But if Honoria had accepted Chillingworth, all hell would have broken loose. The possibility that she had refused the invitation purely to spare his feelings was almost as unacceptable as his relief that she had.
Protectiveness he understood, possessiveness he understood-both were an entrenched part of his makeup. But what the hell was this he was experiencing now-this compulsion she made him feel? He didn't know what it was but he knew he didn't like it. Vulnerability was a part of it, and no Cynster could accept that. Which begged one question-what was the alternative?
The carriage rumbled on. Devil sat in his corner, his shadowed gaze fixed on Honoria's face, and pondered the imponderable.
He'd reached no conclusion when the carriage rocked to a halt before his door. Footmen ran down the steps; his mother exited first, Honoria followed. Climbing the steps in her wake, Devil entered his hall on her heels.
'I am going straight up-I will see you tomorrow, my dears.' With a regal wave, the Dowager headed up the stairs.
Cassie came running to relieve Honoria of her heavy cloak; Webster appeared at Devil's side. Devil shrugged off his evening cape.
'Master Alasdair is waiting in the library, Your Grace.'
Webster delivered his message
'Thank you, Webster.' Resettling his sleeves, Devil turned to Honoria. 'I bid you a good night, Honoria Prudence.'
She hesitated, her eyes touching his briefly, then stiffly inclined her head. 'And I bid
With cool hauteur, she turned and climbed the stairs. Devil watched her ascend, hips swaying gently; when she passed from view, he hauled in a deep breath, slowly let it out-then headed for the library.
Wringing blood from a stone would doubtless be easier, but Honoria was not about to allow Devil to deny her the latest news. She wasn't going to marry him-she'd warned him repeatedly she would not-but she was still committed to unmasking Tolly's killer. She'd shared the information she had found; it was his turn to reciprocate.
She heard the latch of the morning-room door click; swinging to face it, she straightened. Devil entered and shut the door. His gaze swept her, then returned to her face; with his customary languid prowl, he approached.
'I've been told you wished to see me.' His tone, and the elevation of one dark brow, suggested mild boredom.
Regally, Honoria inclined her head and kept her eyes on his. All the rest of him-his distant expression, his movements so smoothly controlled, all the elements of his physical presence-were calculated to underscore his authority. Others might find the combination intimidating; she simply found it distracting. 'Indeed.' He halted before her. Lifting her chin she fixed him with a gaze as incisive as his was bland. 'I wish to know the latest news in the search for Tolly's murderer. What did Lucifer learn?'
Devil's brows rose higher. 'Nothing of any importance.'
Honoria's eyes narrowed. 'He waited until one in the morning to see you to report 'nothing of any importance'?'
Devil nodded. Honoria searched his eyes; her own eyes widened. 'You're lying!'
Inwardly, Devil cursed. What was it that gave him away? 'There was nothing Lucifer discovered that might lead us to Tolly's murderer.'
Honoria stared at him. 'That's not true either.'
Closing his eyes, Devil swore beneath his breath. 'Honoria-'
'I can't
Opening his eyes, Devil saw her chin tilt, her gaze shift. Before she could begin her usual peregrinations, he locked both hands on the mantelpiece, one on either side of her. Caging her. Incensed, she glared at him.
'Believe me,' he said, trapping her heated gaze, 'I'm grateful for your help. The others are concentrating on discovering where Tolly went after he left Mount Street. What Lucifer came to report was something else entirely.' He paused, choosing his words with care. 'It may be nothing, but it's not anything you can help investigate.'
Honoria considered the evidence of his eyes-they remained crystal-clear. Whenever he lied, they fogged. She nodded. 'Very well. I shall continue with my own investigations, in my own way.'
Devil's hands clenched on the mantelpiece. 'Honoria, we're discussing tracking a murderer-a cold-blooded killer-not discovering who stole the Queen of Hearts's tarts.'
'I had assimilated that fact, Your Grace.' Honoria tilted her chin higher. 'Indeed,
Devil's jaw set. 'You are not going to Africa, and you'll stay well clear of this villain.'
Her eyes flashed; she lifted her chin one last notch. 'You're very good at giving orders, Your Grace, but you've forgotten one pertinent point.
Those last four words were Devil's undoing; lightning-fast, he straightened, hauled her into his arms, and set his lips to hers. In his present state, it was sheer madness to try to coerce her, to attempt to enforce his will in that way.
Sheer unmitigated
It snatched Honoria up, buffeting her senses, ripping her from reality. Only her fury and an intuitive grasp of his aim allowed her to resist. His lips were hard, demanding, searching-for a response she longed to-ached to- give. She locked her lips against him.
His arms locked about her; unyielding steel, they tightened, impressing her soft flesh with the male hardness of his. Sensation streaked through her; her skin tingled. Still she held firm, holding to her anger, using it as a shield.
He tilted his head, his lips moved on hers, a powerful, elemental call to her senses. Inwardly reeling, Honoria clung to lucidity, sure of only one thing. He was kissing her into submission. And succeeding.
Fragment by fragment, she lost her grip on her fury; familiar heat flooded her. She felt herself soften, felt her lips lose their resolution, felt all resistance melt. Desperation gripped her. Surrender was too galling to contemplate.
Which left attack her only option. Her hands were trapped against his chest; sliding them up, she found the hard planes of his face. He stilled at her touch; before he could react, she framed his jaw-and kissed him.
His lips were parted-she slid her tongue between to tangle challengingly with his. He tasted powerful- wonderfully, elementally male-a mind-whirling sensation gripped her. He hadn't moved-instinctively she deepened the caress, angling her lips against his.
It burst upon her, upon her senses, in a hot flood tide. It rose from within him, from between them, pouring through her, cascade upon cascade of exquisite sensation, of deep, swirling emotion, of soul-stealing compulsion.
On one heartbeat, she was the leader, on the next, he resumed command, his lips hard, his body a steel cage surrounding her. A cage she no longer wished to escape. She surrendered, gladly yielding; ravenous, he stole her very breath. Breasts aching, heart thundering, Honoria stole it back.
Between them, desire smoldered, flared, then exploded, flames licking greedily, devouring all reticence. Honoria gave herself up to them, to the beckoning pleasure, to the thrill of desire, to the urge of molten need.
She pressed herself against him, flagrantly enticing, hips shifting in unconscious entreaty. Fingers sliding into his thick hair, she reveled in the raw hunger that rose, naked, elemental, between them.
Their lips parted briefly, for less than a heartbeat; who pressed the next kiss was moot. They were lost together, trapped in the vortex, neither in control, both beyond reason. Hunger welled, swelled; urgency mounted, inexorable, compelling.
An almighty crash shook them to their senses.
Devil lifted his head, arms tightening protectively as he looked toward the door. Gasping, literally reeling,
