Demon of Mine (4 page)

It was a button. Made of perfectly
polished silver, it might have once belonged to a gentleman’s coat.
Perhaps it had fallen off as its owner disrobed behind the screen.
It seemed fine enough to belong to Damon, but that also meant it
could have been lost by a wealthy guest. She held the finely shaped
bit of metal in her hand, wondering if Damon had worn it.
Carefully, she touched it to her breast, her memories of the
carriage ride flooding back to her in vivid detail. Though Damon
had been quiet and reserved, that hadn’t stopped her heart and her
foolish imagination from running wild. Would she feel as excited
each time she encountered him at the manse? He’d left at dusk, and
the housekeeper had said it was a regular habit of his. But surely
he’d be back soon, and she’d see him the next day. Staying at
Hertfordshire was going to be quite the ordeal for her heart if the
novelty of being so close to him didn’t wear off soon.

But she supposed it would. She was,
after all, just a maid who allowed herself to indulge in silly
fancies. Damon would never know, and she’d eventually grow
accustomed to encountering him. She looked down at the button she
held in her palm again, sighing. As she stared, it blurred to an
indistinct silver smear. She looked up to find the room spinning
around her. The peacocks on the dressing screen became blue and
purple smudges, highlighted by brighter golden paint, and the bed a
vast sea of jacquard dressings. Her knees wobbled and failed her,
dropping her to the floor. Her own trembling hand was the last
thing she saw before everything faded to nothingness.

Chapter 2

A dull ache between Elsie’s eyes was
the first harbinger of consciousness. Something was hard against
her cheek – the floor, she realized. A crackling sound filled the
air, and for one terrifying moment she thought she’d awakened into
a real-life nightmare, as she had seven years ago. But the only
smell was the pleasant aroma of burning pine, not charred bodies,
and she could breathe easily. Something was pressing into her palm
– the button. Her stomach sank. She must have had another one of
her episodes. How long had she been lying on the floor behind the
dressing screen in the empty bedroom? She turned her head and
blinked up at the screen. The housekeeper or one of the other
servants might have come looking for her and missed her, hidden as
she was behind it. Even now she was in darkness, obscured in shadow
while firelight danced on the floor at the edge of the
screen.

Firelight. Her stomach twisted
unpleasantly as a spike of alarm pierced her hazy thoughts,
bringing her fully back to consciousness. A heavy sigh from
somewhere beyond the screen doubled her chagrin. Clearly, she
wasn’t alone in the room. Barely daring to breathe, she slowly drew
her legs up beneath herself. One of them was asleep. She frowned
and pinched her calf, hoping to banish the pins-and-needles
sensation. When she finally regained mobility and managed to assume
a kneeling position, she dared to peek around the corner of the
screen.

Her heart stopped for a
moment. A man was sitting on the edge of the large four-poster bed,
a man she’d recognize anywhere.
Da-mon,
Da-mon, Da-mon
her heart beat frantically.
What should she do? Expose herself, apologize and rush from the
room? But he was already undressing. He shed his waistcoat as she
watched, revealing a white shirt smattered with crimson
spots.

Elsie’s stomach lurched as she stared
at the morbid stains in disbelief. When she noticed the red streak
that was smeared across one of his high cheekbones, she couldn’t
look away from it. At least, not until he pulled his shirt over his
head and tossed it aside.

Her breath hitched in her throat,
escaping her in a silent rush. His torso was perfect in every way,
from the broad but graceful slopes of his shoulders to his flat
stomach. A diamond of ebony hair in the center of his chest stood
in stark contrast against his pale, creamy skin and tapered to a
sensual stripe that disappeared beneath the waist of his
tightly-fitted pantaloons. He would have been a perfectly heavenly
sight if it hadn’t been for the crude stripe of blood that stained
his face. What on God’s earth had he been doing?

Jenny’s words rang in
Elsie’s ears.
A demon
. Well, he almost looked the part with that frightful
bloodstain on his cheek. But there had to be some reasonable
explanation for why he’d come home in the middle of the night
painted with blood that didn’t look to be his own. If only she
could think of one, maybe her stomach would stop tying itself in
uncomfortable knots. And maybe, just maybe, she could bring herself
to move out from behind the dressing screen.

When he unbuttoned his pantaloons, she
knew it was too late. She also knew she should look away, but that
seemed just as impossible. She stared in fascination as the fabric
parted, revealing more of the night-dark hair and in the center of
a bed of it, his cock. It was stiff and thick, rising tall in his
lap. Whatever he’d been doing, it apparently hadn’t involved sexual
release. The expression on his face was tense and wistful, and his
dark eyes glittered. Instead of feeling ashamed, Elsie wondered
what – or who – he was thinking of. His expression made it seem as
if some intense memory or fantasy were teasing him. He settled a
hand in his lap, closed his fist tightly around his shaft and
sighed. An emotion Elsie couldn’t quite identify filled her as he
began to move his hand, causing her heart to seize and swell with a
bitter-sweet combination of longing and something like
sadness.

He didn’t hold back. And why should he
have? Of course he thought he was alone. Heat finally flooded
Elsie’s cheeks as a wave of guilt washed over her. She shouldn’t be
watching this. It was an unforgiveable intrusion on his privacy,
and it was stirring feelings in her that were best left unaroused.
Every inch of her body burnt with desire as she watched him, and
her nipples hardened to tight points beneath her dress and
undergarments. She hadn’t felt like this since… No, she’d never
felt quite like this. It was glorious and agonizing all at once.
Dampness crept from her core as Damon pumped himself toward
release, his hand rising and falling, gripping his cock so firmly
it looked almost painful.

The moans that escaped from between
his full, parted lips might have been mistaken for pain too, if it
hadn’t been for the expression of ecstasy on his face. His lips
were curled in a half-smile, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. At
least he couldn’t see her. No doubt he’d send her straight back to
London if he caught her watching him, poor health or no.

With a deep moan he threw himself back
onto the bed, landing on his back with his head among the many
pillows and his dark locks spread about his face in wild disarray.
He was clearly close to climax, stroking himself furiously as he
breathed deeply, his breath rushing over his lips. Elsie watched,
rapt, hanging on his every breath. She’d never seen anything more
entrancing. She wasn’t a virgin, but there was still much she
hadn’t experienced, including watching a man bring himself to
release. Did it really feel as good as it looked and
sounded?

Apparently it did. He
grunted and shuddered, sighing something that would have frozen
Elsie where she crouched, had she not already been so perfectly
still. “
Elsie.
” It
was little more than a whisper, but in the quiet room, it might as
well have been a gunshot.

His seed spilled from the blunt tip of
his cock, arcing through the air and splattering across his flat
belly. Several more strokes and he was finished, breathing hard
with his motionless fist still wrapped around his shaft. His seed
gleamed from among the dark hair that striped his torso.

Elsie watched, trembling with shock
and burning with longing, as he wiped his semen from his body with
his discarded shirt and settled into bed, rolling over onto his
side with a final sigh. She wouldn’t leave until she was absolutely
sure he was asleep. She wasn’t sure what would happen if she was
discovered – it would either be a scene from a nightmare or a
fantasy. She didn’t dare find out which.

****

Elsie willed herself not to stir as
the door creaked open and soft footsteps sounded, muffled by the
thick Oriental rug. She’d been lying awake for twenty minutes
already, waiting to be discovered where she’d settled on the
library floor, behind a plush armchair in the farthest corner from
the entrance. She’d tiptoed out of Damon’s room and into the
library a few hours ago and gleaned from the clock on the mantle
that it’d been nearly three in the morning. Lying down on the floor
with her skirts carefully mussed to look as if she’d fainted, she’d
wondered about Damon until she’d fallen asleep. The bedroom scene
she’d witnessed in secret had played over in her mind at least a
dozen times, until exhaustion had brought a temporary end to her
fantasies. Now they were back in full force.

She desperately tried to shove away
the image of Damon clutching his hard cock. What would the
housekeeper, or whoever was about to find her, think when they saw
her face? She could feel that it was red. People didn’t blush in
their sleep, did they? Probably not, unless they’d been having the
kind of dreams she’d had after finally drifting off on the library
floor. Her dreams had been brazen, if not surprising, after what
she’d witnessed. Her mind had conjured up image after image of
Damon, and sometimes she’d even found her dream-self in his arms.
Once, in his bed. She swallowed and lay perfectly still as the
footsteps came within a few feet of her. She’d made sure that the
top of her head was just barely visible, to ensure she wouldn’t be
overlooked.

“
What have we
here?”

No. God,
no
. Her discoverer’s low, silky voice sent
a spike of alarm through her heart and a shiver of anticipation
down her spine. How was it that Damon had already risen when he’d
gone to bed just a couple hours before? Why, God, hadn’t the
housekeeper come looking for her? His clothing rustled faintly, and
it sounded as if he’d knelt, though Elsie didn’t dare to
look.

She nearly jumped when his fingertips
brushed her neck. Struggling not to tremble, she forced herself to
keep still as he pressed them into the hollow of her throat,
waiting. “Not dead, then,” he breathed, sounding surprisingly
relieved. Her heart sped, and her pulse pounded against his
fingers. Could he tell she was feigning slumber? The idea was
mortifying, and she felt like an idiot lying on the floor,
pretending to be unconscious. A few moments passed before he
removed his touch. Elsie’s terror mounted with each and every
second.

He drew a deep breath and
sighed, low and long. The sound conjured memories of the night
before, when he’d sighed in much the same way and moaned. When he’d
said her name.
Elsie
. She hadn’t had a clue that he’d even remembered her name,
let alone thought of her when he sought release. It was almost too
much to believe, unless…

Of course. God, she was a fool. She
surely wasn’t the only Elsie in England, and if Damon longed for a
girl with that name, it surely wasn’t her. The frightful tension in
her muscles eased just a little, but her discomfort heightened as
disappointment rushed through her. She’d never felt more wonderful,
more loveable, than when she’d heard her name escape Damon’s
lips.

“
Elsie.” Damon placed a
hand on her shoulder and let it rest there for a moment before
shaking her lightly.

So he did remember her name. She tried
not to take too much pleasure in that fact. It didn’t mean she was
the only girl he’d met that went by Elsie, or that he’d thought of
her since he’d last seen her. Still, hearing him say it lifted her
heart and sparked a slow burn in her core, rekindling the passion
that had seized her the night before. She couldn’t pretend any
longer – her blushing would surely give her away, and it was
incredibly difficult to lie still instead of responding to his
touch.

She opened her eyes and blinked up at
his handsome face, giving herself a few moments to pretend
recognizing him – as if she didn’t know him by his delicious voice
– before speaking. “Sir?” She didn’t have to feign a look of
consternation.

“
Have you been lying here
all night?”

She swallowed a lump that had formed
in her throat and lied. “I suppose I have.” The falsehood didn’t go
over well with her already knotted stomach, but admitting that
she’d spent the better part of the night in his bedchamber was out
of the question.

“
Are you ill? My mother
mentioned that you might have…episodes.”

She forced down a wave of
mortification and nodded.

“
Here.” He grasped her arms
with surprising gentleness and helped her into a sitting position.
“Do you faint often, then, with no warning? Forgive me for asking,
but my mother told me little about the nature of your
symptoms.”

She nodded again. “Sometimes. Other
times I only collapse and am still conscious. When that happens I
must wait until the weakness in my limbs passes until I am able to
rise.”

“
Odd.” For a moment, his
eyes looked even darker than usual – something Elsie hadn’t
imagined was possible. “How often do these things happen to
you?”