Devlin noted her distress: her eyes moist with unshed tears, the lines on her brow furrowed. The urge to make her smile took hold. But he could not bring her mother back from the grave, could not make her father love her as he ought.
“While my mother never gave me cause to question her judgement,” she said with an air of melancholy as she gazed out of the window, “I cannot see what possessed her to give herself to such a cruel and wicked man.”
“She was younger then, perhaps not as wise as she would have had you believe. Parents strive to ensure their children do not make the same mistakes.” Devlin caught himself. Dariell would be proud to hear such a thoughtful response.
Juliet turned to him, her eyes brighter than he expected. “It seems she was wrong about a few things when it came to intimate relations.” Those green gems flashed hot as they scanned the breadth of his chest and finally settled on his mouth.
Damnation.
Lust surged through his veins.
But he refused to behave like a wild beast.
Devlin shot out of the chair, threw his napkin onto the table and straightened his coat. “Let us search the room just to be certain.” He was about to offer his hand, but the bulge in his breeches forced him to skirt behind the chair and play footman. After helping to ease Juliet’s seat from the table, he gestured for her to walk ahead.
“Afterwards, we should move to the study and then the library,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder. “I can think of nowhere else one would attempt to keep private correspondence.”
“We don’t know if Ambrose kept the letters. But he was a stickler for propriety. If Miss Bromfield slandered him, I imagine he would seek to contest her opinion out of mor
al principle.”
“Perhaps he hired someone to deal with the matter,” Juliet said, sounding slightly breathless as they reached the top stair.
Talk of his brother dampened Devlin’s ardour. Which was just as well considering they were heading for his bedchamber. He placed his hand at the small of Juliet’s back and guided her along the corridor to the west wing.
“Is it not customary for a husband and wife to have adjoining apartments?” she asked as he opened the door to his room and motioned for her to enter. “How is it I am in the east wing while you sleep on the opposite side of the house?”
Devlin thought to lie, to make an excuse as to why he felt the need to maintain some distance but found he could not.
“There is a suite of rooms adjoining yours. I could have moved in there. But Ambrose preferred the west wing, and I thought by moving into his chambers it would afford you time to grow accustomed to your surroundings.”
Juliet raised her chin in acknowledgement as she came to a halt in the middle of the room. Hands braced on her hips, she studied the gold bed hangings, the chinoiserie furniture and the Chinese silk wallpaper depicting village scenes from a distant land.
“What a beautiful room. It’s so light and airy, not at all a place where I would expect you to feel comfortable sleeping.”
As always Juliet was right. He found the decor too feminine for his tastes, although that was not the reason he’d lain awake most nights since his wedding day—except for last night of course. Last night, he’d drifted into a peaceful slumber, the smell of lavender that clung to his wife’s skin still swirling about in his head.
“Is that because you assume beasts prefer caves?” Devlin teased.
She arched her brow by way of a reprimand. “I meant it isn’t nearly masculine enough.”
The veiled compliment only reignited his lust for his wife. “Ambrose found dark colours depressing.” Devlin felt the need to defend Ambrose’s tastes for his choices in no way defined his sexuality. “Dreams of the Orient inspired him, but commitments at home prevented him from venturing farther than town.”
Juliet turned to face him, her honest eyes alight with enquiry. “And you slept in here because you believed I would feel safer knowing you have to navigate two long corridors to reach my chamber?”
“I slept in here because it is important that you feel comfortable.” It was not a lie, just not the whole truth.
“Comfortable at night?” she asked as she closed the gap between them and placed her dainty palm on his chest. Just like the rest of him, his heart kicked against his ribcage as he relished even the smallest contact. “Comfortable enough that I don’t fear you charging into my apartments to claim your husbandly rights?”
“Indeed.”
Juliet held his gaze. The air crackled and sparked to life. Her hand snaked up over his chest, up to tangle in the hair brushing his nape.
“And now,” she whispered, her voice more a seductive lilt, “does it not occur to you that I might feel safer knowing you’re close?”
God, he’d never wanted a woman as much as he wanted her. Was it because she belonged to him that he had the overwhelming need to join with her? Was it because she smiled at him when his mood turned morose, chuckled when he was overly stubborn? Was it because she made him feel strong, her protector, not clumsy and awkward?
“What are you saying?” Devlin cupped her cheek. “That you want me to move into the adjoining suite of rooms?”