A Wicked Wager (Avenging Lords 2)

“I’ll not let you go.”

“Not ever,” she joked.

“Not ever.” The sudden realisation that he meant it, that he spoke of something infinitely more profound than this playful dance, forced him to come to an abrupt halt.

Juliet’s eyes dazzled in the muted light. Their breathless pants filled the air.

“Oh, I think … I think I might like waltzing, Devlin.”

It was the first time he’d heard her say his name. How strange that one simple word could shake him to his core. “Then we must practise daily.”

“And I shall wear heeled shoes when we work on the steps.”

He didn’t want to teach her the steps. He wanted to hold her like this, wanted her to look at him with pleasure in her eyes, not fear.

“There are other things I might teach you, too.” Lust raged hot and needy through his veins when he imagined cementing their alliance.

Fear did flash briefly in her eyes, and he was relieved when she said, “You’ll not get me riding one of those muscled beasts.”

Erotic images danced in his mind when he pictured her straddling his large thighs.

Devlin kissed her once, a soft, open-mouthed kiss that promised so much more. “I was thinking of a different dance, a different form of riding. I was thinking that if you can’t tame the dog, you might like to focus your efforts on taming your husband.”

Chapter Ten

A lady did not need to be skilled in seduction to recognise the look of desire in a man’s eyes. Juliet could hear the husky sound of lust in Devlin’s voice, had felt something licentious in his kiss.

All the air in her lungs dissipated when she thought of running her hands over his bare skin. “What are you suggesting?” She did not want to be presumptuous. “Are you referring to your conjugal rights?”

“Conjugal rights?” he said incredulously as he lowered her slowly down the hard length of his body until her feet came to rest firmly on the floor. “You make relations sound one-sided.”

“But is that not the correct term?”

“Well, yes, if you’re talking to the vicar.”

“And if you’re talking to your wife?”

Devlin thrust his hand through his black hair. “I want to make love to you, Juliet. Show you the pleasure a couple might find in the marriage bed. But the more we discuss the matter, the more my mind screams of caution.”

Make love? That was not how her mother described the act.

Nerves almost rendered Juliet speechless, but Devlin’s last comment caused her to frown. “Why caution?” Was it that he was mindful of her innocence?

“I’m told it will be far from pleasant the first time, but things should improve dramatically after that.”

Juliet took a moment to gather her wits. After three nights spent alone in her bed, she’d wondered if there was something wrong with her. Clearly, her heathen husband was possessed of romantic notions.

“Then you know to be patient?” she asked even though she knew the answer. “You know I don’t have a clue what to do?”

A sinful smile illuminated his features. “And I shall be more than happy to be your guide, your tutor.” He reached for her hand. “Let us retire to your chamber and take matters from there.”

That sombre place?

“No.” A mild sense of panic ensued. She could not be intimate in a room that was like a shrine to his mother. When Devlin’s smile faded, she quickly added, “The room is dreary, so morbid. I couldn’t possibly relax in there.”

“If it’s simply a matter of decoration, then you’re welcome to make changes.”

“Yes, but that does not help the situation now.”