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."
Honoria stared at him. "You must be joking." She picked up her skirts and hurried down the steps.
He was on her heels as they slipped from shadow to shadow, trailing the small band. The children halted before Tolly's freshly filled grave. Honoria stopped in the deep shadows beneath an oak; Devil stopped behind her. Then his hands gripped her waist; he lifted her to put her aside.
She twisted in his hold and flung herself against him. "No!" Her furious whisper made him blink. Her hands gripping his shoulders, she whispered: "You mustn't!"
He frowned at her, then lowered his head so he could whisper in her ear: "Why the hell not? They're not frightened of me."
"It's not that!" Honoria frowned back. "You're an adult-not one of them."
"So?"
"So this is their moment-their time to say good-bye. Don't spoil it for them."
He searched her face, then his lips thinned. Lifting his head, he looked at the contingent lined up at the foot of the grave but made no further move to join them.
Honoria wriggled and he let her go; she turned to watch. The chill beneath the trees penetrated her thin gown-she shivered. The next instant, Devil's arms came around her, drawing her back against him. Honoria stiffened, then gave up and relaxed, too grateful for his warmth to quibble.
A conference had taken place at the graveside; now Amelia stepped forward and threw her rose on the mound. "Sleep well, Tolly."
Amanda stepped up. "Rest in peace," she intoned, and flung her rose to join her twin's.
Next came Simon. "Good-bye, Tolly." Another rose landed on the grave.
One by one, the children added their roses to the small pile, each bidding Tolly farewell. When they were done, they looked at each other, then re-formed their procession and hurried back to the house.
Honoria held Devil back until the children passed by. He sent her an unreadable, distinctly Cynster look when she finally let him loose, then took her hand; together, they trailed the children back to the lawn.
There was dew on the grass; it was heavy going, particularly for little Mary. Devil grunted and lengthened his stride-Honoria flung herself at him again. "No!" She glared furiously and pressed him back under the trees.
Devil glared back. "They'll get wet feet-I can carry two of them."
He gripped her waist: Honoria clung to his shoulders. "They'll guess you know where they've been-they'll guess you watched. It'll spoil it for them. A little water won't hurt them-not if they're true Cynsters."
A gleam marked Devil's reluctant smile. He waited, grudgingly, until the children disappeared through the side door, then, her hand locked in his, strode for the house. The children were still negotiating the stairs when they reached the foot. Devil went straight on, treading close by the wall. When they reached the upper landing, the children were only partway up the next flight-Devil yanked Honoria into an alcove.
She gasped as she landed against his chest. One arm locked about her; hard fingers lifted her face. His lips were on hers before she drew breath; she tried to hold firm, but beneath the pleasure he lavished upon her, her resistance wilted, then melted away.
To be replaced by something so insidious, so soul-stealingly compulsive, so innately enthralling, she couldn't pull back. He was hungry-she sensed it in the leashed passion that hardened his lips, that, when she opened to him, set him plundering more rapaciously than before. The tension investing his every muscle spoke of rigid control; the turbulence behind it frightened and fascinated. His tongue tangled with hers, intimately enticing, then settled to a slow, repetitive, probing rhythm. Her mouth was his; his possession set her senses whirling-no man had touched her like this. A warm flush rushed through her, a sweet fever unlike anything she'd known. Beyond that and the shocking intimacy of his caress, she knew only one thing. He was ravenously hungry-for her. The sudden, almost overwhelming impulse to give herself to him, to assauge that rampant need, shook her to the core-and still she could not pull back.
How long they stood locked together in the dark she had no idea; when he lifted his head, she'd lost touch with the world.
He hesitated, then brushed her lips with his. "Do I frighten you?"
"Yes." In a way he did. Wide-eyed, her pulse tripping, Honoria searched his shadowed eyes. "But it's not you I'm frightened of." He was making her feel, making her yearn. "I-" Frowning, she stopped, for once lost for words.
In the dark, Devil smiled crookedly. "Don't worry." He took her mouth in one last, searching kiss before putting her from him. "Go. Now." It was a warning-he wasn't sure she understood.
She blinked up at him through the dimness, then nodded. "Good night." She slipped out of the alcove. "Sleep well."
Devil nearly laughed. He wouldn't have a good night-he wouldn't sleep well. He could feel another headache coming on.
Chapter 7
Next morning, Honoria attended Sunday service in the church in the grounds, then strolled back with Louise Cynster. Tolly's mother thanked her for helping her son; Honoria politely disclaimed. With little encouragement, Louise spoke of Tolly and his relationship with Devil. Hero worship seemed the most apt description.
The object of Tolly's reverence had not seen fit to attend church. When the ladies reached the breakfast table, it was apparent he'd been there before them. Honoria made quick work of tea and toast, then headed upstairs.