Duke of Darkness (21 page)

“If that were true, you would have simply sent her home with her father to marry Addington and have her off your hands.”

Off my hands? No, in my hands. I want her in my hands. Underneath the weight of my body. I want to possess her, consume her… I want to love her. Just one night
. “That man is a fool.”

His words were a bitter lie. Addington epitomized the type of gentleman Lexi deserved: stable, sensible, respected. Each word stabbed sharp with honesty, for he was none of those things and worse.

“It is of no consequence, Devlin, and you know it.”

He skewered his butler with a furious glare. It was late and he was angry. The last thing he wanted was to face emotions and memories from the past. Reeston seemed intent on something else entirely. Damned servant proved too intuitive for his own good. In truth, Lexi was the first woman to make him take pause and consider his lifestyle, examine his feelings, and the meaning behind them. She aroused a protectiveness in him that supplied no explanation, save from the fact his heart would shatter if any harm befell her. And he’d cared for little so long, the sentiment consumed him with such intensity he wondered if it would destroy him, an obsession never to be satiated.

Reeston cleared his throat. “Are you afraid to admit your feelings and lose yourself to her?”

His butler’s uncanny ability to read his mind never failed to surprise him. “Lose myself? It is with Lexi that I have finally found myself.” His admission was but a whispered mutter in the otherwise quiet room.

“Sometimes you have to climb the mountain before you can see the view. Nothing, save falling in love with Lady Alexandra, has ever been easy for you.”

Devlin rushed forward, his anger and frustration ignited anew. “Did you come in here to spout riddles or to help me? Make no mistake, I never claimed to love Lexi. Do not put words in my mouth.” He moved to the sideboard and took another swallow of liquor to obliterate the complaint evident in Reeston’s eyes. Damn the old man for knowing him so well.

“You must care for her, because even the devil wouldn’t recognize you this evening. And I have never in my employ seen you so disassembled.” Reeston stated the words in a casual tone as if he mentioned the weather.

A cynical chuckle rattled in Devlin’s chest. Dear Aunt Min, if only she knew what she instigated. “Given my past and my reputation, what could I possibly offer her?”

“Begin with your heart,Your Grace.” Reeston crossed the room, pausing only when he reached the double panel doors. “I will retire now and leave you to your thoughts. Try to get some rest. I wonder if you will behave in this manner when Bickerstaffe escorts Lady Alexandra to Kensington Gardens.”

He hesitated, measuring his solemn reply. “Thank you for your help, Reeston. You are more than I deserve.”

“You are quite welcome.” Reeston nodded his head goodnight and left without a backwards glance.

Out on the terrace, the cool air erased his anger. He tipped his head back, his eyes on the black sky, unsure if he wished to clear his thoughts or bury them deeper. The slightest sliver of moon showed. Should he climb to the roof? He’d have a better vantage when the carriage turned down the long drive. Perhaps he should take Orion out. At times the glory of the ride exercised his tension. Although tonight his mind raced with agitation, not his body, and something told him it would be another wrong decision in an evening overburdened with regret.
Lexi
. He wanted her.
He needed her
. But she was the one thing in his life he could not have.

Why hadn’t she come home? The opera would have ended hours ago. Could she harbour feelings for Henry? He sneered in distaste. It followed the man would appear at his doorstep, polished and presentable, every father’s dream for his daughter, just when the smallest sliver of indecision and hope crept into his soul.

And what of Phineas? He seemed a little too eager with his offer of help. Were his motives honourable or did he work with Julia to set Lexi free from Kenley Manor so he could present his suit? Devlin refuted the idea, although a strange dark emotion clawed at his insides. It would destroy their friendship and he, in turn, would destroy his friend. He’d involved Phin in an attempt to gain the time necessary to solve the impossible situation that rose from nowhere. But that, too, was untrue. Weeks ago he had urged Derwent to uncover Lexi’s past.
He
had caused the unexpected and truculent reunion.

Tired of the relentless clatter of his emotions, he returned to the study and closed the terrace doors. He eyed the brandy decanter and crossed the room, all the while an incessant voice, riddled with anger and jealousy, reminded him of Lexi’s impossible loveliness. Who wouldn’t risk it all to have her?

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Well, look who’s come home! It’s nearly two o’clock in the morning. What were you doing with good old Addington all this time? Rekindling old memories?”

Alexandra climbed the stairs with care, not wishing to disturb the silent household. After hours of repetitive conversation, she had convinced Henry he would be better off without her and implored him to speak to her father. Fatigued from the effort, she sighed with remorse. She would not know the result of her persuasion for some time, but at least she’d done her best to mollify Henry and dictate the course of her future. The last thing she’d expected was Devlin in wait of her return.

She closed the last few paces and slowed to a stop. He leaned against the doorframe of her bedchamber, reckless and dangerous, with a sharp cool edge. His eyes ran down her length in languid assessment. Her heart pounded in response.

“The evening lasted longer than I anticipated.” She refused to discuss the subject further, her anger overriding good sense. It would take no effort for her emotions to obliterate all determination, and she would not let him discover the truth. “We talked for hours.”

She reached the door to her rooms, but he prevented her entrance as he leaned on the frame blocking the knob, one strong arm thrust across like a barricade.

“Talking? All this time? Your throat must be dry.”

Her breath caught at his cutting tone and he ran a lone finger down the column of her neck, his fingertip burned a trail in its wake as heartfelt as if he reached inside her and caressed her soul. She gasped at the intimacy and the sudden rush of heat that consumed her, but he did not back away. Instead, he brushed his knuckles against her collarbone and lifted the diamond pendant she wore, turning it over in his fingers. He chuckled an ugly sound, not the deep rich laughter she’d come to love, and she recoiled, unable to understand his conflicted reaction.

“So very lovely.”

Did he speak of the pendant or something else? She narrowed her eyes and searched his expression for understanding. With belated awareness, she noticed he’d let down his guard, bared his emotions, and his usual indifferent demeanour was absent. He stood before her exposed, reckless and too loose with words.

“You should go to sleep.” Her eyes took in every aspect of his dishevelled appearance and her heart broke a little more.

“Sleep? So I can see you in my dreams? I’d much rather have you in front of me.” His voice dropped low, heat and velvet against her skin, and she shivered, tethered to him by the glistening links of her necklace. “And what did you do after you talked with Addington? Did you allow him a kiss goodnight? Did you let him touch you? Learn the soft smoothness of your skin? How you make that delicious little noise in the back of your throat when you’ve given yourself over to the kiss?”

“Stop.” She pushed at his fingers, her own trembling, and he dropped the pendant, the brush of his hand a lingering caress. His eyes stared into hers and she sought with desperate determination to understand the emotions bared. Accusation, yearning … all his dark-kept secrets. “You brought him here and gave me to him. Why would you care if he kissed me? Or the consequences thereafter?” The words were meant to wound and she hoped she hit the mark.

He frowned at the absurdity of her question and flicked his eyes to her lips, once, twice, then up again.

He exhaled and something significant shifted. When he spoke, his voice warmed with a seductive entreaty, a potent antidote to smooth away her nervous uncertainty. “You spent hours with Addington, alone, and he never tried to assert his feelings? Foolish man. If I had you alone for one night, there would be no mistaking my desires or what pleasures we would find.”

She searched her mind for a suitable response to his admittance, but nothing surfaced. Meanwhile the impact of his sensual confession sent an intimate shiver skittering down her spine.

She tried to meet his gaze. Truly, he was a sight. His eyes were again unreadable, all emotion locked away tight. He wore no coat and his white shirt hung open at the collar to reveal a dark vee of skin, enticingly handsome and dangerously forbidding. His words implied passion and promises and her heart leapt at his suggestion, yet the entire scene frightened her. Did he realize she would willingly fall into his arms in total abandonment were he to pull her forward?

Her heart thundered and her hands trembled at her sides. She took a small step backwards, full knowing she had no intention of leaving him in the hallway. Perhaps he feared she would flee, because his arm shot out and snatched her against him, his eyes glinting veiled in black. How dare he be angry with her? He’d urged his solicitor to investigate her past. Did he expect gratitude in return?

“So quiet all of a sudden.” He released a disjointed breath and drew her closer still. “Tell me, did he kiss you?” He slid his hands to her shoulders and angled his head, his lips a sigh from her own. The heat of his question against her ear sent a ripple of desire straight to her toes. She measured the pressure of his hold, tight and impatient. Everywhere their skin touched, burned with emotion.
And something else
. Lust, passion, barely controlled desire. A forbidden fantasy come to life. She leaned into his strength, the broad press of his chest a tantalizing sensation against the thrumming beat of her heart.

“Did he kiss you like this?” His husky murmur caressed her cheek, and he brushed his lips against hers, hardly a touch as his hands traced the length of her arms, the fingers of one hand splayed across her back to hold her in place, the other on her bottom, cupped in a lesson of possession that connected their bodies in all the most intimate places.

He kissed her with a fierceness that left her breathless and unsatisfied, dazed and wanting. Oh, he proved a master at keeping his eyes void of feeling, but his kiss told no lies, as honest and vulnerable as if he bared each emotion of his heart.

This kiss was no impulsive expression. He branded her with the power of his lips and swept inside to touch her soul, join their hearts. All other kisses evaporated from memory. His kiss deepened. Hostility and anger dissipated, replaced by raw desire, stoked by the hot, erotic, sweep of his tongue.

She linked her arms around his neck and intertwined her fingers in his hair to pull him closer. He growled in response and his tongue bid entrance, running a persistent line against the seam of her lips. She submitted on a soft sigh of acquiesce. Some pesky thought chided her to object, but she tamped it down, her heart in command with a warning chant all too soon this would be a memory. She wanted with desperate longing to keep a clear vision of this moment locked in her heart.

His tongue rubbed against hers with carnal imitation of the act itself. Delicious rubbing, thrusting, caressing, his teeth nipped, his tongue tasted, as they stood in the hallway, losing themselves and a piece of their souls to the embrace that held them captive. She skimmed her hands across his broad shoulders, down his strong arms, his muscles tensed and flexed in answer to her impatient touch. And still his mouth demanded more with deep greedy kisses that made her head dizzy and her knees weak.

When at last he pulled back the scantest of spaces, she rested her forehead against his chin, unsteady and dazed, as if she floated above herself, awake and asleep, lost in a faraway dream. He exhaled and the brush of his beard against her skin sent a shiver of anticipation to the depth of her belly and lower. Somehow he managed to twist the doorknob. He stepped backwards, his arm extended to pull her along.

The door closed with a definitive click.

He brought her into his arms, enveloped in the heat of his possessiveness, her cheek pressed to his bare skin. She heard his thundering response beneath the solid wall of his chest. She blinked back tears and pressed a kiss over his heart.

“Lexi.”

His voice overflowed with emotion and a throb of despair gave her pause. She didn’t say a word, but her eyes dared tears at his ragged plea. She made to pull away. He held her in place.

“I shouldn’t be here with you, but I can’t stay away. No matter what I tell myself, it never proves a strong enough reason.” His hands skimmed her back in a restless gesture, unable to release her, yet resistant to pull away.

“But I want you here.” Her soft admission grazed his skin.

“You shouldn’t. I’m not good for you.”

“Shouldn’t I determine that? Is every decision to be made for me? It is the very reason I left Brentwood.”

His chin rested on top of her head and he placed a soft kiss to her hair.

She had worn it in an elaborate style, the opera a formal affair, but he paid no heed, his fingers at work to release her coif, the pins landing on the floorboards in soft little sounds of wickedness. A shudder of anticipation quaked her soul. “I want you, Devlin. I want you here with me.”

He smiled at her confession and held her chin, his eyes glittering in reflected candlelight. “I’ve missed my name on your lips.” He didn’t say more and captured her mouth in a kiss that expressed every word unsaid. If her kiss was of innocence, his was pure sin. She melted in surrender to the magic of his mouth.

She made no objections when her fancy silk gown slipped from her shoulders. Nor did she object when he released each pearl button down the back of her dress as deftly as a lady’s maid. Her gown shimmied lower, and still she uttered not one word. A rush of cool air caressed her skin and she warmed with the knowledge she stood only in chemise and silk stockings. He pulled from their kiss and an anxious groan revealed his reluctance. She thought to protest in a belated act of modesty, but he silenced her with a finger across her lips.