Devils Bride (Cynster 1)

n it need be."

For the second time that day, Chillingworth's jaw dropped. Momentarily. Then he glowered. "Good God, woman-get going!"

Honoria blinked. "Yes, well-take care of yourself." With that, she turned and briskly descended the steps. Gaining the pavement, she saw her hackney waiting. She glanced the other way-a black carriage rolled slowly around the corner into Green Street. Behind her, Chillingworth's latch clicked. It was after four; dusk was drawing in. As Chillingworth had said, there was no one about. With an inward sigh, Honoria started along the pavement.

She didn't see the dark figure, cloaked in black, who emerged from the area stairs beside Chillingworth's steps. She had no inkling, felt no presentiment of danger, when the figure drew close, looming behind her. Harness jingled, hooves clacked as the black carriage drew abreast of her, blocking out the hackney. Honoria glanced at the carriage-a black pall dropped over her, cutting off the light, wrapping her in impenetrable folds. She gasped, and grasped the material, only to feel it wind tighter. She opened her mouth to scream; a hard hand clapped over her lips.

Honoria froze. An arm like steel wound about her waist and lifted her.

She didn't struggle but patiently waited for Devil to set her down. He eventually did-on the carriage seat. The carriage jerked and picked up speed. "Wait!" Still enveloped in what she assumed was Devil's cloak, Honoria struggled to break free. "What about Sligo?"

Silence.

Then, "Sligo?" Devil sounded as if he couldn't believe his ears.

"You ordered him to watch over me, remember?" Honoria wrestled with the cloak. The next instant, it was lifted from her-she let out an explosive breath, and discovered her husband watching her with an expression she couldn't read at all. "He's in the hackney, waiting for me."

Devil stared at her, then, frowning dazedly, shook his head. "Wait here."

He tapped on the hatch and ordered John Coachman to pull over, then leapt down. Honoria heard him stride back along the pavement. She couldn't see anything; the flaps were all down.

Two minutes later, the carriage dipped as Sligo scrambled up behind.

"Around the park until I say otherwise." Devil yanked open the door, climbed in, closed the door, then resumed his seat beside her.

The carriage lurched into motion; Devil met Honoria's wide, totally open gaze. He drew a careful breath, trying to disguise the tension that still held him. "Perhaps you'd better tell me what's going on."

He'd obviously made a horrendous mistake-he didn't want her to guess what he'd thought, how he'd felt, when he'd seen Chillingworth, stripped to his shirt, look out of his door, then seen her come waltzing out, turning back for a few last words before strolling away.

From the depths of the area, he hadn't been able to hear her words; his imagination, however, had supplied words enough, with actions to match. Her betrayal had chilled him; the thought that her declaration of love had been worthless-mere words without meaning-had struck him to the heart. Black rage had consumed him, far beyond mere temper; he could barely remember following her. He could remember the instant when he'd held her trapped before him-and thought how easy it would be to put an end to the torment before it began. The recollection left him chilled, even as relief poured through him. Guilt over his lack of trust made him inwardly ache.

Honoria was watching him, a frown forming in her eyes. Devil cleared his throat. "Sligo said you got a note?"

He threw out the question to get her talking-instead, she frowned more definitely. "I told you about the note in my letter."

Devil slowly blinked. "What letter?"

Rummaging in her reticule, Honoria dragged a sheet from the clutter. "I got this-

Devil took it and scanned it, then glanced accusingly at her.

She tilted her chin. "It said I had to come immediately, so I wrote you a letter explaining and asked Sligo to deliver it; he knew you were at White's. I didn't know you'd ordered him to stay by me-he sent Daley to deliver my letter so he could obey your orders."

Devil frowned, then looked down at the note. "I didn't get your letter-I must have left before Daley arrived." The admission was past his lips before he'd considered.

"But-" Honoria's brow was a mass of furrows. "If you didn't get my letter, why are you here?"

Devil stilled. A minute passed; slowly, he lifted his head and met Honoria's puzzled gaze. She searched his face-abruptly, he looked down. "I came because I got this." He forced himself to draw the folded note from his pocket. He didn't want to give it to her, but her straightforwardness, her honesty-her love-left him no choice. His heart a leaden weight in his chest, he handed it over.

Honoria unfolded the note, then read it. When she got to the end, she paused and drew an unsteady breath. A vise locked painfully about her chest; her heart beat heavily. Without lifting her head, she read the note again.

As she worked out what must have happened, her hands, holding the note, shook-she fought to steady them. Then, very slowly, she raised her head-and looked straight at Devil, into those eyes that usually saw too much but could also be blinded by fury. Time stretched; she stared into his eyes, her own full of pleading and disbelief. "It's not true-I would never do that. You know I wouldn't." In a painfully soft whisper, she added: "I love you."

Devil closed his eyes. "I know." His jaw clenched; savage rage swirled within him, directed at his would-be killer who had struck through the one, truly vulnerable chink in his armor-and hurt her. He dragged in a huge breath; opening his eyes, he locked them on hers. "I didn't think-I reacted. When I got that note, I couldn't think. Then I saw you come out of Chillingworth's-" He broke off; his jaw clenched tighter, but he forced himself to hold Honoria's gaze. Very low, he said: "I care for you-too much."

His words reached Honoria; what she saw in his eyes wiped away her pain. The vise about her chest eased; she drew a deep breath. "That's only fair." Shifting along the seat, she slid her arms about him and laid her head against his chest. "I love you so much it hurts, too."

If he couldn't say the words, she'd say them for him; the truth was there, shining in his eyes. His arms closed about her, then locked painfully tight; after a moment, he rested his cheek on her curls. He was so tense, his muscles flickered. Gradually, as the carriage rolled on, she felt his tension ease, felt the muscles in his arms unlock.