Perfect Bride (10 page)

Damn! Now he was regarding her in that probing way that always made her feel distinctly ill-at-ease.

Her hand fluttered nervously to her throat. “What is it?”

“Nothing. I’m simply pleased that you’re looking so well. The color is back in your cheeks.” He stepped closer.

Devon battled the urge to step back, then remem bered the dog beneath her skirts. “Oh, yes,” she in toned brightly. “I’m doing so much better.” Confound it, she couldn’t stand here forever with Webster
planted between her legs. Heavens, but he was cold!

“Indeed you are,” Sebastian said softly. “You’re no longer tottering into my arms.”

Devon flushed, aware of a hot tide of color rising clear to the roots of her hair. At the mention of his arms, her pulse skittered. They had been strong, those arms, secure and warm and ...and all at once the heat in her cheeks was shooting through every part of her, clear to the tips of her toes. Ah, yes, his arms...

In truth, a most safe and comfortable place to be.

Between her legs, she felt Webster circle and plop down.

The hem of her dressing gown fluttered as he moved. The heat inside her was forgotten. She froze, but her heart jolted forward.
No
, she thought in hor
ror.
Oh, no
. Her gaze darted to Sebastian’s face. Had he noticed?

His gaze slid down and halted. One bushy black brow climbed aloft in that imperious way he had.

For indeed, Sebastian
had
noticed. What the deuce? he wondered.

He lifted a dark brow. “Miss St. James,” he began.

“Devon. We agreed that you should call me Devon, remember? And that I should call you Sebastian.”

“Very well then. Tell me, Devon, what do you have under your gown?”

“ ’Tis not my gown. ’Tis your sister’s.”

The chit was stalling. Shifting her feet from one to the other.
And
looking decidedly guilty.

“But you, Devon, are wearing it. Therefore, it is yours.”

The flutter came again. Her feet shifted, as if to cover the movement.

Sebastian narrowed his eyes. He could see...No. It couldn’t possibly be. By Jove, it was a tail!

“Are you hiding something beneath your skirts, Devon?” He might have been asking the time of day.

The tip of her tongue came out to dampen her lips. “Of course not,” she denied.

Sebastian scarcely heard. He was too busy gazing at her small and dainty mouth, the unintentional sensual slide of her tongue over her lips.

He wrenched his gaze away. Christ, what the devil was wrong with him? He forced himself back to the matter at hand. “You’re quite sure?” he queried.

“Of course. If there were something hiding under my skirts, wouldn’t I know it?”

He frowned. She didn’t sound terribly certain. “I should hope so,” he said, thinking that she was an intolerably bad liar. In all his days, he’d never seen eyes so huge.

Another movement from under her skirts. Now a snout had replaced the tail! A dog’s snout, if he wasn’t mistaken.

“Perhaps we should see then.” Before she could disagree, he bent low and stretched out a hand to
ward the hem of the dressing gown.

The mutt snarled and lunged from under the robe. Sebastian snatched his hand back just in time. Biting back a curse, he lurched to his feet. “Blasted creature!”

“Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry. It’s just that he’s hungry.”

“Hungry! He looks as if he’s never missed a meal in his life!”

She bent and fed the dog the last bit of cheese. “He’s cold too,” she added, straightening once more. “See the way he’s shivering?”

The wretched creature wasn’t shivering now. In fact, he looked almost smug!

Sebastian glowered. “This mongrel,” he said suc
cinctly, “looks like a fat, long-haired gutter rat.”

Her eyes flashed. “And you said
I
looked like a woman of the streets!”

Not any longer
, he thought. “He does look as plump in the belly as you did.” He cast a pointed look at her middle. “Unlike you, I daresay ’tis not because of any artifice, but rather that he simply likes to eat!”

“He still doesn’t look like a gutter rat!”

Sebastian reserved his opinion, for she was look
ing highly offended. “How the devil did he get in
side?” he asked irritably.

Small white teeth dug into the soft pink flesh of her lower lip. “Well,” she ventured finally, “I let him in.”

Sebastian’s gaze narrowed. “He didn’t follow you here, did he?”

“Of course not. I heard scratching at the door, and when I opened it, he dashed inside.”

“Perhaps he’s lost his way.” Sebastian seriously doubted anyone would want such a ratty little thing. Briskly he went on, “In that case, we’d best put him back out in case someone comes looking for him—”

“But that’s precisely why we shouldn’t!”

Devon had gathered up the mutt high in her arms. “He might lose his way again,” she fretted. “Please. Can he stay? At least until he’s warm and fed and dry?” She went on in a rush. “I’ll keep him in my room tonight. He won’t be a nuisance, I promise. I-I’ve named him Webster. And he’ll look much better after a bath, I’m sure.”

And so had she
, said a voice somewhere in the back of his mind. He sighed. “Devon—”

“Please. I can’t bear the thought he’ll be out in this horrid weather again.”

Sebastian planned to refuse. He had every inten
tion of refusing. But all his good intentions melted away as he read the pleading in those wide, golden eyes. And he saw something else there too.

The unmistakable signs of recent tears. God, she’d been crying.
Crying
...

In all his life, he didn’t know when he’d been so confused. He wanted to demand she tell him why. But something inside stopped him. She looked so... so hopeful. And he didn’t think he could bear to dash those hopes.

Damn
, he thought, vexed.
Damn!
How could a man say no? How could
he
?

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”

The smile she flashed was blindingly sweet. It reached clear inside and grabbed hold of his heart.

“Thank you, my lor—”

“Sebastian,” he reminded her.

“Thank you, Sebastian. Oh, thank you!”

Hugging the dog tightly to her breast, she turned and started toward the stairs. But on the first step, she paused and looked back, biting her lip.

Now, he thought. Now she was going to tell him what was amiss.

“I have a confession.” She paused hesitantly. “I... um, I . . .” Her gaze sidled away, to the side, then the floor, then the ceiling before returning to his. Even then she didn’t meet his eyes directly. “I lied,” she said finally.

As if that were great news to him. Sebastian wasn’t perturbed though. Indeed, he had to wipe the wry
amusement from his face as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You lied?”

She gulped. “It wasn’t just that I heard Webster at the door. I-I wanted to see your house.”

“You wanted to see my house,” he repeated.

She now regarded him as if she expected lightning to strike her down at any instant. “Yes. I couldn’t sleep, and I was tired of my room—”

“I thought you said it was a lovely room.”

“Oh, it is! But this house is just so beautiful, I wanted to see it all.”

“I see.”

She peered at him. “You do?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re not angry?”

“No,” he said smoothly. “But now that you’re feel
ing better, there’s no need to skulk about in the dark.” He paused. “I could have Tansy show you about tomorrow, if you’d like. I’d do it myself, but I’m afraid Justin and I have business in the country tomorrow. Then I’ve an engagement in the eve
ning . . .” He watched her closely. “Would you like that?”

Her mouth opened. She was gawking, he realized, all at once struggling against the impulse to laugh. He had the most insane urge to stride up to her, place his fingers on her chin, and close her lips with the seal of his own...

He shook off the thought and answered for her. “Yes? Excellent, then. Oh, and Devon? Feel free to use any room you wish. I assure you, they’re all better seen in the light of day. Then I won’t have to worry about you tumbling down the stairs in the dead of night.”

“Oh,” she said weakly. “That’s quite thoughtful of you.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he said softly.

And heaven help him, it was. She was smiling again, that same beaming smile that nearly stole his breath. He’d have done anything to make her face glow with pleasure the way it was right now.

Long after the door to her room had clicked shut, Sebastian was still standing in the entrance hall. Only then did he ask himself if he’d gone quite mad.

Because somehow, he’d managed to acquire not just one urchin...but two.

hen Devon awoke, Webster sat up, eyes bright, tail wagging madly. He didn’t look quite so ugly this morning, but as she’d noted last night, a bath was sorely needed.

She and Tansy tackled the task. During the pro
cess she made a rather revealing discovery about the little creature. Two of them, in fact. The first made her chuckle, and was of little consequence one way or the other. As for the second ...well, she wasn’t quite sure how to break it to Sebastian, or even if she should.

Afterward Tansy took her through the house. As she stepped into each room, all she could think was that Sebastian was right. The house was better seen in the light of day. Elegantly carved moldings framed the ceilings, windows, and doors; the fur nishings combined both luxury and comfort. Brightly hued bouquets graced many of the side ta bles, freshening the air. It was too early in the year
for such blooms, and Devon wondered where on earth they came from, but she was too embarrassed to ask. Even with Tansy, she didn’t want to sound as ignorant as she was.

The blustery weather of the night before had given way to sunshine, a reminder that the warmth of spring was nearly upon them. Tansy had pointed out a small garden to the rear of the house. When Tansy went back to work, Devon tugged a shawl over her shoulders—another item borrowed from the absent Julianna—and slipped outside.

The garden, enclosed by red brick on all sides, was filled with manicured bushes and trees. Devon caught her breath in admiration. In summer it would be lovely, filled with the perfume of flowers and vi
brant with greenery. Passing beneath a wooden arch
way, she followed a grassy walkway to a stone bench angled in the far corner. Tilting her head back, she let the sun wash over her face, feeling the breeze swirl around her, watching sunbeams skitter through the treetops. When dusk began to fall, she reluctantly re
turned inside.

She took dinner in her room, then ventured down to the library. She had just seated herself in the leather chair that had beckoned so invitingly last night when she heard a low male voice.

“Hello there.”

It was Justin. Something akin to disappointment shot through her, and she almost found herself wishing it were Sebastian. Dear God, what the deuce had come over her, to find herself yearning to see Sebastian again? It made no sense, no sense at all, especially considering his opinion of her. For some reason she’d yet to figure out, when she was in
his presence, her state of mind was a maelstrom of emotion. She felt uncertain of herself, of her feelings, for they swirled in every direction. She wasn’t afraid of him, indeed she had no qualms about standing up to him.

If the truth be told, she was in awe of him. It wasn’t just his height, though she’d never encoun
tered a man of such size. Nor was it his dark, dash
ingly handsome good looks. He was different from all the men she’d known in her life. At the Crow’s Nest, the men swaggered and crowed and bragged about themselves and their achievements. She’d al
ways found it vastly annoying.

But clearly Sebastian had no need of it. He exuded an air of almost careless confidence and poise. Why, he need not say a word. One need only
look
at him and know he was a cut above—a man of supreme ability in whatever endeavor he might choose.

He fascinated her, even as she fiercely resented his air of commanding superiority.

But last night he’d been so nice. Even...sweet. He hadn’t wanted to, but he’d let the dog stay. He hadn’t been angry that she’d been nosing around his house in the dead of night, like the thief he was con
vinced she was.

She couldn’t help but recall the night she’d stag
gered from bed and announced her intention to leave his house. She’d ended up toppling into his arms instead...Her memory of what followed was hazy, but she could have sworn he caressed her face, her lips, a touch so infinitely gentle it made her want to cry out just thinking of it . . .

Pushing the disturbing image from her mind, she focused on the man before her. She liked Justin, she
told herself stoutly. His manner conveyed an almost careless self-confidence, but he wasn’t pretentious— at least not with her—and Devon liked that. She’d known him but a short time, but unlike Sebastian, with whom she was forever tongue-tied, Justin was remarkably easy to talk to. Only the day before he’d blithely stated his days were spent gambling and riding and racing, his nights in pursuits that, as he put it, weren’t quite fit for feminine ears.

Devon, of course, was
all
ears.

“So you are a rake,” she’d pronounced. She couldn’t say that she approved.

He clicked his heels and gave her a wink. “The handsomest man in all England, or so it’s said.”

Devon didn’t even have to consider. Handsome, yes. But handsom
est
? Not so, for in her mind Sebas
tian was surely the handsomest man in all England.

She eyed him. “Are you quite full of yourself, sir?”

He chuckled. “That’s the most flattering thing that’s been said about me. Truth be told, I’m also known as a reprobate. A rascal, as well as some names I fear I cannot repeat in your company.”

“Oh, I doubt you’re as bad as all that.”

“Oh, I am, I assure you. Sebastian is the gentleman of the family. He was quite the war hero, you know, tending the wounded under fire in the Peninsula. I daresay he’d have made a fine physician. He has the patience of a saint.”

Devon wasn’t surprised to learn he was a hero. A man of intensity, that was what she sensed about him. As for patience, if Devon was doubtful, she couldn’t help it. She was convinced
she
didn’t bring on that particular tendency.

Justin took a seat on the wing chair opposite her.

As he did, a black, wet nose sniffed about his ankles. “Well, hello, there! Who’s this?”

Devon told him about the events of the prior eve
ning. “I don’t think your brother was terribly pleased,” she finished.

“Oh, he won’t mind. When we were children, Ju
lianna was always bringing home some poor crea
ture. I remember once she brought in a squirrel that had fallen from a tree. Mother, of course, screamed and had the vapors.”

“Does your mother live in London too?”

A shadow seemed to pass across his face. Was it sadness? she wondered. A moment passed before Justin answered. “No. Our parents are both dead. At any rate, I’m on my way out. But Sebastian told me you were up and about, so I decided I must stop and see you.”

“Is he here?” She did her best to sound offhand, but her insides were suddenly twisted in knots. “He mentioned last night he had an engagement this evening.”

“Yes. The dowager duchess of Carrington is giving a ball tonight. He’s upstairs dressing. I wasn’t invited, I’m afraid. Acceptance in society, you see, hinges on the duchess’s approval. I do believe the duchess toler
ates me only because she’s fond of Sebastian. Not that I plan to while away the evening in regret. These things tend to be incredibly tedious affairs.”

To Devon, a ball sounded terribly exciting. “You’re being sarcastic, aren’t you?”

“Always,” he retorted. He extended a hand to
ward the dog, giving a slight laugh as a rough, wet tongue came out to lap his fingers. “Quite an affec
tionate little creature, eh?”

Neither of them was aware that Sebastian hovered near the door, watching the two of them. Certainly they seemed to get on well together, he decided. It ran through his mind that the two of them would have made a striking couple, Justin’s hair so dark and gleaming, Devon’s all shining and gold... Good God, what was wrong with him? He felt al
most jealous.

Feeling quite the intruder, he advanced into the library...and was promptly greeted by a low growl.

Justin looked up. “Dumpling doesn’t seem to like you, old chap.”

“
Dumpling
!” Sebastian’s brows shot high as he glanced at Devon. “I thought you said his name was Webster.”

Devon smiled weakly. “It was. I’ve had to change it, I’m afraid.”

“Change it? Why?” he asked baldly.

“Because he is a she.”

The mongrel was female! No wonder the creature liked Justin and not him!

“My God,” he said. “You can’t name her Dumpling!”

“Why not? You made mention of the fact she obvi
ously likes to eat. And she does look a bit like a dumpling. It’s a fitting name, don’t you think?”

Sebastian glanced at the mutt.
Dumpling
, he thought. Why, it almost made him gag!

The object of his scrutiny bared her teeth.

“I do believe Beast would be a fitting name,” he muttered.

Devon scolded her sternly. “Stop it, Dumpling.”

With a whine the animal sank down onto the floor,
dropping her head onto her paws. But those round black eyes surveyed him warily as he stepped closer.

Justin laughed, earning a reproving glance from Sebastian. He got to his feet. “I believe,” he said, “this is my cue to leave. Good night, Sebastian. Dev
on, pleasant dreams.” A courtly bow directed at them both, and he was gone.

Sebastian and Devon were left alone. He watched as Devon moved to warm herself before the fire.

“I trust you had a good day.”

“Thank you, I did.”

Thank you
. She was such a puzzle, he thought, watching as she stretched out her hands. If he hadn’t known better, she could almost be mistaken for a prim, proper miss. He’d chanced to pass by her room this morning as she was eating, licking the tips of her fingers. She’d looked up then, and saw where his eyes resided. A most becoming ribbon of scarlet had rushed to her cheeks.

Her fingers dove beneath her napkin.

The remembrance renewed itself as his gaze slid over her slim form, hazily etched by the glow of the fire. She looked very fetching, dressed in a high-waisted gown gathered tight below her breasts, clinging to those generous curves. A simple ribbon tied at the nape restrained the glory of her hair; it hung over one shoulder, a silken, wavy mass of pure gold.

Desire cut through him, a sharp, primitive hunger that wound its way to every part of him. His fingers tingled. He wanted to touch her, trail his fingertips lightly over the vulnerable place where her neck flowed into the slender slope of her back, to toy with
the wisp of fine, downy hairs that curled at her nape and feel her shiver.

Precisely what it was that alerted him, Sebastian wasn’t certain. But all at once he felt himself pulled up short. Her head was bowed low, her fingers clamped together before her.

“Devon?” Her name was a sound of uncharacter
istic uncertainty.

There was no reply.

Sebastian stared incredulously. “Devon,” he said again, “are you crying?”

She presented him with the slender lines of her back.

Without thought, without word, he scooped her up in his arms.

The mongrel pushed up on its haunches.

“Bite me, Beast,” he hissed, “and I’ll bite you back.”

The beast sat.