Another pause followed that made her grind her teeth together. Finally, he said softly, almost regrettably, “I didn’t mean to intrude on your solitude. I just thought you would like to know the doctor came by to see me this evening after you left and he says I’m healing quite nicely.”
Some of her frustration faded with the change in topic. She clasped her hands together before her. “I’m relieved to hear it.”
He took a few steps forward, not quite into the circle of light, but close enough that she could feel the energy vibrating off of him. “You’ll be rid of me before you know it.”
She frowned. She couldn’t help it. While his presence was unnerving, even now, the thought that he would be gone from her life was just as unsettling. Perhaps even more so. “There’s no rush. Besides, if I remember correctly, isn’t Granelli still a threat?” She hesitated. “That also begs the question why you’re here. It can’t be safe.”
“Always looking out for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?” He strode forward and this time the light from the ballroom completely illuminated him.
A small part of her lungs froze at his blatant, sexual appeal. With dark hair tousled by the light breeze, and wearing black trousers, boots, and a partly open, white cambric shirt rolled up to show off muscular forearms sprinkled with a dusting of dark hair, her throat suddenly went dry.
“I—” She was sure she had intended to say something proper, but when he stopped directly in front of her, the heat from his body was too much to comprehend.
“I wonder what I ever did to deserve you,” he murmured, as he reached out and tucked one of her curls behind her ear. Shivers instantly danced down her spine. “My angel.”
She swallowed, and her gaze was instantly drawn to his chiseled lips. She thought of all the times she’d lain awake at night, yearning for them upon her mouth, her skin… “I’m hardly an angel.”
His head angled closer to hers. “But you are mine, aren’t you?”
She opened her mouth to dispute his claim, but instead, a rush of breath left her lungs. Her eyes began to drift closed, anticipating the moment when his mouth would meet hers…
“Mrs. Hartford?” She started slightly as a rush of cold air breezed over her, just before Sir Isaacson called her name. “Are you unwell? When you didn’t return to the ballroom, I grew concerned.”
Constance glanced around the terrace, but there was no sign of her phantom lover. Or he would have been if the baronet hadn’t chosen that untimely moment to intercede.
“I’m…yes, fine.” She stammered over her own words and while her companion looked at her quizzically, all she could think of was how badly Madame Corressa wanted to burst free.
Pushing her desires aside, Constance took hold of the baronet’s arm. “I believe I’m starting to get a bit chilled. Let’s return to the party, shall we?”
He scanned the area around them, but eventually he was persuaded to go inside.
Devin clenched his jaw so tightly that he was surprised it didn’t crack as he watched Constance leave with that bastard. If she only knew what sort of man he was…
But then, he supposed she thought the same of him. Nevertheless, for a brief instant, he had believed that he would finally have a taste of those tempting lips.
“Are ye through playin’ Romeo? Because we need t’ get ye back t’ th’ house an’ bandaged up ‘afore yer Juliet returns an’ sees tha’ ye’re bleedin’ again.”
Devin glared at Luke, where he stood at the bottom of the terrace, just a few feet from where Devin had jumped down to the ground before Sir Isaacson’s arrival. But now he looked down at his shirt which held a bright red stain. “If you can shut your trap long enough, I might do that.”
He started to stalk away and his friend easily fell into step beside him. “Do ye really think ye’ll ever get anywhere wit’ Mrs. Hartford?”
“What do you mean?” he snapped, in a foul temper for some reason. He chose to blame it on his wound. He’d never liked feeling helpless or weak and right now, he felt both.
“She’s hobnobbin’ wit’ all them nobles.” He gestured toward the townhouse they were departing.
“And?” Devin prompted, even though he should have just let the matter drop rather than engage in an argument with Luke, whom he seldom won against. The was something to be said about being older and wiser and for a man in his sixties, there was little he hadn’t seen, or done.
“Either ye’re wantin’ t’ swive ’er, which she won’t allow, or ye’re dreamin’ o’ somethin’ more permanent which you won’t allow.”
Devin stiffened as he turned to face Luke. Although the man had always been like a second father to him, he wasn’t about to stand there and not defend his actions. “Who says I don’t want to settle down?”
Luke lifted his brows. “Can ye honestly stand there an’ tell me tha’ ye’d feel comfortable marryin’ a woman like Mrs. Hartford when ye’ve spent th’ last five years o’ yer life as a convict?”
Devin clenched his jaw and said nothing.
Luke snorted. “Aye. That’s wha’ I thought. She don’t need anyone th’ likes o’ us bringin’ ’er down when she’s tryin’ to make a life for herself among th’ gentry.”
“I would think that’s the lady’s choice to make and not yours,” Devin snapped.
