The Devil has an innate talent for interrupting the truth with details.
Devan Farris’s collection of bon mots and witticisms
Devan had arrived in time to hear his wife cleaning up the mess that Penelope Rowley had made for all of them. He shifted his attention to her as blood raced through his veins. The fact that Avalon had to concern herself with any of it made him see red.
Then her gaze flew to his, and that flash of intelligence, bravery, and empathy that made Avalon so unique combined into a heady mix that stole his breath. It also had the additional benefit of deflating his anger like a popped balloon, and he released his fisted hands as he relaxed his shoulders.
Dear God in heaven, she was a sorceress capable of turning him into a fool who would do her bidding just for a glance his way. She stood and smiled as if he were the only man in the world, and his heart pounded against his ribs trying to reach her.
His Warlock had come to defend him, and he wasn’t surprised in the least. The only thing that amazed him was that she’d arrived so quickly. After their bout of lovemaking last night, she should still be asleep.
He’d have to try harder tonight. Just the thought made him grin slightly. There was no denying, he could watch her for days and never tire of her.
“Come in, Vicar,” Mr. Rowley called as he stood in greeting. His wife followed suit.
Devan claimed the seat next to Avalon. He moved close enough that they were hip to hip. In response, she stirred in her seat as if uncomfortable.
Perhaps she was overcome just as he was.
He’d never seen her this way, and it enchanted him that his touch could have such an effect on her. There was no denying they were attracted to one another, but to see her react the same way as he did when she touched him made Devan want to crow like the only rooster in the hen yard.
But then she did the unthinkable. She moved slightly away from him, creating distance. Though the breech was a mere inch, it felt like a mile. Propriety’s sake demanded it, and he forced himself to relax. “Mr. Rowley, I heard enough of what my wife said to deduce that you understand what happened?”
The man nodded once. “Both Mrs. Rowley and I owe you an apology. I went off like a half-cocked pistol.” He took a deep breath and exhaled. “Since we weren’t blessed with children, our experience is somewhat lacking with how to deal with little Penelope.”
Devan lifted one brow in challenge. “Little Penelope” was a misnomer if he’d ever heard one. But the couple before him were clearly distressed over their own actions along with their niece’s. It was best to try to put the matter behind all of them.
Devan slowly reached for Avalon’s hand. Whether it was all proper, he didn’t care. He needed to touch her and hoped she’d grant him this one boon.
“Respectfully, Mr. and Mrs. Rowley, your niece isn’t little anymore and her actions over the last several days have caused a lot of heartache for many people I deeply care about,” Avalon answered as she squeezed his hand.
Mrs. Rowley sniffed, then wiped her nose. “Mr. Farris, can you find it in your heart to forgive her?”
He stole a glance at Avalon, who nodded discreetly.
“Of course, understanding and forgiveness are requisites for my profession.” Devan turned to Avalon. “I think it perhaps for the best if we start for home.”
“In a moment.” She turned to the Rowleys. “Penelope is desperate not to marry Lord Renford. She’s frightened. Based upon what I heard, I’m terrified of him myself, and I’ve never met the man. We should find someone for her to marry and quickly.”
“Pardon me?” Devan stilled in his seat. He’d heard all the sordid and vile rumors that were glued to Harrison Renford. The man was pure evil.
“She made up the story that you … compromised her to avoid marrying Lord Renford.” Avalon lowered her voice. “She’s been betrothed to him since she was a little girl.”
Devan turned to the Rowleys. “Can’t you write a letter to the man and break the engagement? No one of good breeding will have a thing to do with him.”
“I wish we could.” Mr. Rowley sighed. “But Renford has given a lot of money to Penelope’s parents. He’s been fixated on my niece since she was ten.”
Mrs. Rowley sobbed, the soulful sound heart-wrenching.
Avalon jerked her hand to her stomach. The sight angered Devan even further. He’d not see her even more distraught at such news.
“Mr. Farris, perhaps you and I could speak about this later?” Mr. Rowley asked as he comforted Mrs. Rowley. The poor woman buried her head against her husband’s chest, desperate for comfort.
“Of course. Please send word when you’d like to meet.” Devan helped Avalon to stand with him, and the Rowleys joined them.
“Vicar?” The softly spoken word didn’t hide the hesitancy in the older woman’s teary voice.
He turned his full attention to her while pasting on his usual tranquil smile that a vicar had to carry in his arsenal to comfort his flock. “How can I offer assistance, Mrs. Rowley?”
“Would you consider counseling Penelope?” she asked.
Avalon stiffened beside him. Though no one saw a thing, he felt her withdraw, and that invisible shield she’d don when she felt threatened appeared out of nowhere. Her face froze like a portrait in a stuffy hall at Larkton’s house.
“No, Mrs. Rowley. I don’t think that would be wise,” he answered, hoping not to distress her any further.
“Of course, we understand,” Mr. Rowley said.
“However, I can see if a curate or another vicar close by would speak with her.”
“Oh Vicar, that would be so kind of you.” Mrs. Rowley’s soulful brown eyes betrayed her anguish. “We want to help her and do right by her. We’re her last chance.”
“Meaning?” Devan asked.
“Penelope didn’t do well in Italy. We offered to sponsor her for a Season, and her parents accepted. But now, Lord Renford is pressing that they marry before…” Mrs. Rowley’s voice caught.
“Spring.” Mr. Rowley finished her sentence, then put his arm around his wife in a show of affection. “My wife, Louisa, is beside herself.”
“I’m sorry if I caused you any additional distress,” Avalon said with as much tact as possible. “I thought you needed to know the truth. However, we must find a solution before her reputation is ruined beyond repair. I promised Penelope.”
“Of course,” Mr. Rowley said solemnly. “I best go see the earl and the bishop before it gets too late. Maybe they’ll have some suggestions how to handle this scandal.”
“We’ll be on our way, then. Anything I can do to lend assistance, please ask.” Devan held out his arm, and at first, Avalon hesitated before she wrapped hers around his. Henri followed them to the entry, where Devan helped Avalon don her cloak before he put on his greatcoat.
The contact embodied the myriad of enjoyments about married life—helping his wife with such simple things. It would always give him a chance to touch her.
As she buttoned her cloak, he placed his hands on her shoulders then leaned close to her ear. “What would my wife like to do?” he murmured. “Take the carriage or walk?”
“Walk and work off some of this restlessness.”
“Your wish is my command.” He brushed his lips against the tender lobe of her ear. “I may have an idea or two of how we could tame our urges.”
“Hush,” she whispered. “I didn’t say urges.”
“But I did.” The words evoked the response he was looking for.
She whipped her head around and narrowed her eyes. “Behave.”
“I never learned how,” he answered.
Without another word, she turned to Henri. “Would you mind taking the carriage back to Warwyk Hall? Mr. Farris and I have decided to walk.”
Henri nodded.
Soon they were walking back to the Warwyk estate. Without saying a word, Devan took Avalon’s hand in his and entwined their fingers together. Though there were two layers of leather that separated their skin, he could feel the warmth of her hands in his. “What made you decide to come to the Rowley home today?”
She slowed her gait.
When her gaze caught his, he inhaled deeply at the brilliance in her green eyes. She was riled. There was no other way to describe her.
“This morning I was abed while you went to see Mr. Satterly. After our wedding night, without a whimper or complaint, you went to see about a parishioner who was obviously troubled. You were giving and kind.”
Something happened to her at the Rowley house that bothered her. He could tell by the set of her mouth.
“You couldn’t defend yourself while at the Satterlys’. I didn’t want Penelope to spread rumors, and I didn’t want this situation to fester and end up dividing the community.” She stopped and tilted her head up to him. “I saw Penelope first to give her the chance to tell the truth. The girl stayed steadfast with her story until I told her that I would speak with her aunt and uncle. Then she confessed all.”
“That was a very kind thing to do for her, Avalon.”
“She’s facing the same type of marriage I had. Perhaps worse.” Her gaze locked with his. “I can’t let that happen to her.”
“Avalon,” he coaxed. “You’re not responsible for her lies or her marriage.”
“Yes, I am.” She took a deep breath, then turned her attention to a barren field with deep frozen ruts plowed from the last harvest. For a while she studied it almost as if lost in thought.
Gradually, she pivoted and faced him. A small but sad smile tugged at her lips and the overwhelming desire to kiss the forlornness away and make her laugh rooted deep in his belly.
Avalon held her hand as if offering him the field. “Some people may see a harvested field where its bounty has been picked, then left to wither and wane in the cold. Others might see a field gathering strength, so it can blossom into a fertile land again. It’ll offer huge rewards with spectacular yields for those who tenderly care for it.”
“What do you see?”
“I’m not certain,” she said.
“Meaning?” He took a step nearer. The distance between them was too great for his tastes.
“It represents a marriage in many ways, but I’m not certain which way,” she said matter-of-factly.
“You think ours is an empty barren field?”
“Honestly, I don’t know,” she answered.
He slowly took her arms and brought her close. “I see everything in that field. I see our future. I see happiness and babies.”
“You mean our own children?” she asked. Her voice had dropped an octave, and everything within him vibrated at the resonance of her alto tone.
“Hmm, yes.” Desire had darkened his own voice. “We’ll have dark-haired girls with green eyes like their mother. We’ll have boys who look like you, too. I see marriages in our future for Sophia and Thane. I see grandchildren.”
Another small smile graced her lips.
“There will be some heartache as we all must face life’s trials and tribulations that are designed to test our mettle, but they’ll make us stronger. And I’ll be right beside you as we plow that field and create our life together. I see holidays and birthdays and celebrations. I see you and me with gray hair. I see us as always together. Forever.”
“That’s beautiful,” she whispered.
“Like you.” Unable to keep from touching Avalon, he brushed his lips across the top of her forehead. I’ll do whatever is necessary to make you happy.” His mouth found hers. He kissed her once, then looked deep into her green eyes that reminded him of spring fields. She reminded him of all the possibilities for a blessed and full life ahead of them.
He took her in another kiss, one filled with all the passion and desire and respect that he had for her. It came from someplace deep inside, and he was determined that she felt it as much as he did.
With wide eyes, she broke the kiss. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath.
“I feel the same breathlessness as you, Avalon. That’s what you do to me. I want to kiss again. I want to make love to you right now. Right here. But you decide when and where. Whatever you want.”
She turned and looked at the field with longing. Slowly, she turned back to him. “Right now, I want to ask you a question.”
He nodded once.
“I want you to tell me the truth.”
“Of course, I will always tell you the truth.”
“I hope so.” She took a deep breath as if gathering courage, and her eyes suddenly lost their brilliant fire. “Did you and Penelope Rowley kiss?”
Everything came to a sudden halt. The wind died. The lingering fallen leaves stopped rustling. Even his heart seemed to stop, suspended in his chest. Everything waited for him to respond to his wife’s question. Even Avalon stood frozen, waiting for his answer.
Without taking his eyes off her, Devan swallowed. Though he had little experience with women, he knew his wife. Whatever Penelope had said to Avalon filled her with sadness and uncertainty and preyed upon her great fear that he, her husband, would betray her with another woman.
“I won’t lie to you.” Though her face remained frozen, the slight slump of her shoulders revealed that thread that they’d woven together last night had been pulled taut. His next words would hurt her more, but he had no choice but to answer truthfully. “Penelope found me walking to the vicarage. She orchestrated a stumble knocking us both to the ground. That’s when she did it. Yes, she kissed me, but I’ve only ever lain with you.”
The wind gusted as if stirred to anger, yet Avalon remained still. Only the blinking of her eyes registered that she’d heard him.
“Was this before or after our night in the cellar?” The calmness in her voice warned of a grave danger that would beset both of them if he didn’t handle this carefully.
Of all the times in his life when he wished he had more experience with women, it was now.
But then, wasn’t that the cause of his problem? He had allowed everyone to assume that he was a favorite of the ladies and the beneficiary of all their affections when it was so far from the truth.
“After,” he said.
“I see.” She narrowed her eyes and her brow crinkled into neat rows like the furrowed field before them. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t see that it mattered,” he answered. Unable to determine her mood, Devan held out his arm in hopes that she’d touch him, reassure him that she understood what had happened.
She stood still, ignoring his arm. “Did you ever meet Penelope before you moved to Thistledown?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious.” She ducked her head and studied the ground as she started down the path, leaving Devan behind to ponder his next words.
“Avalon.” He increased his pace until he was beside her. Carefully, he tugged her to a stop. “You can’t possibly think that I wanted to kiss her.”
“I don’t know what to think.” She shook her head as if awakening from a dream.
“But you saw my anger when I discovered what she’d done.”
“I did,” she agreed. “Both of us were pushed into this marriage. I wonder if either of us understood the ramifications.”
The lack of emotion in her voice made his blood turn to ice. “What are you saying?”
She started to walk again, and he followed.
“Maybe if we’d let your anger cool and I had taken time to think of your brother’s ultimatum, we would have made a different choice. Perhaps you’d have married Penelope.”
“This conversation is bordering on the ludicrous. I wanted to marry you.” He blew out his breath hoping it would tamp down the anger that had ignited like a wildfire. “What did Penelope Rowley say to you?”
“She made some observations about me, that’s all.” She huffed a breath, and a steady stream of silver mist rent the air. “Nothing I hadn’t heard before,” she murmured as she hunkered down in her cloak.
A three-story stone building known as the Warwyk Hunters Lodge lay several hundred feet to the left of the path. By God, he’d find out right now what had her unnerved. At the Rowleys’ she’d seemed fine, even happy to see him. “Come. Let’s finish this conversation in the lodge. It’ll still be chilly, but at least we’ll be out of the wind.”
This time when he held out his hand, she reluctantly took it. Immediately he wrapped his other hand over hers, hoping that small touch would help soothe whatever had worried her.
Without another word shared, they crossed the distance, and Devan opened the door. Avalon opened a door off the entry. Inside the massive sitting room, a fireplace the length of the entire north wall took center stage. What Devan wouldn’t give to have a roaring fire lit at this moment to chase Avalon’s chill away. She dropped his arm and crossed the distance to the fireplace. She knelt, then picked up a log to arrange a fire.
“I’ll make the fire,” he said as he knelt beside her. That’s when he saw a lone tear skating down her cheek.
She turned from him, then stood.
“Avalon?” He stood behind her. When she didn’t acknowledge him, he gently placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed.
She slowly turned, but kept her head bent.
“Sweetheart? What’s happened?”
At the sound of the endearment, she sobbed. He pulled her to him and she burrowed into his chest as if seeking sanctuary. He held her in his arms and rocked her, offering comfort. After several minutes, she turned to him. Her tears were gone, but the misery in her eyes had increased tenfold.
He went to caress her cheeks with his thumb, then cursed under his breath. He still had his gloves on. With haste and little grace, he ripped the offending pieces of leather from his hands. He had no idea where they landed, and he didn’t care. The only thing that concerned him in this moment was his wife. He cupped her cheeks in his hands.
“Tell me what has upset you.”
“Perhaps we should speak of it later,” she murmured.
“I disagree. I’ve never seen you this upset before. Now I didn’t hide from you when you asked me a direct question. Do the same for me.”
“Penelope Rowley called me a piece of petrified wood. She said I’d be cold and offer little comfort in your bed.” She feigned a chuckle, then held his gaze.
“Listen to me, sweetheart. After last night, you proved that theory false. I was certainly burning for you. How I wanted you.”
Avalon didn’t react.
“She’s nothing more than a foolish girl.”
“I was once a foolish girl, and my first husband said I was a piece of ice in bed,” she whispered.
“He was a fool.” Devan pulled her close.
“When Penelope described her betrothed as a horrid man who beats, humiliates, and perhaps even murders women, it brought forth all those memories of my parents forcing me.” She pulled away an inch to look at his face. “They forced me to marry a man who didn’t want me. He never did. It made me wonder if I’d forced you … why did you marry me?”
He held her face in his hands. The uncertainty in her voice tore a piece of his heart away. Unable to resist, he took her in a plundering kiss designed to show her that she was wild, passionate, and there was no one else in the world he wanted to be with except her.
When she moaned low against his lips, he pressed deeper, harder, and longer. With his hands on her darling derrière, he pulled her closer. His erection pulsed with each hectic heartbeat as he continued to worship her mouth. She nestled closer.
He whispered her name as he moved her cloak to reach her warm body. “Every inch of me burns for you. Only you. From the night in the wine cellar, you have been a part of me. When I see you, I see me. You, darling wife, are entwined in every part of me.” He brought her hand to his chest, where his heart pounded for her. “Do you feel that?”
She nodded.
“Every beat is yours.”
Her eyes filled with tears and an enchanting grin tugged at her lips.
“Show me then.” She brought his hand to her leg and together they pushed her gown and petticoats to her waist.
The world seemed to wobble when her hand touched him to unbutton his falls. He almost came on the spot. This would not be a gentle or long coupling. Theirs would be a joining that would burn them together. He hissed when she released his cock into the cold air. With a jerking, frantic grasp, she brought his erection to her entrance.
With both hands, he lifted her in the air.
She hugged both legs around his hips. “Do it.”
He turned slightly, then took a step so her back rested against the wall, then entered her.
“Move, please.” Whether it was a command or a plea, he couldn’t tell.
She didn’t have to say it again. He groaned in pleasure as he withdrew, then thrust inside her again. She tightened around his cock. It was the most exquisite torture, and he wanted more—needed more—needed her. He growled her name as he withdrew, then entered her again. Holding her against the wall, he protected her head with his hand cupped around her hair.
“Touch yourself,” he murmured. “I won’t last long.”
She took his mouth with hers. He felt her hand move where their bodies were joined. The rhythmic movement of her fingers teased him. He imagined her doing that very same thing in their bed as he watched. God, the things this woman could do to him. She made him lose all control.
With a deep breath, he forced himself to wait until she was ready for more. He kissed the exposed skin of her neck, then nipped it. Her breath rushed past him, accelerating. This was the way she’d been last night—wild, demanding, and ready to explode from the fire of their joining.
Stroke for stroke, she matched his movements, tightening her sex around his member as she buried her face in his neck.
Like a beast taking his mate, Devan pounded her flesh until his seed flooded her, marking her as his.
They held each other until his heartbeat slowed, and her breathing calmed. When his cock slipped out of her body, she untangled her legs and stood.
He kept her in his embrace and kissed her again. From his coat pocket, he retrieved his well-worn but clean handkerchief. He dropped to his knees in front of her and lifted his head to gaze into her eyes. Their coupling had brought a beautiful blush to her cheeks, and her eyes sparkled.
With infinite care, he cleaned her, then kissed both thighs in a show of affection, regard, and deep fidelity. After he lowered her skirts and carefully straightened them, he returned his gaze to her. “You are a passionate, giving woman. Don’t ever doubt my words. I’m honored to call you my wife.”
She didn’t answer.
“Do you believe me?”
Instead, with a shaky hand she reached toward him and tangled her fingers in his hair. With the gentlest of touches, she combed his straight locks.
Neither of them moved. Though his legs felt as though they’d frozen to the floor, he’d not move while she kept stroking—touching him. The tenderness in her regard made him want to pledge his undying devotion for all his days to her. Simply put, she undid him into a thousand pieces he’d never known existed, and each one was hers.
They stayed in their respective positions until she shivered slightly.
“Let’s go home,” he whispered as he stood. He tangled their fingers together and led her from the lodge.
They walked back to Warwyk Hall, not breaking contact. The skies above them grew ominous, portending storms, but to the west, the sun refused to give up its glory.
Avalon kept her silence, but every now and then she would glance his way and smile slightly. His heart tripped in his chest at such a glorious sight.