had gone silent—echoed off the walls.

  “Sweeting,” he whispered. One by one, her shirt’s fastening yielded to his hurried tugs.

  The fabric slipped over her head, leaving her upper body clad in just a thin chemise. Anna wasn’t sure whether she was hot or cold—despite the fire inside her, the dark-misted air raised a pebbling along her bare arms.

  And then, the chemise was gone and his mouth closed over her breast.

  Dear God. Dear God. His tongue teased round and round until her nipple felt like a burning ember about to burst into flame.

  She cried out again and again as wave after wave of pleasure rippled from her scalp to her toes. Fisting her hands in his shirt, she pulled it up over his back.

  Devlin broke off his embrace just long enough to yank it off. The white linen fluttered away through the shadows.

  Like the ghost of my old self, was Anna’s fleeting thought. In the next instant, however, she was no longer thinking of the past or the future.

  Only the magic of the present moment.

  His wicked, wanton, wonderful mouth possessed hers. He tasted good. More than good. A hint of brandy-sweet heat, a potent male essence that sent desire bubbling through her blood.

  Of their own volition, her fingers found the fall of his trousers.

  A throaty groan, and Anna felt his hips shudder. That her touch could affect his self-control emboldened her to push the layer of wool and the cotton drawers beneath it down to his knees.

  Another sound, low and rough, as Devlin kicked off his shoes and his rumpled garments.

  “How very lovely that breeches are so much easier to remove from a pair of shapely legs than all those cursed layers of fluff,” he murmured, expertly stripping off the rest of her clothing.

  She laughed against his mouth. “You’ve had a good deal practice, so no wonder you’re so skilled at it.”

  “I’ve far more interesting skills to display, sweeting.”

  Anna found herself rolled onto her back, her shoulders sinking into the napped fabric with a velvety sigh.

  Outside, the weather seemed to have turned stormy. A peltering rain drummed madly against the window glass, and a faraway thunder rumbled through the distant moors.

  Or maybe it was just her vivid imagination. If she were to finally write a seduction scene for Emmalina and Alessandro, it would be one with a wildly romantic setting such as this one.

  Looking up, she saw his face hovering close, its lean lines hazed in the swirl of shadows and the tangled strands of his dark hair. Only his eyes caught the weak flicker of the lantern, and within their depths an amber fire suddenly flared to life.

  “Anna.” Devlin dipped his head and now the sparks were dancing along the sinuous curl of his mouth.

  Oh, that mouth.

  Mesmerized by its sensuous shape, she arched up to touch her tongue to his lower lip.

  “You,” he rasped, “have been transformed by some ancient Highland sorcery into a temptress too powerful to resist.”

  “It’s no sorcerer’s spell,” answered Anna. “It’s…”

  It’s some far more personal alchemy. But she dared not voice such a thought aloud.

  “It’s some other potent force, though I can’t yet give it a name.”

  “Whatever it is,” responded Devlin, “it’s as intoxicating as Scottish whisky.”

  The sliver of space between them gave way to a deeply intimate kiss. Their tongues teased and twined, sending a sudden rush of liquid heat coursing down to her feminine core.

  A gasp, a shudder. Devlin seemed to need no words to understand. He covered her body with his, lithe muscle molding to her heated flesh. Instinctively her legs parted, allowing his maleness to nudge up against her feminine folds.

  Fire on fire. Igniting a burning need.

  Looping her arms around his neck, Anna whispered—she knew not what—in his ear. A cacophony of feelings were echoing in her head, but only two words rose above the din.

  Need. Want. Need. Want.

  She had teased tantalizingly close to the flames before. This time, she wished for them to consume her.

  With a low groan, Devlin hitched his hips and suddenly he was inside her.

  Anna felt a sharp pinch, and then the tightness softened as her body adjusted to their joining.

  He stilled. “Did I hurt you?”

  In answer, Anna arched up. “No, it feels wonderful—more than wonderful.” Slowly, sweetly, he resumed his earlier rhythm, and somehow her body knew just how to move in elemental harmony with his.

  Two as one.

  Devlin shifted, and she was acutely aware of myriad subtle sensations—liquid heat, thudding hearts, the exquisite friction of flesh against flesh. Everything seemed to be quickening. Her breathing was turning into ragged little gasps. With each rise and fall, Anna felt the pressure inside her growing, a cresting force searching for release.

  She knew what was coming, and yet the entwining intimacy seemed almost too intensely exquisite to bear.

  Clutching his shoulders, she cried out, giving voice to its need. His skin was damp, his muscles bunched taut beneath her fingertips, and she could feel the same thrumming pulsing through him.

  Gilded in the golden lamplight, their bodies arced on the makeshift bed, the velvety whisper of the cloth echoing the swirling sounds of passion.

  Anna felt his mouth, warm and wanting, possess hers, and for a perfect moment they seemed to be melting and molding together, two hearts beating as one.

  Thud, thud.

  And then…and then…

  The exquisite sensation was too much to bear. As Devlin’s hips thrust against hers, she felt herself shatter into swirling shards of crystalline light.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The stirring was soft as a dream at first, but quickly became more insistent, drawing him out of a honeyed sleep.

  “I have been thinking,” announced Anna.

  “Mmmm?” Devlin opened one eye, just enough to make out the quicksilver play of moonlight and shadows dancing across the plaster ceiling. “No thinking, remember?” He was still savoring the delightful languor suffusing his limbs. “It’s against the Rake’s Rules of Midnight Lovemaking.”

  She shifted on the velvet.

  “Page eight in the handbook,” he added drowsily.

  “Davenport—”

  “Devlin,” he corrected, adding a smile despite the fact that her reversion to his title stirred a small frisson of unease.

  “Very well then, Devlin,” said Anna.

  Something i
n her voice brought him wide awake.

  She rolled over to face him and propped herself up on one elbow. “It may be against the rules, but nonetheless, something important has occurred to me and I should like to discuss it with you.”

  He had an inkling of what it was. And while he had already made up his mind on what to do, he was hoping to linger just a little while longer in the blissful haze of sweet oblivion.

  “May we talk about it later?” he asked.

  “I would rather do it now.”

  Devlin had come to recognize that tone. It indicated that the earth might tremble and monuments might crumble, but her mind, once resolved on a course of action, would let nothing stand in its way.

  “You,” he said, heaving a martyred sigh, “can be exceedingly stubborn.”

  “Like you, I concede that I have more than a few faults,” said Anna sweetly. “Stubbornness is one of them.”

  The show of toughness belied the vision before his eyes. With her unpinned hair tumbled over her lovely shoulders and the rumpled fabric tucked loosely around her slender body, she looked exceedingly vulnerable.

  A teasing comment died on his lips. Instead, he hitched himself up against the wall.

  “Very well. But instead of beating around the bushes, why don’t we simply cut to the chase and avoid any awkwardness about the subject. I fully intend to marry you. Though I hope you will spare me the spectacle of a fancy wedding at St. George’s of Hanover Square.”

  “Marry?” Shock slowly spread over her face. “Ye gods, Devlin, you don’t want to marry me.”

  “After this…” He gestured at the glimmers of their moonlit nakedness peeking through the black velvet, “honor demands it.”

  “Be damned with honor!” exclaimed Anna. She frowned. “Besides, you don’t have any.”

  “That may be true, but I do have a shred of common decency left. And common decency demands that I marry you.”

  “Because I’m ruined?”

  Damn.

  Either way he answered the question would land him in a very deep and unpleasant hole.

  Taking his silence as surrender, Anna quickly went on. “So, you may put the notion out of your head.”

  “Because I’m an unprincipled scoundrel?”

  That took a little of the wind out of her sails. “I—I didn’t say that.”

  “You implied it. The Devil Davenport has the morals of a snake, so of course he can put the notion—as you so charmingly call it—out of his head.”

  “I’ve hurt your feelings,” she said, sounding surprised.

  “How could you?” Devlin replied, assuming his most offensive drawl. He did not wish for her to see, that yes, she had cut him, more than he cared to admit. “I have none of those either.”

  Anna looked away. In the shifting shadows, it was impossible to read her expression. “Forgive me, I should have worded my reaction differently.”

  The iron fist in the velvet glove, rather than bare steel smacking him square in the gut?

  “You took me by surprise,” she added softly.

  “My apologies,” he said stiffly, “for upsetting you with such an outrageous proposal.”

  “Being surprised is not the same thing as being upset.”

  “Clearly I don’t understand the nuances of language as you do,” he growled. “I’m an idiot, remember?”

  “Are you now going to sulk?” she inquired.

  His temper, which had been hanging on by a thread, suddenly snapped. “Satan stick me with his pitchfork! I am not sulking!”

  She lifted a brow.

  “Men don’t sulk.”

  “Apparently they do,” replied Anna calmly. “I’ve seen a great many sulks, and you are definitely sulking.”

  Trying to maintain some stitch of dignity—his manly pride seemed to have been lost in the helter-pelter jumble of clothing on the floor—Devlin decided to prove her wrong. “Let us drop the subject, shall we? If not marriage, what was it you wanted to talk about?”

  Anna smoothed the velvet down over her bare toes. “I really have hurt your feelings.”

  “Let us drop the subject, shall we?”

  Hitching closer, a move that revealed an all-too-tantalizing peek at her breasts, Anna touched a hand to his cheek. “I’m sorry. I truly didn’t mean to.”

  At her touch, his resolve to remain angry seemed to flit away like a midnight shadow. “You didn’t hurt my feelings, you wounded my vanity.” He forced a smile. “There is a great difference.”

  “Men!” she declared, sounding exasperated. “I swear, for all your fearsome huffing and puffing, you are even more delicate creatures than women.”

  “Are you now questioning my manhood?” Chuckling, Devlin pulled her into his arms. “I shall be happy to give another demonstration to prove that I am not a wilting flower.”

  Anna snuggled against his chest, her breath tickling sweetly against his skin. “I was speaking metaphorically.”

  “Use small words please, so that my delicate brain can understand them.”

  She laughed softly, dispelling the worst of the darkness that had settled in the pit of his belly. “Did we just have our first quarrel?”

  He gave a mock grimace. “Hardly. We have been spatting like cats and hounds ever since we met.”

  “I suppose we did go at it tooth and nail for the first few confrontations,” she mused. “But then…”

  Devlin waited for her to go on.

  “But then, it became more of…a game is not at all the right word. Perhaps a better way to describe is a test of wits.”

  “And wills?” he suggested. “You are used to being adored. That I didn’t fawn over you piqued your interest.”

  “You are used to being reviled. That I wasn’t afraid of you was something you found intriguing.” She pulled a face. “At least I knew you weren’t paying attention to me because of my money. I had none to speak of.”

  He felt himself stiffen as her words stirred an unpleasant thought. Did she think his mention of marriage had anything to do with her newfound wealth? Wrexham was a very rich man, and it was said he had gifted both of the younger Sloanes with generous dowries. As to the amount, he hadn’t a clue.

  “Are you chilled?” she asked, flattening her palm and slowly circling it against his chest.

  “Nothing—not cold nor heat nor tender sentiment—permeates my thick hide,” he replied mockingly, afraid to betray how vulnerable he felt.

  As for my heart, it feels like shards of ice are prickling like daggers against the sensitive flesh.

  Silence seized the moment. Anna drew her knees up to her chin and sat lost in thought for a while before responding. “I am not sure why you are so terrified to admit to having a sense of honor.”

  “This is getting tedious,” said Devlin through his clenched teeth. “I don’t have one.”

  “And yet you engage in dangerous work for the government to defend our country from harm.”

  “That’s because the government pays me very well.”

  Anna cocked her head. “Yes, you sound very convincing, and no doubt your assertions fool most people. However, you forget, I, too, have had a great deal of experience in hiding my true feelings from the world, so I recognize all the telltale signs of subterfuge.”

  That she could penetrate his defenses so easily was frightening. In an instant he was back to brooding.

  “Oh, dear,” she murmured. “It seems our second spat is following hard on the heels of the first.”

  “Stop that,” he growled.

  “You mean this?” Anna ran her fingertips lightly through the course curls peppering his chest. “But I like all your different textures and the way they feel against my skin.”

  “I—” Devlin expelled a harried sigh as she did it again. “Damnation, I am trying to stay angry with you.”

  In response Anna twined a curl around a fingertip.

  An apt metaphor, he decided glumly, for how easily she could wrap him around her pinkie. “You are
impossible.”

  The sweetness of her laugh nearly took his breath away. “Which only goes to show that we are truly kindred souls.”

  Then why won’t you marry me?

  Devlin held back from asking. He had already been rejected once. Twice in one night might crush even as callous a heart as his own.

  Besides, he didn’t blame her. What lady in her right mind would choose a rake with an unsteady temperament and near-empty purse when she had her choice of far more attractive suitors?

  “Cry pax, Devlin?” she added softly.

  “We are not at war,” he said quickly. Enough of personal battles that he had no chance of winning. “There are real enemies out there and we had better turn our thoughts to defeating their plan.”

  She sat up a little straighter. “I was wondering when you were going to stop being so secretive and tell me what you have in mind. How are you going to stop Verdemont, and what can I do to help?”

  “I’ve come up with a strategy for the moors, but I need to work out the final details with McClellan first thing in the morning,” replied Devlin. “As for your role, well, part of the reason I brought you here was because I wanted you to become familiar with the layout. As you might have noticed, there’s a storeroom right outside this alcove with one of those massive ancient doors that weighs more than a Highland ox. More importantly, it’s equipped with an iron padlock.”

  “Perhaps I should feel offended that seduction wasn’t your primary plan?” she interrupted.

  He waved off the suggestion. “Don’t change the subject. You know I am easily distracted.”

  She lifted a brow.

  “It would be exceedingly helpful if you could lure Lady de Blois here when we go off to the hunt. Make up some farrididdle—tell her you’ve discovered a jewel collection that seems to have been forgotten, and need her help to discern what gems are the most valuable. Act excited—she’ll understand greed as an elemental emotion.”

  “Yes, yes,” interrupted Anna. “I understand the scenario. Leave the details to me. I shall come up with a compelling scene.” She thought for a moment. “It should be easy enough to trick her into entering the storeroom…a special chest filled with Viking gold, perhaps. Or a horde of Elizabethan earrings. However, just in case she needs additional persuasion, I ought to have a weapon.”