Devils Bride (Cynster 1)

Eyes on stalks, six watched their cousin and his wife share a lengthy, amazingly thorough kiss; five shifted uncomfortably when it ended, then were struck to stillness, paralyzed anew, when Honoria raised her hands and let her robe fall. Her shadow merged again with Devil's, her arms about his neck, his head bent to hers as they resumed their kiss.

Silence filled the wilderness-not even an owl hooted. Then Devil's head rose. His arm about Honoria, their shadows still one, they moved away from the window.

"God!" Harry's stunned exclamation said it all.

Richard's eyes were alight. "You didn't seriously imagine Devil married purely to ensure the succession?"

"By the looks of it," Gabriel dryly observed, "the succession's in no danger. If they've got that far in five hours, then St. Valentine's Day's odds-on for our wager."

Vane's deep chuckle came out of the dark. "I hesitate to mention it, but I don't believe Devil started from scratch five hours ago."

Four heads turned his way.

"Ah-hah!" Lucifer turned to his brother. "In that case, I'll sport my blunt on St. Valentine's Day definitely. If he's got a head start, then he'll have more th

an three months to accomplish the deed-more than enough."

"True." Gabriel fell into step beside Lucifer as the party turned toward the house. Their impromptu stroll had been unexpectedly revealing. "Given Devil's reputation, it's fair to assume anyone could guess as much, so we don't need to be overly concerned about taking bets against St. Valentine's Day as the limit for conception."

"I think," Richard said, following in Gabriel's wake, "that we should be rather careful about letting any of the ladies learn about our book-they're unlikely to appreciate our interest."

"Too true," Harry replied, joining the straggling line back through the bushes. "The female half of the species has a distinctly skewed view of what's important in life."

Vane watched them go, then raised his eyes to the blazing windows in the east wing. After a moment, he shifted his gaze to the unlit windows of the large bedroom at the end of the wing. Silent and still in the dark, he considered the sight, his grin deepening to a smile. Hands in his pockets, he turned-and froze. His eyes, adjusted to the dark, picked out the square figure of a man moving slowly through the wilderness, heading toward the house.

Then the tension left his shoulders. Hands still in his pockets, he strolled forward. "What ho, Charles? Getting a breath of fresh air?"

The heavy figure came to a sudden halt, swinging to face him. Then Charles inclined his head. "As you say."

It was on the tip of Vane's tongue to ask whether Charles had caught the ducal exhibition; Charles's propensity to lecture kept the words from his lips. Falling into step as Charles gained the path back to the house, he asked instead; "You planning to stay for a few days?"

"No." Charles walked a few steps before adding: "I'll be returning to town tomorrow. Do you have any idea when Sylvester plans to return?"

Vane shook his head. "I haven't heard it mentioned, but I'd be surprised to see them up before Christmas. It's to be held here as usual."

"Really?" There was genuine surprise in Charles's voice.

"So Sylvester intends to take on the role of 'head of the family' at all levels?"

Vane sent him a cool glance. "When has he not?"

Charles nodded vaguely. "True-very true."

Chapter 19

When, years later, Honoria looked back on the first months of her marriage, she wondered what benevolent fate had ordained they would marry on December 1. The season was perfect, fine-tuned to her needs-December and January, cold and snowy, kept society at bay; the week of Christmas, when the whole family descended, was a happy interlude. Those quiet winter months gave her time to find her feet, to assume the mantle of the duchess of St. Ives, to learn what she needed to go on.

Taking up the reins of the ducal household was of itself easy enough. The staff was excellent, well trained and well disposed; she faced few difficulties there. However, the decisions it fell to her to make were wide-ranging, from cows to flower beds to preserves to linens. Not just for the Place, but for the three other residences her husband maintained. The organizational logistics were absorbing. Within the family, she was expected to play the matriarch, a demanding yet satisfying role.

All this and more fell to her lot in that first December and January, yet throughout that time, the aspect of her life that commanded her deepest attention remained her interaction with Devil.

Quite what she'd expected, she couldn't have said-she had come to her marriage with no firm view of what she wanted from it beyond the very fact of laying claim to the role, of being the mother of his children. Which left, as she discovered during those long quiet weeks, a great deal to be decided. By them both.

Time and again, as their wills crossed in daily life, their eyes would meet and she would see in his an expression of arrest, of calculation, consideration-and know the same emotions were visible in her eyes.

There were adjustments in other spheres, too. Like finding time to be alone, to be easy in each other's company, to discuss the myriad matters affecting their now-mutual life, all within the framework of who they were and what they were and what they could both accept. Some adjustments came easily, without conscious effort; others required give-and-take on both sides.

And if their nights remained a constant, an arena where the lines had already been drawn, where they'd already made their decisions, even there, while their physical need of each other continued, a steady, unquenchable flame, with each night that passed, their involvement deepened, became more profound, more heavily invested with meaning.