Duke of Darkness (16 page)

Devlin grabbed the brandy he’d poured earlier and downed it in one swallow. Phineas might be right, but he couldn’t walk away from his feelings and burying them only made everything worse. He set his glass down, undecided how to proceed. “I don’t know. Still, can I count on you, Phin?”

His friend’s silent nod served as affirmation.

It was the devil’s own timing when a moment later Reeston entered with a package.

Alexandra’s eyes lit with joy as she opened the delivery to reveal a small book of sonnets. Julia appeared entranced by the scene.

Phineas nudged him on the shoulder and leaned in for a conspiring whisper. “Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you? Flowers yesterday, love poems today. She hasn’t even met the estimable Lord Bickerstaffe. What’s the rush?”

“Look at her. Do you see the fetching dimple in her right cheek? Only comes out when she is truly happy. That’s why.” Devlin reached for a peppermint from a crystal bowl on his desk and popped it into his mouth.

“I do understand, but eventually she is going to get a little suspicious if Bickerstaffe never shows. What are you going to do then?”

“I haven’t worked out all the details, but I will. Now wait and be quiet. I want to see what happens when she opens the card.”

The men watched the two ladies giggle over the calling card and then Alexandra glanced in his direction. Her eyes twinkled with delight and he refused to break the moment. Did she have any idea how bewitching he found her? Good lord, he sounded like a sotted fool.

“What does Lord Bickerstaffe have to say?” Devlin strove for nonchalance, but he wasn’t sure he carried it off.

“A proper lady does not share her correspondence,” Alexandra protested. “But I will tell you, it is very romantic.” She tucked the card into the envelope and slipped the note into the pocket of her day gown.

The men moved closer to the ladies, and Phineas leaned into Devlin as he passed. “I told you she adhered to convention.”

Devlin promptly ignored him.

“Any word of when he’ll return from his business trip? Any hint as to when he’ll call?” Why was he tempting the fates? Only he knew the answers to his questions and he hadn’t solved any of the problems yet.

“No, but he confessed it is hard for him to hold a thought without the memory of my image ruining his concentration.” Alexandra smile turned wistful as she uttered the soft-spoken words.

“It sounds as though he’s addle-brained.” Devlin punctuated the reply with a chuckle.

“Don’t undermine Lord Bickerstaffe just because you cannot appreciate the sentiment. I think it’s very romantic.” Julia’s voice went gleeful as she looped her arm through Alexandra’s. “Perhaps we should invite him to a small get-together.”

Devlin eyed Phineas with Julia’s last suggestion. “No, I don’t think that’s a very good idea. We’ve never met the man. All we know is that he likes to send expensive gifts and has impeccable taste in flowers.”

Lexi offered him a queer look with his last statement.

“I do hope I make his acquaintance soon. All this anticipation is thrilling, but I’d like to have a face to match with the name.” Lexi tapped her finger against her chin. Devlin didn’t miss the action. He’d like to bite that little chin.

“I hope he is handsome.”

Julia’s unforeseen comments complicated things. Devlin eyed Lexi as she considered the thought.

“Yes, tall, dark and handsome. I’ve never found myself overly interested in fair-haired gentlemen.” Alexandra’s voice held a whimsical quality and the whole room paid attention. Except Phineas. He glanced in a nearby mirror and checked his hair.

“And well formed.” Julia giggled as she spoke.

“Oh yes, well formed,” Lexi agreed. “Not too lean, yet strong, with a muscular build to embrace a woman gently, but still allow her to feel safe within his arms.”

Devlin repositioned himself on the corner of the desk. Phineas curled his arm once or twice and assessed his reflection.

“It would be lovely if he possessed a clever sense of humour. I’ve always appreciated a good jest.”

Devlin viewed Lexi in her reminiscent pose. Was she thinking of anyone in particular? She never spoke of her past and the only kissing to which she laid claim belonged to Just Henry. His lips quirked with the memory of how she’d locked him out of the window. She’d been so pleased with herself but he’d only had to run across the roof to the other side of the house and drop to the master bedroom balcony.

“If you ask me, it sounds like you’ve described a fantastic order. Let’s hope the elusive Lord Bickerstaffe does not disappoint.” Devlin pushed away from the desk and rang the bell pull for Reeston.

Phineas fussed a bit longer in the mirror and then turned to the room with an absentminded answer. “If you ask me, it sounds as if you’ve described Devlin.”

The room fell silent until they all broke into laughter. Phineas covered his faux pas with a few Bickerstaffe jibes and Devlin forged forward with a swift change of subject, anxious to drop the entire matter.

It neared midnight when he returned from his ride on Orion. Evening night refreshed the fatigue of the day and as he walked towards the house from the stables, he chose the most circuitous route around the east wing. His steps slowed as he reached the estate. Above him the chamber windows where Alexandra now resided were dark and silent. He had ordered a few footmen to move her things from the west wing and assumed Lexi and Tillie were settled in by now. A wry smile dared to surface. The third-floor room was situated across from his bedchamber and while at first he hesitated in having her reside in the same hallway, concerned his nightly episodes would cause a problem; he hadn’t a tremor in almost two weeks.

Now, alone in the darkness, he viewed the French doors that led to the sitting area of Lexi’s new rooms. This area of the house faced the garden and a tall trellis, thick with multi-coloured roses, climbed the wall from the earth to the balcony of her chambers. The effect was charming. One he surmised his mother had designed.

Shallow light cast a misty glow through the terrace doors but no one appeared visible. Was Lexi asleep? The ready image of her reclined in bed, her golden hair fanned across the pillows, tightened his body with yearning. Perhaps she was as restless as he? Would she pass the hours reading, sketching … daydreaming of Bickerstaffe? He stifled a ready chuckle and reprimanded his foolish behaviour. What he wouldn’t do to be Bickerstaffe for one evening. It was an odd situation when a man found himself jealous of himself.

He blew out a resigning breath. There was nothing for it. He wanted her. He ached for her. Just one glimpse, this evening, under the stars. With the same impulsivity that served as attribute and flaw, he bent to the ground and gathered a handful of gravel from the base of the trellis. He tossed it with precise aim against the glass doors of the balcony and waited.

Nothing happened. He scoffed at the ridiculousness of his makeshift Shakespearean scene: how foolish to hope that Lexi might somehow materialize above him. He sunk into the shadows, out of sight, when Alexandra appeared but a breath later. She wore the same lace wrapper as when she had wandered like a dream into his bedroom to banish his demons. Her hair rippled in waves of liquid moonlight, past her shoulders, down her back, and he was struck with the vision. She appeared precious and fragile, perched high on the balcony like a rare figurine placed on a tall shelf, out of his reach.

“Is anyone there?”

He couldn’t
not
answer.

“It is I, Lady Alexandra.” He forced the lie from his mouth with a desperate attempt to disguise his voice. “Stanley, Lord Bickerstaffe.

“Lord Bickerstaffe?”

Her awestruck whisper, innocent and otherworldly, enchanted him to the depths of his soul.

“How did you get here? How did you find me?”

He might have heard a giggle, but could not be sure, tucked tight into the hedgerow bushes.

“The sight of your ethereal beauty drew me to your balcony, Lady Alexandra. You are a vision in the moonlight.”

“But I just came outside.” He definitely heard her giggle now. “I heard the pebbles.”

He could see her smile, that lovely little dimple, as clearly as if it were daylight, and his body responded with the same deep yearning that besieged him whenever she came near. What was he going to do? His obsession was a problem he had no means to control.

“Come into the light, Lord Bickerstaffe, so that I may see you. I am curious of the man who offers me such flattery.”

He smiled despite himself. Damnation, what was he to do now? Foolish, foolish plan, to draw her out when he devised no action once she answered his beckon.

“Lord Bickerstaffe? Are you still there?”

“Yes, Lady Alexandra. I am thinking. Thinking of what I’m going to do. Thinking—”

“Stop thinking and come out here. I want to see the mystery man who sends me flowers and sonnets, who dares to trespass on private property and toss pebbles at my window.” Her voice dropped to a sultry whisper and his breathing deepened.

“I must go, my lovely. You remind me of my careless behaviour this evening, but I could not stay away. I was drawn to you, as if …” His voice words trailed off and his mind reeled in search of some flowery nonsense to fill the void and extricate himself from the situation he’d created. “As if nothing mattered except the promise of your kiss.”

What did he say?

Time slowed and silent minutes passed until her words sailed through the night air, a little bit whimsy, more so invitation, an unsure, yet utterly charming temptress.

“I would grant you that boon were you to come into the light, Devlin. Climb up this trellis and claim your prize.”

“The trellis is old and full of thorns.” He stepped into the moonlight and brushed the lengths of his sleeves, littered with tiny remnants of the hedgerow. Some reason must exist, buried in the recesses of his conscience, why he should not go to her and claim the kiss she promised. How he ached for her since he kissed her palm in what seemed like for ever ago, yet was only a few weeks.

He purposely kept from touching her since she’d comforted him that night in his bedchamber because he no longer trusted himself to exercise better judgement. Still his body wound tight with the wanting and she was standing there, an enchanting vision, part heaven, part dream, an enticement and temptation he desired from the dark recess of his soul. She smiled, her dimple flashed, and his decision was made.

“Unlock the door, Lexi.”

Chapter Twenty

Alexandra floated to the mirror to check her reflection. She pinched her cheeks with trembling fingers and attempted a hopeless sweep of the comb through her hair. Good lord, he struck a handsome profile in the golden moonlight. What was she thinking, inviting him to her bedchamber with the promise of a kiss? The truth whispered through her mind.
She loved him
. Her heart pounded in applause of the realization, but she shook away her excitement as a knock sounded on the door.

He must have run. His midnight-black hair fell tousled over his brow, and without a cravat, his collar hung open to reveal an ample glimpse of bronzed skin. She stepped away and he advanced inside. His left hand pushed the door closed as his right reached for her, snatching her against his length in an urgent rush of passion and heat. His eyes caught hers and held; the raw need in their velvet depths vibrated to her core. His head dipped, the smallest degree, but the intensity in his eyes did not waver and she saw a glimpse of vulnerability under his veil of desire, as if he sought and found whatever he searched for in that one timeless moment. She tangled her arms around his neck and brought her body closer to obliterate the last breath of air that dared separate them.

Then he kissed her. He had spoken of kisses and she’d dreamed of his touch, but nothing had prepared her for the silken heat of Devlin’s lips. He took her mouth with wild sensuality and she gave from her heart in passionate return. He tasted indescribably male, spicy and wicked; of desire and wanting and the promise of exquisite secrets found within his embrace.

She trembled against his lips and he growled in response. His tongue ran along the seam of her mouth and begged for entry, an enticement for her to open to him. She readily complied. He licked deep into her mouth and their tongues rubbed together, as natural as the act itself. The friction stoked the flames between them higher with each breath, every caress, until it threatened to consume them and dared her to abandon all inhibition, and lose herself in total surrender. She made a small sound in her throat and his kisses turned wilder, erotic, as if he couldn’t bring her close enough, or taste her as he wanted.

She smoothed her hands to his shoulders, his skin hot through the linen shirt, and gripped his arms to steady herself, although her heart beat with such ferocity she barely managed the feat. His muscles flexed and his embrace tightened. His hands spanned her waist to frame her body against his. She ran a finger along his jaw, a tentative caress, fascinated by the utter maleness of him, the sensual rub of his narrow beard, and the motion shot desire straight from her fingertips to the pit of her stomach, further below. She pressed her legs together in a restless motion, anxious to capture the persistent feeling and savour it at the same time.

Somehow he understood what she needed, his body hard and strong, his touch tender and precious. He threaded his fingers through her hair and fanned the lengths before he gathered the waves to press her closer still. With only the gauzy lace of her gown between them, he left an imprint on her soul.

“Devlin.” Her whisper was breathy, mostly sigh.

He released her mouth and trailed kisses across her cheek, over the rim of her ear, down the length of her neck. She dropped her head back in sensual abandon to offer him better access. He smiled against her skin and nipped the top of her shoulder through the lace before he pressed into her, hip to hip, evidence of his ardour hard against her. Again, desire spiked and pooled, and she shifted with impatience, heat gathering at her core and threatening to tear her apart.