by Adele Clee
God, how he hated the voice in his head. It fed on every negative thought and feeling, gobbled up his misery as a starving man would a hearty meal.
You must shift your thoughts to your heart.
Dariell’s wise words penetrated his mind.
Devlin glanced back over his shoulder expecting to see the Frenchman, for that was how distinctly he heard them. His friend had the gift of oratory, a skill, an eloquence, a way of getting under a man’s skin, of making him see clearly after a lifetime of wandering blindly.
And so Devlin sat there, listening to the crackling fire, staring at the flickering flames. He had never attempted to shift his thoughts. How could he when his head was so full of plots for vengeance? Did the heart not lack the capacity to think?
He focused on the organ beating in his chest and felt instantly calmer. The longer he sat there, the more peaceful he felt. What surprised him most was that bitterness did not live in the heart. It lived in the mind. In a moment of clarity, the desire to make love to his wife pushed to the fore, as did the desire to tinkle the ivory keys.
Devlin shot to his feet.
Not once, as he descended the stairs as if late for an appointment, did he give the voice in his head permission to speak. Not once, when he charged into the study and ransacked the drawer, did he stop to question his motives.
The brass key tingled in his palm as he turned left along the corridor leading from the hall. The metal object grew hot, encouraging him to hurry. Musical notes—remnants of his favourite tune—echoed as he approached.
He unlocked the door and stepped inside.
The sight of the grand piano sitting alone in the corner of the large, empty room sent his pulse racing. The wing-shaped case and the warmth of the walnut wood drew him closer. What he called the music room was in truth a ballroom with polished oak floors and a set of double doors leading out into the garden. It was a room meant for pleasure. A room meant for music.
During the years spent abroad, he had enjoyed listening to the strange tunes that rang through the bustling bazaars. The drums, sitars, the sarangi, odd-shaped pipes that produced unique sounds unlike anything he’d heard before.
Devlin moved closer and ran his hands over the smooth wood covering the keys. Then he rolled up his shirtsleeves, took his seat on the bench and flexed his fingers.
He played the compositions he remembered, let the music flow through his body. He played the pieces he’d composed as a younger man when he’d dreamed of entertaining excited throngs. The more he played, the more the notes breathed life into every fibre of his being.
But something drew his attention away from his music. Something infinitely more powerful drew his attention towards the door.
He saw her then—Juliet—gripping the jamb with her slender fingers, her wide eyes watching him, mesmerised, enthralled.
Their gazes locked.
She gasped, shrank back into the shadows.
Devlin jumped up from the padded bench. “Wait. Don’t go. Please, come and join me.”
Juliet hesitated, but then slowly pushed open the door and stepped inside. “I did not mean to spy. I did not mean to invade your privacy, but I heard the music and simply had to come.” She smiled. “You play beautifully.”
No one had ever bestowed such praise. Men lacked the heart for music. Large men were cumbersome and clunky on the keys.
Knowing that the voice in his head sought to ruin the moment, he shifted his awareness back to his heart.
“My fingers are not as nimble as they used to be.”
“Who taught you to play like that?”
Juliet closed the door and moved farther into the room. She wore the same ugly brown dress she’d worn to dinner. It was dull, poorly fitted, yet her radiance shone through. No wonder Miss Bromfield banished her sister to the servants’ quarters. The woman despised competition.
“I taught myself one year while my parents were travelling abroad.” He closed the gap between them, his slow movements like the first steps of a seductive dance. “One can master most things if one is willing to practise.”
“I would say you have a natural gift, a talent, an ear for music.”
She was alone in her judgement, but he was not about to wallow in self-pity. “It has been many years since I last played.”
“Because you were abroad?”
“Partly.”
With wide eyes, she twirled around and surveyed the room. The moonlight streaming in through the terrace doors illuminated the renaissance paintings on the ceiling and the detailed architrave that gave the place an ethereal air.
“Mrs Barbary misled me when she said this was the music room.”
“My parents rarely used it for its intended purpose. They were rather pious people, interested in assisting those in need not pandering to those who live life to excess.” Consequently, they were harsh to their privileged children, judgemental.
“Heavens. I imagine they would turn in their graves to learn you married a woman born out of wedlock.”
Devlin raised a brow. “It would be nothing compared to what they would do if they knew of the unholy things said about my brother.”
Juliet’s gaze fell. “I’m sorry Hannah feels it necessary to be so spiteful. I doubt anyone believes her.”
The same morbid questions entered Devlin’s head.
But now was not the time to dwell on the past. He would search for the letters in the morning, discover what he needed to know, rip out the snake’s fangs so she could not infect others with her venomous diatribe.
“We can discuss the matter tomorrow.” He gestured to the empty space. “It seems a pity to waste the time we have here on something that causes us both such anguish.”
A smile touched her lips. “What would you have us do?”
She could sing her sweet songs while he accompanied her on the piano. He could kiss her again, try not to hurt her this time. But they were in a ballroom, and she could not dance, and he needed to do something to distract him from thoughts of ravishing her body.
“I shall teach you to waltz.”
She shook her head. “But I don’t want to learn. I lack coordination and the elegance required to master the dance.”
“Say what you mean. You’re scared I will step on your feet and break your tiny toes.”
Juliet arched a censorious brow. “If I meant that I would have said so. I’m scared I shall embarrass myself when I have an overwhelming desire to impress my husband.”
The surrounding air was suddenly charged with a vibrant energy.
No woman had ever cared for his good opinion. And yet here stood a lady willing to trust him, willing to bare her heart despite the possibility of rejection. She could not possibly impress him more than she had already.
Devlin could not help but cup her cheek. Her skin was as soft as silk, warm to the touch. “You impress me every day just by being yourself. I know no one with a sweeter voice, no one who can command a beast with the mere click of her fingers.”
Water welled in her eyes though she was smiling. “I fear I must correct you. That dog doesn’t listen to a word I say.”
“I wasn’t speaking of Rufus.” His rich tone carried the essence of his desire for her. “Is it that you believe we will look clumsy together?”
She gave a coy shrug. “It’s not that we might look odd, but more that it might be difficult for me to look into your eyes as we move about the floor.”
“Because I am too tall?”
“Because I am too short.”
His hand slipped from her cheek. He glanced over her shoulder to the full-length looking glass on the far wall. He had to admit, that even with a foot and a half difference, they did not look as odd as one might think.
“I have a perfect solution for our first dance,” Devlin said with affection, losing all trace of his gruff countenance when in the company of his wife.
Juliet’s eyes widened. “You do?”
“Before one can master the steps, it
helps if one gets a sense of the rhythm.”
“Are you going to play?”
“No. For it will be impossible to stare into each other’s eyes when we’re so far apart.” Devlin slid his arm around her back and without warning lifted her until they were eye level. “There. You may be more than a foot off the floor, but at least you won’t have a crick in your neck.”
A chuckle escaped her lips. It was the most enchanting sound he’d ever heard. But then she did something that stole his breath, something that robbed him of all rational thought.
Juliet placed her hand on his cheek, pressed her lips to his in a chaste kiss and said, “You are very kind to me, and for that, I will always be grateful.”
God damn, he’d never been called kind in his life. “You make being kind easy.”
Her eyes sparkled, and she looked … she looked happy. “Then dance with me, Mr Drake. Let us pretend I am not as hopeless at dancing as I am at training dogs.”
“It would be my pleasure, Mrs Drake, though I do wish you would call me Devlin.”
Devlin instructed her how to hold his hand, to place her other hand lightly on his shoulder. Once he was certain he wasn’t squeezing all the air from her lungs, he set about the floor, twirling and gliding to a hummed melody.
Not once did she tear her gaze from his. The feel of her breath breezing across his cheek sent the blood racing in a southerly direction to pool in his cock. He throbbed and ached with the need to claim this bewitching enchantress. Everything about her enticed him, her carefree manner, her lighthearted laughter.
Feeling the urge to excite her further, Devlin swung her around so quickly her head lolled back. Springy red ringlets flew free from their pins. She gripped his hand, burst into fits of laughter.
“I’m slipping,” she said with a beaming grin.
“I’ll not let you go.”
“Not ever,” she joked.
“Not ever.” The sudden realisation that he meant it, that he spoke of something infinitely more profound than this playful dance, forced him to come to an abrupt halt.
Juliet’s eyes dazzled in the muted light. Their breathless pants filled the air.
“Oh, I think … I think I might like waltzing, Devlin.”
It was the first time he’d heard her say his name. How strange that one simple word could shake him to his core. “Then we must practise daily.”
“And I shall wear heeled shoes when we work on the steps.”
He didn’t want to teach her the steps. He wanted to hold her like this, wanted her to look at him with pleasure in her eyes, not fear.
“There are other things I might teach you, too.” Lust raged hot and needy through his veins when he imagined cementing their alliance.
Fear did flash briefly in her eyes, and he was relieved when she said, “You’ll not get me riding one of those muscled beasts.”
Erotic images danced in his mind when he pictured her straddling his large thighs.
Devlin kissed her once, a soft, open-mouthed kiss that promised so much more. “I was thinking of a different dance, a different form of riding. I was thinking that if you can’t tame the dog, you might like to focus your efforts on taming your husband.”
Chapter Ten
A lady did not need to be skilled in seduction to recognise the look of desire in a man’s eyes. Juliet could hear the husky sound of lust in Devlin’s voice, had felt something licentious in his kiss.
All the air in her lungs dissipated when she thought of running her hands over his bare skin. “What are you suggesting?” She did not want to be presumptuous. “Are you referring to your conjugal rights?”
“Conjugal rights?” he said incredulously as he lowered her slowly down the hard length of his body until her feet came to rest firmly on the floor. “You make relations sound one-sided.”
“But is that not the correct term?”
“Well, yes, if you’re talking to the vicar.”
“And if you’re talking to your wife?”
Devlin thrust his hand through his black hair. “I want to make love to you, Juliet. Show you the pleasure a couple might find in the marriage bed. But the more we discuss the matter, the more my mind screams of caution.”
Make love? That was not how her mother described the act.
Nerves almost rendered Juliet speechless, but Devlin’s last comment caused her to frown. “Why caution?” Was it that he was mindful of her innocence?
“I’m told it will be far from pleasant the first time, but things should improve dramatically after that.”
Juliet took a moment to gather her wits. After three nights spent alone in her bed, she’d wondered if there was something wrong with her. Clearly, her heathen husband was possessed of romantic notions.
“Then you know to be patient?” she asked even though she knew the answer. “You know I don’t have a clue what to do?”
A sinful smile illuminated his features. “And I shall be more than happy to be your guide, your tutor.” He reached for her hand. “Let us retire to your chamber and take matters from there.”
That sombre place?
“No.” A mild sense of panic ensued. She could not be intimate in a room that was like a shrine to his mother. When Devlin’s smile faded, she quickly added, “The room is dreary, so morbid. I couldn’t possibly relax in there.”
“If it’s simply a matter of decoration, then you’re welcome to make changes.”
“Yes, but that does not help the situation now.”
Oh, things were easier, more natural, when they were gliding around the floor. Juliet glanced around the ballroom. Moonlight streamed in through the terrace doors, catching the crystal teardrops on the chandeliers so that they sparkled like diamonds. The ceiling was a colourful canvas of cherubs playing harps, of Greek gods swathed in red robes, of naked nymphs luring their lovers.
“We can stay here,” Juliet said, without giving a thought to their comfort.
Devlin’s curious gaze dropped to the hard floor. “I don’t think you appreciate—”
“Please, Devlin. Let us remain in here.” She didn’t mean to sound like a coquette, like a woman skilled in the art of manipulating men. “Let us stop talking. I hear the waltz is a prelude to seduction.” Or so Hannah said. “Dance with me again.”
Without further discussion, Devlin inclined his head and then lifted her into his arms.
This time, he did not hum a tune as he held her close. They did not twirl about or break into fits of laughter. This time, they stared into each other’s eyes, moved in a slow, seductive rhythm that made all the blood in her body pool at the apex of her thighs.
She wanted this man.
She wanted her husband.
Was that not the greatest achievement of their union so far?
“You look devilishly handsome tonight,” she found herself saying.
The heat in his gaze sent a shiver rippling to her toes. “And you are by far the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on.”
Oh, she knew he was exaggerating, but she drank in the compliment regardless.
“Then perhaps you should kiss me, Mr Drake.”
“Perhaps I should.”
When he stopped moving, she knew she was about to feel those hot lips on hers. Excitement fluttered wildly in her chest like a flock of finches eager to escape an aviary.
The first touch of his mouth was electric. The sudden rush of energy lighting her from within. It lacked the urgency of their first kiss, though that was not a complaint. On the contrary, the way his mouth moved languidly over hers proved far more enticing. With every teasing movement, he gave her a little more, until the need to thrust her tongue into his mouth became overwhelming.
Impatience, coupled with a raging hunger, forced her to penetrate the seam of his lips.
She sensed the shift in him immediately. Needy and desperate, Devlin moaned into her mouth as their tongues tangled.
“Damn, Juliet,” he muttered, dragging his mouth away. “You’
re determined to rouse the ravenous beast when I am trying to be a gentleman.”
She was about to chastise him for mentioning the word beast again, but they had come this far, and any conversation would only dampen the mood. So instead she pressed herself against his solid chest, rained kisses along his jaw, pressed her mouth to the sensitive spot just below his ear.
His groan of pleasure echoed through the vast room. “By God, for an innocent you have the skill of a temptress. Hold on to my neck and don’t let go.”
She did as he asked. She would do anything he asked.
Devlin released his grip. He caught hold of the hem of her dress and shoved her skirts up to her thighs. Large hands slid up over her stockings, up over her bare skin. He cupped her buttocks and urged her to wrap her legs around him. The sensation of having her legs wide and gripping his waist only heightened the pulsing in her sex.
“Your skin is like the softest silk,” he said as he kissed her neck, as he moved slowly around the room in this dance of seduction.
Juliet’s head fell back as his hot mouth trailed towards the neckline of her dress. Oh, how she wished she wore the scandalous dress of a courtesan. How she wished the curve of her breasts bulged so he might lavish them with attention, too.
“I need more than this,” she said brazenly. Desire affected her like a drug, sent her head spinning, her body tingling. “I need to see you, Devlin. I need to touch you. Lock the door.”
With his hot palms gripping her buttocks, they glided over to the door. He pressed her back against the wooden panel as he reached down and turned the key. And then he kissed her again, in the wild, untamed way that told her he wanted this, too.
“You affect me as no woman has before,” he said as he broke to catch his breath.
The compliment meant more to her than he could know. It went some way to filling the cavernous hole in her chest, the one left by grief, by her dreadful mistreatment at the hands of those who might have loved her.
“Then make love to me as you want to.” It took a tremendous effort to keep her nerves from her voice. She would not give him a reason to retreat. Not now. Not when she longed for the closeness of his body.
