A Wicked Wager (Avenging Lords 2)

“It will be a waste of time and effort. He’s been alone for too long and cannot obey the simplest commands.”

Juliet pursed her lips. “So he is the only dog of that size you own?”

“Indeed.”

“I see.” The corners of her mouth curled up into a sweet, innocent smile, yet those hypnotic green eyes sparkled with mischief. He liked that, too. It seemed there were many things he liked about his wife. “Well, you’re a man who likes to gamble. Would you care to make a wager?”

Devlin folded his arms across his chest. “A wager? That depends on the stakes.”

Her gaze lingered on the expanse of muscle in his upper arms. “Should I fail to train Rufus sufficiently enough that he may spend a considerable amount of time indoors, you may ask anything of me and I shall grant your request.”

A host of possibilities raced through Devlin’s mind. Sabotaging her efforts in order to ask questions about Ambrose was not his first thought. Neither was asking her about her father’s cryptic message.

No.

He wanted to teach her to ride, to dance, wanted to lounge on the bed and watch her bathe. He wanted a kiss, a caress, to bed her in the hope the goodness filling her heart might cure him of the bitterness plaguing his own beating organ.

“You won’t win,” he said, feeling another frisson of guilt that this charming lady had curtailed the need to avenge his brother. “I tend to succeed in most things I put my mind to.”

“And yet while you won your last bet, did you not come away with the second prize?”

Devlin wasn’t entirely sure what to say to that. “Not when I judge integrity to be a most valuable asset. In that regard, every lady in London trails miserably behind you.”

Damn. He despised men who spouted sentiment to win favour, but it was the truth.

Her porcelain cheeks flushed pink again. “What better compliment could a lady have on her wedding day?”

Her words carried no hint of sarcasm. Still, it occurred to him that he’d not told her she looked beautiful. To do so would sound insincere when they both knew that was not the reason he’d married her. “You should know that I rarely express my good opinion.”

“Then you do me a great honour.”

Their eyes locked and the air between them crackled to life.

Had he married Miss Bromfield, he would have deposited her in her chamber within minutes of returning to the house. The next few hours would be spent plotting all the ways he might make her rue the day she spoke so cruelly of Ambrose.

But he had married this petite creature with her broad smile and beguiling eyes. For some obscure reason, the thought of hurting her made his stomach coil in revulsion. For his sanity, he should put some distance between them, make it clear theirs was a marriage of convenience. He should focus on discovering what the hell had happened to Ambrose.

Which was why he surprised himself when he said, “Then I agree to your wager and shall think long and hard about how you might reward me when I win.”

She must have noted the salacious tone in his voice—one he failed to suppress—for her gaze fell to his lips. And then he saw the one thing in her eyes he dreaded most—the flicker of fear that told him he was wrong to assume his size didn’t matter. Wrong to assume her courage knew no bounds. They were mismatched, unsuited, odd.

Juliet swallowed deeply. She opened her mouth, but he did not give her a chance to speak.

“Well, we cannot stand conversing under the portico all day.” His voice carried his frustration. “I have matters to attend to and shall see you this evening at dinner.”

“Of course,” she said but did not present him with one of her wide, beaming smiles. “Will you at least introduce me to your housekeeper before you retire to the study?”

Devlin inclined his head. No doubt his staff were lined in the hall waiting to greet their new mistress. “Mrs Barbary is eager to meet you.”

He chose not to tell Juliet that she should expect some hostility as he did not want to worry her unduly. But Mrs Barbary had served his family for fifty years, had come to the house as a girl of twelve, had cared for Ambrose like a son and blamed the Bromfields for his demise.

“Should you encounter any problems with the staff then you may seek me out.” Devlin continued, hoping she would learn to embrace her new role.

“There will be no problems,” she said, and though she straightened her back and lifted her chin, he could hear the nervous edge in her voice. “If there’s one thing I do know, it’s how to deal with unreasonable people.”

Chapter Six

“And the household linens? Have you inspected them this month?” Juliet said in a firm but friendly tone as Mrs Barbary gave her a tour of the house.