A Wicked Wager (Avenging Lords 2)

“Devlin,” he corrected. “I want no formality between us, Juliet. As my wife, I seek your counsel on this matter. Do you have any objection if I am rude to your family?”

How was she supposed to answer when her heart jumped about like a spring hare? Hearing her given name spoken in such a rich, deep voice was enough to raise her pulse a notch. Being referred to as his wife roused some rather odd sensations in an intimate place.

Gathering her wits, Juliet raised her chin. “I have no desire to listen to their constant criticism or ugly threats.”

“Threats?” Her husband straightened to his full height.

“It’s nothing.” She had no intention of rummaging through his private correspondence. What could the baron do? Surely he wouldn’t see any harm come to her over one of Hannah’s foolish letters? “My family often uses intimidation to manipulate situations to their advantage.”

“Not anymore.”

Devlin captured her hand and held it in a firm grip. He led her over to her father, who was engaged in a heated discussion with Hannah.

“You’ll do as I say and that’s—” The baron stopped abruptly upon noting their approach. His gaze settled on their clasped hands and he snorted. “Now you’re wed, I suppose you intend to force us to sit through a nauseating wedding breakfast.”

“On the contrary.” Devlin squeezed Juliet’s hand in gentle reassurance. “I expect you to leave Blackwater immediately and never return.”

Hannah stared down her nose. “Thank the Lord. I have no intention of staying a moment longer.”

Deep furrows formed between her father’s brows. “You intend to prevent me from visiting my own daughter?” He pursed his lips. “I know you married the girl out of spite, but to punish her on her wedding day. It’s outrageous.”

“As outrageous as spreading vile gossip about my brother?”

“The truth is often vile,” Hannah blurted.

“Be quiet, girl,” the baron snapped. He focused his beady stare on Devlin. “If revenge is your game, you have married the wrong daughter.”

“Or so you think.”

Juliet listened to the exchange, her head swirling in a cloud of confusion. Both men spoke as if she were insignificant, worthless. A pawn in their petty squabbles. Yet Devlin continued to stroke his thumb back and forth over her fingers. The act suggested he was her protector, supported the fact he’d told her no one would ever hurt her again.

“Leave!” Devlin glared at the baron. “Get the hell out now else I shall grab you by the collar and drag you to the gate.” He stepped forward, taking Juliet with him.

Hannah and her father had no option but to retreat along the path. They ambled at first, the pair snapping and sniping at each other as they went. Juliet and Devlin walked behind though she had to jog to keep up with his long strides. Still, Devlin pressed on, forcing the baron to quicken his pace.

“Slow down,” Juliet whispered, tugging on his hand. “I cannot keep up with you. And if you continue to hold my hand so tightly, I’ll lose the use of my fingers.”

“I’ll not rest until I’ve seen them off my property.”

“Then go ahead without me.”

“You want to abandon your husband when we’ve only been wed for five minutes?” He cast her a sidelong glance, scanned her from head to toe. The corners of his mouth curled up into a faint smile. “Forgive me, but there is only one way to solve this problem, and I’ll be damned before I permit your family to wander unsupervised around the grounds.”

Without warning, Devlin Drake scooped her up as if she were as light as a child. The bulging muscles in his arms almost split the seams of his coat.

“Mr Drake, put me down. You cannot carry me in public.” Her complaint fell on deaf ears, though she had to admit she felt a flutter of excitement at being held in such a strong embrace. Satisfaction settled in her chest, too, at the look of shock on Hannah’s face. “You’re giving them every reason to call you a heathen.”

“Mrs Drake, accept that I’m a man who cares nothing for propriety. The sooner you understand that I do as I please, the easier life will be.”

Juliet twined her arms around his neck though she was in no danger of falling. “But you have a wife to think of now.”

“Did you not swear to obey my every command?”

“I also swore to love you and so I hardly think we can lend weight to either statement.”

“Granted,” he said as they crossed the stone bridge. “Both of us are wise enough to know we had no hope of marrying for love.”

“No, but we must make the best of the situation.”