Devils Bride (Cynster 1)

What little breath she managed to catch, he took, weaving his web until she was caught beyond recall. The tip of his tongue traced her lips, a beguilingly artful caress. She knew she'd be wise to ignore it; be was leading her into realms beyond her knowledge, where he would be her guide. A most unwise situation-a dangerous situation.

His lips firmed; heat welled, melting all resistance. On a sigh, she parted her lips farther, yielding to his arrogant demand.

He took what he wanted-the intimate caress sent sensation streaking through her, a bolt of lightning striking to her core. Shocked, Honoria drew back on a gasp.

He let her retreat-just so far. Stunned, her wits reeling, she searched his face. One black brow slowly arched; his arms tightened.

"No." Honoria braced against his hold-or tried to; her muscles had the consistency of jelly.

"There's no need to panic-I'm only going to kiss you."

Only? Honoria blinked wildly. "That's bad enough. I mean-" She hauled in a breath and tried to focus her wayward wits. "You're dangerous."

He actually chuckled; the sound shredded her hard-won control-she shivered.

"I'm not dangerous to you." His hands stroked soothingly, seductively, down her back. "I'm going to marry you. That puts the shoe on the other foot."

Had her wits been completely addled? Honoria frowned. "What shoe-and which foot?"

His teeth gleamed. "According to all precepts, Cynster wives are the only beings on earth of whom Cynster men need be wary."

"Really?" He was pulling her leg. Honoria tried to whip up her indignation, an impossible task given he had bent his head and was gently nibbling her lips.

"Just kiss me." He whispered the words against her lips as he drew her hard against him. The contact set her nerves quivering again; his lips, lightly teasing, left her mind in no state to quibble.

Devil kissed her again, waiting with the patience of one who knew, until she yielded completely. Her melting surrender was all the more sweet, knowing as he did that she would prefer it was otherwise. Too wise, too experienced, he did not push her too far, keeping a tight rein on his passions. She lay softly supple in his arms, her lips his to enjoy, the sweet cavern of her mouth his to taste, to plunder, to claim; for tonight, that would have to be enough.

He would much rather have claimed her-taken her to his bed and filled her, celebrated life in that most fundamental of ways-a natural response to death's presence. But she was innocent-her skittering reactions, her quiescence, spoke to him clearly. She would be his and his alone-but not yet.

The reality of his need impinged fully on his mind; Devil mentally cursed. Her softness, pressed from breast to thigh against him, was a potent invocation, feeding his demons, calling them, inciting them. He drew back; chest swelling, he studied her face, wondering… even while he shackled his desires. Her eyes glinted beneath her lashes.

Her mind still adrift, Honoria let her gaze roam his face. There was no softness in his features, no hint of gentleness, only strength and passion and an ironclad will. "I am not going to many you." The words went directly from her brain to her lips-an instinctive reaction.

He merely raised a brow, irritatingly supercilious.

"I'm going to send for my brother tomorrow to come and escort me home."

His eyes, silver in the night, narrowed fractionally. "Home-as in Hampshire?"

Honoria nodded. She felt unreal, out of touch with the world.

"Write a note for your brother-I'll frank it tomorrow."

She smiled. "And I'll put it in the post myself."

He smiled back-she had a premonition he was laughing at her though his chest, so close, was not quaking. "By all means. We'll see what he thinks of your decision."

Honoria's smile turned smug; she felt quite lightheaded. He, Cynster that he was, thought Michael would support his cause. Michael, of course, would agree with her-he would see, as instantly as she had, that for her, marrying Devil Cynster was not a good idea.

"And now, if we've settled your immediate future to your satisfaction…" His lips brushed hers; instinctively, Honoria tracked them.

A twig cracked.

Devil raised his head, every muscle tensing. He and Honoria looked out into the night; the sight that met their incredulous eyes had him straightening. "What the…?"

"Sssh!" Honoria pressed her hand to his lips.

He frowned and caught her hand, but remained silent as the small procession drew nearer, then passed the summerhouse. Through moonlight and shadow, Amelia, Amanda and Simon led the little band. Henrietta, Eliza, Angelica and Heather with Mary in tow followed. Each child carried a white rose. Devil's frown deepened as the dense shadow of the trees swallowed them; of their destination there could be little doubt. "Wait here."