Taste of the Devil (6 page)

The exact color of sweet, ripe raspberries.

Tyler adored raspberries.

He briefly wondered if the crests of those perfect breasts would be the same luscious berry color. Would they taste as sweet? His pale eyes gleamed with anticipation. Dare he hope this was the Lady Thomlinson?

Sly, albeit engaging, dimples appeared on either side of his sensuous mouth. As a rule, rakes enjoyed surprises.

And generally took advantage of them.

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Yes, I was about to meet the infamous Lord Devon. He had arrived upon my doorstep bearing the gift of himself. I was dubious as to its value. Perhaps my feelings were best described in this excerpt from a "Methinks" article that appeared in The Daily Crust shortly after our meeting:

“Methinks She is Un-wooed”

It is a curious fact that most ladies who are prone to daydreaming prefer to imagine a rakish sort of chap–

dashing, fearless, and callously reckless to the extreme.

This hero’s outward devil-may-care attitude conceals the inward romantic, who–against his will– is swayed by his unspeakable passions for the lady in question.

Smitten, she is summarily trussed like last Yuletide’s goose; and greets the oven with a gurgle of thanks to the cook.

Bah! These heroic fantasies are quite false.

Rare is the rogue whose true treasure is his own heart...

Alas, the breed usually arrives empty-handed and often empty-pocketed.

–Sir R. Moore

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Chapter Six

This was no eunuch.

Ginny eyed the powerful man before her with no little trepidation.

His stunning, deep-set eyes locked on her as if she were a bowl of cream he would soon be lapping up.

She swallowed. Those extraordinary looks gave him away; she never doubted for an instant that he was the infamous Lord Devon.

He was far too tempting to be anyone else.

She could now see why women begged to fall into this man’s bed. He was sensually spellbinding. Unique features–

all the more fascinating than mere handsomeness– were overshadowed with raw magnetism; he was both alluring and slightly intimidating at the same time.

At once she knew that all of the wicked stories about him were true. That smoldering expression vowed to deliver pleasure.

Lord Devon was nothing like the other wastrels she had seen at various fetes in the past. In fact, he wasn’t like any lord she had ever met.

He was tall and robust. Thick, shiny black hair danced about his shoulders. Like the man, it seemed to be free of any restraint. His masculine nose was aquiline straight; his lips, firm and sensual– with just a hint of mockery curving them.

The square chin with its slight cleft that matched the strong jaw left little debate as to his iron nature despite his reputation.

And his eyes...

There was no way she could blithely categorize such eyes.

Pastel of color, beautifully shaped, they reminded her of a luminous waterfall. They were rimmed in thick, black lashes that further accentuated their incredible effect.

They were mesmerizing!

They were trained on her.

A shivery sensation coursed through her. Clearly, he challenged any woman to come and taste this devil...

Ginny blinked, quickly coming to her senses. She realized she might be in something of a fix, for the scoundrel had caught her unawares. With the same astuteness she had shown in fleecing Lord Sprocket, she rapidly went through her options, weighing the odds, discarding her choices, and formulating her plan.

First, she would have to dampen his enthusiasm.

The fact that he had come upon her in her undergarments was probably not to her advantage. By the sultry look on that arresting face, he was already anticipating the wedding night.

There was only one way to extricate herself from the embarrassment of the situation.

She would have to feign total and complete innocence to the point of stupidity. This, she believed, would be completely unappealing to a man of such base tastes. What would a lusty rake possibly want with a country chit who knew zero about the art of seduction? Nothing.

Ginny forced herself to look the man square in the eyes; as if she were out taking a stroll in her daydress and happened upon any gent in the park. “Good day, sir.”

Tyler grinned mockingly, revealing even, white teeth.

“Good day to you, miss.” He etched her a courtly bow, rather overdone, sweeping his hand a little to close to her thigh.

She jumped back. “I do not believe we have been properly introduced. Are you an acquaintance of my uncle’s?”

So this was Lady Thomlinson.

Tyler closed his eyes a minute. Not a religious man, he, nonetheless, thanked every deity he had ever heard of.

Opening his eyes, he let his gaze slowly travel the length of his intended wife– just to be sure he had seen it correctly the first time.

“I am Tyler Devon, your proposed betrothed, Lady Thomlinson,” he murmured in a husky voice.

Ginny bristled at the painful reminder. It took all of her will power not to kick the wretch in a vulnerable spot for simply bringing it up.

Instead, she elected to strike a blasé pose. “Oh.” She responded, disinterested. “Have you seen my kitten?”

Tyler viewed the girl askance. Her attitude was perplexing. The chit didn’t seem terribly interested in his revelation. What was more, he had caught her in a compromising situation, yet she seemed not the least concerned, or even aware of the fact that she was speaking to him in her under garments. Could she be that naive? Impossible.

“Is that what you’re doing, looking for your kitten?”

His wry tone seemed to almost mock her.

Ginny ran sweating hands down the front of her chemise. For a wastrel, the man had an unnerving quality about him. “Yes, my lord, I–”

At that precise moment, Charles, (for once showing excellent timing!) jumped on top of the stone wall that bordered the garden. Ginny let out a sigh of relief as she realized the ratty wig was no longer clenched in his mouth. “There he is!”

With childlike glee she pointed to the enormous patch cat.

Lord Devon’s eyes widened at the incredible bulk of the beast. “That is your kitten?”

Ginny smiled brightly at him. “Oh, yes! Isn’t he a darling?”

He quirked an eyebrow. Darling was not quite the word he would use to describe the animal staring at him with unholy mirth in his eyes and a swishing tail.

Actually, the cat rather reminded him of one of his unsavory associates.

While Lord Devon’s attention was focused on Charles, Ginny looked desperately around for the troublesome wig. Sighing with relief, she spotted the frayed carcass halfway under a rose bush. It seemed Charles had killed it good and proper.

Trying to be discrete she edged her way over to the bush; she needed to distract this Devon fellow so she could kick the blasted thing under the shrubbery. It wouldn’t do for him to see it.

“Don’t you just love kittens, my lord? Look at those sweet little ears.” Ginny caught the wig on her big toe and flung it backwards into the underbrush.

Tyler gave her a considering look. Why was she prattling on about cat ears? Was the gel dimwitted?

His sights fell to her astounding chest. Who cares if she is dimwitted?

There was prize booty to be had here...

He was an acknowledged rake and she had been given to him legally by her uncle. That tantalizing equation added up very quickly in his mind.

She could be mine... if I so will it.

“Very nice, ah, ears, my lady.” Tyler pointed to the stone bench behind them. “Would you care to take a seat?”

“Excellent idea, my lord. We can sit and have a little talk.”

Not quite what he had in mind, but t’would do for a start.

After they had seated themselves, Tyler– never one to back away– immediately broached the subject at hand.

“Tell me, Lady Thomlinson, do you have any thoughts on these nuptials?”

Ginny cleared her throat. “Well, the truth is, my lord, I have.”

From his vantage point Tyler had a splendid view of her décolletage. ‘Twas a right pleasing sight. Had he really thought he would have grounds to have this marriage annulled?

He needed a whiskey.

He was wise about his own limitations. After they had taken their vows he gave himself an hour at the outset. It was simple to explain– he had always had a craving for uncharted territory. Especially when he could map that territory with hands, lips, and tongue.

Aye, it was the age-old lure of buried riches.

Snared him every time.

But was she really as innocent as she seemed?

Might not the reason she was dressed thus be because she had an assignation in the garden?

Tyler’s brows lowered. Were they all trying to play him for a fool?

Ginny cleared her throat to regain the man’s wandering attention. “I said I have, my lord.”

So he was right. His smooth voice registered to an ominously low pitch. “You have what exactly?”

Ginny’s eyes widened and she scooted a few feet away on the bench. Where had the indolent rake just gone? “H-had s-some thoughts about our-our nuptials?”

Tyler, realizing he had unaccountably slipped out of his nobleman persona and frightened the girl, forced himself to smile congenially. “Ah, yes, our wedding.

Please, by all means...” He indicated she should speak her mind as ‘rest assured’ dimples curved his cheeks.

Ginny peeked up at him through her lashes. Who would have expected Lord Devon to be so breathtaking?

It was naught to do with her, although, she did wonder what it would be like to kiss such a man. He was so very sure of himself.

Could all the rumors of his exploits possibly be true? The deep, sensual spark in his eyes told her yes, they were indeed true.

Taking a calming breath, she plowed ahead with her mission. “The truth is, my Lord, I don’t wish to marry you.”

For an instant the handsome lord’s mouth actually gaped open.

Tyler was, indeed, thunderstruck. It was the last thing he expected her to say. True, he hadn’t actually asked her to marry him, but he had never anticipated getting turned away, either. ‘Twas a twist he never would have imagined. To think an innocent country chit was turning him down!

Well, the poor dear might not wish to marry him, but he had to marry her.

Tyler recognized the actual problem and the solution for them both might be just around the corner.

First, he needed to verify her reasons for opposing to the marriage. He turned to her. “Is it because of my–

how shall I put this delicately– my reputation?”

Ginny blinked at him. Was the man serious? She snorted. Oh, yes, what woman in her right mind wouldn’t want to shackle herself to a debaucher who had slept with half the women in England? Gad, she could hardly wait for the opportunity.

She forced herself to give the twit a blank, dull look.

“Reputation, my lord?” As if she had never heard of such a thing.

“Yes, well, I have a sort of, ah, notoriety, ah, in a certain area...” Dammit, it was bloody hard to speak with her looking at him like that! It was as if the juice had run out of her brain. His nostrils flared in annoyance.

Ginny lowered her lashes demurely. And gleefully prodded further. “Deserved, my lord?”

Well, partly deserved, he acknowledge with a lopsided grin. It had been so easy to fool the ton. No one could possibly sleep with that many women. For his purposes, they only had to believe he did. To that end, no lady would ever admit he had left her at her door when he had surely slept with all the others. Perception ruled the ton and always played right into his plans. He was no angel to be sure, but the utter wastrel Lord Devon was not exactly him, either.

Instead of answering her directly, he replied, “I can assure you I can be a loyal hus–”

Ginny wagged a finger. “Please, my lord, do not offend us both with your words.”

So, she didn’t trust him, did she? Hmm. Not a dimwit, after all. Still, she was beginning to intrigue him.

And intriguing someone like him was never a good idea.

Tyler Devon was a very clever man. The fact that he was still alive after the life he led testified to it. He realized immediately he was going to have to change tack. Instantly, he shifted direction, smiling benevolently at her.

If she had known him better, she would have run for the hills.

In her quest to bring about her own ends, Ginny never suspected a thing. By doing so, she sorely underestimated the Duke of Islemoor’s grandson.

“May I be honest, my lord?”

Feigning gentlemanly manners, Tyler placed his hand over his heart. “I implore you, my Lady, feel free.”

“The truth is, I do not wish to marry anyone. The thing is, most of the males in my life recently have been altogether odious.”

She hesitated when she realized his eyes were turning into thin slits of silvery blue. Their effect was rather considerable. She swallowed before quickly adding, “Present company excluded, of course.”

“Of course.” He responded dryly.

“You see, Lord Devon, at the moment I do not particularly fancy having one particular man.”

Tyler once again was taken off guard. He stared at her mildly shocked. “Are you saying you prefer additional forms of entertainment?” She was more sophisticated than he first thought.

Ginny looked perplexed. “I- I ‘m not sure what you mean?”

“You– “ Tyler rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Never mind.” This was not going as smoothly as he had hoped. The girl seemed totally unschooled yet strangely knowledgeable.

Still, he was not about to give up. “We should get along famously then.”

Now it was Ginny’s turn to be stunned. “What do you mean, Lord Devon?”

He cleared his throat. “’Tis quite simple. Contrary to rumors concerning my endless liaisons, I find that all I am truly interested in is games of chance in various forms. I shouldn’t like my life to change at all. A wife can be tiresome. And of course one is expected to regularly...”