Men of Intrgue A Trilogy (82 page)

“Go home, Cronin,” Devlin said. “Angela doesn’t want you here.”

“I’ll be the judge of what Angela wants,” Philip sneered.

“Not as long as I’m around,” Devlin answered.

“You won’t be around long if I have anything to say about it,” Philip replied.

“You don’t have anything to say about it. Stop forcing yourself on a woman who doesn’t want you and get the hell out of here.” Devlin took a step closer, his expression belligerent.

“You have no right to throw me out of this house!” Philip said, outraged.

Devlin raised his fist. “This gives me the right.”

Angela stepped nervously between the two men. “Philip, just go. I don’t want a fight.”

Philip turned on her. “Then why don’t you tell this Neanderthal to shut up? He’s the one who’s threatening violence.”

“Because you can’t behave like a gentleman,” Devlin interjected.

“Please,” Angela said.

“Look who’s giving me lessons on gentlemanly behavior,” Philip said with a grim smile. “You cretin. You’re just a hired gun, a feebleminded bunch of muscles too stupid to make a living like other people. All you can do is throw your weight around and you don’t scare me. If I want to kiss Angela, I will, and it’s no concern of yours.” He reached out for Angela again and she stumbled unwillingly against him.

Devlin moved so fast he seemed a blur. He set Angela carefully aside with one long arm, then punched Philip with the other hand. Philip flew backward, crashing into an end table and upsetting a pottery vase. He landed on the wood floor in a hail of earthenware fragments. Angela moaned and closed her eyes.

“Get up,” Devlin said. “Get up and face me, you jerk.”

Philip lurched unsteadily to his feet, wiping his bloodied mouth with his hand. He backed away, watching Devlin like a trapped animal.

“That’s it,” Devlin snarled, “back right on out the door, golden boy. I think I hear your mother calling you.”

“You’ll pay for this,” Philip said softly. “You assaulted me. You’ll hear from my lawyers.”

“I’m terrified,” Devlin said. He picked up Philip’s coat and wrapped costume from a chair and threw them at him. “Don’t forget your duds, junior.”

Philip hesitated. Devlin took a step toward him, and the other man was galvanized into action. He pulled his jacket on hastily.

“I’m leaving because I don’t want to upset Angela,” he said.

Devlin laughed derisively.

“I’ll call you in the morning,” Philip said to Angela, opening the door.

“Don’t bother,” Devlin called after him.

“Did you have to hit him?” Angela asked in a tired voice as the door shut behind Philip.

Devlin turned to her incredulously. “What did you expect me to do? Just let him maul you?”

Angela pushed her hair back off her forehead. “Why did you come out here anyway? I thought you’d had enough of us for one evening.”

“I heard you trying to get rid of him. I thought I’d better help you do it.”

“I suppose I should thank you.”

Devlin’s expression changed. “Don’t strain yourself,” he said in a hard voice.

Angela bridled. “I won’t!”

“Fine. Don’t!” Devlin kicked a shard of clay and it skidded across the floor. “I should have let him manhandle you for all the good it did me to intervene. You’re still on your high horse, treating me like an outcast.”

Angela’s eyes filmed with tears. “I can’t imagine what you’re referring to, and I don’t care to think about it. I’m very tired and I’d like to go to bed. Good night.” She gathered her skirts in her hands and ran up the stairs. Once in her room she slammed the door and leaned against it, her heart pounding.

Devlin stood rooted for a few seconds, his hands at his sides, and then charged up the staircase after her.

He had the look of a determined man.

Chapter 6

Devlin stopped outside Angela’s room and banged on the door.

Angela jumped, lurching away from the door as if it were on fire.

“Can you hear me?” Devlin yelled.

The dead can probably hear you, Angela thought wildly. She had a strong feeling that the barrier of silence was about to be broken.

“Listen to me, Angela,” Devlin commanded. There was a pause, and then his tone changed.

“I know I don’t have as much money as Philip Cronin, but in the future it’s possible that...” His voice trailed off as Angela waited, puzzled. What on earth was he talking about?

“That’s not true,” Devlin picked up again in a resigned tone. “I’ll never have a real lot of money, but I will be able to make a good living, and is money that important anyway?”

Angela edged closer to the door, intrigued. Whatever was coming she was all ears.

“What I’m trying to say is, I don’t believe you love that guy, and I’m fairly sure you love me. . . .”

He had Angela’s complete attention. She stared at the back of the door, her pulses racing. Then she reached out with a trembling hand and turned the knob slowly. The door swung open and she faced Devlin, now only inches away.

“What are you trying to say, Brett?” she asked softly.

She stood still as he cupped her face tenderly between his hands and ran his thumbs over her lips. His touch was infinitely gentle, and everything he felt was there in his searching eyes.

Angela released a long, shuddering breath, filled with relief and happiness. “Say it, my darling,” she whispered. “I promise it won’t hurt you to say it, and I need to hear it so much.”

“I love you, Angela,” Devlin said huskily, and she flung herself into his arms.

Devlin held her tightly, his eyes closed, his lips buried in her hair.

“I’ve waited so long to hear that,” Angela sighed, her nails digging into his hard shoulders as if to ascertain his reality. “I thought I never would.”

Devlin picked her up and carried her into the bedroom.

“Will you stay with me this time?” Angela asked as he set her on the edge of her bed. “You won’t stop, and pull away?”

He fell to his knees beside her and put his arms around her waist.

“Not this time,” he responded thickly, his voice muffled by her body. “And never again.”

Angela held his head against her, his mouth searing her breasts through the thin silk of her dress. She sank her fingers into his lush hair, arching her back to press him closer. His fingers went to the zipper at her neckline and he moved away as the gown fell to her waist.

Angela watched as he pulled his sweater over his head. He wore nothing under it, and she held out her arms, eager for the sensation of his skin against hers. When he embraced her again she gasped with pleasure, pulling him onto the bed with her.

Devlin kissed her hungrily, restraining himself with difficulty. He didn’t want to scare her but the long weeks of deprivation welled up in him until he was handling her too roughly, too desperately. He sat up quickly, trying for calm.

Angela followed after him, clinging. “What?” she murmured, running her lips over the smooth skin of his shoulder. “What?”

He closed his eyes as the touch of her mouth sent urgent messages to every nerve in his body. “Angela, you don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

“Yes, I do,” she whispered. “At least, I hope I do.” She lowered her head and tongued his nipple. He groaned and then pulled on her hair, making her look at him.

“I want to be gentle with you but I’m losing control,” he said, touching her lips with his finger. “I don’t know if I can wait.”

Angela hugged him, kissing him again. He responded instantly, pushing her down and crushing her to him.

“Don’t wait,” she said against his mouth. “I feel the same way.”

He molded her to him, slipping his hands under her hips and fitting her body to his. “I love you so much,” he said hoarsely. “I’m sorry for what I’ve put you through. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Shh, shh,” Angela soothed, kissing his cheek, rough with stubble, smoothing his disordered hair. “It doesn’t matter now. We’re together and that’s all that counts.”

If only that were true, Devlin thought, but he soon forgot his misgivings in a frantic surge of desire as Angela’s searching hands drove all reason from his mind. He rolled off her and removed the rest of her clothes, then stood to undress himself. Angela’s eyes followed his every move, impatient, lambent with need. When he dropped down next to her she turned to him readily, twining her limbs with his.

“I think you’re beautiful,” she said shyly, hiding her face against his chest.

He smiled indulgently. “Compared to whom, Miss Wealth of Experience? The hundreds of men you’ve had in your bed?”

“Don’t make fun of me. I know what I like.”

He turned her face up to his and kissed her tenderly. “So do I.”

The kiss soon escalated into a rushing torrent of passion that carried them both away. Devlin moved over Angela, his mouth traveling to her throat, her breasts, as she twisted and turned to accommodate him, yielding herself in an excess of surrender. His lips teased one nipple, then the other, abrading her sensitive flesh until she was whimpering with pleasure. He still was not a talker; he didn’t shower her with endearments, but his mouth and hands said everything for him, telling Angela that she was cherished and treasured. She was loved.

Devlin stroked her thighs, his hand slipping between her legs, caressing her to a state of anxious readiness. She strained against him, running her hands over his muscular back, damp with perspiration. She could feel the great tension in him, the coiled spring power of his arms and legs. He was holding back for her. She wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him closer, forcing him into position. When she felt him so near she made a small sound of blissful satisfaction.

“Take me now,” she murmured into his ear. “Brett, I need you. Now.”

His breath stopped for an instant and he lifted himself on his hands. His eyes locked with hers as he entered her in one urgent motion. Angela gasped and her head fell back against the pillow. Devlin gathered her to him and pressed his flushed face into the hollow of her shoulder.

“At last,” Angela whispered, her voice breaking. “I was afraid I would never know this with you.”

His response was to raise his head and kiss her lingeringly on the mouth. At close range his lashes were so long and silky they were like a child’s, but there the comparison ended. The rest of his face was ruggedly male, with its dark, heavily marked brows, carved features and dusky skin. Angela absorbed his presence wonderingly: was this really happening? She had dreamed of it, wished for it so long, that it was hard to believe.

Then Devlin moved within her and she knew that it was real. She stilled him quickly, holding him fast.

“Stop,” she gasped.

He obeyed, his lashes lifting as amber eyes gazed into hers from a distance of inches.

“Just hold me like this for a minute,” she whispered.

Devlin pressed her tighter, his body enveloping hers.

“Oh, that’s it,” Angela sighed. “I want to remember this moment for all time, for ever and ever. Nothing will ever be this perfect again.”

He feathered his lips across her cheek. “Angela. The things you say,” he murmured in a wondering voice. “You say what other people only think.”

“Can’t I tell you what I feel?” she asked.

“Always,” he answered, lifting her to him and settling deeper inside her. “You can always tell me what you feel.”

She shuddered delicately, responding to his every move. As his pace increased she clung to him, on fire, her need as great as his. Her eyes squeezed shut as she flooded with feeling, the tears seeping out from under her closed lids and mixing with the dew on his skin. His mouth moved everywhere he could reach, a sweet counterpoint to the exquisite torment he was creating within her. He gripped her hips, mounting a steadily driving assault on her senses that left her helpless, dependent on his strength. Angela moaned and clutched him wildly.

“Tell me again,” she begged. “Tell me again so I know I didn’t imagine it.”

“I love you,” he muttered, breathless. “And I’m in love with you. That won’t change, Angela, no matter what happens.”

At another time Angela might have noticed the phrasing of his reply, the implicit warning it contained. But now all she heard was the declaration of love from the person she most wished to make it, the man who clasped her in the ultimate embrace.

Devlin surged on toward completion, and Angela stayed with him, carried along on his tide, caught up in the continuing cadence as old as time.

* * * *

Angela drifted into sleep afterward, secure in Devlin’s arms, but he remained awake, staring into the darkness above her head. He’d gone against his training and yielded to his emotions. Yet he didn’t regret it; no power on earth could have prevented him from making love to Angela that night.

I have her, and will keep her, he thought grimly.

He still couldn’t sleep.

* * * *

When Angela awoke a couple of hours later, she was alone in the bed. It was the deepest time of the night, just before darkness turns toward dawn. She slid to the floor, padding barefoot to her closet and retrieving a blue chenille robe. As she put it on she glanced around for Devlin. The room was empty. She was just about to go downstairs to look for him when she noticed a pinpoint of light on the flagstone terrace outside her room. Devlin was sitting out there, smoking.