A Devil Named DeVere (The Devil DeVere)(24)

It was then that he saw movement. "Damn it, Caroline! I thought you had departed this afternoon for The Oaks. I've already made my sentiments perfectly clear. Why must you make this so bloody difficult?" Ludovic was incensed. He rose, setting his glass down with a decisive clink, but three paces revealed his error.

If he'd wanted Diana before, his desire was magnified tenfold by the vision of her in his bedchamber. Garbed in diaphanous silk that clung to every luscious curve, her russet waves fell in a wanton cascade over her shoulders. Eyes of moss-green regarded him with luminous trepidation. She had come to him at last. His cock twitched in eager anticipation for the answer to his most selfish prayers.

***

It was with a feeling of déjà vu that Diana entered the viscount's bedchamber. The rooms were much as she had envisaged in her dream, her footsteps muffled by the deep plush carpeting, the massive tester bed with its curtains drawn back, the flickering candle in her hand, except that when she drew near, she found the bed empty. Her heart dropped like a stone.

Her first thought was that he had not yet retired, but the house was deadly quiet, and Ned and Annalee had turned in hours ago. Then it dawned on her—Caroline, and Diana cursed herself for ten kinds of fool. She knew they were lovers. Why would she ever have imagined he would have gone to his bed alone, that he would be waiting for her? Especially after she had repulsed him, not once, but thrice.

Diana tried to convince herself that it was all for the best, that she was not the kind of woman to carry on an illicit intrigue and would only live to regret it if she had carried out her plan. But the truth was heart-sundering disappointment. She had wanted—no, needed this. Desperately. She turned to depart, but froze at the angry assault to her ears.

"Damn it, Caroline! I thought you had departed this afternoon for The Oaks. I've already made my sentiments perfectly clear. Why must you make this so bloody difficult?"

She could find no voice to reply when he rose from the chair by the hearth and moved toward her with a purposeful stride. But he saw her and stopped dead in his tracks.

"You?"

"Yes. Me," she croaked from a throat made of sandpaper.

They stared at each other in interminable silence before his sensuous mouth formed a slow, wolfish smile. "Well, isn't this a surprise."

Her pulse raced. Her tongue darted nervously over her lips. "It was urgent that I see you."

"Urgent? Then why did you not sup with us? Surely we could have spoken then or shortly thereafter."

Her mind scrambled for an answer. "I wasn't well earlier."

His mouth curved a wicked turn. "You look exceedingly well to me." He took another step forward with a gaze that burned through the thin layer of silk to heat her skin beneath. He looked as if he would devour her whole.

Diana retreated two steps back, but it was not far enough to ease her sudden sense of vulnerability, nor the startling physical awareness of him.

"There is something you must know before the race tomorrow," she said.

He glanced at the mantel clock and regarded her with a sardonic lift of his brow. "By my account, tomorrow is already come."

"My apologies again for disturbing you at this late hour, but I had to speak in private. No one else must know of this."

"Disturbing me would be a vast understatement," he replied. "I find myself unusually agitated at your change of heart."

"You misunderstand," she said, the same heart now sounding a frantic beat for retreat. "This is about the race. Reggie has fixed it. He has bribed your jockey."

DeVere took possession of her hand, caressing her knuckles with his thumb. "I thank you for the warning, my dear." He drew her fingers to his mouth, kissing them with deliberate languor, his hot breath against her cool skin sending tremors racing up her arm. "But you worry needlessly. For I already know."

Her gaze fixed on his mouth. She tried in vain to ignore the warmth of it, the soft sensuous lips. "B-but how? How could you know? There was no one else about."

"I treat my people very well, and they are devoutly loyal to me for it."

Diana worried her lower lip. "What will you do now?"

"Whatever your heart desires."

She shook her head sharply, unsettled by his continued attempts to unbalance her with his persistent innuendoes. "I'm speaking of the race."

"The matter is taken care of."

"You have confronted Reggie?"

His face hardened. "No. I have quite another method of dealing with this."

"You won't tell me?"

"I will not. It is a most unpleasant topic that I would rather not dwell upon when there are far more fascinating subjects at hand." He stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers, and she broke away from him with a strangled sound.

"That's not why I'm here. I came to protect my personal interests. To warn you about the race."

"In nothing but your wrapper? Tsk, tsk, my pet. Untruths are so unbecoming. Yet it is precisely your most personal interests, your intimate needs, that are foremost in my mind right now."

She opened her mouth to protest, but he advanced and silenced her with a finger across her lips. He traced the curve of her mouth with a whisper touch that made her ache for his kiss. His thumb lingered, caressing her lower lip and making it tingle with exquisite sensation. She closed her eyes and bit her tongue to suppress the urge to lick him.