Sweet Torture (Fated for Love) (8 page)

The carriage drew to a stop before the Bre
ntton townhouse. A footman opened the door and let down the step assisting Lady Ellsley from the carriage followed by Olivia and then Devon. Devon turned to hand Lydia down and the warmth of his hand was a shock to her senses. She pointedly ignored him as she shook out her skirts, and then proceeded to climb the front steps. If she couldn’t get ahold of her reaction to him in public, then her entire reputation would be ruined. She was never one to wear her heart on her sleeve, and she wasn’t about to start now.

“Will
father be joining us?” Devon asked, entering the foyer, and giving his gloves and hat to the butler.

“He is playing cards with
Lord Ketterig tonight, so he won’t be home until quite late, I’m afraid.” Lady Ellsley continued, “He did leave some farm reports for you to look over on his desk, Devon. He wants you to become acquainted with some new farming apparatus.”

“Oh
, joy.” Devon said sourly.

*~~~

Dinner was a drowsy affair with little talk and a light supper before the ladies excused themselves and Devon retired to the library to review his father’s notes.

Devon preferred the library to his father’s study. The room was larger and cheerier with bookcases lining the walls
, and comfortable seating scattered throughout the room. He lounged on a settee pulled close to the fire, flipping through farming reports and notes his father made about crop yields, summer planting, and fence repairs. He had removed his coat, cravat, and waistcoat, throwing them haphazardly over the back of a chair. He rested his head on one end of the settee and crossed his booted feet over the other. He yawned and checked the clock on the mantel. It was only half past eight and yet he wouldn’t have minded heading to bed, especially if his bed contained a certain disapproving blonde-haired woman.

There was a whisper of sound from the doorway and when he looked up
, he couldn’t believe his eyes. Well, speak of the devil, or rather, an angel cloaked in a simple white dressing gown trimmed with pale blue satin. Her hair was braided to the side, and pulled over her shoulder like a golden rope of woven honey and cream. She stood frozen, her eyes like saucers, and her lips frozen on a gasp.

“Well
, don’t stand there all night. Come in, if you must,” Devon beckoned.

“I just wanted…
I shouldn’t.” She hesitantly looked over her shoulder. “I just wanted a book to read. I thought you would be in your father’s study.” Her hands fluttered around the sash of her robe nervously.

Devon silently and quickly rose from the sofa.
He stepped near and around her to close the door with a soft click. “I prefer the library. You never know when an underdressed woman might wander in.” He smiled wickedly as he drew closer to her side, and fingered the braid draped over her shoulder.”

“Does that happen often here?” She asked skeptically.

“Not here, I’m afraid, not until now.” He picked up her braid and weighed it in his hands.

“Stop that
!” She snatched it away from him, and moved out of his reach while he chuckled. She pretended to peruse a wall of books while contemplating the closed door.

“Can I help you pick something?” He smiled benignly
. “Perhaps something from the East, an instructional manual of sorts?” He strolled to a nearby shelf and pulled a red volume with gold lettering.

“I’ve always approved of expanding
ones mind. What is it called?”

“The
Kama Sutra,” Devon said with the air of a professor instructing a student. “It is quite informative, and some would say, necessary for living a rich and fulfilled life.” He strolled towards a table and turned up the lamp.

“Is it in English?” Lydia asked quizzically as she drew near to look at the book.

Devon held it against his chest. “No, but the illustrations rather speak for themselves.” He looked at her quite seriously. “The concepts are quite sophisticated, and often involve practice, hours and hours of practice. You will need my help.”

“I will be the judge of that
, let me see.” She reached for the book, but he evaded her.

“Careful
, dear, it is quite old, let me show you.” He set the book on the table and after glancing at her briefly, he opened to the middle of the book. He trained his gaze on her face to witness her reaction.

Her
eyes grew round with shock, her lips popped open with a sharp intake of breath, and a flush infused her cheeks. The colors and images depicted were startling and riveting. She stepped back and glared at him.

“I suppose you find this funny showing me such…
such… rubbish.”

“Hardly rubbish
, Lydia. Some would consider it art.”

“What!”
She huffed angrily. “You mean to make a fool of me, is that it? Am I just a joke to you?”

Devon closed the book and stepped towards her.
Clearly, his jest was having disastrous effects. He had meant to annoy her at best, and perhaps arouse some curiosity in her, but she was growing angrier by the second. “Lydia, no, I…” Christ, but he didn’t know how to explain himself.

She folded her arms across her chest fuming with indignation. “Oh
, I see, is this your way of educating me for our… our… whatever it is we’re doing. I’m not sophisticated enough, so you must coach me, is that it?”

“Christ
, no, Lydia. I just wanted to arouse you and—.” He stopped. She looked more than a little confused, and suddenly, Devon felt like a horses’ ass. For all Lydia’s maturity and composure in the face of the ton, she was as pure as the driven snow in heart and mind. What kind of man was he to corrupt such innocence?

“Arouse me?”

“I’m sorry, Lydia. I bungled this, enormously.” He went and sat on a nearby chair, and dropped his head in his hands. He was the picture of contrition.

“I don’t understand
, Devon. What were you trying to do?”

He shook his head in his hands. “Make you blush, make you argue with me, either, or both
, I don’t know. You’re so damn beautiful when trying to tear me apart with your tongue, and its vastly more entertaining than reading farm reports. Hopefully, by the end of it, I could sneak in a kiss before letting you go to bed, while I damn myself to a sleepless night of tossing and turning from wanting you.”

She remained silent for a moment
. “You did bungle it, then. I daresay I’m astonished such a book is in your family’s library.”

“You and I both. It was a wedding gift to my
parents. My Uncle Edward has quite the sense of humor.”

“No!” Lydia giggled.

“Yes, my father told me so.”

“How could he say such a thing to his own son?”

“Perhaps he knew at the tender age of nine and ten, that I was a skirt chasing scoundrel.”

“Everyone could tell
. It was nearly branded on your forehead.” Lydia strolled nearer and pulled a book from the shelf. “The Downfall of Mr. Drake, hmmm, sounds interesting.”

“Sounds like rubbish.” Devon scowled. “It must be one
of Olivia’s romantic novels.” He said disgustedly.

Lydia smiled. “Sounds perfect
, then.”

Devon stood languidly and approached Lydia. She backed up into the shelves
, and looked up at him with wary but amused eyes. “If its romance you need, I can give it to you.” He brought his hand slowly to her chin and tipped her face up.

“You can’t kiss me in your
parents’ house Devon, it wouldn’t be proper,” Lydia said, but she didn’t move away and never took her eyes from his.

His gaze consumed her in one sweep before settling on her lips.
“Nothing about what we’re doing is proper, Lydia. You must let go of this puritanical cloak you wear, or you will never find what you are looking for.”

“What am I looking for?” Her gaze dropped to his lips as he moved a fraction closer
, taunting her senses with his nearness.

“Me. You’ve always been looking for me
, and I you. We just didn’t know it.” He brushed his lips against hers, gently at first, and then sealed them.

She opened readily
, and he took her mouth with a slow deliberate exploration designed to turn her knees to water. She dropped her book, and brought her arms around his neck to hold on to him. They just kissed, holding each other, and exchanging breaths. Their bodies molded tightly together, hungry with the need to be closer.

His arms held her tightly, his hands moving up and down her back with needy strokes. He cupped her bottom with both hands lifting her and bringing her hips harder against his
, creating a delicious friction against her. She moved against him in response. He answered her and groaned aloud while setting a rhythm to drive them both mad. He cursed against her mouth, and lifting her off her feet, carried her to the settee, where he collapsed with her on top of him. She arched up in surprise, but Devon wouldn’t have it. He grabbed her braid and pulled her back to him, bringing his lips to her throat in a searing trail of kisses and licks.

Lydia moaned in wicked abandon. Her new position gave her a measure of control
, and she used it to angle her hips against his rigid arousal and move against him.

“Oh
, God, Lydia. I can’t take it.” But his hands gripped her hips and helped her set a torturous cadence.

Lydia gripped his shirt in white knuckled handfuls
, and opened her neck to his sinful onslaught. Her dressing robe had come open and he nuzzled the fullness of her breast using his chin to maneuver her neckline down. Bringing one hand up, he pulled at the gown until her breast popped out and he took it into his mouth without preamble. Lydia gasped, and then hissed in pleasure as he suckled her. Lydia closed her eyes and buried her head in Devon’s shoulder. She softly cried out and shuddered against him.

Devon groaned suddenly, and without warning, he lost all control and spilled his seed in his trousers. He felt like a green boy. But at the same time, never had he experienced anything as seductive and arousing as having Lydia orgasm against him. It was the most erotic thing he had ever experienced, and considering some of his passed exploits, that was saying a lot.

Lydia pulled away
, looking flushed and deliciously rumpled. They both sat up on the settee and began to straighten their appearance in silence.

“I daresay
, you got more than a kiss,” Lydia quipped after she had refastened her robe and began to re-braid her hair.

“I think we both did
, sweet.” Devon watched her in fascination. Lydia in disarray was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“I should go before we tempt fate any longer.” She
stood. She looked bashful, and a little bit hesitant to meet his gaze.

Devon walked her to the door
, but before he opened it, he took her in his arms again and kissed her senseless. “Now go to bed before we get caught, and you ruin my reputation.”

Lydia smiled dazedly and slipped out of the Library. Devon watched her fade into the darkness before closing the door and leaning against it. He looked down at his trousers. How was he going to explain this to his valet?
Bother it; he paid the man well enough to earn his silence.

The days flew by in a dream like whirl of social gatherings and hidden trysts. Lydia felt positively wicked, but longed for those moments when Devon would catch her off guard and sweep her into some hidden cove, dark parlor, or steamy conservatory fragrant with exotic flowers and fruit. Her behavior was reprehensible, but she loved it. Never had she defied the social norms or broken the sacred doctrine of propriety that had been preached to her from her earliest memories. Lydia didn’t care. When she was with Devon, none of it mattered. The cocoon of his embrace was a place of pleasurable warmth, kisses, and caresses that brought Lydia a completely new awareness of herself. She was a desirable woman with wants and needs of her own.

She was not the icy façade she pretended to be for the ton
, but a living breathing creature of passion, and that’s exactly what Devon gave her. Each kiss, each caress, led her further down a road of which she could not return. She was becoming startling aware of her body, and all the ways Devon could make her feel pleasure. He was peeling away her modesty little by little until she panted for more, and ached for the brush of his tongue against her nipple or the thrust of his arousal against her.

They had resumed their normal banter in the public arena
, and no longer did Olivia cast them curious glances. Lydia enjoyed tossing barbs back and forth with Devon, knowing that at some point later in the evening he would make her pay dearly, and she awaited it with delicious anticipation.

As t
he morning waned into early afternoon, Lydia was sitting in the family parlor with Olivia and Lady Ellsley. She yawned discreetly as she worked her needle over a delicate hummingbird suspended over a flower. Embroidery wasn’t her strong suite, but it was one of the mindless tasks drilled into her as a suitable past time for a young lady. A knock sounded on the door and a maid entered with tea and scones. She stopped before Lydia and Olivia, who shared a settee, and curtsied.