by Adele Clee
Anyone who attempts to hurt you must answer to me.
Mr Biggs’ grubby nails dug into her cheeks as he squeezed hard. “You’ll bring the letters to me tomorrow night. I’ll wait by the fountain at midnight. If you don’t, then Mr Drake might find himself involved in a nasty accident.” Biggs grinned, revealing the brown rot covering the top of his teeth. “He wouldn’t be the first gentleman to fall off his horse and break his neck.”
Panic choked her throat.
A man of Mr Drake’s size would hit the ground hard.
“He wouldn’t be the first gentleman to slip from a faulty saddle, neither,” Biggs added, taking pleasure from these vile threats.
“My father would condone murder just to save his daughter’s shame?” Did anyone really care about the silly things Hannah had written? Those who’d spent time in her company knew she was a heartless witch.
“I’m paid to get the letters regardless of the cost. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll do as the baron asks.”
Knots formed in her stomach.
What had she ever done to warrant such cruel treatment?
Tears threatened to fall, but she kept them at bay.
“Happen you need a taste of what to expect should you fail to obey.” Biggs released her, and she stumbled back. He drew closer and raised his hand ready to wallop her hard across the cheek.
Juliet winced. She screwed her eyes shut as she waited for the sharp sting. But then a monstrous growl filled the air, followed by the blood-chilling bark of a killer.
Rufus! Thank God!
“What the hell—”
Juliet opened her eyes just as Mr Biggs took flight. He sprinted towards the stone wall as Rufus came bounding past, almost knocking her clean off her feet. Biggs tried to clamber over the wall, lost his footing twice, and for a moment Juliet wondered if the hound would leap after him.
“Rufus!” Juliet called out to the dog as he lunged at Mr Biggs. “Come back here.”
“Get off me!” Biggs tumbled over the wall. He scrambled to his feet, whipped a blade from out of his boot and jabbed it at the animal. “Perhaps I’ll cut out that blasted tongue.”
“No! Rufus.” Juliet whistled. “Come here, boy.”
With his paws resting on the top of the wall, the hound bared its teeth at Biggs.
Juliet wasn’t sure what to do—drop to the ground in the hope of rousing the inquisitive animal’s attention or run. She chose the latter.
“Rufus!” Juliet turned on her heels, picked up her skirts and ran as fast as her legs could carry her. She glanced back over her shoulder to find the energetic animal bounding behind. Lord, she was liable to break a bone if he brought her to the ground.
With the stone bridge in sight, she did the only sensible thing. She stopped, collapsed in a heap on the grass and covered her face with her hands as the dog slobbered her with affection.
But the urge to see Devlin Drake forced her quickly to her feet.
What if Mr Biggs had an accomplice working in the stables?
What if Devlin went riding with his friend Lord Valentine and she was too late to warn him?
“Come, Rufus.” She slapped her thigh and broke into a jog.
Juliet ran until the burning in her chest reached her throat, until she could no longer feel her legs. Rufus ran beside her, his ears flapping, his eyes wide with excitement. She knew she should stop to catch her breath but the desire to ensure everything was as it ought to be at home outweighed anything else.
Home.
The word echoed in her mind.
Despite the housekeeper’s austere demeanour, Juliet had grown attached to Blackwater during her short stay. If only she could forget about her sister’s troubles and focus on building a relationship with her husband. But the baron seemed set on spoiling all hopes of happiness.
Just when Juliet had convinced herself all would be well, she charged into the cobbled courtyard to find Lord Valentine sitting astride his horse. Devlin stood beside him, no doubt waiting for his mount, too.
“No!” The word reached the ears of her husband before she had the chance to reclaim it.
Devlin’s head shot in her direction, as did Lord Valentine’s.
Rufus reached them first, forcing Devlin to pet the animal to prevent him from pawing his immaculate blue coat.
Breathless and exhausted, Juliet came to an abrupt halt. “You’re not going riding?”
Devlin raised a brow. “Is that a question or a command?”
“A question, of course.” She glanced up at the handsome figure of Lord Valentine. “Good day to you, my lord.” She slapped her hand to her chest and gasped. “Forgive me, we were running and—”
“One requires a lot of energy when trying to tame a beast,” Lord Valentine said, offering an amused smile. “I imagine they can be quite demanding.”
Juliet struggled to form a response. Her only thought was that she couldn’t let Devlin leave, had to warn him of the threat. “Most demanding indeed.” She turned to her husband. “Must you go out?”
“Valentine is leaving,” he said, a concerned frown marring his brow. “It was not my intention to provide an escort.”
“And I had best be on my way if I’m to make London before dark.” Lord Valentine touched the brim of his hat and inclined his head. “Good day, Mrs Drake. May I wish you every success with your protégé?”
“I hope you’re referring to the hound,” Devlin teased.
“Who else?”
Lord Valentine rode out of the stables. The clatter of horse’s hooves on the cobblestones sent Rufus racing to the gate, eager to give their guest a proper farewell.
“Is everything all right?” Devlin drew Juliet around to face him. “You seem agitated.”
The feel of his large, powerful hands on her shoulders was her undoing. She flew at him, wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. “I thought you were going riding with Lord Valentine.”
She could feel the uneasiness in his hard body, could hear the rapid beat of his heart.
“And why should the prospect cause you distress?” he asked with some confusion.
“You know how terrified I am of horses.” That was not the whole truth, and she knew she had to find a way to tell him of Mr Biggs’ vile threats, of her father’s unreasonable demand.
His body relaxed. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and held her in a protective cocoon. “I am an accomplished rider, Juliet, although I am touched you feel some concern for my safety. It is promising, considering the fact we married as strangers.”
But they were not strangers anymore.
From that first meeting, that first conversation in the garden, she had felt the need to put his welfare before her own. One did not do that for a stranger.
“But now we are better acquainted,” she said, trying to keep the panic from her voice. “Now, we are friends and confidantes.” At dinner they spoke with ease, discussed matters close to their hearts—when he was not questioning her about Ambrose and Hannah. “Which is why there is something I must tell you.”
He pulled away. The sudden uncertainty in his eyes gave her a rare glimpse of his vulnerability. “From your tone, I suspect it is something unpleasant.”
She nodded. “I didn’t mention it before because I believed they were idle threats.”
“Threats!” He straightened as a dark expression replaced one of uncertainty. “Damnation. Does this have something to do with your father?”
Juliet swallowed deeply. “He wants me to act as his spy, wants me to find the letters Hannah wrote to your brother.” Oh, her shoulders felt lighter having relieved herself of the heavy burden.
“His spy?” After a second’s pause, Devlin gritted his teeth and muttered a curse. “Whatever she wrote must be damning.”
“We both know she can be cruel and vindictive.”
“Evil is a more accurate word.”
Juliet touched his sleeve. “I had no intention of carrying out
his request. You must believe me.”
He glanced at her hand, met her gaze. “I do.”
“But it seems my father’s need to protect Hannah has affected all sense and logic. While out with Rufus I was accosted by a thug, by the man hired—”
“Accosted?” He did not sound at all pleased. “A man attacked you?” Wild, obsidian eyes scanned every inch of her face and body.
“Mr Biggs threatened to beat me unless I find the letters my father seeks.” Juliet rubbed the spot on her cheek where she could still feel the imprint of the rogue’s grimy fingers.
A growl resonated in the back of Devlin’s throat. It was as if the devil had burst up from his fiery grave ready to torch those who dared defy him. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me right away? Where is he? When I find him, I’ll bloody well kill him.”
“Rufus chased him off.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“A little.”
“More than you want to admit?”
“Yes.”
He dragged his hand down his face and sighed. “You’re not to wander the grounds alone, not until I’ve dealt with this matter. First thing in the morning we must search the house for the damn letters, learn what the hell your sister wrote.” He placed a comforting hand on her upper arm. “Good God, he must have scared you out of your wits, else you would not be trembling.”
“It is for you I fear.”
“Me?” he said incredulously. “Do I look like a man incapable of warding off an attack?”
Panic took hold again. “Mr Biggs said that if I fail to cooperate he will make sure you have an accident, cut the straps on your saddle, frighten your horse.”
Devlin’s eyes turned inquisitive rather than angry. “And I ask you again. Your fear is for me and not yourself?”
“Of course it’s for you. One hears of such accidents all the time. Strong, virile men thrown from their horses for no apparent reason.”
For a moment he simply stared at her, those penetrating eyes warm and caressing as they moved over her face. Without warning, he pulled her into an embrace and wrapped his strong arms around her.
“Then allow me to put your mind at rest. It would take more than vicious threats to bring me down.” The heat from his body penetrated her clothes. “And men who threaten women are not really men to fear at all.”
“You’re not worried?”
“Not in the least.”
A comfortable silence ensued.
His chin came to rest on her head, and he inhaled deeply.
Never had she felt so safe.
A rush of warmth filled her chest, and she looked up at him. His black eyes softened and the need to prolong the intimacy of the moment took hold. If she let this opportunity pass, there might not be another. She reached up with trembling fingers, stood on tiptoes and cupped his neck.
“Will you not ease my fears, Mr Drake?” The tremor in her voice was unmistakable. “Will you not touch your lips to mine and assure me all is well?”
The sudden flash of heat in his gaze stole her breath, and yet he hesitated.
Unable to fathom the reason for his lack of eagerness when he held her so intimately, she pulled his head down to hers and pressed her lips to his.
The kiss was soft, chaste, left her lips tingling, desperate for more. The brief touch told her all she needed to know—that she felt connected to him in a way she could not explain.
“Is this marriage not worth more to you than two names listed in the parish register?” she said, pulling away for he seemed unresponsive, lacked the drive to give more of himself. The pain of rejection made it hard to breathe. “When you said we would suit, tell me you meant as more than friends.”
Devlin closed his eyes briefly. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered.
“Hurt me? You’re hurting me with these conflicting moods. You stare at me when you think I’m not watching. Push me away when we have an opportunity to grow closer.”
He shook his head. “I mean I don’t want to hurt you physically.” Perhaps her sudden shock at his comment was evident in her eyes for he added, “I often don’t realise my own strength, and you’re much smaller than I.”
Juliet took a moment to consider his words. “You do want to kiss me, then? You do want me as your wife for all the reasons marriage was intended?” The three nights spent alone in bed had convinced her otherwise. And yet the mystical ring on her finger gave her hope.
“I don’t want you to fear me.”
Why could he not simply answer the questions she posed?
“I don’t fear you.” Would she wrap her arms around him if she did? “But I fear if you do not kiss me there shall forever be a barrier between us.” She moved to pull away, but he held her in an embrace. “I cannot promise it will be a pleasurable experience. How can it be when I lack the skill—”
Devlin Drake’s mouth came crushing down on hers without warning. Strong, muscular arms held her captive while he assaulted her senses with a kiss so hot, so wild it robbed her of all rational thought.
His exotic cologne—some unusual spice from a faraway land—filled her head. It was so strong, so potent, so utterly masculine. She would remember it long after they parted.
A fire in her stomach ignited. Touching his chest, running her tiny hands over the solid planes stoked the flames. And when his tongue traced the seam of her lips, when he entered her mouth, heavens, she thought she might melt beneath the heat.
For a few seconds, she was out of her depth. He dominated the kiss, controlled it, manipulated her mouth to do his bidding. Large hands cupped her cheeks as he deepened his hold on her. Oh, she had every right to fear him. This man loved with a savagery she found intoxicating.
But the need to conquer the master, to prove that being small did not mean she was subservient took hold. After all, did a roaring fire not stem from a tiny spark?
Daring to be bold, Juliet grabbed the lapels of his coat in her fists and stroked her tongue against his. The sensation sent her head spinning. The drum of a pulse between her legs left her aching for something though she knew not what. But it gave her the strength to take control of this mating of mouths, and before she knew what she was about, she controlled the speed, the tempo.
A growl resonated in the back of Devlin’s throat.
Soon they were moaning into each other’s mouths, clawing at each other’s clothes.
The internal inferno grew, leading her to a reckless place that promised a wealth of pleasure. She had forgotten they were standing in the courtyard in full view of the grooms and stable hands.
Rufus was the one who brought them both crashing back to reality.
The excitable beast jumped up, the sheer power of the lunge forcing them apart.
Devlin’s dark gaze never left hers as he fought to catch his breath.
Juliet’s chest rose and fell so rapidly her pants filled the air between them. She touched her fingers to her swollen lips as her body begged for a deeper satisfaction.
Rufus barged in between them, only ceased whining when Juliet laid her hand on the hound’s head.
“Well,” she began in the hope conversation might calm her racing heart, “I think we have broken down at least one barrier today.”
“Indeed.” Hungry eyes moved over her face. “That was … unexpected.”
“Delightfully so.”
A faint smile touched his lips. “Perhaps I underestimated you.”
“How so?”
“Despite my size, one touch of your tongue brought me to my knees.”
Juliet was not used to speaking so intimately, though she liked that her husband was in a playful mood. And knowing she had pleased him boosted her confidence.
“Perhaps I have uncovered a weakness in your strategy.” He could no longer play the fear card in this game of wits. Not when she had devoured his mouth like a reckless wanton.
Devlin shrugged. “A man must lose sometimes. Defeat is necessary when one has their eye on a greater
prize. And it seems I am on my way to winning the wager when it comes to taming that dog.”
Juliet glanced at Rufus who kept forcing his giant head under her hand so she would stroke him. “A few more days and I shall have him mastered.”
“A few more days and I imagine Rufus won’t be the only beast crouched at your feet.”
Chapter Nine
The wild, erotic kiss Devlin shared with Juliet had roused more than a burning desire to claim his wife’s body. A man could only lie to himself for so long. And clearly, Juliet found nothing overtly terrifying about his countenance. Else she would not have ravaged his mouth as if desperate to sate a clawing hunger.
By God, one taste of her sweet lips and he’d been lost in a haze of lust and longing. Her passion, coupled with her unquestionable honesty, had done more than break down the barrier of fear. Other buried desires pushed to the fore, too. Music had been his first love—his only love thus far—but men of his size did not play the piano. Men with clumsy hands did not master the keys. Men so broad looked awkward seated on the bench.
And yet music touched him in a way his family never understood.
Hearing Juliet’s melodic tones drifting through the dark corridors had reawakened something inside him. Her voice brought life to the house where previously there had been death and decay. Her captivating presence, her laughter and gaiety, brought hope for something infinitely more rewarding.
And now, as he sat once again in the fireside chair in his bedchamber, his body eagerly awaiting the moment he stalked to Juliet’s apartments to claim the passionate woman as his own, what he had seen at dinner held him rigid in his seat.
The blue bruises tainting the porcelain skin at her elbow confirmed what he suspected. All his protestations of providing protection, and he’d failed her at the first hurdle. All the time she spoke about Rufus, asked questions about Valentine, all the time he should have prompted her memory to reveal new information about Ambrose, all he could do was stare at the rogue’s imprint as shame and loathing filled his chest like a bitter poison.
No doubt her delicate skin bore Devlin’s searing mark, too, on her waist and her hips, the places he’d grabbed and held as the depth of his passion had left him unsteady on his feet.
