Sweet Torture (Fated for Love)
Read Sweet Torture (Fated for Love) Online
Authors: Ella J. Quince
Sweet Torture
By Ella J. Quince
Copyright 2013 Ella J. Quince
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission
, with the exception of brief quotations for use in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are the product of this author’s imagination and being used fictitiously.
To my husband. I love you so much, but you drive me crazy. We do not have a storybook romance; we have a real romance that is funny, loving, irritating, messy, enraging, hardworking, and long lasting. I have no doubts you will still be pissing me off when we are in our nineties and I will still love you. We are a lot like Devon and Lydia in that we have an un-nameable attraction to each other, but can't resist knocking each other down a peg when needed. You tolerate my over emotional weirdness and I keep you from being a bigger asshole than you already are. We made a beautiful child, a combination of all the good in us, and he is blessed with a wonderful, loving, playful father.
“This is a nightmare!” Olivia cried in the parlor of her parent's Mayfair townhouse. Her devilishly handsome brother sat beside her as a shoulder to weep upon while her dearest friend, Lydia Covvington, sat across from her, worrying a tear soaked handkerchief.
“What can we do?” Olivia sniffed.
“Nothing, it would ruin us,” Lydia frowned at the twisted handkerchief in her hands.
Devon scowled at her.
“We will do whatever we can, Lydia.”
“Which is what?” She looked up and met his scorn. “Lilly has gone into hid
ing. Her name is tarnished—by treason of all things. We don’t know where she is, or least of all how to help her.
“Ever the voice of hope,” Devon sneered
. “If you cannot be supportive maybe you should leave.”
Tears welled
in Lydia’s pale blue eyes. “I am trying to be reasonable. Lilly is my friend, too. Even if I could help her, she never came to me and asked.”
“Perhaps because you’re so cold,
” Devon snapped back at her.
“Devon!” Olivia gasped. “How could you say such a thing?”
Lydia stood and walked away. She exited the French doors left open to the brisk spring air still chilled from a winter refusing to release London.
“Devon
, go apologize at once,” Olivia scolded. “I’ve already lost one friend. I won’t let you drive away another.”
Devon rose and cursed as he strode
through the open doors into the weak afternoon sun. He caught sight of a willowy blond who sat crying in the rose shrouded gazebo. He walked to the arched entry and climbed the steps. He stopped just inside the shadowed interior and leaned back against the entryway post, hands in pockets, ankles crossed leisurely.
“I apologize for my hurtful words
, Lydia.”
She turned away from him and sniffed.
She didn't like to cry in front of others. From the time she was a small girl, she was taught to keep her composure in any situation. It was the mark of true breeding as her mother always said.
Somehow
, Devon Brentton always got the best of her. His words could cut to the quick, and when his emerald-green eyes looked at her with such disdain, it hurt more than she could bear.
“I should not have called you cold. I know you care for Lilly
, too.”
Still
, Lydia only gave him her profile, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he had hurt her.
“Oh hell
, for Christ’s sake look at me!” Devon grabbed her elbow and pulled her to her feet to face him.
“Do no
t handle me so, it isn’t proper,” Lydia snapped.
“
Perhaps I should kiss you and truly ruin your day.”
Lydia froze as she met his gaze.
“You… you wouldn’t dare,” she blushed from a mixture of illicit shock and indignation.
“Ah, a chink in the great Lydia Covvington’s icy armor
.
“Is this an apology?” Lydia’s body warred between hot and cold, anger and…
excitement?
“You would never accept an apology from me. In your
eyes, I’m nothing but a scoundrel.”
“Surely
, not just mine,” Lydia responded dryly. Anger was a much more familiar emotion when dealing with this rogue. She allowed it to soothe her frayed nerves. “If you have not yet grasped the notion, I came out here to escape you.”
Devon ignored the insult. “What would you do if I kissed you
, Lydia? Would you melt? I quite like the idea. In fact, I think I would become famous, ‘Lord Wilhelm melted the puritanical ice queen of London.’”
“You are not amusing. I’ll thank you to let me go now.”
“I’m really warming to this idea, Lydia.” He smiled.
“Devon
, please.” Lydia tugged at her arm. The effect of his smile was like liquid heat down her spine.
“In fact
, I think it would be good for you.”
“Let me go
, you impudent rogue,” Lydia fairly growled the words.
“Come now
, Lydia, a little kiss never hurt anyone,” he shrugged innocently.
“On the contrary, a single kiss has ruined many young ladies.
I also would not like to have anything in common with the legions of loose women with which you associate.”
Devon laughed buoyantly while still
holding her arm. The sight scattered Lydia’s composure. When Devon genuinely smiled, not the cool aloof smile he showed society
,
or heaven forbid laughed, he was truly a demigod among men. Lydia was not one to be swayed by a man’s looks, but she had never seen a man more handsome than Devon Brentton. He had the same flashing green eyes as his sister, and twin dimples that have been known to cause swoons. Not Lydia, of course, but Devon in full force—as he was now, was an assault to the female senses. Lydia would only grudgingly admit—and only to herself—that she was susceptible. She looked away from him feigning annoyance, but in truth, it was for self-preservation.
They were enclosed in a dome of roses ultimately hidden from all eyes
with only one exit currently blocked by one broad shouldered male. He stopped laughing and now stared openly at her with that mocking smile.
“I’m serious
, Devon, release me,” she demanded.
“I am serious
, as well. I really think I should kiss you.”
Lydia’s eyes widened in alarm. “Don’t
think
, it doesn’t suit you.” She tugged at her arm again but his grasp was firm. He stepped closer bringing them together in the shadows. Vibrant pink roses bobbed and stared as if cheering him on. It would have been romantic if Lydia was some pea-brained halfwit in her first season, but Lydia was Lydia, and as a paragon of proper decorum in society, she was immune to situations such as this except… Devon Brentton was going to kiss her. Fear and excitement skittered over her skin, but she fought against it.
“Devon
, really. Stop this nonsense and let me leave. This is highly improper.”
“Indeed it is. It will be over before you know it
, Lydia.”
“I bet you say that to all your strumpets.”
“Touché.” He laughed as he pulled her ever closer until there was nothing between them but clothing. He pulled her arms up around his neck, and her traitorous hands clasped together at his nape.
Lydia could do naught
, but stare into the shadowed emerald of his eyes as his head moved closer blocking out everything but him. She closed her eyes involuntarily and felt his lips brush against hers.
“Devon.” She didn’t even realize she
had said his name aloud. She should tell him to stop, but the words wouldn’t form. His hands moved to her hips, and he pulled her tightly against him. She gasped, and he took advantage of her open mouth to deepen the kiss.
His mouth slanted over hers. Lydia’s mind scattered as his warm velvet tongue stroked hers and she responded in kind. Her body was a traitor. Eagerly
, they dueled until finally as stars glittered behind her eyelids she pushed against him and he broke the kiss. They were both breathing heavily.
“That was foolish…I apologize
,” he said stiltedly.
“We are both fools.” Lydia stared in bewilderment. “That can never happen again.”
“I agree,” he stated solemnly as he stepped away. His fingertips dragged against her hips as if reluctant to let go.
“If someone had seen…” Lydia felt a fissure of panic.
“No one saw,” he reassured her.
“How do you know?”
“I’m a rake, I know these things.
Lydia paused
then smiled nervously. “That is strangely comforting. I must leave, goodbye, Devon.” She moved past him, no longer able to meet his gaze, or make awkward small talk. Her color was high, and her heart was beating fiercely in her chest like a little trapped bird. Her steps quickly carried her across the garden. She flew through the French doors absently noting Olivia sitting demurely on the sofa, hands clasped in her lap.
“I’m sorry
, Livie, I must leave.” Lydia didn’t even halt her exodus to hear a response. She was behaving horribly she knew, but could not stop her frantic escape. As she reached the front hall, the butler appeared. “My cloak, please, and my carriage.”
“As you wish
, Lady Covvington,” he intoned and soberly walked away after bowing.
Lydia
was tempted to give him a swift kick in the rump to hasten him. Apparently, a kiss from Devon Brentton caused one to lose one’s mind. Lydia tried to calm herself. She was being a complete ninny over something that Devon probably did to women daily. It meant nothing, of course. It was just shocking, was all. It was Lydia’s first kiss, and it had shocked her to her very toes. She looked down at her slippers peeking out from her hem; somehow, shocked toes should look different from regular toes but maybe not with slippers on.
The butler appeared with her cloak.
“Thank you.” She hastily donned it as he opened the door for her, and Lydia made her escape. Sitting inside the carriage, she finally felt composed once again. She had been kissed by Devon and survived. Really, she had overreacted. She could see that now. She would think nothing of it from now on, and hopefully, Devon would do the same. They could go on as if nothing had ever happened.
Devon strolled into the parlor as nonchalantly as possible. No man alive could possibly claim brother of the year after kissing his little sisters dearest friend. Especially, if said brother liked it.
Liked it was an understatement.
Devon planned to relive that kiss morning, noon, and night until the burn of it wore off. Guilt would put a damper on that, but only if Olivia knew he had kissed Lydia. Otherwise, the forbidden fruit aspect of it only added fuel to the fire.
Olivia turned to lo
ok at him, one eyebrow raised. “I trust you apologized in a satisfactory manner?”
Bloody hell
, she knew.
“I can explain.”
“I don’t need you to explain, Devon. The entire world knows you are a rake, and such behavior is to be expected, but to a friend Devon? Our friend?” she scowled at him.
“Lydia is not my
friend.” Devon responded. “She can hardly tolerate my presence.”
“You thought forcing yourself on her would change that?
Dear God in heaven, is that how all men think?” Olivia stood before him and shoved his chest.