Page 47 of To Dare the Devil

“That’s Mama and Muir. They’ll be worried when they discover I’m not in the milliners.”

“Muir?” he repeated, his worst suspicions confirmed when she blushed. “One of Morven’s sons, I collect. Your prospective husband, perhaps?”

She swallowed hard, and he sensed her anxiety. “He’s not asked me yet.”

Yet.

Louis felt sick. No. He felt savage and on the edge of violence, like slamming out of the dingy workshop and finding this Muir and explaining to him that Evie was his in terms that would leave no one in any doubt. Get a grip, Louis, he warned himself.

“And when he does ask you?” Louis asked, the words little more than a growl. He wasn’t certain he wanted to hear the answer, but he had to. You could not win a battle if you did not know who you were fighting. And the battle for Evie’s heart was one he had no intention of losing. She looked away from him and pain lanced through his chest.

“I d-don’t know,” she whispered, blinking back tears.

Tension simmered between them, but she did not let him go. Her body pressed close to his, her hands still clutching at his coat.

“I know,” he said, sliding his hand behind her neck, into her hair, tugging gently and tilting her head back. “I know, because you are mine. We both know it, even if you have been running from the truth. You belong with me, ma petite. When he asks, your answer is no. Do you hear me, Evie?”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice was screaming at him to stop. This was not the way. He had promised to give her time, to make her own choice, to come to him because she loved him. But time was running out, and he was too afraid of what he might do if she did not make that choice at all.

Diable.

Louis shuddered as the evil voice whispered in his ear. No. Not that. Not now. He would not heed that voice now after working so hard for so long to silence it. Not after all this time. He concentrated on Evie, on her response to his command.

She was breathing hard, her breath fluttering against his face, lips parted, her eyes dark. Was that fear or wanting he saw? She did not reply, did not let go of her hold on him.

Diable.

“Are you afraid of me?” he asked softly, his thumb stroking over the pulse point in her neck. It fluttered wildly under her skin, like a panicked bird.

“A-A little,” she admitted, but she still did not let go. “I never was before, but now—”

She broke off, staring at him uncertainly, but still, she did not let go.

“I would never hurt you,” he whispered, lowering his head to nuzzle that sweet spot beneath her ear where her blood thundered. Her breath caught, and she pressed closer to him as a shiver ran through her, which pleased him. He pressed a kiss there, nipped at her earlobe, moved his lips over her jaw as her breathing became erratic. “Has he kissed you?” he asked, wondering if he could stand to hear the answer.

Diable, mauvais esprit, démon, serpent dans le Jardin d'eden, whispered the insidious voice, reminding him his beauty was a snare for the innocent, a gift from the devil, that he was the serpent in the garden of Eden.

She licked her lips, and the sight sent a bold of lust straight to his groin. Apparently, she could not speak the word aloud, however, so she nodded. Jealousy was a knife to his heart, a vile twisting in his guts.

“Did you like it?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.

She stared at him, her skin flushed pink, her eyes growing darker, her breasts rising and falling faster, pressing against his chest. “It w-was… nice,” she said carefully, watching his reaction, her gaze upon him intent.

“Nice,” he said in disgust, remembering her saying that to him once before. “My kisses are not nice, mon amour.”

Louis lowered his mouth to hers and she tensed, a startled gasp escaping her, allowing him entry. He took the opportunity she gave, as he would take this opportunity to make her see once and for all that she belonged with him. His tongue swept in, and he felt shock vibrate through her. To his relief, he discovered at once that she did not know how to kiss, so either this Muir was a damned fool, or he had not kissed her at all thoroughly. Louis taught her the way of it, gently teasing her response from her, triumphant when she followed his lead, sliding her tongue tentatively over his. Desire rioted through him. Control was slipping from his grasp, but for once, he found it hard to care. It had been a very long time since he'd had a woman, all because of her, because he felt as if he betrayed her every time he tried to take his pleasure elsewhere. He was a man with a ferocious libido and his frustration had tormented him to the point of madness. The darker side of his nature wanted her to understand that, to feel a little of his torment. So now, to have her in his arms… he was on the brink of behaving very badly indeed.

Carefully, he adjusted his hold on her lush curves, pulling her hard against him, so close she could not fail to feel his arousal, his need for her. He wondered if she would shy away. He was going too far, too fast, and he knew it, yet he could not make himself stop. But the tension left her body all at once and she melted into him, and he knew such overwhelming relief that he wanted to weep with gratitude and had to fight the temptation to take her to the filthy floor and make her his, once and for all. If he ruined her, she would have to marry him. The thought nagged at him, but he could not do that to her. There were limits to his bad behaviour, it seemed.

She pulled away with a gasp, staring at him with dark eyes as though she beheld the devil himself. Ah, sweet Evie, how right you are.

“Oh, you… you are very bad,” she whispered, touching her fingers to her mouth and gazing at him in wonder.

“Evie,” he murmured, nipping at her lips before tasting her again.

Dieu, but she was so sweet, so maddeningly divine, and he was beyond thought, beyond reason, lost in the feel of her. He turned them about so she bumped up against the wall and slid his hand over her delectable bottom to her thigh, catching her leg behind the knee and pulling it up around his hip. She made a startled sound as he moved into the cradle of her body, pressing his aching cock against her with a low groan. There were too many damn layers in the way and his control was fraying, but somehow he resisted ripping the damn skirts and petticoats away.

He canted his hips against hers and she cried out, clutching at his hair, burying her face against his neck, her breath hot and harsh against his skin. He sought her mouth, and she kissed him again, willingly, ardently, her innocent passion stirring his blood like nothing else had ever done. Louis broke the kiss, trailing his mouth over her cheek as she made a sound of protest, wanting more.