“Fancy seeing you here.”
Constance jumped slightly when a hand brushed her elbow, sending sparks shooting up her spine. However, she recovered quickly enough and, keeping her focus ahead, she murmured, “I suppose you are here to bedevil me further?”
“I was actually hoping to hear you moan.”
She nearly missed a step, so she paused and turned her full attention on him. He was still too entirely sinful to look at, and definitely younger than she was. But then, he didn’t seem to mind as he slowly lifted his hand and rubbed a thumb along his lower lip while staring straight into her soul. Or, at least, it seemed like it, for she had found the ability to function properly had deserted her. For a practiced courtesan, she should think she was above such foolish behavior, but around this man, it was as if she was an untried virgin, or some naïve debutante.
She didn’t like it.
She gritted her teeth together. “I want you to stop this.”
“Stop what?” he asked huskily, his tongue darting out to slowly lick his lips.
She instantly had the vision of him licking something else and she had to close that off immediately. “This harassment,” she demanded. “I don’t care to be followed like this. Besides, how am I to know you aren’t the true enemy in this case, but merely wish me to believe otherwise? As far as I know you could be working for Granelli.”
He chuckled, and it was so seductive that she had to bite the inside of her cheek so she might concentrate on something other than the sound. “Trust me, I have better things to do than associate with the likes of that ignorant bastard. I never worked for anyone, and I made my own rules.”
She didn’t doubt that, but then, the matter of his age couldn’t be ignored any longer. “You hardly seem old enough to have lived such a destructive life as you claim.”
He shrugged, and then lifted his arm and placed it by her head, blocking her against the wall with his rather solid form. Constance glanced around, but it turned out he had chosen quite an opportune place to conduct this little encounter, as they were in a particularly secluded alcove, quite hidden from any passersby.
“Age is only a number and one I’ve never been very concerned with. I’ve had all manner of lovers, from fresh debutantes looking for a bit of freedom, to widows who were rather generous with their offerings.”
“And you think I should rejoice to be among your conquests?” she snapped. She didn’t know why, but the idea that he was a libertine in his own right didn’t settle well, which made her a hypocrite, she supposed, for it wasn’t as though she was a saint.
“Not at all. I don’t intend to conquer you.” He lifted a finger and ran it softly along her exposed collarbone. Gooseflesh immediately broke out all over her skin. “I want you to conquer me.”
Constance stared at him. In all her life, she had never had a man pursue her with such dedication, and without any sort of bauble to try to coerce her. Not that such trivial things had ever mattered to her. Granted, she enjoyed nice dresses as much as the next woman, but having a roof over her head and food in her belly to keep away that terrible gnawing hunger was more preferable.
And something told her he knew the same feeling, that they were more alike than she was willing to admit. She had never believed in the possibility of soul mates, imagining that it was too fanciful to picture a world full of people where only two were intended for one another, but as she looked into his dark eyes and saw a swirling air of mystery and torment within, she had to wonder if she’d been wrong. He might very well be her soul mate, but she doubted that love would play any sort of role in their relationship if she did agree to his terms. There was too much pain and torture there to lighten it with something so pure and infinite.
And yet, she still had to give him an answer. “Tomorrow.”
He lifted a brow in question.
“I shall give you my answer then. Meet me at the Statue of Achilles at nine o’clock in the morning.”
Devin watched as the lady walked away from him in a delightful swish of her skirts. He imagined those hips wound around his midsection as he pumped into her hot center and he had to close his eyes against the vision, or else he would find himself running after her and collapsing on his hands and knees in a pitiful beseeching plea to put him out of his misery.
Taking his leave, so that he could give her the space that she needed to consider his offer, he left the theatre with every confidence that her answer would be yes. He wouldn’t be devastated if she refused him, he would merely keep trying until she agreed. He had the art of persuasion down to a certain technique when it came to the fairer sex.
With his hands in his pockets, Devin strolled down the street, intending to return to Luke’s residence. Of course, if he managed to enchant the lady, he would have to set her up in fashion. While he had the funds to do so, he’d just returned to the city and hadn’t anticipated meeting anyone, especially one as lovely as her. Devin didn’t even need to know her name to admit that he was thoroughly mesmerized by her.
As he turned a corner into an alley, Devin realized his mistake, as the shadows began to close in around him.
“Been makin’ new friends, Blackmore?”
Devin stopped and considered his odds. He was sorely outnumbered five to one, and even should he end up the victor, he wouldn’t look in any decent shape to woo his lady in the bright light of day. Then again, he never backed down from a fight.
With a long-suffering sigh, he crossed his arms and said, “Hallo, Granelli.” He shifted his gaze to the leader, who was limping with a cane, a bandage covering his thigh. “How’s the leg?”
The man spat at his feet. “Ye think ye’re funny, don’t ye, Blackmore?” He withdrew a severe looking metal blade. “Ye won’t be laughin’ when I cut out your wretched tongue.”
A few malicious chuckles sounded from all around him.
“Ye could ’ave kept that woman from shootin’ me, but instead, ye stood by an’ did nuthin’.” He walked forward and narrowed his eyes on Devin. “Maybe I should jus’ make sure ye get sent back t’ that island.”
Devin stilled, all teasing gone from his demeanor. That was one place he would never joke about. He discarded his jacket and slowly began to roll up his sleeves. “I’ll die first.”
