A Devil Named DeVere (The Devil DeVere)(76)

"But I am not a wealthy woman, and you know as well as I that you acquired that stallion through dubious circumstances. You owe me the opportunity to win him back!"

"I owe you? I seem to recall only recently your great affront at just how much I have already paid you."

"That is not what I mean! You owe me the opportunity to redeem my honor, my lord. Were I a man, we would have settled this long ago on a dueling field."

"You still have a taste for my blood, madam? On second thought, you need not answer." He touched his lip with a bemused smile. "So it is now your honor that's at stake?"

"Yes." Diana faced him with her hands braced on her hips.

He laughed, a low rumble. "Ironic indeed, when your person is the only thing that remotely interests me."

Her gaze narrowed. "You wish me to wager myself?"

He shot one brow up. "How badly do you want the stallion?"

"What are your terms?" she asked.

"If I win, you will be mine for a week...to take whenever and however I please. No conditions. No constraints." Ludovic was prepared for a reaction of shock, outrage, or at least righteous indignation. Instead, to his amazement, she appeared calm, pensive, even calculating.

"A very tall order," she remarked. "If I were to agree, do I have your assurance that afterward you will never harass me again?"

He inclined his head with a half smile. "If that is your wish."

"I know my own mind."

"Then let it be my object to change it."

"So be it then," Diana said. "It's inconsequential anyway, for I don't intend to lose. Let us meet, just you and I, on the down at dawn tomorrow."





Chapter Twenty-four


They met early in the morning, while the dewy swirls of mist of still danced over the down, the mounted riders facing each other with a duelist's salute.

"Where is your jockey?" DeVere asked with a puzzled frown.

"Did I not say? I intend to ride."

"You? A woman in a sidesaddle?" He scoffed.

She met his mocking gaze with defiance. "It is how I am accustomed to going. Perhaps you're not up to the challenge, my lord?"

"Oh, I'm always up, my lady...for any challenge. I only exercise care for your neck."

His condescension and innuendo made Diana's hackles raise. "You would do better to look after your own. If I can take a four-foot stone wall while chasing a fox, I daresay I can gallop over a gently sloping down.

DeVere threw his head back with a laugh. "You are in earnest?"

She gave him a tight smile. "Yes." Diana had to suppress the urge to grind her teeth until his fit of mirth subsided.

"Fair enough, then," he replied with a lingering smirk. "I have brought Pratt to be our lone official, if that is agreeable to you?"

The grizzled jockey who had followed his master tugged a forelock in her direction.

"I trust Pratt's impartiality," she said.

DeVere inclined his head to the starting post. "Shall we?"

"For the signal, I'll drop me handkerchief." Pratt turned to Diana.

"That is also acceptable," she replied, her fingers nervously clenching the reins.

Preceding DeVere, Diana tried to quiet a heart that already seemed to be galloping across the down. They would run a single lap around the racecourse, a distance of one mile that would be completed in two potentially life-altering minutes. It was as if this moment were a culmination of fate, for Diana knew with a certainty that she would be forever changed if she lost.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing her gaze ahead, avoiding all eye contact with her nemesis, yet couldn't help slanting a reluctant glance of admiration to the rider at her side, to the strong, handsome profile, his proud and solid seat on the horse. He was in every way formidable and would give no quarter.

The hour they had spent together in the gallery had been profoundly revealing, not just in the family skeletons but in the glimpse into his soul. He had shown a paradoxical protectiveness of his family and of his good name. He had protected his brother from the worst of the dirty secrets, and although he outwardly despised both of his parents, he had ensured their care and security. Although DeVere emulated much of their bad behavior in his own life, he refused to wed for his lack of faith in marital fidelity, whereas most other noblemen would just wed for the heir and then take a mistress for pleasure. She also knew he exercised sufficient responsibility and self-control not to sire bastards upon his mistresses. DeVere continued to be a conundrum that both fascinated and repulsed her.

Diana wondered now what devil had possessed her to undertake this wager. The loss of the horses to DeVere had surely been a point of contention, and her pride had played no small part. She desperately desired to take back a portion of what had been lost, surely a just and legitimate cause, but it reached much deeper than that. She wanted to take something from him, just as he had taken from her, but that something she couldn't even define, and wouldn't confess it even if she could. Perhaps it was sheer caprice on her part? For surely her experience had already taught her that any involvement with DeVere was playing with fire, but like a helpless moth, she was mortally attracted to his flame.

The little mare shifted impatiently beneath her. Diana reached down to stroke the sleek neck. "Soon, my girl," she murmured.