carriage dress. There was nothing to mute the shock of her reaction-like lightning it speared through her, incandescent fire arcing through her veins. Beneath his hand, her breast swelled; her nipple had tightened to a firm bud even before his fingers found it. Honoria tried to gasp, but he was still kissing her; in desperation, she took her breath from him-and discovered that she could.
His fingers stroked, gently kneaded, and her abandoned senses sang. While the warmth of his caresses spread through her, heating her, heightening the melting sensation deep inside, Honoria mastered the art of breathing through their kiss-suddenly, she was no longer so giddy.
Suddenly she could think enough to know what she felt. Enough to appreciate the quivering excitement that held her, the thrill of anticipation that invested every nerve, every square inch of her skin. Enough to recognize the desire that thrummed heavily in her veins-the compulsion to actively return his kiss, to draw his hard body to hers, to invite, incite-do whatever she could-to quench and fill the molten void within her.
The knowledge rocked her, shocked her-and gave her the strength to draw back.
Devil sensed her withdrawal. Beneath his hand, her breast was hot and swollen, the furled bud of her nipple a hard button against his palm. Yet her retreat was obvious-in their kiss, in the sudden sinking of her senses. He knew women too well, too thoroughly, to miss the battle she waged-the battle to block her own inclination, to suppress the desire that had welled within her in answer to his need. Inwardly, he cursed; she was causing him no end of pain. He was sorely tempted to open her bodice and slide his hand in-to show her what that would do to her, what more there was yet to come. But her innocence was a cross he'd steeled himself to bear-the knowledge that he would be the one to school her in love's ways, the only man she would ever know intimately, was a powerful inducement.
She was no prude-she was attracted to him at a level so deep it excited him just to know it. She was ripe for seduction, by him; she would be his-his wife-there was no way he'd let her escape him. Raising his head, he watched as her lids fluttered, then rose, revealing misty grey eyes still silvered with passion. He trapped her gaze. 'I should warn you that I've made myself four promises.'
His voice, deepened by passion, gravelly with frustration, rumbled between them. Honoria blinked dazedly; Devil suppressed a feral grin. 'I'm going to enjoy watching your face the first time I pleasure you.' Dipping his head, he brushed her lips with his. 'And the second and third time as well.' He drew back-Honoria's eyes were wide, startled. 'Pleasure…?'
'When I make that molten heat inside you explode.'
'
'In a cataclysmic starburst.' Devil tightened the fingers that still lay about her breast, then let them slide in a languid caress, his thumb circling her ruched nipple. A quivering shiver raced through her. Deliberately, he caught her eye. 'Trust me-I know all about it.'
She searched his eyes, her own widening; suddenly, she drew a breath.
'And,' Devil said, bending to taste her lips again, cutting off whatever she'd thought to say, 'my fourth promise will be the culminating event.'
He drew back and watched her debate her next move; eventually, she cleared her throat and asked: 'What else have you promised yourself?'
Devil's face hardened. 'That I'll be watching your face as I fill you, as you take me inside you, as you give yourself to me.'
Honoria stilled-it took all her strength to suppress her reaction, a flaring impulse to passion and possession, a lancing desire so thrillingly vital, so compelling it literally stole her breath. The unexpected insight-into herself, into what might be-was shocking. Most shocking of all was the fact it didn't scare her. But she knew where her future lay-it couldn't be with him. Her eyes locked on his, she shook her head. 'It won't happen. I'm not marrying you.'
She pushed against him; he hesitated, then drew back, letting her sit up. The instant she did, his fingers closed about her chin; he turned her to face him. 'Why not?'
Honoria looked into his narrowed eyes, then haughtily lifted her chin from his hold. 'I have my reasons.'
'Which are?'
She shot him a resigned glance. 'Because you are who you are for a start.'
His frown turned black. 'What's that supposed to mean?'
Honoria struggled to her feet-instantly, his hand was there to help. He followed her up. She bent and picked up the rug. 'You're a tyrant, an unmitigated autocrat, utterly used to your own way. But that's beside the point.' The folded rug in her arms, she faced him. 'I have no ambition to wed-not you, not any man.'
She met his gaze and held it; he continued to frown. 'Why not?' The demand, this time, was less aggressive.
Honoria swiped up her parasol and started toward the curricle. 'My reason is my own and not one I need share with you.' He was a duke-dukes required heirs. Reaching the curricle, she glanced back-basket in hand, he was trailing in her wake, his expression frowningly intent. When he stopped in front of her, she looked him in the eye. 'Please understand, I
He held her gaze for an instant, then he reached for the rug, tossed it into the boot, and swung the basket after it. Letting down the flap, he followed her to the side of the carriage. Honoria turned and waited; she caught her breath as his hands slid about her waist.
They firmed, but he didn't lift her. Suddenly breathless, Honoria looked up-into crystal green eyes that belonged to a conqueror.
He held her, held her gaze, for a full minute, before saying: 'We have a standoff, it seems, Honoria Prudence.'
Honoria attempted a look of hauteur. 'Indeed?'
His lips lengthened, compressed to a line. 'Indeed-for I have
For one finite instant, Honoria met his gaze, then she raised her brows and looked away.
Jaw clenched, Devil lifted her to the carriage seat, then followed her up. A minute later, they were back on the road; he let his horses have their heads, the whipping wind soothing his overheated brain. Possessiveness had never gripped him so hard, never sunk its talons so deep. Fate had given her to him, to have and to hold. He would have her-take her to wife-there was no alternative.
She had a reason, she said-one she wouldn't tell him. So he'd find out and eradicate it. It was that or go mad.
Chapter 9
'Yes?' Devil looked up from a ledger as Webster entered the library.
'Chatham just rode in, Your Grace-the gentleman you were expecting is waiting as directed.'
'Good.' Shutting the ledger, Devil stood. 'Where is Miss Anstruther-Wetherby?'
'I believe she's in the rose garden, Your Grace.'
'Excellent.' Devil headed for the door. 'I'm going riding, Webster. I'll be back in an hour with our guest.'
'Very good, Your Grace.'
Two grooms ran up as Devil strode into the stable yard. 'Saddle up the bay and get Melton to saddle Sulieman.'
'Ah-we've not sighted Melton since early, Y'r Grace.'
Devil raised his eyes to the skies. 'Never mind-I'll get Sulieman. You fig out the bay.'
When he led Sulieman into the yard, the bay was waiting. Mounting, Devil accepted the bay's reins and rode out. Six days had passed since Honoria had dispatched her summons to her brother.
Cresting a low rise, he saw a carriage halted in the road ahead, one of his grooms chatting to the coachman. Beside the carriage, a gentleman paced impatiently. Devil's eyes narrowed, then he sent Sulieman down the road.
