A Wicked Wager (Avenging Lords 2)

A brief silence ensued.

Devlin stared at a nondescript point on the tiled floor as he considered her comment. When he eventually looked up to meet her gaze, she saw sorrow lingering in his obsidian eyes.

“Then in a random twist of fate,” he began with an air of melancholy, “my grandmother’s letters led to Ambrose’s death. I am convinced that news of the baron’s illegitimacy caused him to end his betrothal to your sister.”

“And consequently, led to the duel that brought your brother to the common at dawn.”

“Indeed.”

Fate could be cruel as well as kind—she knew that.

But what should they do with the information? Would her father ever give up his search for the evidence that would ruin his beloved reputation?

“I should take Rufus out,” Juliet said in the hope the cold air might clear the cloud of confusion. “While I’m gone, think about your need for vengeance. Decide whether you truly want to approach my father and tell him what we have discovered.”

Devlin pursed his lips. “I shall be in the study, and will—”

The creak of a hinge drew their attention to the closed door at the end of the hall. Perhaps Juliet imagined hearing the doorknob rattle, imagined the faint patter of footsteps echoing down the stone staircase that led to the servants’ quarters.

“We will discuss the matter upon your return,” Devlin continued. “Somewhere that guarantees privacy.” The beginnings of a wicked grin graced his lips. “Somewhere quiet. Somewhere secluded.”

The tug deep in her core almost forced her to cancel Rufus’ daily outing. But there was nothing like the thrum of anticipation to heat the blood.

Placing her palms on her husband’s impressive chest, Juliet came up on her tiptoes and kissed him once on the mouth.

“I shall not be long. Pray that Rufus doesn’t run away, else I shall have to spend the afternoon looking for him.”

“Trust me. That dog will feel the devil’s wrath if you’re not back here in an hour.”

With a light heart and a skip in her step, Juliet led Rufus from the stables and out along the path that ran parallel to the manicured lawns. She would take him over the stone bridge to the open fields where he could run to his heart’s content. The gardeners forever complained about him digging in the rose beds or watering the shrubs.

The nip in the air stung her cheeks. After cold hours spent in the church the previous evening, she was thankful for the thick travelling cloak draped around her shoulders. Besides, chasing after Rufus would soon warm her bones.

“Rufus!” Juliet stopped walking and waited for the hound to turn and look at her. “Sit, Rufus,” she said, holding her hand aloft as a signal of intention.

For once, the dog did exactly as he was told, and Juliet rewarded him with a pat on the head and a sm

all chunk of dried beef she’d saved from last night’s dinner.

Despite all that had happened with the baron, happiness swelled inside. She wanted to shout, to stand on the stone bridge and tell the world she loved Devlin Drake. Her husband stimulated her mind, invaded her thoughts, her heart, her body. He soothed and excited with his commanding presence, a presence that was as potent as any drug.

She craved his company, his voice, his mouth, his touch.

Oh, Lord!

With a quick shake of the head, she forced herself from her musings.

Poor Rufus. He deserved her undivided attention. How else was she to train the hound and win the wager? Sinful thoughts flooded her mind. What would she ask of her husband should she succeed in her task?

How ironic that fate chose that moment to show her how far she was from achieving her goal.

Nose to the ground, Rufus had sniffed out a scent. He bounded over to the rhododendrons, chewed on something he’d found hidden there before darting off on the hunt. Juliet chased after him, calling his name and issuing commands, but he refused to listen and charged about as merry as a march hare.

“Rufus!”

The hound disappeared from sight.

Oh, the devil!