Deverell's Obsession: A Risqué Regency Romance

by Sahara Kelly

  And Dev damn near exploded right then and there. Especially when she moaned with pleasure, moved a little to rub her hard nipples over his flesh and then closed her eyes to relish the sensation.

  Her delight, her uninhibited sensuality—nearly pushed him beyond his limits. But at the back of his mind was the thought that their first time wasn’t going to be on the carpet of the small salon, good though it sounded right now.

  He wanted it to be comfortable, and prolonged. All night if possible. At least many times. A floor did not offer such luxuries and he knew neither of them would enjoy carpet burns on various portions of their anatomies.

  So he clamped down on his physical responses as best he could, and tried to focus on the moment, the sensation of her soft breasts against him, her warmth, the tiny buds of her nipples as they dug into his chest.

  How long they stayed thus, he had no idea.

  Time paused, the world slid to a standstill, and there was nothing for Dev but the taste of Léonie, the touch of Léonie, the magic of Léonie. She was his universe and he was drifting in her, lost within the spells their embrace created.

  She whimpered softly, dragging her hand down over his body and sliding it around to his back beneath his shirt.

  She touched him as if he was something precious, a learning caress stroking his spine and his torso.

  He wanted to do the same, but he knew if he did it wouldn’t stop there and there would be many carpet burns.

  He was about to sweep her off her feet and upstairs to his bed when she finally pulled away.

  “Ah Dev, this is so good. What we have, what you make me feel when you kiss me and touch me.”

  He knew she was saying something, but her breasts were bare and it was an understood truth of the human male that exposure to naked female breasts tended to cause deafness.

  “Uhhh…”

  “Yes, it’s good. And I like looking at you as well.”

  He jerked himself out of his bosom-induced stupor. “Léonie…come to my room.”

  She backed away and pulled her chemise up, covering herself to Dev’s disappointment. Then she shook her head. “I want to. Believe me, I want to. Every inch of my body wants to feel yours, every nerve ending is screaming for your touch.”

  “Then…”

  “I’m afraid.” She said it simply and without any expression, just a clear statement of fact.

  “I would never hurt you, love.”

  “I know that.” She smiled, a ray of sunshine. “Of course I know that. I also know that for us to be together would be something quite magnificent. I want to give you every pleasure one body can give another. I’m quite weak just imagining it.” She swallowed. “I desire you, Dev. I can almost feel how wonderful it would be to have you lay with me and be inside me. We are destined to explore each other and someday soon we will.”

  He sighed. “But not tonight.”

  “No, not tonight. I cannot, much as I want to.”

  “May I ask why? You said you wanted to give me every pleasure—I want to give that back and more.”

  She turned away. “I do want to give you everything, Dev. But I spoke the truth. I am afraid.”

  He walked to her and rested his hands on her shoulders, tugging gently so that she leaned against him. “Tell me.”

  “I’m afraid of giving you the one thing I’ve never given to anyone. Ever.”

  “I don’t understand,” he said, enfolding her in his arms.

  “How to explain. It’s difficult. I had a good childhood, Dev, with parents who took care of me. I had a brief marriage with a young man I liked very much. I have made friends and enjoyed their company. It was all very neat and organized and civilized. It was also devoid of any deep emotion, because such things were not expected in our society.” She paused and he could feel her lungs fill with air as she took a breath. “But the one thing I’ve never given to anyone—is my heart.”

  Dev was quiet for a long moment as the bits and pieces fell into place. “I understand, love. But let me just say one thing here. I gave you my heart long before I met you. I began the process with that painting, never realizing there was a real woman out there who could entrance me even more.” He dropped a light kiss on her hair.

  “Oh Dev.”

  “Hush, I haven’t finished. Just know this. We are, as you say, destined to be together. I think I knew that when I first laid eyes on you. But I’m not a randy young rake, and I can wait until the time is right. Until we no longer have shadows around us or mysteries to solve. I can wait until the only mystery is how many times in one night I can make you scream out my name. So until that time, just know that yes, I love you. And you are the first woman to whom I have ever given those words. I will never regret saying them, Léonie.”

  She lifted her hands to cover his. “Thank you, Dev.”

  “I will leave you. I don’t want to, but we do have a long journey ahead of us and we both need some rest.” He didn’t mention that the likelihood of him resting was miniscule. Why stir that pot?

  She turned and gave him a smile that illuminated his soul. “You are a good man Dev, and I am blessed to have met you. I’m blessed that you say you love me. And once I understand what that means, I will be able to tell you as well. I know it.”

  “Don’t make me wait too long.” He moved away but brushed his palm over her cheek.

  “I won’t.” She shook her head. “I’m almost there. Good night.”

  In what was a feat of unimaginable control, Dev turned and left her.

  Then spent the next hour telling his cock to lie down and go to sleep, and finally, as a last resort, taking matters into his own hands. Afterward, he sighed into his pillow and hoped Léonie was as restless as he was, damn her.

  *~~*~~*

  Léonie met Dev over breakfast at an unusually early hour the next day. She wanted to glower at him and curse him for causing her to toss and turn through most of a sleepless night.

  However, since his face indicated that he was of much the same mind, she decided upon silence, merely nodding and murmuring a polite “good morning.”

  After they’d both revived themselves with tea and food from the serving dishes set out for them, Léonie spoke at last. “Will it take us a long time to reach the Isle of Wight?”

  “I hope not.” Dev smothered a yawn. “We’ll use the travelling carriage to Southampton. We have to do it in one day, but that is a long trip…”

  “Don’t concern yourself about me. If we can do it in a day, then I say let’s be on the road.”

  Dev grinned. “It’ll be more than ten hours…”

  “Of which it’s most likely we’ll sleep for five.”

  “Good point.” He nodded. “Very well. I’ll send a groom off to arrange for a change of horses along the way. Are you packed?”

  “Give me an hour and I will be ready.”

  Dev lifted an eyebrow at her.

  “Do not give me that look. I have traveled extensively, and quite often at the drop of a hat. I know what I do and don’t need, so an hour will be more than adequate.” She rose from her chair. “In the hall by the front door. One hour.”

  “As you wish.” He still sounded unconvinced.

  She turned for the door. “And I shall also ask Cook for a basket to take with us.”

  “Oh, good idea.”

  “Yes. You would have forgotten, no doubt.”

  Leaving the room, she swore she heard him mutter something along the lines of “…snippy…”

  But true to her word, she was ready and waiting in the front hall with one fabric bag and a matching portmanteau. The basket stood ready for loading into the carriage.

  Ten minutes later Dev appeared, looking ruffled and shrugging into his coat. “I had to leave instructions for the staff and a note for Aunt Bertie. She will worry if I don’t tell her where we’re going.”

  “Of course.” She inclined her head, knowing full well that the house could function smoothly without any input at all from its
master. But Aunt Bertie was a valid point. “Did you make sure to tell her we were not going to be alone anywhere overnight?”

  “Yes.” Dev glanced at her. “I wouldn’t risk the dressing-down I’d get if I hadn’t made that crystal clear. She’d box my ears all the way into next week.”

  “Even though we’re engaged?” Léonie conscientiously removed a piece of lint from her cloak.

  “Even though.” Dev sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “We will obtain a maid for you in Southampton. I’ve already sent messages with another groom who is riding straight down there, and I have a few contacts who will help, so there should be no problem at all. God willing.”

  “Your coach is waiting, sir.” Baxter picked up the food basket. “I will place this inside, should you be in need of sustenance before your first stop.”

  “That’s very thoughtful of you, Baxter. We’re most grateful.” She smiled at him, since Dev seemed to be still trying to remember where he’d left his brain. “Shall we?” She walked to the door as Dev picked up her bags and a footman brought the last of them.

  “We are traveling a lot lighter than I’d expected.” He heaved the two portmanteaus into the carriage boot and then followed Léonie inside, putting her bag next to the basket on the seat opposite.

  “Told you.” She smirked. She couldn’t help it. “You fell asleep, didn’t you?”

  He shot her a withering look. “I worked late last night. I’m tired.”

  She kept her face completely expressionless. “Of course you did.”

  There was a very large sigh. “And I have this to look forward to for the next ten hours? Dear God.” He rapped on the side of the carriage and they moved off.

  Chapter Sixteen

  In fact, the journey was not as arduous as Dev had expected. Although cloudy, the weather stayed dry for most of the time, sprinkling now and again but never developing into much of anything in the way of true rain.

  For which Dev was grateful. He paid attention to such things and would have called a halt if the conditions had been miserable. His coachman and the footman who accompanied them did not deserve such punishment.

  But their luck held and with only two changes of horses, they reached their destination.

  He hoped Léonie had found the trip enjoyable, since they had both napped for a while, she leaning into his arms, he with his head leaning back against a cushion in the corner of the carriage.

  Sleeping thus for an hour or so definitely restored their temperaments and the rest of the journey passed in a variety of discussions on some wide-ranging topics.

  Dev was continually amazed by the depth of Léonie’s political perception and found himself challenged to debate by some of her opinions. His brain sparked to life when in such situations and it was a lively exchange of opinions.

  After politics, they turned to books, learning that each had a fascination for Shakespeare, Léonie enjoyed Byron and Dev confessed his appreciation of the newest sensation, Miss Jane Austen.

  And so the time passed, more quickly than he realized.

  As the bustle of the hotel surrounded them, and he watched his fiancée put on what he was coming to call her “society” face, he wondered if it had been a fluke, or if the rest of his life would be spent enjoying her company the way he’d done today.

  But the business of settling in and seeing to Léonie’s comfort took precedence over any deep contemplation. It wasn’t too long before they were separated and shown to their suites; they would dine in those rooms and not meet again until the next morning.

  Léonie wasn’t thrilled with the arrangement, but understood the necessity of maintaining a proper appearance. Dev had told her that they could breakfast together in the hotel dining room at the manager’s reserved table since it was daylight and the room would be busy, thus adding another layer to the façade of propriety.

  She’d wrinkled her nose at that word, but complied, bidding him good night with a look of resignation.

  Satisfied that she was in the capable hands of the Dolphin Hotel’s superior staff, Dev left his bag in his room and then returned downstairs. He had to meet a friend and arrange transportation for tomorrow.

  Ale would doubtless be involved, which was why he felt more comfortable attending this meeting by himself.

  It was a short walk from the hotel down past the Bargate and into a side street where the Rusty Anchor inn was located. Night had fallen and with it a light fog smelling of salt water and all the trappings of a busy port.

  He was thankful for the bright lights shining out from the inn as he opened the door onto warmth, noise and a different smell—pipe smoke and rich ale. Along with wet wool and sweat.

  Yes, this was an honest-to-God seafaring inn. And there, waving to him from a corner table, was his old friend Crispin, as grizzled and wrinkled as the last time they’d met.

  “Evening, Cap’n.” Dev walked over with a grin. “Fair winds tonight?”

  The old man rolled his eyes. “Ye’ll never make a sailor, lad. Might as well stop tryin’ and buy me a drink instead.”

  That was easily accomplished and within moments Dev was sitting not too far from a roaring fire, and enjoying a mug of the fine local ale.

  “So ye be changin’ yer mind about buyin’ a boat then?”

  Dev recalled his last trip to Southampton. He’d turned down the boat he’d looked at and tumbled into a great adventure with Charles Fontaine and his future wife. He sighed.

  “No. I’m not cut out to be a seafaring man, as you so correctly pointed out. But I do need a boat. Someone to take me over to the Isle of Wight tomorrow.”

  “Easy trip.” Captain Crispin took a swig of ale. “There’s many as would get ye there in a couple hours. Less if the wind’s right.” He looked at Dev, his gaze shrewd. “But ye know all this. Ye know there’s even a big ferry that runs that trip once a day. Ye’re a smart lad even if yer ain’t a sailor. So what is it that yer want?”

  Dev grinned. “You know, if you were in politics the world would run more smoothly, I swear. You’re a sharp old tack who misses nothing.” He shrugged. “I need someone trustworthy who will manage to forget the two passengers he took on this trip. Someone who knows the island and the waters around it and won’t mind staying there overnight so that he can get us back here the next day.”

  “Ahhh.”

  “Would you do it?”

  The old man produced a small pouch of tobacco and a pipe, and focused his attention on putting them together. Then he lit the bowl and puffed away. At last he looked at Dev. “I could, but what yer wantin’ is someone who’ll not be noticed much.”

  “Yes.” Dev nodded. “Exactly.”

  “I got me a pretty solid reputation, both here and in Cowes. I’d be hailed walkin’ down Castle street by ten o’my friends.”

  “You owe money to that many people?” Dev inquired without a blink.

  “Watch it, lad. I can still beat the livin’ daylights out o’yer if I choose to.”

  “I’m sure you can. My apologies. But I get your point. You’re well known. And yes, you’re quite right. We need someone who can slip us in, probably somewhere near West Cowes if we have to go overland. We need to get out to the Needles and Scratchell’s Bay, and would love to do it in the same trip if we could.”

  Crispin frowned. “Now fer that yer gonna need a good sailor, not just a ride. There’s many’ll do it there in Cowes, but it’ll be talked about. Bit of a rough ride, like. And the shoreline’s none too fussy about who it’ll sink jes’ for fun.”

  “Fuck.” Dev swore. He’d not taken into account this particular aspect of the trip.

  “Yer up to somethin’ against the law, lad?”

  “Good God no, nothing like that.” Dev finished his ale. “I simply wish to keep our presence there as quiet as possible. We have to be at Scratchell’s Bay at sunset tomorrow. After that, we’re done.”

  “We?” A white eyebrow rose in question.

  Dev looked at the old man. H
e’d known him for years and nearly bought a boat off him last winter. He trusted him implicitly, but still he hesitated. He ordered them two more mugs of ale and finally reached a decision.

  “To your health, Crispin. I’m going to tell you a story.” He lifted his mug and bumped it into the old man’s drink. “So sit back and pay attention. And if a word of this gets out before we’re gone, I will belay you with a gunnel.”

  The Captain winced. “Nay lad. I’m silent as the grave. Or I will be as soon as yer stop murderin’ the maritime language.”

  So Dev spent the next hour buying ales and telling the story of Léonie and her predicament to a grizzled old sailor in a cozy inn. By the time he was done, both men were grinning at each other, sharing the delightful feeling of one too many, but not enough to completely lay them flat on their faces.

  “I’ll take care o’ye, lad.” Crispin attempted a brisk nod and had to grab the edge of the table. “Be at the Shady Wharf, ‘bout a mile from the Royal Pier. Noon tomorrer.”

  “You know someone then?”

  “Aye.” Crispin managed a more effective nod without falling off his chair. “The boat’s called The Whisper. Blue, she is. Can’t miss ‘er. She’ll take yer and yer lass, and bring yer both home safe.”

  Dev held out his hand across the table. “I’m going to have a helluva headache in the morning, Crispin, but right now you’re looking more like an angel than any man has a right to.”

  Crispin shook his hand. “Yer babblin’ lad. Get yerself back to the Dolphin. Check on that gal o’yours. And good luck to yer both.” He lifted his tankard and drained it.

  Then he rested his head on his arms…and fell asleep.

  “Right then.” Dev heaved himself up and staggered to the door, wondering if he would make it home without disgracing himself by losing his ale into a gutter.

  But the weather lent a hand…the cold salty fog was akin to a slap in the face with a wet towel to a not-quite-drunk man, and he found his way back to the hotel without incident.

  He was more than a little disgusted with himself in the morning however, since he apparently had developed a gift for prophecy.