The Devil You Know (The Devil DeVere #3)(45)

Though Annalee continued her prattle, Diana heard nothing more. He had had shown her passion, awakening emotions she had previously locked away deep inside. For two blessed nights, she had abandoned herself to him completely, and just as suddenly, it was over. He was gone from her life. Just like that.

Excerpt from The

Devil’s Match

Coming from Breathless Press August 24, 2012

DeVere House, Bloomsbury, 1783

Viscount Ludovic DeVere sprawled indolently on his Turkish divan, pulling on a hookah while a voluptuous redhead serviced him with her decadent mouth. Eyes at half-mast, he lazily surveyed the scene of oriental decadence that could have been stolen from an Otto-man sultan’s seraglio—the myriad hues of silk draping the walls and ceiling, the vivid Turkish rugs and cushions that scattered the floor, the writhing shadows created by the luminous glow of brass lanterns.

Through the purple-blue haze of smoke and incense, his boon companions engaged in various and sundry acts of pleasure with the half-dozen women he’d engaged for an evening of debauchery, and Ludovic realized he was bored out of his senses. He’d been this way for days—restive, edgy, and irritable—as if his life had become suddenly unbalanced. He also recognized with even greater self-annoy-ance that the marks of his discontent had commenced upon a certain person’s arrival in London, a circumstance that aggravated him beyond measure.

Although he’d successfully avoided any encounter with Diana in the past sennight, Hew’s apparent interest in her had eaten away at him, a circumstance that had both spurred Ludovic to assist in Vesta’s abduction scheme, as well as subconsciously inciting him to host to-night’s fest of carnal indulgence. Deep down, he still carried the ob-stinate belief that with sensory repletion, the yearning for something more would go away. Unfortunately, neither the drink, the opium, nor the sex, had sufficed to fill the yen that the knowledge of her near-by presence had created. Yet, paradoxically, he still wished to avoid her at all costs.

“What the devil is it, Winchester?” Lord DeVere snapped at the appearance of his majordomo. “I thought I communicated quite clearly that we were not to be disturbed.”

The flushing servant diverted his gaze to the ceiling in an obvious effort to ignore the ongoing orgy. “But there is a lady to see you, my lord. She is most insistent.”

“Another one?” Lord Malden chortled. “By all means, have him send the baggage in. Damn me, DeVere, but you are well supplied.”

“I am, indeed,” DeVere answered. “It is a most amicable arrangement with Madam Hayes, but I had not requested another.” DeVere gave another long, lazy pull on the stem of the hookah proffered by his scantily clad companion and cast a sadly indifferent gaze at the temptress who enthusiastically sucked his cock.

The servant flushed. “You misapprehend, my lord. This lady—”

“Will not be turned away.” Diana stepped boldly into the room.

Ludovic almost laughed aloud. For there she stood, as if he’d conjured her. Although a black veil obscured her face, he could have identified her proud carriage and sultry voice among a hundred similar women. In all of his six-and-thirty years, he had never allowed a woman to get under his skin, but this one had infected him with an infirmity for which he had yet to find a complete cure.

Oh, he’d sought balm for his condition, all right. In Paris, he had soothed his raging fever with opera dancers, and in Italy, the finest Venetian courtesans had served as a temporary unguent. Following in the footprints of the ignoble Baron Baltimore, after whom he had capriciously chosen to model his life, Ludovic had sojourned to the East in an endeavor to satiate his sybaritic senses in every possible way.

But still, his symptoms—the hollow sensation, the emotional detach-ment as if he were sleepwalking through life—inevitably returned.

Though his pulse had quickened at the very sight of Diana, he addressed the woman kneeling between his legs with an air of careless indifference. “Put your playthings away, my pet, for we have an unexpected guest.”

Stepping closer, Diana addressed him with icy hauteur. “So this is what you have reduced your life to, my lord?”

“It is fortunate that I don’t give a damn for your opinion, madam,” he answered with a taunting smile. Defiantly, he caressed the bare breast of his would-be odalisque and took another pull on the hookah, blowing purple-cast smoke rings into the air. “Now, to what do I owe the privilege of your queenly condescension?” He could almost see her hackles rise, a circumstance that gave him a peculiar twinge of pleasure.

“How dare you ignore my messages and compel me to come to this...this...den of iniquity!”

He could no longer suppress a chuckle. “It was your choice to invade my domain. Thus, it is not for me to concern myself with your injured sensibilities. I already conveyed to you that the girl is safe.

There was nothing further to be said.” He gave her a bland lift of his brow, enjoying the hell out of her reaction.

“Nothing further! Where is she?” Diana demanded. “She was last in your charge and has not returned! I found her maid locked in her room! If anything has happened to her—”

“I assure you she is perfectly safe in my brother’s keeping.”

“Hew is involved in this? I don’t believe it. He would never—”

Ludovic’s mouth kicked up in the corner. “Perhaps I misspoke. It would be vastly more correct to say he is in hers.” The girl was a tiny virago. He almost felt pity for his brother.