A Devil Named DeVere (The Devil DeVere)(6)

The viscount cocked a warning brow. "Is recently widowed and will be gracing us with her most noble presence."





Chapter Two


After having shared a contraband brandy and an hour of conversation with Ned, Ludovic retired to his private apartments, but to his consternation, his valet was nowhere in sight. He mumbled curses as he kicked off his shoes and struggled out of his impeccably fitted frock coat, fumbling with growing impatience with the countless buttons of his silk waistcoat. Stripping off the layers of velvet, silk, fine linen, and hand-worked lace, he was divested of all but smallclothes when he finally padded into his bedchamber.

"There you are at last, darling. I had all but given up on you," a sultry voice crooned. There was Caroline, sprawled shamelessly naked atop the crimson satin counterpane, her fingers stroking the exposed curls of her mons. "I wondered if I was going to be reduced to pleasuring myself."

"Did you, indeed?" he asked. While his cock jolted at the brazen and lascivious display, he was damnably annoyed at her imperious invasion of his private domain. "While I am not in such an uncouth habit of keeping a lady waiting, I am also unaccustomed to unannounced visitors to my bedchamber."

"But don't you love surprises?"

"Not particularly. Yet you seem to have a penchant for springing them."

Her lips formed a sultry pout. "But what choice did I have when you've neglected me so sadly these last months? I told you London was unbearable. And then you left town without a word when you knew I was about to come out of mourning."

He had, indeed, been avoiding her. It was precisely why he had left. With Beauclerc's death, Ludovic's interest had instantly waned, yet Caroline had only become more demanding, treating him as if he were her stud for hire. It was damnably tiresome. He'd considered cutting her loose long before departing for Epsom, yet he preferred to wait until he had another prospect in sight, rather than sacrificing his pleasure altogether. He knew he was a selfish bastard, but he despised the thought of resorting to professional women to satisfy his appetites. He had his noble sire to thank for that.

"Where is my valet, Caroline?" It was an effort to hide his impatience.

"Why, I sent him away, of course."

"Did you?" He hid his displeasure behind a smile. "Upon whose authority?"

"Why, my own. A duchess ranks far above a mere viscount, you know." She chuckled. "I confess it was excessively diverting to watch your poor menial's inward struggle when I ordered him out."

"It is deuced inconvenient to disrobe unassisted." DeVere scowled.

"But darling, why should you be inconvenienced at all when I am here to free you of your clothes? I am near perishing from my hunger to get my hands and mouth on that magnificent instrument of yours." Her fingers trailed lazily over her smooth, white belly to the mounds of her breasts. She toyed with her nipples. They became instantly erect, yet his enthusiasm was strangely lacking, proof positive he was overdue for a change in paramours.

He'd known it for some time, of course. Yet he'd been unmotivated to take action until this afternoon's arrival of the striking Baroness Diana whatever-the-hell-her-hyphenated-surname was. She was a delectable dish, that one. Voluptuous as hell, she had instantly triggered his lust. He had yet to see the stamp of her spouse, but the man's attention to her was suspect from the outset. He had let her travel half the country without the benefit of his escort and had not even notified her where he was staying. Ludovic couldn't help wondering if she might be ripe for the plucking. Stolen fruit is most often the sweetest, after all.

He had seen the brief frisson of reciprocal desire in her eyes, yet she had instantly suppressed it. Right unfortunate, that. Perhaps she was amongst that rare species called faithful wives. He would have believed them mythical creatures had he not seen Annalee's example firsthand. There was no question that both she and Ned were revoltingly devoted to one another.

His cock stirred at the thought of Diana…and the image of it sliding between the luscious mounds of her breasts. Yet here was Caroline in his bed—the proverbial gift horse, writhing and moaning in the full thrall of masturbation. Perhaps if he were to close his eyes and enter her from behind? He retrieved a small, satin pouch from the pocket of his breeches and unfastened the placket to withdraw his semi-erect phallus. Taking it in hand, he sheathed it in a thin layer of sheep gut incongruously secured with a blue satin riband.

Noting his preventive measures, Caroline's eyes narrowed. "Why must you always use such a device?"

"Out of care for my health…as well as your own," he answered.

She sat upright, lips curved in distaste. "You suspect I carry disease?"

"I suspect nothing. But I know for fact you have other lovers, some of whom are far less fastidious than me. But if my preference for armor offends you, my sweet, I can surely eliminate my own discomfort." Taking his stiffened cock in hand, he fisted himself with several hard, fast strokes. His brief actions swiftly brought him to full length and breadth. He heard her intake of breath. He saw her pupils flare in eyes widened in fascination and desire. She licked her lips.

His own twitched. "Do I detect a change of heart, my pet?"

She glared in outraged capitulation. "Come and f*ck me, you bastard!"

With a laugh, Ludovic flipped Caroline onto her stomach, a position that would muffle her voice. He then closed his eyes, envisioned Diana beneath him, and plunged deeply into her.