Devils Bride (Cynster 1)

"Right-I'm for London tonight."

"So am I."

"And me-I'll give you a lift if you like. I've got a prime 'un between the shafts."

Their deep voices faded, blending with the murmurs of the crowd. Lady Smallworts and Lady Harrington had moved onto the mysteries of the latest poke bonnets. It was time for Honoria to retreat-she'd heard all she needed. "If you'll excuse me, ladies?"

"Actually, my dear." Lady Harrington grasped Honoria's wrist. "I had meant to ask whether it's true."

"True?"

On the word, Honoria heard from behind her: "Dear me, coz-what trouble you do get into when you don't have me covering your back."

It was Vane's drawl; Honoria knew the instant Devil turned and saw her-she felt his gaze on her neck, her shoulders. She stiffened. She longed to swing about, but her ladyship clung tight.

"Why, yes." Lady Harrington smiled. "About you and-" She broke off, gaze lifting to a point beyond Honoria's left shoulder, eyes widening with delight. "Ah-good afternoon, St. Ives."

"Lady Harrington."

It wasn't his voice, and the subtle menace beneath it, that sent shock waves coursing through Honoria-it was the large hand that curved possessively about her waist.

Devil captured the hand Lady Harrington freed. Honoria watched her fingers, trapped in his, rise inexorably toward his long lips. She steeled herself to feel his lips on her fingers.

He reversed her hand and pressed his lips to her wrist.

If she'd been a weaker woman, she'd have fainted.

Smoothly, Devil turned to Lady Harrington. "You were saying, ma'am?"

Lady Harrington beamed. "Nothing of any importance-think you've given me all the answer I need." She all but winked at Honoria, then jabbed Lady Smallworts in the arm. "Come along, Dulcie-I saw Harriet on the lawn. If we hurry, we might catch her before she leaves. Your Grace." Her ladyship nodded to Honoria. "We'll see you in town, my dear. Give my regards to your grandfather."

"Yes, of course," Honoria half gasped. Her lungs had seized, courtesy of the long fingers spread over her ribs. If he kissed her wrist again, she would faint.

"Wave to their ladyships," her tormentor instructed.

"With what," she hissed back. "The plate?"

"I really don't think you need the plate anymore-Thomas will take it."

A footman appeared and relieved her of the plate. There were few people left on the terrace. Honoria waited, but the grip on her waist did not ease. Instead, Devil wrapped his other arm about her waist, too, her hand still held in his. She could feel him, his chest, his thighs, steely-hard behind her, his arms an unbreakable cage about her.

"Did you learn much, out here on the terrace?" The words, soft, deep and low, tickled her ear.

"Reams about sprigged muslin. And did you know that the latest poke bonnets have a niched rim?"

"Indeed? What next?"

"Precisely what Lady Smallworts wanted to know."

"And what do you want to know, Honoria Prudence?"

He had a distinctly lethal way of saying her name-he rolled the "r"s, just slightly, so the perfectly prim English words transformed into something more sensuous. Honoria fought down a shiver. "I want to know what you're about."

She felt him sigh. "What am I to do with you, you meddlesome woman?" He rocked her, slightly, to and fro.

The sensation of losing touch with the earth made Honoria gasp. He hadn't even shifted his grip. "You can put me down for a start!"

She was saved by the Dowager. "Sylvester! What on earth are you doing? Put Honoria down at once!"