by Faye Hall
“Who gave you this, Andrew?” Devon asked frantically, needing an answer.
Andrew squeezed the brim of his hat that he held in his hands. “S-she said you would know.” With that, the groundsman quickly left the study.
Watching the servant leave him, Devon turned his gaze back to the words before him. He had waited weeks for any sign from this woman, and now that he had one he could barely believe it.
* * * *
That weekend, while attending the Charstlon’s gathering, Devon searched the crowds of people, eager for any sign of Lotte.
“I’ve missed you, Devon,” a soft, husky, feminine voice said in barely more than a whisper from beside him.
Turning suddenly to the woman who had joined him, Devon felt his breath catch in his throat as he looked back on all the beauty.
Her colored gown was a similar style to her previous gowns, her bodice hugging her tight, her pleated skirts trimmed with lace, the soft whiteness of her bare arms near touching him. Her hair hung loosely down her back, the brilliant redness of it highlighted by the vibrancy of the emerald green of her gown.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Lotte.”
She smiled slightly. “So I heard.”
“Did your young aboriginal friend tell you I had asked after you?”
Turning, she looked directly at him. “My brother told me. Seems you’ve been making quite the scene asking after me through every ballroom in the town.”
“Do you not approve?”
“It hardly matters what I approve of. But I can assure you that your fiancée will be most upset when she hears that you—”
“I’m not marrying her, Lotte,” Devon interrupted her.
“W-What?”
Reaching forward, Devon held her hand in his affectionately. “I’m not marrying Elizabeth. I’ve told my father he can disinherit me if need be, but I shall not be burdened with a woman I don’t love.”
“George Fanti doesn’t take kindly to people breaking deals with him, Devon.”
Devon nodded. “I know, but I don’t care. I don’t want Elizabeth in my life or in my bed. I want you, Lotte.”
She tried to pull her hand free from his, but he wouldn’t let her. “But you hardly know me.”
“I know enough,” he replied. “I know that I’m willing to risk the wrath of my father and that of George Fanti all to be with you.”
The pair stood there, their gazes joined.
Devon wanted to reach out and hold her to him, to smell the sweet scent of this woman. “Lotte, I—”
“Mr. Munroy,” a sickly, feminine voice called out from behind him. “So kind of you to wait for me.”
Devon knew immediately that it was Elizabeth.
“Like a moth to a flame.” Lotte’s tone was tart as she went to turn away from him.
Devon reached for her hand, stopping her. “Please, Lotte,” he begged. “I didn’t know she was coming here tonight.”
Lotte pulled her hand free. “As you say, Mr. Munroy.”
He stood there, watching as she turned away from him and walked into the crowd. He wanted to go after her; he needed to. But just then, Elizabeth stopped beside him, her hand lowering to his, her long, slender fingers lacing with his.
“Was that Lotte I just saw with you?” Elizabeth asked.
Devon shook his head, pulling his hand free from hers. “No, that was just some woman asking if I’d seen a friend of hers. I haven’t seen your cousin in weeks, my dear.”
Elizabeth pressed herself closer to him, her breasts again molding against his arm. “Are you certain, Devon? That red hair looked vaguely familiar.”
“Look around you, Elizabeth. The room is full of Irish and English descendants. You couldn’t swing a cat in here without finding a redhead.”
Sliding her hand along his chest, Elizabeth searched for an entrance into his jacket.
Being able to stand her pawing no more, Devon pulled away from her and straightened his attire. “I need to go sort out some business matters with my father. I do hope you have a pleasant evening.” Bowing to her slightly, Devon turned and walked through the crowd of guests toward his father.
“What the hell are you doing, Devon?” his father scolded him, pulling on his son’s arm and dragging him out of immediate earshot.
“We need to talk, Father.”
Jack tightened his grip in his son’s arm. “You need to get back out there to Elizabeth!”
“No!” Devon replied shortly.
“Have you any idea what George Fanti will do to you when he discovers you’re spending more time in the company of that Higgins woman out there instead of with his own daughter?”
“Father—”
“Are you a complete fool?” his father said, his voice rising. “If George Fanti wants you to marry his daughter, then you will marry his daughter!”
“No,” Devon carefully replied.
Jack’s expression was one of disbelief.
“I’m not going to marry Elizabeth. Not now. Not ever.”
“Y-you will do as you’re told, Devon!”
Devon pulled away from his father. “I will do what I want and see whom I wish, Father. And who I want is Lotte Higgins.” With that, Devon walked away.
Devon searched the dancehall for Lotte, but he couldn’t find her anywhere. Going outside into the night air, he continued searching through the few crowds of people who had escaped the warmth of the dancehall, but he still didn’t see her.
Thinking of her mood when last he’d seen her, Devon walked further into the surrounding trees, thinking maybe he might know where she could have escaped to. Stopping at the edge of the trees, Devon let out a ragged sigh, his gaze resting on the wet image before him trying to dry herself on her petticoats.
Never had he seen Lotte look more beautiful, her damp red hair hanging around her shoulders, her wet underclothing revealing to him far more than just a glimpse of what lay beneath. Carefully, he stepped toward her, conscious not to startle her.
“Would you like a hand?” he asked, ensuring his tone remained soft so as not to alarm her.
Lotte glanced briefly over her shoulder at him. “I thought you’d still be busy in the dancehall with Elizabeth,” was her tart reply.
Stopping behind her, Devon took hold of her petticoats and continued trying to dry her.
“Why do you come here so often, Lotte? Even during a dance you’re willing to risk escaping here.”
She turned to face him. “Ballrooms and dancehalls are just so stuffy, especially in this humid country.”
“Most people find a simple walk in the gardens at night is sufficient in relieving their uncomfortableness.”
Reaching out her hand, Lotte grabbed hold of her petticoats. “I’m not most people.”
Devon ran his fingers lightly along the soft skin of her bare forearm. “I’m well aware of that, Lotte.”
Taking her petticoats from him, Lotte turned back toward where her clothes hung over a branch of a melaleuca tree.
“Did you know some lakes and rivers in Australia are said to be made from the tears of a bird?” she asked him from out of nowhere.
Devon again approached her. “I didn’t know that, no.”
Stopping behind Lotte, he reached his arms up, his palms resting against the soft skin of her arms. Slowly, he ran his hands along her damp skin, treasuring the softness of her. Leaning into her, he kissed near the back of her neck lightly, intoxicated by her sweet smell, something like rose flowers on a rainy day.
“W-we need to get back before we are missed, Devon,” Lotte tried, her words sounding forced.
Still, Devon trailed kisses along her back to her shoulder, his tongue grazing her flesh, tasting her. “You seem to know so many aboriginal legends for such a beautiful young woman,” he muttered between kisses.
“I-I find them interesting,” she stammered.
Devon’s hands went to her small waist, sliding around to her stomach and toward the apex of her thighs
, pushing her back into him. “I find your astuteness more interesting, Lotte.”
Lotte struggled to escape his passionate hold. When she finally did, she took several steps away from him, as if needing to distance herself from him.
“You find me interesting only because I slept with you, Devon.”
He shook his head, his hand reaching out to her, his fingers tracing an unseen pattern across her breasts and down her flattened stomach.
“I find you interesting, Lotte, because you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. You are certainly the most beautiful to have ever graced my bed.”
Lotte smiled at his choice of words. “But I have never graced your bed.”
He returned her smile. “That is something I wish to rectify.”
Reaching the waistband of her undershorts, Devon began pulling on their ties, begging them to let go.
“Let me, Lotte, please. I want to see you.”
Her hand went to his, stilling it. “Devon…”
“I told my father I wouldn’t marry Elizabeth,” he said as he closed the distance between them. “I told him I didn’t want her.” Softly, he kissed her, savoring the taste of her soft, red lips. Pulling away from her, Devon studied her beauty, his hand going to her face and brushing her hair back from her delicate features. “I told him I want you.”
They stood there, a breath of wind separating them, their eyes never leaving the other’s.
“Y-you told your father…”
His finger went to her lips, stilling her words. “I told him the truth, Lotte.”
* * * *
Lotte threw her arms around Devon’s neck, pulling him closer, her lips taking his hungrily. Even knowing all that her family had told her about this man and his family’s history with her own, Lotte couldn’t ignore the passionate fire he created deep inside her.
Feeling Devon pull her still damp underclothes from her and lie her down on the grassy patch beneath the melaleuca tree, Lotte was engulfed by the unbridled passions shooting through her. Unbuttoning his shirt, she frantically tried to push it off his shoulders, needing to feel his bare skin against her own.
As Devon lowered himself between her welcoming thighs, Lotte embraced him, a soft moan escaping her, begging for more. It was when he filled her with his own throbbing desire that Lotte could contain her desire for this man no more.
“Please, Devon,” she moaned against his ear. “Please…”
Trying to contain the pleasure shooting through her, Lotte gently bit Devon’s chest, knowing if she didn’t, she would surely scream from the pleasure engulfing her as she surrendered to the release of her desires. Feeling him succumbing too, Lotte knew never before had she felt such pleasure and such passion.
Holding each other close, their bodies still trembling, Lotte softly kissed Devon’s chest, her tongue tasting his masculine saltiness.
“Honey, you are the devil’s own temptation,” Devon rasped near her ear, his breathing ragged.
Again, Lotte bit his chest playfully. “Do you mind so very much?”
Rolling off her, Devon continued to hold her close. “You are everything I never dreamed I could find in any woman, Lotte. You are perfect in every way.”
Lifting her fingers to his chest, Lotte traced the obvious bite mark she had left. “I don’t want to go back to the hall, Devon. I want to stay here with you.”
He brushed her hair from her still blushed face. “Lotte, I-I…”
Lotte kissed him softly on the lips. “But I need to get dressed before my brother ventures out here looking for me.”
Helping her to her feet, Devon assisted her in dressing.
“Your brother is very protective of you, isn’t he?”
Lotte nodded. “Always has been, especially after our mother left us some years ago.”
“Have you told him about us?” Devon asked as he continued fastening her dress.
“He already knows,” Lotte replied. “It was he who told me you were engaged to Elizabeth Fanti. He didn’t approve of me playing second to an already betrothed man.”
Devon turned her around to face him. “How can you say that?”
Lotte wanted to kiss the pained look away on his face, but before she could, footsteps could be heard in the near distance.
“Lotte Higgins, you best not be swimming at this hour!” Patrick called after his sister. “Get your behind back to that dancehall immediately!”
Lotte kissed Devon hard and fast, turning to flee in the direction she had heard her brother. Devon reached out, grabbing her arm and stopping her.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. “If he finds us here like this… If he sees us together…”
Pulling her back to him, Devon joined his lips to hers hungrily. Knowing she couldn’t afford to surrender again to this man’s passions, especially not when her brother was so close, Lotte struggled against him to push herself free.
Devon still held her hand in his though, his other coming up to brush the stray hair away from her face.
“You are far more to me than some mistress, some piece of seconds to parade in front of the people of this town, Lotte.”
“Then what am I?” she asked.
His hand on her face stilled, gently cupping her cheek. “You are my love, Lotte. You are the woman I want to grow old with.” He kissed her lightly. “You are my everything.”
Tears welled in her eyes at hearing his confession of the heart. “Devon, I—”
“Lotte Higgins!” her brother shouted from the other side of the trees.
Fearful, Lotte pulled her hand free from Devon and ran into the darkness in the direction of her brother’s voice.
She had wanted to stay with Devon, had wanted to confess her heart to him, but Lotte knew that had she done so, she would have surrendered far more to Devon, and that was something she was sure her brother didn’t need to find his sister doing.
* * * *
“Excuse me, Miss Fanti,” the very nervous servant addressed her as she came to a stop beside her. “I-I have a message for you.”
Turning to see whom was speaking to her, Elizabeth didn’t try to hide her annoyance. Grabbing hold of the young girl’s arm, Elizabeth pulled her away from the watchful eyes of the crowded dancehall.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Elizabeth spat at the near tearful girl. “I told you to follow him!”
“I-I did, miss,” the servant replied. “I followed Mr. Munroy out into the gardens.”
“And?” Elizabeth asked impatiently.
The young servant girl fidgeted nervously with her fingers. “A-and… And I seen him come from behind some trees on the edge of the estate grounds. He was on his way back to the dancehall. He was following Miss Higgins back.”
“Miss Higgins?” Elizabeth asked, again grabbing the young girl firmly. “What was he doing with her?”
The girl shook her head. “’Twas too dark to see, miss.”
Letting the young girl go, Elizabeth threw a couple of coins in her direction. Turning back toward the revelers still filling the dancehall, she searched for Devon everywhere. Finally, she focused in on him standing near the drinks table, laughing and talking with Lotte Higgins.
Anger filled her at what she saw and she knew this wasn’t a friendship she should allow to blossom, or indeed any other form of relationship between the two. There was too much money at stake to risk losing someone like Devon Munroy in her bed.
“You need to teach your spies grace, Elizabeth,” George Fanti said, coming to a stop beside his daughter. “It isn’t the done thing, receiving informants in polite society. People will talk.”
Elizabeth didn’t try to hide her disgust as she turned to face her father. “People will talk?” she asked, her tone dangerous. “If you can’t get that useless excuse of a man, Jack Munroy, to learn his place, people will be talking about how much Devon Munroy enjoys his nights in the bed of Lotte Higgins!”
George swirled
his brandy in his glass. “Whatever are you talking about, daughter?”
Turning her father in the direction of the drinks table, Elizabeth pointed Devon and Lotte out to her father.
“Looking rather comfortable for two people who have just met, don’t you think, Father?”
George downed the last of his brandy. “You are overreacting, Elizabeth.”
“Don’t tell me I’m overreacting!” she spat at him, her raised voice attracting a few curious onlookers. “I had an informant follow them. They were seen leaving the scrub on the edge of the estate together.”
“And how can you be sure it was Lotte your informant saw?” George asked, seeming uninterested. “After all, she looks like every other woman here tonight. Besides, daughter, how can you be so certain Lotte is any threat to you?”
“Because Lotte Higgins is a whore who is willing to do anything to get her hands on Devon and on his money. If she succeeds in winning his affections, then she and her father get what is left of the Victorian gold. Of your gold, Father.”
George stood there for a long time looking at his daughter.
“After everything, will you just let David win what is rightfully yours, Father?” Elizabeth asked, knowing she was aggravating old jealousies between her father and David Higgins. Still, she didn’t care. She wanted that money, all of it, and she would do anything to get it, even blackmail her own father if need be. “You must do something, Father!” Elizabeth demanded. “Or I shall!”
George reached for another drink from a passing waiter. “Don’t worry yourself, daughter. The Munroys will learn their place. As for my brother, I will take care of him and his interfering daughter.”
* * * *
Devon, George, and Jack walked through the scrub lands just north of Brandon, the early morning dew still wet on the grass. The three men carried their rifles, ready to shoot.
“It’s just grand being out here, George,” Jack Munroy addressed him. “It’s been an age since I’ve been duck shooting.”
George continued walking, on the lookout for ducks. “I thought maybe it would bring back memories of England, and of better times between us.” He turned to his brother. “We used to do this often as children back in the motherland, didn’t we, David?”
