The Virgin Huntress (The Devil DeVere #2)(18)

“You do?”

“I do! I’ve done it many times! I know that you despised Latin and left your studies early to join the dragoons. You are an avid turf man and never miss a race meet if you can help it, although you have missed many while away in the American war. I know you are brave too, Captain Hew. But no one needed to tell me that. I just knew. You are also a magnificent rider, and riding is what I enjoy most.”

His gaze narrowed. “And I understand you are quite as proficient at it as you are at playacting.”

Vesta had the grace to look chagrinned. She licked her lips and continued her inventory. “Pratt said you were the terror of Tarleton’s legion in the war, yet you saved many men’s lives—”

“Many more died,” he interjected bitterly.

“But you did not. I thank God that you lived,” she murmured. Her solemn expression and the earnestness in her wide, hazel gaze put him off balance. Vesta continued in a soft, plaintive tone, “What I don’t know...is how you got this.” She reached her fingers toward his cheek. He shrank back, catching her wrist.

“Don’t, Vesta.”

“But I touched you earlier,” she said. “You didn’t mind then.”

He felt the heat of embarrassment flush his face. No, he had not minded. He had been bloody eager for much more than that too, but that was when she was just a figment of his imagination, a siren in a dream.

She shrugged. “I also know that you don’t sweeten your tea.”

His gaze narrowed, and then the corner of his mouth lifted involuntarily. “So you already knew that, did you?” She gave him a mischievous smile that lit her entire face. Against his will, he found himself softening toward her. “Then why would you think I would drink that concoction?”

“It was a safe wager because I also know you are a gentleman,” she said. “But not priggish like Papa can be sometimes.”

On safer ground now, his temper flared anew. “On the contrary, I think your father has been far too lax where you are concerned.”

Vesta’s smile vanished.

“Indeed, we will not only turnabout at once,” Hew said, “but I intend to personally see you on the first coach back to Yorkshire where I shall strongly suggest your father lock you away for the next five years...or however long it takes for you to grow up! Now, will you fetch my clothes, or must I parade out the door bare arsed?”

“I’m sorry, Hew, but I cannot do that,” she replied firmly.

“And why is that?”

“Because the door is locked, and Pratt has the key.”

***

“The devil you say!” He strode toward it, jerked the knob, and then pounded with his fist.

“Don’t worry,” she said calmly. “We have food and drink enough for two more days.”

He turned on her like a predator, backing her into the corner. He grasped her shoulders, pinning her in place. Hew stood head and shoulders over her, making Vesta more aware of her diminutive stature than ever before. He glowered down upon her with blue fire flashing in his eyes. Her heart beat an erratic tattoo against her breastbone, part fear and part exhilaration. He surely takes notice of me now.

“You intend to keep me confined in here with you for three days?” His voice was low and ominous.

“It doesn’t have to be three days,” she said. “It just depends how long it takes for you to come to your senses.”

“My senses?” He shook her so hard she thought her teeth would rattle. “It is you whose mind is disordered if you think you can tame me like some pet! Is that what you think, Vesta? That you can somehow turn a man like me into your little lap dog?”

“No.” She stiffened her spine and spoke, as earnest as she had ever been in her life. “I could never imagine you as a lap dog. Ever. You are a mastiff. Big, powerful, dignified, brave, and yet gentle.” She nodded with a look of self-satisfaction. “Yes. Most definitely a mastiff.”

Hew gaped at her, speechless.





CHAPTER NINE




“You must be hungry by now,” Vesta said. “There is a lovely basket here with bread, cheese, meat pies, and wine.”

“No, thank you.” He snarled but then in almost the same breath, snatched up a bottle of wine, pulled out the cork with his teeth, and took an angry swig. Vesta seated herself alone at the table and nibbled on some cheese.

“Do you intend to share?”

He only glared his response and continued pacing with pauses only to pull on the bottle.

She shrugged and opened another one, making a great production of pouring it into a glass. She took a sip and made a face.

“What is it?” Hew asked.

“Nothing, really. I’m just accustomed to drinking it with water. Papa does not approve of young ladies drinking spirits of any kind full strength. Would you care to play some dominoes or cards?” she asked. “I know All Fours, Casino, and Piquet. I am also quite adept at Matador too, but my favorite games are backgammon and chess. Although luck is a great part of the former, I find that one really cannot win without also employing a stratagem in the long run.”

Hew chuckled despite himself. “I can see how games of strategy might be your forte.”

“Do you care to play?” she asked brightly.