Kathryn Smith (13 page)

He could remind her that sneaking away like this was wrong as far as society was concerned, but he didn’t. What they did was none of society’s business.

“All right,” he agreed. “We will be more careful.”

He could be so agreeable because the house party would end soon, and then he would take possession of Rosewood. Once all the guests had returned to town, Devlin would set about courting Blythe properly. Miles wouldn’t object, not after all the not-so-subtle matchmaking he and Varya had attempted over the last week.

“I saw Lady Ashby talking to you. What did she want?”

Devlin smiled. “Jealous?”

Blythe arched a brow. “Of her? Hardly.” She paused.

“What did she want?”

His smile twisted wryly. “I think she wanted to be my lioness.”

“She likened you to a lion?” If her expression wasn’t dubious enough, her tone was.

He nodded. “She did. What are you doing?”

She scratched behind his ear with a smirk. “Seeing if I can make you purr.”

Laughing, he wrapped his arms around her waist and hauled her up into his lap. “Try it now.”

She kissed him instead, locking her arms around his neck and pressing her soft lips to his. A jolt of sheer sensual pleasure washed over him as she explored his mouth with her tongue. Over the past few days she had become more and more aggressive with him, initiating or taking control of much of their intimate contact. Devlin liked it. It aroused him to know that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

It was time to take things further. He’d been waiting for this moment ever since their first kiss. Since then he’d not dared go any further than touching her breasts, even though he ached to feel the rest of her. Now it was time. This would be the beginning of her seduction into becoming his wife.

Returning her kiss with equal ardor, Devlin kept one hand around Blythe’s waist as the other one crept beneath her skirts. She jumped as his fingers skimmed the silky length of her stocking-clad calf, but made no move to stop him.

Her calves were long and muscular, firm beneath his palm. He explored further, sliding his hand past the garters above her knees. Delicate embroidery rubbed against his fingertips.

Her round thighs were warm—and closed—to his touch. Undaunted, Devlin eased his hand up further as his tongue slid against hers. Tenderly, he twined his fingers through the soft curls at the apex of her legs, tickling the sensitive flesh there and slowly, ever so slowly, easing his hand closer and closer to the desired spot.

Her thighs relaxed under his gentle coaxing and parted as he pressed the pads of his fingers high against the warm cleft.

“Open for me,” he whispered against the hot sweetness of her mouth.

Her eyes opened, heavy-lidded and bright. Her gaze locked with his, and he saw the desire and uncertainty there.

“Let me touch you.” Another stroke. “Please.”

Whether it was the pleasure or the “please” that convinced her he didn’t know and didn’t care. Her buttocks pressing down on the aching length of his erection, Blythe parted her legs as far as her narrow skirts would allow. It was enough.

Devlin’s hand stroked downward, easing his middle finger between the swollen lips of her sex. Hot, wet flesh met his questing touch and he groaned against her mouth.

Deeper his finger slid, the muscles of her slick passage clutching it tightly. There was no barrier against his intrusion—Blythe’s active lifestyle had no doubt long ago ridded her of the thin membrane that often made a woman’s first sexual experience a painful rather than pleasureful experience. He could enter her easily, without worrying about hurting her. Good.

When his finger was as deep within her as it could go, he began moving it: slowly, in and out, in and out. Blythe squirmed in his lap, pushing against his hand, dampening his palm with her juices.

He added another finger, plunging them inside her as
though it was actually his cock thrusting there. She clung to his shoulders and whimpered at his sensual assault.

But he wasn’t done with her yet. As she soaked and gripped his fingers, he slid his thumb up her slick furrow to the small nubbin of erect flesh that he knew ached for his attention. He touched it reverently with the tip of his thumb.

Her hips arched as she gasped into his mouth. He could feel her body tensing as she pushed against his hand, writhing on his lap until her skirts rode high on her thighs and Devlin thought he was going to go mad with desire. He throbbed beneath her, and every time she moved it made him want her more. If this continued he was going to come without her even touching him.

As though she read his mind, Blythe lifted herself off his lap and onto the bench, her knees straddling one of his. Breaking their kiss, she gazed down at him—the most beautiful, sensuous creature he had ever seen.

“I want to touch you,” she rasped, her thighs spreading of their own volition as his fingers continued to play her. Her hands went to the falls of his trousers. “Let me give you what you are giving me.”

He should refuse. Not doing so could be dangerous, especially if they got any more carried away than they already were, but her fingers felt so good as they freed him from the confines of his trousers. He wanted her to touch him.

“Will you teach me?” she inquired with sexual innocence, her fingers skimming the throbbing length of his cock.

“Like this.” His free hand wrapped around hers, showing her how to pump him with just the right amount of pressure. “Ahh, sweet Jesus, Blythe, that feels good.” So good he almost forgot that he was supposed to be pleasuring her as well.

He released her hand and gripped the edge of the bench with all his strength. He had to regain some control or he was going to come too soon. It had been too long since anyone had made him feel this way.

In fact, no one had ever made him feel this way before. Never had he risked discovery by having a sexual encounter out of doors, not even in the army when the times he’d found a woman had been few and far between.

Her lips claimed his again as she rode his hand. Her fingers dug into his scalp as her mouth bruised his. The faster she undulated her hips, the faster she pumped him. The pressure in his loins increased. He wasn’t going to last long. Not at all.

Increasing the tempo of his thumb on her sweet spot, he crooked his fingers inside her, until he felt the tiny ridges of flesh on the front wall of her vagina. As he stroked them, Blythe made a low keening sound against his mouth, her fingers tightening around him, stroking harder and faster as her thighs tensed around his forearm.

They exploded together. Devlin just managed to pull his handkerchief from his pocket and cover himself with it as his climax hit. He caught his seed in the soft linen as Blythe fell against him, shivering with spent pleasure. Only their breathing was audible in the quiet darkness.

“My God,” she said sometime later as he righted first his trousers and then her skirts. “I never knew it could be like that.”

“It can be better.” He thought of how it was going to be when he was finally able to spend himself inside her. “Someday I’ll show you.”

She smiled shyly as he kissed her. Tenderness engulfed him as their lips clung together. She was his.

“What the hell is going on here?”

S
hite.

Slowly, Devlin rose to his feet and turned to face the wrath of his future brother-in-law. Blythe stood as well, but he shielded her as much as he could with his body. Her hair was mussed, her gown was wrinkled, and the lower half of her face was red with whisker burn. One look at her and Miles would call him out.

But that aside, he didn’t want to subject her to any more embarrassment than necessary, especially since Miles had people with him. And not just any people, but Varya, Carny, and Teresa. At least they could be counted on to keep their mouths shut. Blythe’s reputation would remain intact.

Still, it was an unpleasant situation to be caught in.

“Miles,” Blythe began. “It is not what you think…”

Devlin didn’t even look at her. He kept his gaze fastened on her brother, who already knew the truth of the situation.

“It is
exactly
what you think,” he admitted, watching his friend’s green eyes narrow.

“Devlin!” Blythe’s outburst proved her shock. Her use of his Christian name also proved him right.

Teresa and Varya were silent, their expressions serene and supportive. It wasn’t them Devlin was concerned with. Miles and Carny looked positively murderous. Correction, Carny looked murderous. Miles’s countenance had a bit too much smugness in it to be completely dangerous. Still, Devlin didn’t doubt for a minute that if the heavier man suspected his sister’s virtue had been breached, Devlin would be in danger of serious bodily injury.

“We will discuss this someplace less open,” Miles announced, his voice tight. “Ryland, I’ll see you in my study. Blythe, you go to your room.”

“No,” came the unwavering reply from over Devlin’s shoulder.

Her brother’s jaw tightened in the torchlight. “You will do as I say.”

Blythe stepped out from behind the protection of Devlin’s body, a stiff-shouldered amazon ready to do battle. She was an amazing woman. He’d seen men back down from Miles’s anger, but she was his sister, and she did not fear him.

“You cannot order me about like a child, Miles. If you want to discuss this, then you will discuss it with me.”

“I intend to.” Miles’s gaze flickered to Devlin. “But first I will discuss it with Ryland.”

Blythe stepped forward. His beautiful amazon warrior. “If you hurt him—”

Devlin silenced her with his hand on her shoulder. When was the last time anyone had stepped forward to defend him? “He will not hurt me, Blythe,” he said softly.

She turned to face him, fear and anxiety blazing in her eyes. “How do you know?”

He smiled. “Because he can’t.” He meant no disrespect toward Miles. It was simply the truth. Miles couldn’t hurt him. In a fight they would be well matched, and even if Miles beat him to a bloody pulp, it wouldn’t change a single thing.

Other than his brothers, the only person alive in the world
with the power to hurt him was Blythe, and she had no idea.

“Dearest, why do you not come inside with Teresa and me?” Varya suggested, stepping forward with an offered hand. “We will have some tea, and the gentlemen can join us when they are finished talking.”

Blythe slid a hesitant glance in his direction. God love her, she didn’t want to leave him alone and unprotected. He nodded for her to go. Once he explained that he would happily make Blythe his wife, everything would be all right. Miles simply wanted to ensure that his sister wasn’t being trifled with. Truly, Devlin couldn’t blame him.

“Fine. I will go drink tea.” Blythe pointed a warning finger at her brother. “But do not think for a minute that you are in a position to decide my life for me, Miles.”

“I am your guardian,” came the haughty reply. “Those decisions are mine to make.”

His sister scowled. “Even you are not so daft as to believe that.” With that parting sally, she lifted her skirts above the grass and strode toward the maze exit, Varya and Teresa scurrying behind in an effort to keep up.

Devlin gestured for Miles to follow. “After you. I am afraid I do not know my way out.”

“You got in here, did you not?” Carny asked.

Devlin studied the fair man as he came up beside him. Carny’s tone had been sharp, sharper than a man who had broken Blythe’s heart had a right to sound.

“I had help,” was his quiet reply. Let Carny chew on that for a while. Devlin wasn’t completely certain, but his friend’s surly attitude seemed an awful lot like jealousy. Perhaps it was a protective instinct given that he had known Blythe so long, but it seemed more than that—

He walked between Miles and Carny, like a prisoner, as they exited the maze. In silence they made the torch-lit trek back to the house, entering through one of the many sets of French doors off the courtyard. From there it was a short
walk down the softly lit corridor to Miles’s study. They saw only two other guests on the walk, and despite the tension between them, managed to put on a good enough show so as not to arouse suspicions.

The wall lamps were already lit, illuminating the room in a golden glow. Miles offered Devlin a seat, which he took, and a drink, which he didn’t. The other two men remained standing in a subtle attempt to intimidate. It was all very civilized.

Until Miles spoke.

“Damn it, Dev! Give me one good reason why I should not beat you senseless!” His eyes blazed with repressed anger.

Both of Devlin’s brows rose. “Because I’ve done nothing you haven’t encouraged?”

Carny snorted. Both Miles and Devlin shot him a silencing glance.

“Is my sister still a virgin?”

“That’s none of your business,” Devlin responded softly. He nodded in Carny’s direction. “Nor is it his.”

Carny looked very much as if he wanted to reply to that, and Devlin was most interested in hearing it. There was nothing Carny could say regarding Blythe’s virginity that wouldn’t tempt Devlin to knock his teeth out.

Miles ran a hand through his hair. “Let me rephrase. Is there any chance of my becoming an uncle in the near future?”

Telling Miles that was none of his business either might be pushing his luck too far, so Devlin opted for the truth. “No.”

The big man’s shoulders visibly sagged in relief. “Thank you.”

“Why are you thanking him?” Carny demanded. “You and I both know that doesn’t mean he did not take advantage of her! Just that he was smart about it.”

“Smart about it,” Devlin echoed coolly. He made it sound so emotionless, so cold. “Doesn’t that mean screwing someone else while Blythe believes I’m thinking of her?”

Carny’s expression was part amazement, part fury. “I beg your pardon?”

The left side of Devlin’s mouth lifted as he leaned back in his chair. “You heard me. What’s crawled up your arse anyway, Carny? This doesn’t concern you.”

Now the blond man looked affronted. “I have known Blythe for years. I care very much about her well-being.”

“How much?”

He obviously didn’t know how to answer, and Devlin’s smile thinned. “Maybe you should figure that out.”

“This is not about Carny,” Miles barked. “It is about your actions toward my sister.”

Reluctantly, Devlin dragged his attention from Carny and transferred it to Miles. “I haven’t done anything you haven’t pushed me toward since my arrival.”

Miles’s cheeks flushed. “I wanted you to court her, not seduce her!”

“Who says I seduced her?”

“You must have done something,” Miles insisted. “She never would have gone into that maze with you if you had not. She is not that kind of woman.”

It wasn’t Devlin’s nature to kiss and tell, so he wasn’t about to tell Miles the maze had been Blythe’s idea.

At his silence Miles’s expression became even darker. “Have you asked her to marry you?”

“Not yet, no.” There had been no opportunity, and at the time, he hadn’t really thought of it. He planned to do that once he was more certain of her feelings—and his own.

“You must have made her a promise of some kind,” Carny snapped. “You must have at least hinted at marriage or an engagement. Blythe would never act that way without some kind of provocation.”

Devlin was one of those men whose temper was slow to ignite, but when it did it had a very short fuse. He scowled at Carny. “Why? Because she didn’t act ‘that way’ with you?”

There it was. A guilty flush crept up Carny’s cheeks as he averted his gaze. He
was
jealous. The son of a bitch. He had no right.

For the first time since the two of them met, Devlin was angry at Carny. Not just for thinking so little of him, but for thinking Blythe such a twit that she couldn’t think for herself. And for his arrogance. Did he fancy himself such a fantastic lover that if a woman didn’t fall into bed with him she wouldn’t fall for anyone?

And, he had to admit, he was angry because now he knew that Carny had
tried
to get Blythe to act “that way” before going off and marrying someone else. If he had succeeded, would he still have cast Blythe aside after using her in such a manner?

To think that he believed he knew this man, that he had saved his life. He had taken the life of someone else in the process, bloodied his hands and damned his soul so that Rowan Carmichael, Earl Carnover, could come home and break Blythe’s heart and then have the balls to try to pass off his jealousy as “caring” for her.

At that moment he didn’t think very much of Carny. Not very much at all, and he didn’t like it.

He liked Carny’s possessiveness toward Blythe even less. The man was married. He had no business sticking his face into Devlin and Blythe’s relationship. No business being jealous. Teresa deserved better. She deserved a man who respected his marriage vows, just as Devlin’s mother had deserved such a man.

And Blythe deserved more than being dallied with.

“You intend to marry her, I hope?” There was no “hope” about it. Miles expected it; it was in his voice.

Careful to keep his expression bland, he glanced toward his future brother-in-law. “If she’ll have me.”

“Have you!” the red-haired man bellowed. “She will have no choice!”

Carny nodded in agreement, even though he looked as though he had swallowed something bitter.

Devlin couldn’t help but chuckle. “The two of you really know nothing about her, you know that? You can’t
make
Blythe do anything.”

“Hmpf.” Miles looked decidedly smug. “I managed to put an end to her plans to buy her own estate the day I convinced Adams to sell Rosewood to you.”

Devlin froze. He couldn’t have heard him right. “Blythe wanted Rosewood?”

Miles nodded, some of his smugness fading.

How could Devlin not have seen it? All Blythe’s ideas for improving the house, the color swatches, the easy way she helped him pick furniture and staff. She had already planned it out for the day she owned it. Yet she didn’t tell him. He wouldn’t have bought it if he had known she wanted it, and yet she never tried to stop him from making it his own.

For a split second, he entertained the idea that the reason for Blythe’s attentions was her desire for Rosewood. Did she want the house badly enough to take the man as well? No, that wasn’t right. She liked him. She respected him and wanted him. He knew these things to be true. Perhaps she even loved him, but that was something he rarely let himself think about. Blythe’s love was something he aspired to, something he longed for like some men longed for fame or money. He wanted for nothing in this world, not even a clear conscience, like he wanted Blythe.

He also knew that if he did win her love, it would be under false pretenses, because she didn’t know the real him. Didn’t know the horror he was capable of, or the darkness in his soul. She thought he was a good man. If only that were true.

He stood up, glaring at Miles. “You used me to disappoint your own sister?”

Miles’s eyes widened. “Of course not. I wouldn’t have even found out about it had it not been for your own interest in the place.”

Well, that was small comfort, knowing that hadn’t been Miles’s reason for showing him the place to begin with.

“What’s to stop her from finding another house?”

Miles’s smug expression returned. “I have since changed the details of her inheritance. If she does not marry she gets the money in installments rather than one lump sum.”

And Devlin had thought he knew this man! How could he do something so underhanded, so deliberately controlling? His disgust and horror must have shown because Miles added, “Do not look at me like that, Dev. You do not understand.”

He watched the shorter man carefully. “You are right. I don’t.”

Miles’s expression changed to that of a man at the end of his rope. “For years my sister has hidden away here at Brixleigh. She rarely socializes and she never comes to town anymore.”

So far Devlin didn’t see anything wrong with Blythe’s choices. He planned to do the same. Miles must have seen that in his expression, because he went on.

“She used to like parties and balls. At one time she was just as at home in a pretty gown as in those awful trousers she prefers now. We used to talk, we used to laugh.” His expression hardened. “And I will not allow her to hide in the country until she dies an old maid just because of—”

“Of me,” Carny finished softly. “Because of me.”

Miles looked at him. There was no blame, only regret in his features. “Yes.”

It was then that everything became crystal-clear to Devlin. He wasn’t the villain after all. Miles blamed himself because Carny was his friend, and Carny blamed himself because he hadn’t loved Blythe the way he thought he should have. And maybe he didn’t want anyone else to love her either. Maybe
knowing that he was the reason she left society gave him power on some deep, selfish level.

Neither Miles nor Carny was a villain, not really. Each did what he believed was right and suffered the consequences for it later, if there were any to suffer. Carny had to follow his heart, and in return broke a heart that obviously had meant a lot to him, even if it wasn’t enough. And Miles loved Blythe so much that he was willing to risk her hatred to protect her from herself.

And then there was Devlin himself. He hadn’t seen anything wrong with his and Blythe’s secret meetings, their stolen kisses and clandestine embraces. Now he saw them as Carny and Miles did. He thought of how he would react if it was his sister. Many people would see him as the worst kind of rake for taking such liberties with a lady without the benefit of marriage. An engaged couple
might
be excused, but he hadn’t even asked Blythe to marry him yet.