Taste of the Devil (7 page)

He shuddered for effect and hoped he wasn’t overdoing it. “Well, the forced intimacy in such a relationship can be appalling.”

Ginny was confused. “But, I thought you lived for women.”

So she had heard of his reputation. “I live for the excitement of the chase.” He did not lie in that regard.

“Then you don’t wish to marry either?” Her face brightened at the prospect, annoying him no end.

“Not until now.”

He smirked at her crestfallen expression. Round about is fair play, mate. He lowered his voice to an enticing whisper.

“You see, I have figured out a way for both of us to get what we want.”

That seemed to please her. She peeked up at him through her lashes with the allure of a mischievous coconspirator. “How?” She whispered sweetly back. Her features were luminous and earnest; she was utterly enchanting.

His heart gave a strong thump in his chest.

Strange as it seemed, it was the moment that Tyler wondered if he might come to really want this woman. He had felt something different from the minute he met her.

A man of decisive temperament and action, he disregarded his original intent of annulling the marriage because– God’s tooth– he would never last a day anyway, so what would be his grounds?

One had to be a realist.

The two of them were going to mate. He could feel it in his... bones.

It was not that dire, he reasoned he would eventually need a wife– why not her?

Tyler tried to imagine the scene as if he had written it: once he poured on his infamous charm, she would do naught but fall willingly into his arms.

An odd yet inviting notion settled in his head.

When he married her (and marry her, he must) he would take her as his real wife. Reputation to the contrary, Tyler took such commitment seriously.

He could be faithful to her...

There were advantages; he would no longer have to play the roué. Think of the time and bother that would save!

Of course he could never let her actually know he was being true; he had a reputation to maintain.

To make up for his various subterfuges, he would protect her from her uncle. In turn, she would fall hopelessly in love with him. The scenario had a poetic sense of beauty.

He rather liked the idea of someone devoted to him like that.

One day we could have dark haired, dimple faced children.

All of them rogues like me.

Gazing down at her, the notion appealed to him.

Somewhere deep inside Tyler Devon, wastrel, rake, and scoundrel, beat the heart of a romantic.

Albeit, a rather marauding romantic.

The first thing he had to do was convince her to go through with the vows. Fortunately, he had oft been told he excelled at ‘convincing’.

Mind made up, he informed Ginny of how the deed could be done. He annunciated slowly and softly, as if he were imparting a secret writ of the Knights Templar.

“It could be a marriage of convenience.”

Ginny’s brow lowered. “I assumed all marriages were convenient– for the man.”

Tyler hid his smile. She was either more clever than she let on or naturally entertaining. Perhaps a good deal of both? “No, my lady, you don’t quite understand.” He leaned closer to her. “A marriage of convenience sets aside intimacy.”

Ginny’s face genuinely flamed. “I– I see. Then, you-you wouldn’t...” She looked down and plucked nervously at her chemise. Since her mother had died when she was still relatively young, this was one area she knew next to nothing about. And Henley had refused to discuss it with her, although she knew it had something to do with kissing a man on the lips. The subject was certainly not one she wished to be discussing with Lord Devon.

You better discuss it with him or all will be lost, she chastised herself.

Trying to regain her composure she swallowed and cleared her throat. “So, you wouldn’t kiss me?”

“As you say.”

If Tyler felt any guilt over that vague answer, he certainly didn’t show it. Ginny, however, was not ready to make the purchase.

“You mean you actually would be willing to–”

“Forego the one for the many?”

That was blunt. Ginny realized the rake was backing up his proposal to forego intimacy with her by indicating he would have others to pick up the slack!

What type of mad world did he live in?

“You’re not serious.” She leveled a look at him.

“Oh, I am. You have my word– how was it put to me recently?” He tapped his lower lip with his thumb. “As a gentleman.” The edges of his mouth curled up mysteriously.

“But how would you ever get heirs, my lord? One needs that kiss to get heirs.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “That’s all it takes, does it?”

Ginny knew it took a great deal more than that; she wasn’t that naive. While the actual mechanics were a mystery to her, she knew it was much more involved.

However, she was not about to let Lord Devon know that; she was trying to convince the man she was a rather dull, sheltered country girl.

“Oh, yes, I read it in a book.”

“A book, hmm?” He rubbed his jaw. “And what book was that exactly?”

“I’m not sure of the title, but I remember the passage distinctly.” She quoted one of her novels, dropping her voice a register in what she deemed a proper narrative tone. “’Miss Lavinia found herself most compromised when she allowed the swain to kiss her’. That’s exactly what the book said.”

Tyler gave her an ironic look. “One can’t argue with the written word.”

“That’s right.” Her eyes went wide as she imparted this salacious gem, “And nine months later out popped that extra baggage!”

Lord Devon had a violent coughing fit.

Ginny quickly went to his aid by patting his broad back. “Are you all right, my Lord?”

“Yes, yes, fine.” Tyler cleared his throat in an attempt not to roar with laughter.

“It is shocking.” She wiggled her rump on the chilly stone bench.

“Cold? Here sit on my lap, ‘tis warmer than that hard stone.”

So saying the rake effortlessly lifted her onto his lap. He then placed a proprietary hand at her waist, spanning almost half her midriff. The heat of his palm burned through the thin cotton of her chemise and corset.

Inwardly, Ginny fumed at his presumption, but outwardly she just stared at him, rather dumbly. This marriage of convenience might be the only answer for her. She could be free of Jediah and go about her business. But what of her parent’s estate? She would have to think about this carefully; his proposal did have some merit.

Nevertheless, she did not like being so close to such a notorious rake. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners in amusement whenever he looked at her made her feel odd. And the man was so wretchedly handsome. It didn’t seem to be quite fair.

Tapping down her qualms, she surreptitiously removed the offending hand at her waist, saying, “Thank you for your kindness, my lord. Your lap is softer than stone, too.”

Not for long, Tyler acknowledged as she wriggled to get more comfortable. Kindness was not exactly a motive he was known for, either. And yet, he was rather famous for knowing the right maneuver to win his objective.

In a seemingly unconscious move, he firmly replaced his hand at her waist. “Why don’t you call me Tyler, since we soon shall be husband and wife?”

He picked up her braid and gently draped it over her right shoulder. It was a style he had seen the women of an exotic country wear and he rather liked the saucy look.

It certainly fit her, he surmised, having taken her measure quite accurately.

Ginny was piqued at his overly familiar gesture.

And why was that annoying hand at her waist again?

Smile, she told herself. Just smile stupidly at the man.

“Not so fast, good Lord Devon. You have not told me all I wish to hear.”

Speaking softly into her ear, he whispered, “I will tell you anything you wish to hear.” His thumb idly traced a path along the curve of her breast, indicating an entirely different promise.

A worry line furrowed Ginny’s forehead as a shiver skirted down her spine. Does the man know he’s doing that? Should I say something? What would I say–

your thumb is annoying me?

Annoying wasn’t exactly the right word.

Ginny thought it best to ignore it for the time being. “About the heir, my lord?” she prodded.

“Yes, the heir.” Tyler’s lashes swept down over his eyes. “I shouldn’t worry about an heir.”

By her relieved expression, she seemed to accept his statement at face value. He had successfully hooked her–

now it was time to reel the marlin aboard. “I understand that your uncle has an appetite for your fortune. He has made an agreement with my grandfather to retain control of your estate after the marriage.”

Her shoulders sagged. “That is true.”

“But there is one thing they have forgotten. I have signed nothing. I will gladly turn over your fortune and estate to you on your twenty-first birthday if you agree to my proposal. Consider it my gift to you in exchange for our bargain.”

Ginny’s smile was brilliant. “Can you do that, Lord Devon?”

The rogue smiled back. “Hadn’t you heard? I do anything I choose.” He winked at her.

Ginny grinned from ear to ear. “Then you most certainly have a deal, Lord Devon.”

“Do call me, Tyler,” he whispered close to the raspberry lips that would soon belong to him.

He hadn’t started out the day hunting treasure; but since he had come upon one he knew enough not to let it go.

* * *

Completely satisfied, they each thought they had the situation well in hand.

Chapter Seven

“Ye did wot?”

Mabel was having an apoplectic fit. “Ye spoke with the man in yer undergarments? Are ye daft?” Her bulky figure paced the bedroom, arms thrown wide.

Lord Devon had given Ginny a hoist into the tree after she had convinced him she could negotiate safely back into her bedroom. If his broad palm lingered too long on her backside as he assisted her... Well, it was probably due to concern for her safety.

“Calm down, Mabel. Don’t you see? It couldn’t have worked out better if I had planned it myself.”

From Mabel’s expression, it was apparent she didn’t ‘see’. Ginny pressed on. “Lord Devon and I have agreed.

We’ve struck a bargain. He wants his freedom as much as I do so we’re to get married in name only.”

“Are ye tellin’ me the rake seen ye in yer unmentionables and told ye he wouldna’ touch ye?”

Mabel lifted a craggy eyebrow. “Was ye born yesterday?

And him being the rogue he is!”

Ginny waved her concerns away. “I’m telling you, he isn’t interested. He only wants his freedom. Why, the man was like clay in my hands.”

“Hmph! I’m thinking he just wants to be in yer hands, period.”

Ginny was scandalized. “Mabel Dooley!”

The older woman squinted her eyes at Ginny.

“And wot does his Lordship give ye in return fer leaving ye alone. As if that makes sense to a sane body.”

“Only my inheritance when I reach my majority.

At last I shall be free from Uncle Jediah.”

Mabel shook her head in exasperation. “Now, Regina Thomlinson, ye’ve cooked up some harebrained schemes in the past, but this is beyond all. And ye did it by yer onesome without yer lamebrained cousin adding his skewered bit t’ the stewpot! Mark my words, girl– yer in fer it.”

“Don’t be silly. What could possibly go wrong?”

Mabel gave her a look of total disbelief. “Be tellin’

me, Ginny,“ she drawled slyly. “Is he as handsome as wot they say?”

Ginny flushed. She nervously shoved a stray lock of hair out of her face. “I– I suppose he isn’t too hard on the eyes.”

Mabel eyed her knowingly. The rake had already gotten to her and the girl didn’t even know it. Well now, this was intriguing... Her Ginny had never shown a wit o’ interest in any man, swearin’ she’d never get shackled.

Now here she was, having been in the rakehell’s presence only a short time, already agreeing to marriage, and heaven-knew-what-else.

Mabel decided she had to meet this Lord Devon.

Anyone who could talk her ladyship around the bend must have a bright candle in the belfry. She had her suspicions that there was more to this man than what was bandied about. The plot was about to thicken for sure.

Ginny threw open the doors to her wardrobe and inspected the contents. “Lord Devon is currently speaking with Uncle. Of course, he won’t mention that we’ve already met. Please, Mabel, help me dress for dinner?”

Mabel nodded at “Reggie’s” clothes. “Shall I put these away then?”

“No, nothing has changed; I am still going to meet Lord Henry tonight. Which reminds me, Charles executed the wig but I think we may be able to resuscitate it.”

Mabel looked around. “Where is it?”

“I kicked it into the rosebed out of Lord Devon’s view. After I go down to dinner, go and reclaim it from under the bushes. Be sure to keep an eye out for Charles, though; you know how he is when he’s claimed something.”

Mabel exhaled a long suffering breath. “Aye.” For a quiet country house, there always seemed to be something afoot.

And the root cause was standing before her in corset and chemise.

* * *

Ginny glided down the stairs and into the parlor like a lady to the manor born.

At her entrance, both men stood.

She had donned a rose damask gown with a white underskirt and a darker hued rose stomacher. Gone was the urchin in undergarments; in her place stood a fashionable young woman of remarkable beauty.

Tyler’s eyes gleamed in appreciation when he saw her.

“Lord Devon, may I present my niece and your betrothed, Lady Thomlinson?” Jediah’s stern expression warned Ginny to behave. “Regina, Lord Devon.”

Ginny curtseyed properly, her expression demure.

“My lord.”

Tyler took her hand as she rose, pressing a brief kiss to the back. “My lady,” he intoned in an even voice.

Ginny smiled at the hint of amusement in his tone.

She also noted that he had taken some care to present himself to her uncle. While still wearing his buff colored breeches, black riding boots, white silk shirt, and black waistcoat and jacket, he had tied off his hair into a neat queue at the back of his neck.