Her eyes were fever-bright, her cheeks flushed. Devil bit back a curse-not at her, but at his would-be murderer. "I'm not dead."
"But you nearly were!" Her eyes flashed blue fire. "How dare they?"
Devil recognized shock when he heard it. "We're both alive."
His calming words fell on deaf ears; Honoria swung away and started to pace. "I can't believe it!" She threw out one hand. "This is utterly wrong!"
Devil followed as she paced toward the bed.
"I won't allow it-I forbid it! You're mine-they can't have you." She swung around; finding him close, she grabbed his lapels. "Do you hear?" Her eyes were silver saucers, sheened with tears. "I am not going to lose you, too."
"I'm here-you won't ever lose me." Devil slid his arms about her; she was so tense she was quivering. "Trust me."
She searched his eyes; tears spangled her lashes.
"Hold me," he commanded.
She hesitated, then obeyed, slowly unclenching her fists, sliding her arms about him. She rested her head against his shoulder but remained tense, taut-determined.
Framing her jaw, Devil lifted her face, looked down on pale cheeks, at eyes awash with tears, then he bent his head and kissed her set lips. "You'll never lose me," he whispered. "I'll never leave you."
A shudder rippled through her. Damp lashes lowered, Honoria lifted her face, offering her lips. Devil took them, then took her mouth. The caress lengthened, deepened, slowly, inexorably spiraling into passion. He needed her-she needed him-an affirmation of life to chase away death's specter.
Honoria drew back only long enough to wrap her arms about his neck. She clung to him, to the vibrant life enshrined in their kiss. His arms locked about her, his chest hard against her breasts, his heartbeat a heavy, repetitive thud reverberating through her. Her defensive tension shifted, transmuted; she pressed herself to him. She answered his kiss and desire rose, not in passionate frenzy, but as a swelling presence impossible to deny. Like rivers unleashed, it welled from them both, merging to a torrent, carrying all thought, all conscious will before it, impelling, compelling, not with need but with the need to give.
Neither questioned its rightness, neither attempted to fight it-a force more than strong enough to deny the deaths they'd faced. Surrendering, to it, to each other, they stripped, barely aware of the clothes they left strewn across the floor. The touch of skin against warm skin, of hands searching, of lips and tongues caressing, played on their senses, feeding the swelling crescendo.
Naked, aroused, they took to their bed, limbs twining, then parting, only to close intimately again. Soft murmurs rose, Devil's deep rumble beneath Honoria's breathless gasps. Time stretched; with freshly opened eyes and heightened senses, they learned each other anew. Devil revisted every soft curve, every square inch of Honoria's ivory skin, every fluttering pulse point, each and every erogenous zone. No less ensorcelled, Honoria rediscovered his hard body, his strength, his perception, his unfailing expertise. His commitment to her fulfilment-matched only by hers to his.
Time suspended as they explored, lavishing pleasure on each other, their murmurs transmuting to soft cries and half-suppressed groans. Only when there was no more left to give did Devil lie back, lifting Honoria over him. Straddling him, she arched and took him in, sinking slowly down, savoring every second, until he was buried deep.
Time fractured. A crystal moment, it hung between them, quivering, invested with sensation. Gazes locked, they both held still, then Honoria let her lids fall. Heart thundering, hearing-feeling-his heartbeat deep within her, she savored the strength that had invaded her, silently acknowledging the power that held her in its coils. Beneath her, Devil closed his eyes, his mind awash with the softness that had accepted him, that now held him so powerfully he could never break free.
Then they moved, their bodies in perfect communion, their souls committed beyond will or thought. Too experienced to rush, they savored each step down the lengthy road, until the gates of paradise opened before them. Together, they entered in.
"Under no circumstances is Her Grace to be left unattended at any time." Devil reinforced that edict with a flat look, trained impartially on the three retainers ranged before him on the library rug.
All three-Webster, poker-straight, his expression more impassive than ever, Mrs. Hull, rigidly upright, lips pinched with concern, and Sligo, his face more mournful than ever-looked uncertain.
Grudgingly, Devil amended: "Other than in our apartments."
That was where Honoria presently was and, if experience was any guide, where she'd remain for a good few hours yet. She'd been deeply asleep when he'd left her-after fully sating his senses and hers; the exercise had left him feeling more vulnerable than he'd ever felt before. But she was safe in their rooms, given the burly footman stationed within sight of the door.
"When I'm absent from the house, Webster, you'll admit no one other than one of my aunts or Vane. If any call, Her Grace is indisposed. We will not be entertaining in the immediate future-not until this matter is resolved."
"Indeed, Your Grace."
"Both you and Mrs. Hull will ensure no one has any chance to tamper with any food or provisions. Incidentally," Devil's gaze fixed on Webster's face, "did you check the rest of that brandy?"
"Yes, Your Grace. The rest of the bottle was uncontaminated." Webster straightened. "I can assure Your Grace I did not fill that decanter with poisoned spirits."
Devil met his gaze directly. "So I had assumed. I take it we've hired no new staff lately?"
Webster's stiffness eased. "No, Your Grace. As is our habit, we brought up more of our people from Somersham to assist last night, hands already familiar with our ways. There were no strangers amongst the staff, m'lord." Fixing his gaze on a point above Devil's head, Webster continued: "Last night, every member of the staff had some prescribed activity they had to perform at virtually any given time." Webster let his gaze drop to meet Devil's eyes. "The long and the short of it is that none of our staff were missing from their duties long enough to have reached your apartments and returned undetected. We must assume, I believe, that some guest aware of the location of the ducal apartments introduced the poison, my lord."
"Quite." Devil had already thought through that point, that and a great deal more; he shifted his gaze to Sligo. "You, Sligo, will accompany Her Grace wherever she goes. If she should decide to walk in public, you will be by her side-not behind her." He met Sligo's gaze levelly. "You're to guard her with your life."
Sligo nodded; he owed Devil his life several times over and saw nothing odd in the request. "I'll make sure no one gets to her. But…" He frowned. "If I'm to be with Her Grace, who's to be with you?"
"I've faced death before-this is no different."
"If I could suggest, Your Grace," Webster intervened. "At least a footman-"
"No." The single word cut off all protest. Devil eyed his servitors straitly. "I'm more than capable of protecting myself." His tone dared them to contradict him; naturally, none of them did. He nodded a dismissal. "You may go."
He stood as they filed to the door; Webster and Sligo left, but Mrs. Hull hung back. When, tight-lipped, she looked at him, Devil, resigned, lifted a brow.
"You're not really invincible, you know."
Devil's lips twisted wryly. "I know, Hully, I know. But for God's sake, don't tell Her Grace."
Mollified by his use of his childhood name for her, Mrs. Hull sniffed. "As if I would. You just busy yourself finding whoever was so lost to all proper feeling as to put poison in that decanter-we'll look after Her Grace."