Devils Bride

with-or was that distract?-the governess and nurse, she exchanged polite nothings with a facility born of long practice. The expectant look in the twins' bright eyes as they glanced from her to Devil and back again did not escape her. She could only be thankful they did not voice the question clearly exercising their minds.

The sun found a chink in the clouds and beamed down; the twins and Henrietta fell to weaving daisy chains. Little Mary, her fingers too plump to manage the slim stems, sat beside her sisters on the grass, big blue eyes studying first the three women chatting nearby, then Devil, still talking to Simon. After a long, wide-eyed scrutiny, she picked up her doll and, on sturdy legs, stumped up to Honoria's side.

Honoria didn't know she was there until she felt a small hand slip into hers. Startled, she glanced down. Mary looked up and smiled-confidently, openly trusting-then tightened her pudgy-fingered grip and, looking back at her sisters, leaned against Honoria's legs.

It took all Honoria's years of practice to preserve her composure, to look back at Mrs. Hawlings and Miss Pritchard and continue to converse as if nothing had happened. As if there wasn't a hot, soft hand snuggled into hers, as if there wasn't a soft weight propped against her legs, a soft cheek pressed against her thigh. Luckily, neither woman knew her well enough to know that her expression was not normally so blank.

Then Devil strolled up, one hand on Simon's shoulder. He saw Mary and glanced at Honoria. She kept her expression bland, determinedly uninformative under his sharp-eyed scrutiny; he looked down and held out a hand. Mary dropped Honoria's hand and went to him. Devil swung her up in his arms; Mary clung and snuggled her head down on his shoulder.

Honoria breathed deeply, her gaze locked on little Mary clinging close; the emotions rolling through her, sharp need, poignant desire swamping all fear, left her giddy.

Devil declared it was time for them to go. They made their farewells; as Mrs. Hawlings turned away, Mary in her arms, the little girl wriggled about to wave a pudgy hand. Honoria smiled softly and waved back.

'Come-Sligo's probably organizing a search by now.'

Honoria turned; Devil took her hand and tucked it into his elbow, leaving his fingers, warm and strong, over hers. She found his touch both comforting and disturbing as, frowning slightly, she tried to settle her emotions. They walked briskly back to the main carriageway.

The curricle was in sight when Devil spoke. 'As a governess, did you ever have younger children in your care?'

Honoria shook her head. 'As a finishing governess, my role was specifically restricted to girls a year from their come-out. If the families I worked with had younger children, they always had another, ordinary governess to take charge of them.'

Devil nodded, then looked ahead.

The drive back to Grosvenor Square gave Honoria time to marshal her thoughts. Their outing had been unexpectedly productive.

She'd verified Lady Osbaldestone's theory that she was strong enough to influence Devil, even over something he had a deep antipathy to-like her involvement in the search for Tolly's murderer. She'd had it confirmed that she did, very definitely, want to have his child. Of all men, he had to be the best-qualified mate for a woman with her particular fear-and she most assuredly wanted him, arrogant tyrant that he was, worshiping at her feet.

There remained one piece of Lady Osbaldestone's vision she had yet to verify, although he had, from the first, stated that he was marrying her to get her into his bed. Did that qualify as passion? Was that what lay between them?

Ever since their interlude on the terrace at the Place, she'd given him no chance to draw her close; his 'mine' had effectively quashed her pursuit of his 'pleasure.' Over the last three days, however, her interest in the subject had returned. Even grown.

Webster opened the door; Honoria swept over the threshold. 'If you have a moment, Your Grace, there's a matter I wish to discuss.' Head high, she headed straight for the library door. A footman sprang to open it for her; she glided through-into the devil's lair.

Devil watched her go, his expression unreadable. Then he handed his driving gloves to Webster. 'I suspect I won't want to be disturbed.'

'Indeed, Your Grace.'

Waving aside the hovering footman, Devil entered the library and shut the door.

Honoria stood before the desk, tapping her fingers on its edge. She heard the latch click; turning, she watched Devil slowly approach. 'I want to discuss the ton's likely reaction when it learns I'm not marrying you.' That seemed a sufficiently goading topic.

Devil's brows rose. 'Is that what this is about?'

'Yes.' Honoria remembered to frown when he did not halt but continued his prowling advance. 'It's pointless to close your eyes to the fact that such an outcome will cause a considerable stir.' She turned to stroll, as slowly as he, around the edge of his desk. 'You know perfectly well it will affect not just yourself but the family as well.' Glancing over her shoulder, she saw him some steps behind her, following in her wake. She kept walking. 'It's simply not sensible to allow the expectation to build.'

'So what do you suggest?'

Rounding the desk, Honoria continued toward the fire place. 'You could hint that matters were not settled between us.'

'On what grounds?'

'How should I know?' She flung a glance over her shoulder. 'I'm sure you're imaginative enough to invent something.'

From six feet behind, Devil's gaze remained steady. 'Why?'

'Why?'

'Why should I invent something?'

'Because…' Gesturing vaguely, Honoria walked into the corner of the room. She stopped and stared at the volumes level with her nose. 'Because it's necessary.' She drew a deep breath, mentally crossed her fingers, and swung around. 'Because I don't want anyone held up to ridicule because of my decision.'

As she'd hoped, Devil was no longer six feet away. His eyes held hers, mere inches distant. 'I'm the only one risking the ton's ridicule. And I'm not about to run shy.'

Honoria narrowed her eyes at him, and tried not to notice she was trapped. 'You are without doubt the most impossibly arrogant, conceited-' His eyes dropped from hers-Honoria caught her breath.

'Have you finished?'

The question was uttered in a conversational tone. His lids lifted and he met her gaze; Honoria managed a nod.

'Good.' Again his gaze lowered; one hand rose to frame her face, then he bent his head.

Honoria's lids fell; in the instant his lips closed over hers, she gripped the bookshelves behind her tightly, fighting down her triumph. She'd got her wolf to pounce, and he hadn't even realized he'd been baited.

The thrill of success met the thrill of delight his kiss sent racing through her; she parted her lips, eager to learn of his passion, eager to experience again the pleasure she'd found in his arms. He shifted; she thought he groaned. For one instant, his weight pressed against her as his lips forced hers wider, his tongue tasting her voraciously. The sudden surge of desire surprised her; immediately, he shackled it, drawing back to a slow, steady plundering designed to reduce any resistance to dust.

That instant of raw, primitive emotion spurred Honoria on-she wanted to know it, taste it again; she needed to learn more. Her hands left the bookshelves and slid beneath his coat. His waistcoat effectively shielded his chest; the buttons, thankfully, were large. Her fingers busy, she angled her head against the pressure of his kiss. Their lips shifted, then locked; tentatively, then with greater confidence, she kissed him back.

It had been far too long since he'd kissed her.

Devil knew that was true; he was so famished, so caught up in drinking in the heady taste of her, that long minutes passed before he realized she was responding. Not passively allowing him to kiss her, not even merely offering her lips, her soft mouth. She was kissing him back. With untutored skill maybe, but also with the same determined forthrightness that characterized all she did.

The realization mentally halted him. She pressed closer, deepening the kiss of her own volition-shaking off his distraction, he took all she offered and greedily angled for more. Then he felt her hands on his chest. Palms