Deverell's Obsession: A Risqué Regency Romance

by Sahara Kelly

  “Ooooh…”

  She arched, caught by surprise at the intensity of the sensation. His mouth was hot and wet and he suckled hard, tonguing the tight bud and teasing it without mercy.

  Her hips moved, her hands clutched for him and she cried out as he turned his attentions to the other breast.

  Apparently possessed of many more hands than she’d realized, he continued to suckle her into ecstasy while divesting her of her chemise. All of a sudden, cold air hit hot wet flesh.

  And his hands found her.

  She would have gasped, but the sensation of his hands on her womanly places took her breath away. This was all new, this onrush of fierce desire, so she let her body tell her what to do.

  Parting her thighs for him was a natural reflex and the moisture he found eased the way for a finger to probe her darkness. His thumb found a place…oh God what a place…and she choked down a cry as he began to caress it with just the right amount of pressure.

  All the while he kept suckling.

  She was rising, lost in the strange new heaven of sensuality he was building from deep inside. A world he’d created, spun from need and love and desire.

  She moaned and writhed, knowing now what it was to desperately crave the feel of a man’s cock inside her, moving driving her…

  “Dev, God…Dev,” she begged, clawing at whatever part of him she could reach.

  “Léonie, love. I want you.” His voice was low and his eyes heavy-lidded with passion. There was a flush on his cheeks and she knew her own must be blooming with that same color.

  “Take me, Dev. Please. I cannot live if you don’t.”

  He rose above her and slid between her legs, pushing them apart, then pausing.

  “What is it?” she whispered.

  “I’m looking at you. All rosy and pink and wet for me.” His fingers rubbed her mound and stroked her woman’s curls. “Such contrasts. So lovely.”

  “Don’t look. Do.” She knew there was an edge to her command, but she couldn’t help it. She’d left her civilized self outside the door, and any traces of maidenly modesty were crumpled on the floor with her gown and her chemise.

  “If you love me, fuck me, Dev. Now.”

  And that was all she could think of to say, because it was what she wanted above all things.

  “How can I refuse?”

  He leaned to her, lifted her thighs with his strong hands and tugged her into him, positioning his cock at the entrance to her sex. “Are you ready, love?”

  “Silly question.” If she’d had the strength she’d have glared at him, but her nerve endings were all dancing down toward her groin.

  He smiled, an amazing smile of heat and desire and sensual passion. And he slid into her on a flood of her own moisture, stretching, filling—completing her. There was no pain, no shock of penetration. Just a smooth glide of man against woman, cock within pussy.

  He pushed deep and then paused as his balls hit her hot flesh. “I’m inside you, Léonie. All the way. This makes you mine.”

  “I can feel you. It’s wonderful Dev.” She squeezed her internal muscles and heard him suck in air. She smiled. “This makes you mine as well.”

  “Yes.”

  He moved then, slowly at first, then faster, finding a rhythm that suited them both and making sure he paid attention to all her sensitive spots. His thumb sought and found that tiny place, and fireworks shot through her eyeballs. Or so it felt.

  Acting purely on instinct, she lifted her legs, locking her ankles around his back and keeping him close inside her as he picked up his pace until he hammered against her. She panted as she grabbed the bedding to hold herself steady.

  Then a fire exploded in her spine and before she knew it she was crying out, rocked and shattered by violent contractions that robbed her of her senses.

  There was another sound, a groan, long and deep, and then molten lava filled her inner places. Followed by the collapse of an exhausted man on top of her just as the last wave of pleasure faded.

  She lay there, still locked around him, her hands lifted to his back and stroking him as if he were a winded stallion. Which wasn’t a bad analogy. Of course it made her a satisfied mare.

  Although she felt more like purring than whinnying.

  “I’m having very odd thoughts.” She spoke aloud without realizing it, and he slid from her, leaving a damp trail to mark his exit. “And I’m rather…er…moist.”

  “A moment…” The bed bounced as Dev got up, and she heard water from the ewer splash into the bowl on the dresser. Then he returned and she yelped as he began to clean up the traces of their loving.

  “Damn it, that’s cold.”

  “I know. Sorry. But it’s better than being soggy all night.”

  She chuckled. “Since the rest of me feels a little limp, I suppose soggy fits the description quite well, but thank you for the courtesy.”

  He took care of himself and returned the cloth to the bowl, then snuggled back into bed beside her, pulling her head onto his shoulder and tucking them both beneath the thick coverlet.

  “You’re very polite, all of a sudden.” He turned her face toward him. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  “God no.” She cupped his cheek with her hand. “It was amazing, Dev. I had no idea my body could do the things it did. I didn’t know you would make me scream. I’m surprised and awed and…”

  “All right,” he grinned at her. “Yes, it was wonderful for me as well.”

  “Will it always be like this?”

  “You mean after we’re married?”

  She paused for a second or two. “You are sure you want to marry me?”

  He lifted up on his elbow. “You’re mine, Léonie. Of course I want to marry you. After what we just shared, could you have any doubts?” His gaze was serious. “Tell me if you do. Right now, this minute.”

  “No…no doubts. I just—we pretended an engagement, Dev, for reasons that had nothing to do with our future together. We only met a matter of days ago. It seems we’re rushing headlong into everything…”

  “And yet here we are, naked, relaxed, satisfied—at least I hope you are because I certainly am—and cuddled up like an old married couple.”

  “True.”

  “And in the short time we’ve known each other, we’ve experienced quite a few adventures, and we’re still knee-deep in a mystery.”

  “Also true.”

  He settled them both again. “We’re not children, Léonie. You have more worldly experience than any woman I’ve ever met. And I’ve not lived the life of a monk, albeit on a much more localized scale. What I’m trying to say is that our lives have made us mature enough to know what we want, no matter how quickly we arrive at that decision. It could have taken a year, or five minutes. If it’s right, we will know it.”

  “And this is right.” She smiled and nuzzled his chest.

  “This is right. It will always be right.” He dropped a kiss on her head. “Now sleep. Tomorrow we’re going to have a long talk with your father. And after that…”

  “A really big breakfast.”

  She fell asleep to the warming sound of her beloved’s laughter beneath her ear.

  Chapter Twenty

  Dev tapped lightly on the Colonel’s door the next morning.

  He and Léonie had agreed to breakfast there, and felt it appropriate to arrive at different times. Not that it made a difference, but given that it was her father’s room, they both agreed it would be more comfortable. Besides, he had to check with Miss Crispin and let her know they’d be staying for a few days.

  She let him in with a smile. “Before you ask, he’s much better this morning and has eaten a good breakfast.”

  “That is wonderful news.” Dev neared the bed. “Good morning, sir. I’m pleased to see you looking well.”

  Girard inclined his head. “My thanks. For more than just the compliment. If not for you…”

  “And Léonie,” added Dev.

  “Yes, and my da
ughter…well, I’d not be here now.”

  The man’s English was flawless, noted Dev. He spoke without a hint of an accent and his phrasing was pitch perfect. Another beneficial talent. And one he’d passed on to Léonie.

  She poured tea and passed him a cup. “Something to eat?” There were several plates and salvers on the low table at the end of the bed, already depleted.

  Dev shook his head. “Thank you, but no. I came via the kitchens and stole several slices of fresh bread.” He grinned unrepentantly. “There is something superlative about warm bread with butter, and honey that tastes of apple blossom.”

  “I believe it’s called living in the country,” chuckled Girard.

  “Well, Papa. Enough of this inconsequential chit chat. Time to get to some information and some answers about what’s going on. Please?”

  “She is a bully, Mr. Deverell. I should warn you.”

  “Consider me warned, sir. And it’s Dev, if you please. I haven’t answered to anything else since I turned fifteen.”

  “Very well then, Dev. Sit. I shall crick my neck looking at you.”

  Dev drew a small armchair from the back of the room to the side of the bed where Léonie sat. And together they looked at Colonel Girard.

  “I don’t know where to start,” he began, rubbing a hand over his hair and settling into the pillows. “I suppose I should go back to Egypt. About fifteen or sixteen years ago. When Napoleon’s invasion force arrived there with so many men…”

  Dev blinked. “It was supposed to be to protect trade interests, wasn’t it?”

  “It was. Although why no one asked if fifty-four thousand troops were needed to protect a trade route, I have no idea.”

  “But there were others, yes? Not just troops?”

  “Right daughter. Yes, there were scientists and scholars and even engineers. They began to make their own invasion and they captured the culture of the land, rather than prisoners. So many discoveries, so many exciting new historical finds. All of which were the basis of the Description de l’Egypte volumes.”

  “They were a huge success and there are more coming, I hear.” Dev was familiar with the books.

  “I believe so. But there was so much found that never made it into the documents.”

  “Ah,” nodded Léonie. “Now we come down to it. Let me guess. A fabulous cache of ancient treasure.”

  Her father grinned. “Close my dear. Very close. But not exactly a cache.”

  Silence fell in the room as they waited for Girard to get to the point. He had a gift for the dramatic silence, noted Dev.

  “It’s one thing, and one thing only. An emerald.”

  Léonie looked as amazed as Dev felt.

  Girard held up his hand as she opened her mouth. “This isn’t just any emerald, mind you. It is as big as a man’s fist and perfect in every way. I could not even begin to estimate its value. Priceless is too low.”

  “Goodness,” murmured Léonie. “That I would love to see.”

  “As would a lot of others, but few did,” continued Girard. “You see, the stone came from a scepter discovered within one of the ancient tombs. And as soon as it was removed, things started happening. Accidents, deaths, all the misfortunes that so easily build up into a legend. A curse was alleged to be on that stone and all who held it. Of course Napoleon himself was immune. He kept that emerald by his side the entire time he was there.”

  “Hmm,” said Dev. “A curse would deter many from trying to steal it.”

  “Indeed. And just before Napoleon was to quit Egypt, his advisors told him in no uncertain terms that taking it out of the country would only bring the curse along with it…something he did not need or want at that particular point.”

  “I’m guessing they were speaking of the rumors and whispers that would abound, of course. Not a particularly useful set of circumstances for someone in Napoleon’s position at that time.”

  “Quite right, Léonie.” Her father smiled at her with pride. “So the emerald was left in a secret location in Egypt, known to only two people. Napoleon, and the man who hid it—Monsieur Robles, a minor aristocrat who had wormed his way into the Emperor’s entourage.”

  “May one assume Monsieur Robles met an untimely end?” Dev shrugged. “The curse strikes, or something like that?”

  “Astute.” Girard nodded. “Actually the poor man was a terrible sailor. During a storm in the Mediterranean he succumbed to his seasickness and passed away.”

  “And with him, the location of the emerald?” Léonie leaned forward, fascinated by the unfolding tale.

  “Not quite. Because it is true that if more than one man knows a secret, it is a secret no more. Robles had shared the location with one other person—his mistress.”

  “Ah.” Dev rolled his eyes. “Predictable, I suppose. And she told…?”

  “Me.”

  Silence fell while Dev digested that blunt statement. He glanced at Léonie who was expressionless, her face betraying nothing of what might be going through her mind.

  “I extracted the information from her at the request of a certain government. They insisted that the Emperor not get such a prize to himself.” Girard lifted his chin. “I can say no more about that end of the matter. It falls into the area of governmental secrets.”

  Léonie nodded. “Go on.”

  “I felt that it was safer to leave the stone where it was, and my contacts agreed. They did their best to quell the rumors of the emerald’s existence and after a year or so it faded into a nice story, but not much else.”

  “Except…” Dev tilted his head to one side. “Except for one person.”

  “Yes. Except for Marie Rose Solange.”

  Léonie sat up suddenly. “Did you say Solange?”

  “I did.” Her father watched her. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because in London, a woman introduced herself to me. She had been Jean Solange, she said, and she told me we had met in Vienna. I couldn’t place her, to be honest. She was with the Auvergnes?”

  Her father grimaced. “Everybody was with the Auvergnes at one time or another, but yes, she might well have been there. Her future husband certainly was.”

  Léonie frowned. “She said she’d met him here in England. Montgomery? A titled man, I assumed, since she said she was Lady Montgomery now.”

  “He was titled, but with very minor status. He came into the inheritance when a distant relative passed away. Before then he was John Jenkins, aide-de-camp to several ambassadors in Vienna. He was a useful man who could always find work, either running messages or setting up meetings. There were a lot like him there. You must recall them.”

  “I do,” she answered. “But this does not exactly conform with the story Lady Montgomery told me.”

  Dev watched the two faces as they conversed. He listened, fascinated, to the tale that was unfolding, but he also found his attention caught by the similarity between father and daughter. They pounced on points of interest, interpreting them the same way—clearly, simply and logically.

  Their discussion was intriguing and complex, with richly nuanced language. He could see them with Wellington and Metternich in Vienna. Léonie would have been much more than just another beautiful woman. She was a force to be reckoned with in her own right.

  “I’m not surprised she lied to you, Léonie,” said her father. “She had much to hide, she and her husband.”

  “So they knew the whereabouts of the emerald.”

  “They thought they did. They even went to find it after Napoleon’s defeat.”

  Dev chuckled, drawing two identical gazes of curiosity.

  “Don’t look so surprised, love,” he said to Léonie. “Your father had moved it before they went looking.”

  “An astute assumption, Dev.” Girard looked surprised. “You are, of course, quite correct.”

  “Papa,” exclaimed Léonie. “You have the emerald?”

  “Well, after a fashion. Let’s just say I do know where it is.”

  *~
~*~~*

  Léonie caught her breath. “Is that why I was attacked in London? Someone thought you’d told me about it?”

  The Colonel frowned. “What’s this about an attack?”

  She had forgotten he didn’t know, and proceeded to tell him what happened on that fateful day, and how she had ended up in the safety of Deverell House.

  “Interesting,” responded her father. “I cannot tell you how thankful I am that you were cared for so well.” He shot an approving glance at Dev.

  “So you think it might have been Montgomery?” She pursued her train of thought.

  “I was supposed to meet you in Paris, I know. But there were rumors starting up again about the emerald and I was being followed. I decided to head for London, because I have a good network of allies here.”

  “Spies, you mean.” Dev gave her father a straight look.

  The Colonel looked down at his hands, then cleared his throat. “Well, I suppose some might refer to them in such overdramatic terms.”

  Léonie grinned at the subtle put-down. “Be that as it may, I have few memories of Paris and even fewer of the channel crossing. My first solid memory is of Mary and Eileen finding me, and then…Dev.”

  “My poor child. That must have been a terrible blow.”

  “It could have killed her, sir. If she hadn’t been quite so hard-headed.” He grinned at her. “And that was the doctor’s opinion, not mine.”

  “Well I was in London, and you must have received the message I left at the Hotel de Paris. It’s where we always stayed and I knew you would go there. I left you money for a passage to England and had planned on meeting you. When I couldn’t—there were risks involved for us both—I put my faith in your common sense and expected you would go to one of the largest hotels.” He reached out and touched her cheek. “I left men watching for you, daughter. It was a terrible worry, but even in England I wasn’t as secure as I had hoped. Elwyn was a convenient link, of course, since he and I had become acquainted in Europe. When I heard of his death, I despaired. I had sent him the box, you see.”

  “Yes, the boxes—and the rings…you got those in Egypt?” Léonie looked down at her hand where the emerald glowed a little in the morning light.