A Wicked Wager (Avenging Lords 2)

Juliet continued to pet the dog and mutter words of endearment. She turned to Devlin. “Now, this is a beast.”

“A beast you have managed to tame within minutes.” Devlin wasn’t surprised. There was a sweetness to her character, a quality that spoke of love and loyalty—the only things that mattered. “No doubt you’ll be riding my Arabian stallion before the week is out.”

The thought that this lady might possess the ability to command and conquer him, too, sent the hairs at his nape prickling to attention. His pulse soared, so much so that he became aware of his heartbeat thumping hard in his chest.

His wife of almost an hour had already touched him in ways no other woman ever had, or could. She had made him laugh twice—a rare feat in itself—had surprised him with her courage. The desire to hold her in his arms grew. The need to protect her, to make her smile, to be the best version of himself pushed to the fore.

Bloody hell!

Something told him theirs would not be a simple marriage of convenience.

“We should retire for a few hours,” he said, but then realised he sounded like an eager husband desperate to bed his wife. “No doubt you would care to spend time in your chamber, familiarise yourself with the staff and the house. And I have a few business matters that need my attention.”

Business matters? On his damn wedding day?

Juliet’s hand came to rest on Rufus’ head. Disappointment flashed briefly across her face. “Oh, you want to be alone.”

No, for once in his life he didn’t. Juliet was easy to talk to, pleasant to be around, entertaining company. But he could not lose sight of why he’d married her, and it would take time to grow accustomed to having a woman about the place. “We will dine together this evening.”

“Of course. Your time is precious. I understand.” His stomach tightened when her green eyes dulled. “And you’re right. I have work to do and must learn all I can about running a house of this magnitude.”

Guilt flared.

It didn’t help that Rufus whined and stared at him with the same sad eyes and forlorn expression.

“Remember that you are mistress of the house, not a servant.” Having spent years in servitude to her father, it would take some time for her to grow accustomed to

her new position.

Juliet forced a smile. “Should I feel the need to make any changes, would you like me to seek your approval?”

Devlin shook his head. “As long as loin of peacock remains off the menu, I shall have no complaints.”

She fell silent and the knot in his stomach wrung tight again.

The crunching of gravel underfoot drew their attention to the brick archway to their left. A stable hand appeared. The boy, Jack, clung on to his hat and broke into a jog when he spotted Rufus sitting beneath the portico. “Beg yer pardon, Mr Drake sir,” he said in a state of mild agitation. “Rufus was sittin’ inside the stables one minute an’ gone the next.”

“Rufus was eager to meet his new mistress.”

The boy inclined his head to Juliet. “I’ll take him, ma’am, though that’s the first time he’s sat still all day.”

Juliet patted Rufus’ head. “And does Rufus live in the stables permanently?” she said, locking eyes with the hound.

Devlin considered the look of affection in Juliet’s eyes and couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy. Never had he felt threatened by a rival, let alone a damn dog. “He is not coming into the house if that is what you’re about to suggest.”

“I wouldn’t dream of bringing him inside.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Not until he is fully trained.”

“Trained? You think you can tame that wild beast?” Devlin had to admire her enthusiasm.

Not wanting his staff to be party to their private conversation, Devlin dismissed Jack. The only way the boy could get the dog to follow him was to tap him on the nose and then run away. Rufus bolted, caught up with the boy on the lawn and brought him to the ground.

“You see,” Devlin said, finding the whole scene amusing. “Rufus only sat still because you showered him with affection.” Hell, Devlin would lie on the chaise all day if she stroked his hair with the same devotion.

“Perhaps,” she said, raising a coy brow. “But I won’t know if he can behave unless I try to teach him to be submissive.”