Two Shades of Seduction (31 page)

“I’ve memorized all of them. Each and every one of them has something vile to say about us, but there’s a common thread running through all of them. And that common thread says that Lord Devil is in love with his wife.”

The breath in her lungs evaporated as she looked up from the sheets he’d given her. There was the glimmer of arrogance in his gaze that made her heart pound frantically in her chest. But it was the fear that tore at her heart the most. The Devil of Devlyn was afraid she didn’t love him.

Below their box, the orchestra struck up the overture as the lights in the opera house dimmed, but Quentin’s gaze never wavered from hers. The intensity of his gaze revealed his heart to her, and the papers in her hand fluttered to the floor of the theater box.

“I love you, Quentin,” she whispered.

“Thank God.” His words were a hoarse sigh of relief, and he caught her hand in his. “Come. We need to talk, and not with every member of the damn Set watching.”

Sophie didn’t object as she accepted the hand he offered her and allowed him to usher her out of the box into the hall. There were still people finding their way to their seats for the performance, which prevented them from moving quickly down the stairs and into the Alhambra’s main lobby.

Once outside, Quentin called for the carriage, and in the space of fifteen minutes, they were seated opposite each other. Silence filled the vehicle as it rolled through the streets on its way back to Devlyn House. As the quiet stretched out between them, Sophie could almost hear the sound of her heart beating a frantic rhythm.

“Do you believe me when I tell you I never touched Eleanor?” Quentin’s voice was a dark rasp that said he still wasn’t sure of her.

“Yes. I think I have ever since I read your letter.” She reached into her drawstring bag and pulled out the crumpled letter.

“You keep it with you?” His expression was one of stunned amazement.

“I think somewhere deep inside I knew you were telling me the truth.” She stared down at the paper in her hand. “I just didn’t have the courage to believe it.”

“You have more courage than you realize, my darling wife.” Quentin clasped her hand in his and raised it to his lips. “You stormed the devil in his keep and carried off his heart.”

“No, I’m not brave at all,” Sophie swallow hard as she suddenly realized Quentin’s love might not be strong enough when it came to having a wife who was a bastard. “I…there’s something I need to tell you.”

“It sounds serious,” he said with a smile as he peeled off her evening glove and kissed the inside of her wrist. The sinful scape of his rough tongue over her skin made her shudder.

“Please Quentin,” she pleaded softly. “It
is
serious.”

“Very well. I’m listening.” His expression sober, Quentin released her hand and leaned back into the seat cushions. With his arms crossed over his chest, he looked every bit the Devil of Devlyn Keep, and her heart rate accelerated with fear that she might lose him.

“I’m not…you accused me once of being a liar.”

“I was wrong to have done so,” he grimaced, and she saw his body become stiff and rigid.

“No, you were right. I
am
a liar,” she said as she choked back tears. “Baron Townsend isn’t my real father. I am a…a…I am a bastard.”

A tremor streaked through her as she studied Quentin’s face. His expression revealed no emotion, and her heart threatened to stop beating. She turned her head away to stare out the window. The scenery told her they were almost at Devlyn House.

“Sophie, look at me.” Despite the authoritative note in his voice, she refused to turn away from the window. She jumped as a strong hand caught her by the chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “I’ve known for a long time you weren’t Townsend’s child, and keeping a secret isn’t the same thing as telling a lie.”

“You know?” She stared at him in horrified amazement as he took her hands in his again. “How could you know?”

“Your brother unwittingly told me that day at the woodcutter’s cottage. He thought I already knew the truth.” Quentin’s eyebrows arched in a wry look of regret.

“And you married me anyway?” she exclaimed with confusion.

“Yes, because it didn’t matter to me.”

“You mean your revenge was more important.” Sophie’s stomach started to churn, and she tried to pull away from him. Quentin refused to let her go, holding tightly onto her hands.

“No, my love. I didn’t give a damn that Townsend wasn’t your father. In fact, it was a relief in many ways.” He nodded as she eyed him with suspicion. “I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that it made the thought of revenge easier. But the real truth is that I was already falling in love with you, and I didn’t want to see you hurt.”

He placed another kiss on her wrist, and his tongue circled her skin in a decadent manner that pulled the air out of her lungs. Slowly, his mouth worked its way along the edge of her thumb until he sucked it into his mouth. A low moan rolled past her lips and there was a wicked look in the green eyes staring into hers. The carriage rolled to a gentle stop, and Quentin slowly drew away from her.

“I think there’s a great deal more to be said tonight,” he murmured.

There was something sinfully dark in his voice that pulled her body taut like a bow string. The carriage door opened, and Quentin stepped out of the vehicle first then turned to help her descend to the sidewalk. His hand grasped her bare one, and heat streaked up her arm until it spread its way through her entire body. Her gaze locked with his, and she saw desire flare in his green eyes. Together they climbed the steps into the house, where Fischer greeted them at the door with a wide grin on his face.

“Welcome home, my lady, my lord.”

“Thank you, Fischer.” Quentin said with a nod. Her ladyship wasn’t feeling well, so I’ll see her upstairs. Ask Cook to prepare a light supper and send it up to her ladyship’s room.”

“Of course, my lord.”

Quentin nodded at the older man before he cupped Sophie’s elbow with his hand and guided her up the staircase at a sedate pace. When they reached the landing and were out of sight of the entryway, the two of them bolted down the hall. Quentin pulled her into her bedroom and slammed the door behind them. His body pressed into hers until she was pinned between him and the wooden door.

Passion had drawn his facial muscles up taut, emphasizing the long white scar on his cheek. She sucked in a sharp breath at the desire blazing in his gaze. He’d never looked more handsome or masterful as he did at this moment. With a dark groan, he bent his head and crushed her mouth beneath his.

The exquisite heat of his lips against hers shot pleasure through every inch of her. It heated her blood until she couldn’t think, only feel. Frantically, they undressed each other while their lips tried to cling to one another. Her gown fell to the floor, followed by her combination garment. She buried her face in the side of his neck, drinking in the spicy smell of him. It was his unique aroma, and she alone would be the only woman to have his scent on her.

Trembling with a wild need that only his possession could assuaged, she blindly undid his trousers as his mouth suckled her. In seconds, her fingers wrapped around his heavy length, and she squeezed gently. A dark groan echoed out of him, and he lifted his head to stare into her eyes. The passion glowing there singed her, making her burn with need.

“Oh, God, Quentin. Please.”

§  §  §

The low, husky sound of her plea pierced his body and burrowed its way beneath his skin. God help him, but the woman had no idea how much sway she held over him. She rubbed her hips against his, while her hand played havoc with his cock. Her fresh honeyed scent filled his nostrils as he cupped her bottom.

“Wrap your leg around my waist, sweetheart.”

The moment she obeyed his command, he thrust into her. Her snug passage clung to him, rippled over him as she suddenly convulsed around his cock. He loved the way her body wrapped around him. She was a perfect fit.

A throaty cry of pleasure sounded in his ear as she clung tightly to him. The sound sent a surge of desire flooding through him. Blind to everything but her, he thrust his body into her again and again. The strength of his desire hammered at him, and at that moment, she peaked. Her hot, tight passage clenched at him with intense spasms, and his cock hardened as he thrust into her one last time before he spilled his seed in her.

A wild cry parted her lips, and he buried it beneath his mouth as they shuddered in each other’s arms. For a long moment, he stayed buried inside her. One hand still holding her bottom and the other braced on the door, he nuzzled her neck. She murmured something incoherent, and he smiled. Warmth seeped its way through his body as he withdrew from her, and he stared down at her. Her eyes were closed, and there was a sated expression on her face.

“It appears Lady Devlyn’s lusty appetite for lovemaking has been satisfied.” He grinned as she opened her eyes to look at him. She reached out to trace his mouth with her fingertips.

“For the moment,” she whispered as she pulled his head down to kiss him. Her lips were soft against his, and an overwhelming sense of peace and happiness swept through him.

“I propose we retire to the bed,” he said with a soft chuckle.

“It was rather wicked to make love this way, wasn’t it?” Her mouth parted in a seductive smile, and he felt the stirrings of desire rising inside him.

“Wicked perhaps, but immensely satisfying.” He pressed his forehead against hers and breathed in the musky scent of their lovemaking. She sighed softly in his arms, and he tilted her face so he could look into her eyes. “I love you, Sophie.”

“And I love you,” she whispered as he lifted her into his arms and carried her to bed.

Q
uentin paced the hall corridor as another scream of pain echoed out of Sophie’s bedchamber. Damnit, this waiting was the most excruciating thing he’d ever done in his life. The door opened, and Mrs. Michaels, the housekeeper Sophie had hired several months earlier, came out of the room with a basin and wet towels. Glaring at the woman, he blocked her path.

“Well?”

“She’s having a rough go of it, my lord. It’s hard to say.”

Another scream ripped its way out into the hall. The sound of it chilled him to the bone. To hell with propriety. The woman he loved was in pain, and he’d be damned if anyone was going to keep him from her.

Skirting the housekeeper, he threw open the door to his wife’s bedroom and strode toward her bed. The alarmed protests of the doctor and midwife rose over his head, but he ignored them as he approached Sophie’s side. She was pale, and her usually lustrous hair was now damp with sweat. Still, she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.

Her eyes were closed, but as he sat on the bed beside her, she slowly opened them. A brilliant light of happiness lit her from within as he grasped her hand. Leaning forward, he kissed her forehead.

“I think it’s high time you delivered our daughter, Sophie.”

“You don’t even know that it’s a girl.” Her smile was weak as she gave a slight shake of her head.

“Then prove me right.”

“It’s not as easy as that, my love.” Her exhaustion was clearly visible on her pale features.

“Isn’t it? If you can tame the Devil of Devlyn Keep, then you are more than capable of providing young Spencer with a baby sister.”

Her eyes closed as another pain rocked her body, and her hand gripped his with the strength of a vise. On the other side of the bed, the doctor leaned toward her.

“Please, my lady. You must push.”

“I can’t. I simply can’t. I’m so tired.” Sophie shook her head wearily.

The worried frown on the doctor’s face sent another chill through Quentin. He wasn’t about to lose his wife to a child. Turning his head back to her, he scowled at the expression of tired defeat on her face. She could rest later, now wasn’t the time to quit.

“So that’s it. You’re giving up.” Her eyes fluttered open to stare up at him in surprise. “And I suppose you think I’ll raise this child and Spencer on my own?”

“Quentin, you know—”

“No, Sophie, I
don’t
know how to be a mother to our children, which means I’ll be forced to marry again.”

Her eyes flashed with anger before another cry of pain broke past her lips. Seeing her hurting twisted his gut, but he refused to give in to the desire to console her. She needed to fight if she and the babe were to live. When her pain ebbed, she glared up at him.

“And what sane woman would have you as their husband? Your reputation for debauchery still stands.”

“Perhaps that young Miss Wilson you invited to dinner a few months ago. I understand her father’s seeking a title for the girl.”

“You’d grow…” She gasped as another pain twisted through her and she strained to push. “…tired of her in less than a month.”

“Then Lady Overton. Widows always possess experience.”

“You’re doing this on purpose.” Gasping for breath, Sophie scowled at him in fury.

“What? Rattling off a list of possibilities to replace you?”

“Ye…yes!”