In the Devil's Bed (Sins of the Duke Book 1) (30 page)

“Procuring you a present.”

Regan blinked and pushed her chair back. She hadn’t received many presents since her father died. “Truly?”

He looked down to the parchment in his hand.

Regan frowned. “A roll of paper?”

Jack nodded seriously, but he couldn’t hide the smile twisting his lips. “Well, perhaps it’s what’s on the paper.”

Jack strode into the room and took her hand gently in his. His strong fingers enveloped hers and he gently caressed her knuckles with his thumb. He pulled her to her feet and her breasts brushed his chest.

“Open it,” he said softly.

Regan looked up questioningly, but he just smiled, the uncertainty still in his eyes. She took the parchment from him and unrolled it until her arms were stretched wide to keep it open. Her eyes darted over the black lines striking back and forth and up and down. Words were scattered all over it, in between the lines and on the very sides. As her eyes adjusted to the riot of ink, her breath caught in her throat.

“Jack?”

“Your new hospital.”

Regan swallowed as she stared at the perfect plans. It took her only moments to realize that this plan was even better than the last. It was modern and functional, but also designed for comfort. On one floor she noticed a room entitled “children’s play area”.

Tears stung Regan’s eyes and her chest burned.

“Don’t forget to breath, sweetheart,” he said against her ear.

The gentle blow of his breath teased her skin and she laughed. As she did, she drew in a breath and her chest eased. “Jack, it’s beautiful. So beautiful.” She shook her head in wonder.

He took the design and placed it on her desk, weighting the corners down with books.

“It’s right then?” he asked carefully. “We can change anything you don’t like. The architect is on call.”

So, this was why he was uncertain. He thought she mightn’t like it. “Jack, you did this for me?”

“You’ve taught me so much. You’ve taught me that hate can never replace love, that one must always weigh the cost of their actions, and that life is empty without someone to share it with.” He gestured down to the parchment. “I want to share this with you, if you’ll let me.”

Regan’s heart slammed in her chest. If she’d been afraid that he might not be able to let the past go, that fear was over. “Yes. Yes. And Yes.”

“Share your life with me as I will mine with you?”

Regan couldn’t stop the tear that slipped down her cheek. “Yes.”

Gently, Jack wiped it away then pressed his lips to hers. “I love you,” he murmured against her mouth.

Regan wrapped her arms around his muscled waist and pulled herself against his welcoming heat. “And I you.”

Jack slid his fingers into the curls of her hair and tilted her head back. Regan opened for him, gently sucking his tongue into her mouth. They kissed each other slowly. The hunger burned between them and Regan could barely think as his mouth stole across hers.

He leaned back and stared down into her eyes. “Oh, one more thing.”

Regan looked up at him, her head resting gently on his hands. “What else could there possibly be?”

“I’m running for office.”

“I always thought you should.” Regan thought of Jack taking on the stuffy politicians in the House of Commons and she laughed, delight running through her veins. “God help London.”

“No.
We
will.”

Tugging his mouth back down to hers, Regan whispered. “But not alone.”

“No.” Jack lowered his lips to hers. Regan gasped against him as he suddenly yanked her up and wrapped her legs around his waist. “You and I are going to be a force to be reckoned with for a very, very, very, long time.”

Regan smiled against his mouth, because she knew it was absolutely true.

––––––––

E
pilogue

Jack couldn’t stop smiling as he snuck into the dark, empty kitchen. He was in his own home for Christ’s sake and he shouldn’t have to creep, but at this hour he didn’t wish to wake the servants.

Light from his candle flickered over the brick oven and tile floors as he headed towards the larder. He felt like a bloody idiot. But he didn’t care. Finally, he was happy. The kind of happy that would last.

He stepped into the cool larder area and spotted the large porcelain milk jug. In her sixth month of pregnancy, Regan was addicted to cocoa. Even in the middle of the night. But especially after they’d made love.

Striding over to the stove, he reached for a copper pot and set his candle on the heavy wood carving table. He poured the milk into the pan and set it on the stove. As he reached down to check the coal fire beneath the burners, a draft tingled against his skin.

Jack stilled, his muscles tensing as he listened. He whipped around, his hand reaching for one of the knives on the kitchen table.

Adam stood in the corner of the kitchen, his body bathed in shadows. Jack blinked, disbelieving his own eyes. “The front door too conventional?”

Adam stepped out of the shadows. He smiled. “I thought I’d let the butler sleep. And this is news for your and Regan’s ears.”

Jack let his hand trail away from the knife and nodded. “Should I get her?”

“Let the poor girl rest.” Adam’s lips twitched. “I’m surprised she gets to sleep at all married to you.”

“Did you find any trouble with the Prime Minister and His Majesty?”

Adam laughed, a soft rumbling sound.

“No,” he whispered, his voice breezing through the room. “Not as much trouble as you’ll be in if you don’t get upstairs to that wife of yours quickly. So let’s speak with haste.”

Glancing over his shoulder at the waiting pan of cool milk, Jack smiled. He looked back to his friend. He’d never had any family and Dev had died. But now, at this moment, the people he cared about most were in this house. Regan, their unborn child, and Adam, who had risked his political place at Horse Guards to help him. Now, what he wanted more than anything was for Adam to find what he had found. Love. And a life with family. But that wasn’t likely. Not with the secrets that haunted his eyes.

“Out with it, then,” Jack prompted.

“You’ll be pleased to hear the former duke is probably halfway to Africa by now.” Adam smoothed his cravat casually, his eyes hard with cold amusement. “You see, he’s been made the Secretary of Arterial Affairs in the tropical isles off of Mandalay.”

Jack stared for a moment then a laugh broke from his lips. “Arterial affairs?”

“Mmm.” Adam folded his arms over his chest. “After all, the roads keep getting washed away by the torrential rains. The old bastard will ensure that they are rebuilt.” Adam paused, a self-satisfied grin curling his lips. “Over and over again.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank your wife. She’s the one who’s given you what you need.”

Jack nodded. “She’s made me want to truly live again.” Rubbing a hand over his face, Jack tried to find the words. “I think I was just barely existing before I met her.”

The smile dimmed from Adam’s face.

“Maybe you should look for a bit of peace yourself.”

“Me?” Adam laughed dryly. “God save the poor girl who gets herself shackled to me.”

“She’d have to have the patience of a saint. . .“

“There are things I must do and I have to do them alone.”

“That’s what I said once.”

Adam stared silently for a moment, his gaze unreadable and then he laughed softly. “You’ve kept Mrs. Hazard waiting too long. Go upstairs and love your wife.”

Adam turned and headed back into the shadows that led down to the servant’s entrance.

Jack stared at the empty spot where his friend had been. A slow smile tugged his lips because he could think of nothing better than doing exactly what Adam had said.

***

R
egan ran her fingers over the bolt of raspberry brocade. Then she picked up the smooth green silk. Which one would be best for a new and significantly larger robe? She glanced down at her growing belly stretching at her thin white chemise. Her lips parted in a smile.

In just a few months, she would be a mother. And she had no doubt that Jack would be the best of all fathers.

The door creaked open and she turned towards it, holding the green silk between her hands.

“What do you think. . .” the words died on her lips.

Jack’s black hair fell over his forehead boyishly as he clutched a steaming porcelain cup in each hand. He kicked the door closed behind him with his booted heel. Striding forward, he crossed to her side and placed the cups down on the mahogany table covered in bolts of fabric. His dark eyes were warm with such happiness it swelled her heart. And the faint shadow that had tinged those eyes had vanished.

Carefully, he took her in his arms.

“Your grandfather is just about halfway round the world and I hope he gets very, very seasick,” he whispered. “He’ll spend the rest of his life knee deep in mud in the tropical wilds.”

Regan widened her eyes. “You saw Lord Ashecroft?”

He nodded.

“And they really banished him?”

Jack nodded again. “He can’t hurt anyone anymore.”

Relief washed over her and she relaxed against Jack. Her grandfather had used his power for such cruel ends that she’d been afraid he’d be able to find a way out. “Thank goodness.”

He leaned down and nuzzled her neck, his warm breath brushing her skin. She could feel the peace flowing from him.

His hands roved over her back. “You wanted to say something earlier?”

Regan laughed. “Nothing terribly important. I merely wished to ask if you’d like the green silk for my robe.”

Jack tilted his head back and he looked at her. A wicked gleam shone in his eyes. “I’m certain any silk will do. But-“ He gently swept her up into his arms, cradling her against his hard chest.

As he strode to the bed, he murmured, “I will always prefer you out of it.”

The End

L
ondon

It is an accepted fact that a young widow, even a decidedly proper one, should not—absolutely not—knock on an infamous bachelor’s door. For such shocking action might result in the permanent eviction of said young widow from the society of all but Yorkshire sheepherders. Even so, Kathryn Darrell had decided that an entire life already spent rusticating in the country was significant reason to cause the largest scandal the Season had ever seen and she was going to do it with more panache than any other lady who’d launched herself into sin. So, without allowing herself to think twice, she lifted her chin and rapped on the door of Number Six Belgrave Square.

Kate drew in a slow, calming breath. She had every right to feel uneasy. Spending months planning her own debauchery was one thing; executing it was quite another. She resisted the urge to glance back at her footman, Gregory, who waited with the coach. Instead, she kept her gaze firmly upon the dark blue door. The particularly brawny servant would only be a shout away if she needed.

While she intended to be bold, she was no fool. She’d more than enough experience with foolishness. And everything was running in perfect accordance to her plans. Plans she’d been forming for months. She’d set an appointment under the anonymous name of one Mr. Braithwait. Fortunately, nothing interfered with her scheduled drive to the appointment. Now, she was about to set sights on the handsome butler who would lead her up to his far more handsome master. She would finally step into a world distant from unkindness and castigation.

Footsteps echoed on the other side of the door. She stared at the beautifully carved double blue doors as if she could see who was on the other side.

A shattering crash echoed somewhere overhead, and just as she looked up to the first floor, the door swung open, exposing a tall rectangle of candle glow and the silhouette of a squat man.

Kate jerked her gaze back to the butler in the doorway and blinked. Handsome the man was not. Crusty. It was the only word that came to mind.

He peered at her silently. Tufts of his eyebrows jutted out over his myopic blue eyes. He blinked.

Kate waited, hoping to God he would say something. She doubted the words ‘I’ve come to bed your master’ would gain her admittance into the house, and suddenly she found that her lips were rather reluctant to carry out her plan. Kate mustered her most winning grin, the grin she used to coax rectors, stubborn sheep herders, and too tightly laced curmudgeons of both the male and female variety. “I’ve come to see His Grace.”

The butler coughed lightly, bringing his gloved hand to his lips. “No.”

Kate pulled back her chin before she could stick it too far forward, a terrible habit she’d never broken. “No, sir?”

“No, miss.”

“But—” Well, what a dratted nuisance! Couldn’t the fellow just let her in? What possible excuse could she give to gain admittance to the abode of her impending debauchment? “But I have an appointment!”

S
lowly, Cordelia opened her eyes and realized he was staring down at her. His gaze was half closed with desire. “I want you,” he whispered. “Without reservations. Once. Just once.”

And oh how she wanted him. Her husband. It was such a cruel twist of fate that the man she suddenly desired more than any other man she’d ever met before was the very man who she should hate above all others. He had abandoned her, after all. Yet, her body refused to hate him. She said nothing, but lifted her hand and traced the side of his face, wishing he wasn’t so handsome, wishing that he didn’t make her feel so utterly alive in his embrace.

He swept her up into his arms and carried her to the striped pink silk chaise and lowered her so that she sat facing him. Easing her down, he knelt directly before her on the soft rug. His fingers flicked at the hem of her skirt as he held her gaze, his eyes ablaze with dangerous passion.

“I have thought of nothing else since last night,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Nothing else but you.”

“I am not going to bed you and. . .” Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at him. His words were pure torture to her conflicted soul. It was imperative she remember it was her body he wanted and nothing else. And in fact, it was only his body she longed for. For she knew him not at all. “I do not believe such drivel, my lord.”