Midnight Kisses (Midnight Series) (13 page)

Danielle shook her head. Typical Matthew. Even if the painting could have restored his manhood: he had passed up the opportunity in the name of art and science. Deep down, she admired him for staying so true to himself throughout his life.

Inès got up and reached for the painting. With sincere regret in her voice she shrugged her shoulders.

“I want to sell the painting for a pretty penny and live the good life. That’s why I was trying to convince him that he was missing out. I was hoping he would give me the details, but he was being stubborn and didn’t say a word.” Inès shook her head. “I didn’t want to kill him, I swear, just put him to sleep so I could go through his pockets. But I must have put too much in his drink, because the next moment he keeled over dead. I had to come up with a story, so I told Lou that he had gotten overly excited. Lou was real angry and told Frank to get Langston’s notes. And, even though I have always thought of Frank as a loser, I’m now actually holding the painting in my hands.”

She motioned for Danielle to get up.

“I’m awfully sorry, but it’s about time to say goodbye,” she professed, raising the gun.

Danielle struggled to her feet. It didn’t help that she was quite a bit taller than the whore: she was trapped. The gun was aimed directly at her heart.

“And now? Now you’ll kill me?” she asked outright, deep down prepared to throw herself at the redhead and fight for her life.

Inès stepped closer to the door as they heard a loud ruckus coming from the bar downstairs. The gun in her hand started shaking.

Chapter 12

Windham Manor, a few days later

Danielle opened her eyes. The midday winter sun was shining in her face, and she stretched her limbs luxuriously.

“Lady Danielle, you are awake?” asked a deep, melodious voice behind her and, startled, she turned around.

“Dean! Goodness, you gave me a good fright. I must have dozed off.”

Devlin’s brother put aside the book he had been reading and ran his fingers through his short, black hair.

“Considering the last few days, I think you deserve some rest,” he reassured her.

Danielle sat up, smoothing down her dress.

“And for how long do you think it necessary to watch my every move? Don’t you think it’s a little much?”

Dean shrugged his shoulders.

“Maybe, but since Dev will rip my head off if I leave you out of my sight, I prefer to bend to his will. And, to be honest, I’ve seen worse.” The twinkle in his eyes was just as charming as his older brother’s, and his boyish, mischievous grin would win over any woman’s heart.

“Since you mention Devlin: where is he?”

Danielle walked over to the window and looked out into the snow-covered countryside. It would be Christmas tomorrow, and she was feeling melancholic. For the past ten years, she had always celebrated the holiday of love together with Matthew and Christopher, and she was reminded of how much she was missing them. In her mind, she had made peace with Matt, after everything Inès had told her.

Matt had loved her in his own way—of that she was now certain. It was comforting, but no longer of importance. Much more important was her relationship with Devlin. Ever since he had come to get her from the brothel, he had barely left her side. And, as if by some intrinsic right, he had brought her to his own townhouse instead of taking her back to the Bosworths’. If Colin and Eliza thought this unseemly or indecent, they certainly didn’t show it. Devlin had stayed with her every night, as if it was the most normal, natural thing in the world; had made love to her with a tenderness and abandon that brought Danielle to tears. And often, when she woke up with a start in the middle of the night, she saw him quietly lying there and watching over her.

Whenever he left her alone during these past few days, it was only to take care of a few things. He had, without hesitation, paid Mr. Audrey a handsome sum for the dolphin painting. He had also made a deal with the fat man—whom he found waiting in front of the brothel—that he wouldn’t hand him over to the police for breaking into Danielle’s house if he would agree to take care of the dead bodies and leave England for good.

Finally, after everything was arranged, he had bundled Danielle off into his carriage and brought her to his home in the country.

She hadn’t seen Devlin at all today, and Dean’s secretive grin made her shift.

“Don’t worry, Lady Danielle. I’m sure he’ll be back shortly,” he tried to cheer her up when the door behind them opened and Devlin entered, boots covered in snow and slush.

“Danielle, my love, how are you today?” he came over and inspected the bruise on her cheek. It was fading fast, and even her headaches were slowly subsiding.

“Where were you?” Danielle asked.

“Tomorrow is Christmas, and I wanted to see you happy—so I brought you a surprise,” he explained. “You may come in!” he called and laughed when he saw Danielle’s beaming face.

Eliza rushed into her arms, and even Colin embraced Danielle warmly. Behind them, another guest entered the room, and Danielle clapped her hands over her mouth. Tears welled up in her eyes when she spotted Christopher.

“Goodness gracious, Christopher, what are you doing here?” she asked, tear-choked, and hugging him tightly.

“I wanted to surprise you, Mother. But when Sally told me of all the things that happened during my absence, I went straight to London to see you. Lord Weston was kind enough to invite me.”

Danielle kissed the cheeks of her adopted son, whom she loved like her own child.

“So nice to see you. I have missed you terribly.”

“And I as well, Mother.”

Devlin stepped over to the two of them and put his arm around her shoulders.

“Are you happy, my love?”

The sparkle in her eyes and her joyful smile more than made up for his troubles of having taken the carriage all the way to London in deep snow.

Since he had found her in the brothel, frightened and hurt, he knew he would be prepared to do so much more for her. He sincerely regretted that redheaded Lulu escaped by the skin of her teeth because she was, after all, a murderess, even if Danielle insisted that deep down she was a good person. When he had rushed into the brothel, the whore had struck Danielle down with her gun and made her escape via the back stairs.

But they would leave all of that behind now. He pulled Danielle into his arms and spun her around in a circle while kissing her deeply.

Eliza cheered, Dean laughed, and even Colin and Christopher were unable to keep themselves from smiling.

A little out of breath, Danielle finally slapped Devlin across his fingers.

“Milord!” she called, feeling utterly embarrassed and fully aware of the audience around them.

“Danielle, my love,” Devlin shook his head, pulling a hairpin from her artfully arranged locks. “You should know by now that I don’t believe in common decency. You are in my house, and in my heart, and I have no intention of wasting any more years. If I’d had any idea ten years ago why I felt so drawn to you, I would have made you mine back then.”

With that, he kissed her again, and to everyone’s applause, lifted her up and carried her upstairs.

“Devlin Weston!” Danielle exclaimed in mock outrage. “For heaven’s sake, what are our guests going to think?”

Devlin gave her a conspiratorial wink.

“My guess is they’re thinking that I’m going to show you exactly how much I desired you ten years ago.”

“It’s the middle of the day!” she called out, shocked, if with a small, excited tingle in the pit of her stomach.

They had reached his bedchambers, and Devlin sat down on the edge of his bed without letting go of Danielle, so that she was straddling him. With skilled fingers, he loosened the lacing on her corset and pushed her dress down to her hips. Despite her outrage, she could no longer deny that she, too, was aroused. His kisses broke down her defenses, and his hands cupping her breasts tore down what was left of the wall around her.

Eager to pleasure him as much as he was pleasuring her, she tore off his shirt and enjoyed the play of his muscles underneath her fingers.

His hand wandered under her skirts, and Danielle gasped when he found her sweet spot. His fingers circled her bud, teasing her, tantalizing her, until she thought she would explode. She sunk against his shoulders, weak and powerless, begging for relief, and didn’t crave anything more than to feel him hard inside of her.

Just when she thought she would die from unfulfilled pleasure, he unbuttoned his breeches and granted Danielle her wish. She threw her head back, grinding her hips, taking him in deep inside of her, and pushed herself against his every thrust.

Together, they sought the climax and found it in each other’s arms. It was as if nothing else existed in this world except their mingled breaths, the sweat on their skin, and their entwined bodies. They sank down on the bed and held each other until the afternoon became evening, and the evening became night.

The next morning, everyone gathered in the salon and drank eggnog and ate delicious Christmas cookies. There was much cheer and laughter, and Dean, who had put up mistletoe above the door, couldn’t be dissuaded from kissing Danielle as well as Eliza and every single maid that happened to pass underneath it.

Just as Danielle was trying to wiggle out of yet another of those bashful kisses, Devlin entered with a large parcel under his arms.

“Dean, if I catch you one more time getting your filthy mouth anywhere near my lady, I’m going to ask satisfaction, and little Rose will take your place as next in line,” he warned his younger brother.

Dean only laughed, and, along with everyone else in the room, stared inquisitively at the package wrapped in green tissue.

Devlin pulled Danielle with him onto the sofa before handing her the package. Everyone else moved in, too.

“Milady, my Christmas gift to you.”

Danielle blushed.

“But I didn’t get you anything,” she confessed bitterly.

Devlin kissed the top of her head and pulled on the large bow, so that the satin ribbon holding the package slipped to the ground.

“If we’re right, you’re holding the greatest gift I could ever think of in your hands. Go on, open it,” he asked, kissing her hands.

Carefully, Danielle folded the paper away and lifted the lid of the box. A painting on a velvet cushion. The ornate golden frame fit the rich, gold leaf embellishments perfectly, which only enhanced the rays of sunshine glowing above the goddess.

“The
Venus de Lavinium
,” she breathed, full of awe.

Dean stepped closer and ran his fingers over the intricate paint.

“Only we can never prove it without risking the destruction of the real
Venus
underneath,” he pointed out.

With a smile, Devlin took the painting from Danielle and put it up on the mantle, resting it against the wall.

“We should hang it here,” he suggested, searching her eyes for approval.

“You don’t want to examine it first? Try to strip away the top layer?” she asked.

Devlin shook his head.

“No. Langston was right. It would be too risky.”

He walked over to Danielle, knelt down on the floor in front of her, and grabbed her hands. “Also, it’s unnecessary. I know it’s the real
Venus
,” he said, looking deep into her eyes.

“How can you be so sure?”

“I know because she has brought me love. This feeling that’s making my heart sing whenever your hair touches me, that’s making me laugh with joy just by looking at you: that feeling must be love.”

Danielle looked at the portrait. Then at the man who was everything to her: past, present, and future. Wistful, because she had lost him these past ten years while loving him all this time, she threw herself into his arms so she could hold on to happiness for the rest of her life.

Epilogue

London, two years later

What a mess!” Mr. Audrey called out, wading knee-deep through the water in his basement. The River Thames had burst its banks after a particularly long and hard thunderstorm, and his basement had eventually flooded. He fished a few crates and boxes from the water and carried them upstairs. There was not a whole lot more he could do. Fortunately, he only kept things in that basement that he considered of little value, as well as several strikingly bad forgeries that he wasn’t able to sell as originals anyway. Still, it was an inconvenience having to drain and dry up the place. Some of the forgeries drifted past him like multicolor rafts, and Audrey fished them out of the water.

That painting of a garden he was just pulling out—he didn’t remember it at all. Or perhaps he didn’t recognize it because the green paint was starting to dissolve and smudge. He looked down at his paint-stained fingers before throwing the painting back into the water.

No hope for that one
, he thought, and kept pulling pieces from the water that he felt were worth saving. His inattention made him miss the smiling lips of a woman that were showing through the washed-out surface layer before they, too, fell victim to the waters. More and more paint was being washed away, and at long last the flood waters swallowed the entire
Venus de Lavinium
forever, just as she had once risen from them.

For all those who were searching for love, however, the loss was tolerable, for she was residing within people’s hearts alone.

The End

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