Regret Not a Moment (11 page)

“Its so nice to see you again,” Devon said. She hesitated to use his first name. She did not feel as familiar toward him as she had before his departure. “Please sit down,” she said calmly. She resolved not to let him see that he disturbed her.

John sat in the armchair opposite Devon and studied her closely, saying nothing for a few seconds. He noted the injuries that Hamilton Magrath had told him about. But even with her bruises, she glowed with life and intelligence. Her quality, her vivid beauty, shined through the surface disfigurement. Devon wanted to squirm at his intense scrutiny, but forced herself to remain still and to meet his eyes.

Feeling the need to break the silence, Devon finally spoke. “I’m quite a mess, aren’t I?” she said with a forced laugh.

“I was just thinking how lovely you are. I’ve thought of you so often. Now I see that my memory did you an injustice.”

Devon fought not to appear flustered. Although he sat a few feet away from her, she could feel the heat of his body. She could smell the subtle aroma of his cologne, a scent that reminded her of a crisp morning in the mountains. Her senses vibrated in his presence. And his magnetism made her painfully aware of how unlike her usual self she looked. “I… I’m surely not beautiful now… with all these bruises.”

None of that mattered to John. He leaned forward in his chair. “Devon,” he said hoarsely, “I’ve been a fool.”

Devon, startled, simply stared at him.

“Are you angry with me?” he asked sheepishly.

“Should I be?" asked Devon, trying to buy time with the question. She knew exactly what he was referring to, but she did not want to admit that his absence at the hunt—and his subsequent silence—had been of great importance to her.

“Yes,” said John seriously. He wanted to touch her, to take her hand, but he did not dare. He could not read her mood. She was polite, of course, but there seemed to be a barrier around her emotions. He wanted to speak directly, to get at the heart of the matter, but he realized that he had appeared virtually out of nowhere. He had been preparing himself for this moment, had spent hours debating what he would say to her. She, on the other hand, had had no idea he was coming.

“Devon, I have to speak plainly because what I have to say has been burdening me for some time now.”

Devon said nothing, but nodded for him to continue. He looked at her large aqua eyes, ever so slightly slanted upward at their outer corners. They were an exotic touch in her otherwise classically beautiful face. How he loved that face! Even though bruised, it radiated all the luminescence he remembered from their first meetings. Her beauty seemed to come as much from her inner sense of self-worth as from her outward attributes. Looking at her now, John was sure that the decision he had made about her the day before was a good one. All doubt was gone from his mind. He patted his breast pocket discreetly to see if the box he had brought with him from New York was still there.

“Devon, do you know why I’ve returned?”

Devon did not know how to answer. By his tone, she could tell that Alexander’s call was more than just a polite one. She could see the admiration—and perhaps even more—in his eyes. Yet she did not want to risk making a fool of herself by assuming too much. Finally, she asked, “You’re buying some land in New York from Mr. Magrath?”

“Not exactly,” said John.

“You’re not buying land from Mr. Magrath?”

“I am buying land. That part is true, but…”

“Then… what?” asked Devon.

“The land I’m buying, it’s not just the New York property I originally talked to Magrath about. I’m also buying property from his son-in-law.”

Devon’s eyes widened as she tried to gauge the significance of John’s words. He grinned at her, but gave nothing further away. Well, then, nor would she. “Oh,” she murmured hesitantly, “I had heard Brent Hartwick was trying to sell his family’s place near Middleburg. Now that he’s living with the Magraths, it’s only a burden on him. He lost so much in the stock market.”

“It is precisely the Hartwick place that I am considering,” said John. He leaned even farther forward in his chair and locked his eyes on hers. “What do you think of it?”

“Well…” Devon hesitated, trying to read the meaning behind his intense gaze. A little thrill of hope rose in her. Could it be… could it really be that he intended to settle in the area? Was it because of her? Oh, but he had once before led her to believe that she meant something to him. And in the end, he had left her feeling bereft. So she stifled the thrill and forced her expression to remain cool and steady. “The house is one of the loveliest in the area. The land is very good. And it has an excellent stable. I think it would be a good buy,” she concluded, in her usual decisive way.

“Would it be the kind of place you would like to live in?”

The question assaulted Devon’s hard-won composure. She felt her cheeks burn as she tried to think of an answer. She wanted to admit giddily, I would live anywhere with you! But how absurd! Alexander had not proposed marriage. Perhaps he was simply interested in her opinion because she had lived for many years in the area. She studied his face. Unused to obliqueness in her dealings with people, Devon wanted to see his eyes. To see if what she thought she understood was indeed what he meant to convey. John moved to the hassock at Devon’s feet and took her good hand in his. The electricity of his touch made goose pimples spring up on her arms and the back of her neck.

“Would you like to live there?” he repeated. His face bore an intense, determined expression. His grip on her fingers was tight.

“I… I think I should like it very much,” she replied. Embarrassed at her eagerness, she pulled her hand away from his.

“Don’t pull away,” he said, reaching out again and grasping her hand tightly in his. “Devon, I—” For a split second he hesitated. He stared into her eyes. Despite the sunlight, her pupils were dilated, two black pools pulling him in. They were hypnotic, her eyes. He had no power to fight against their pull. Didn’t want to fight it. And he whispered the words he had been holding back for weeks: “I love you.”

Devon’s head was spinning. How often she had dreamed of hearing those words from his lips. And yet, once before when she thought he had been on the verge of uttering them, he had left suddenly. Left her bewildered and hurt. But the touch of him seemed to break down all her defenses. It seemed right somehow that he should be here.

Sensing her confusion, John sought to explain himself in a rush of words. “Devon, I’ve been a bachelor for longer than most of the people I know. When I met you, I knew immediately that we were right for each other, but the feeling scared me. I was afraid to change my life. Afraid to make my happiness dependent on you! So, I fled. But, Devon, I now see that I was an idiot to think I could ever enjoy my life without you. I may have enjoyed it once, but now that I’ve met you… Can you ever… Do you understand?” His eyes implored her to say yes.

“I… I don’t know. All this is so new for me too. It is scary, isn’t it?” she asked with a shaky laugh.

“So you
do
love me too?” John asked with elation.

Devon wanted to think sensibly. To hold herself back. To catch her breath. But somehow she couldn’t. She couldn’t seem to make her head stop spinning, her heart stop racing. She was afraid to utter the words. To lose herself. But, oh, the promise of it all! The joy! He loved her! Her daring spirit urged her on. Caution wasn’t in her nature. And her emotions cried out to be heard. “You know it, don’t you?” she said, almost crying at the blissful release she felt. “You know I love you.”

John’s tensed mouth broke into a huge grin. His face wore the unbelieving happiness of a young boy whose most unobtainable dream has come true.

And, looking at him, any doubts remaining in Devon were swept away in the rush of love she felt. It didn’t matter that she had known him only a short while. Nor that he had once fled. All that mattered was the overwhelming feeling that filled her whenever she saw him. She was giddy with it. Giddy with love, with excitement, with happiness!

John, seeing her expression, knew the time was right. He took a blue velvet case from his pocket and slowly opened it. Devon gasped at the beauty of the ring within. It was a perfect five-carat oval-cut diamond set in a band of sapphires. Devon stared down at the ring, then up at John. For a moment they were both motionless, lost in each other. Then John plucked the ring from the case. He lifted Devon’s hand and paused. The ring sparkled gaily in the sun, rays of colored light shooting out in every direction.

“I’m glad your left hand is the one that is unhurt,” John whispered solemnly as he slipped the beautiful ornament on her finger. Then he lifted Devon’s hand to his lips and kissed the silken ivory flesh.

She turned her hand over and tenderly stroked his face. “John…” she whispered, overcome by emotion.

John once again took her hand. “Then you
will
marry me?” he asked urgently, wanting to hear the promise from her lips.

She dimpled at his question. Wasn’t it obvious? Of course, of course,
of course
she would marry him!

He read the answer in her eyes, but it wasn’t enough for him. “I want to hear you say it!” he commanded.

It was barely more than a sigh. “Yes.”

John half stood from the hassock and leaned toward Devon, moving his face close to hers. He could feel her warm, sweet breath; then his lips alighted on hers as gently as a butterfly. She returned his kiss, welcoming his lips. He could feel her readiness, the beckoning of her body to his. Bracing his arms on her chair’s he leaned even farther into the embrace. He increased the pressure of his lips and ever so delicately opened Devon’s mouth with his tongue. Like a child welcoming a delicious treat, Devon accepted him, instinctively meeting his tongue with her own, lighting a wild fire in him. Her kiss had a more intoxicating effect on him than his most erotic sexual escapade of the past. He sat on one arm of the chair and moved her scented hair back from her ear, then he leaned down and gently took the lobe in his mouth. Just as he had done in his imagination, he ran his warm tongue teasingly down her neck. He savored the salty, spicy taste of her. His fingers itched to unbutton the prim lace collar of her gown. He wanted to release her breasts, hold them in his hands. They would be milky white, satiny. He wanted to remove her petticoat. To tear through the lace barrier that hid the most secret recesses of her body from his touch—and his tongue. He wanted to immerse himself in her. He could feel his insistent hardness begging for release. But of course, there could be no release… not yet.

Devon felt John draw back, leaving her breathless. She was dizzy, trembling. A yearning in the moist, secret part of her cried out for fulfillment. Instinctively, she caressed the nape of John’s neck with featherlike touches, sending shivers down his spine. John rested on the arm of Devon’s easy chair and kissed her even more deeply.

A discreet knock at the door fairly catapulted John from his perch back to the hassock.

“Who is it?” Devon asked in a voice that sounded shaky even to her ears.

“It’s Meg, Miss Devon, with your tea.”

“Come in, please,” said Devon, hurriedly smoothing her hair.

The young maid entered with a tray, causing an uncomfortable silence in the room.

Recovering herself, Devon pretended to pick up a conversational thread. “In any event, we shall have to have you to dinner, Mr. Alexander,” she said in her usual cool, clear voice. She gave the maid a nod. “Thank you, Meg, I’ll pour,” said Devon.

Meg withdrew, discreetly closing the door behind her. But as she later told the other servants, “They didn’t fool me for a minute. As if they could! What with Miss Devon sporting a diamond as big as the moon!”

Grace studied her sister’s fiancé across the dinner table and could find no fault with him. Not only was he handsome, intelligent, and amusing, he was also quite obviously head over heels in love with Devon. Grace sighed with contentment as she contemplated her sister’s renewed good spirits. It had been just a short time ago that Devon had been in the depths of depression. Now she was glowing with happiness.

“John has decided to buy Brent Hartwick’s farm,” Devon chattered happily, “and we’ll breed racing Thoroughbreds, although I really don’t know much about horseracing. But the farm used to have one of the best reputations around for that and it would be a shame to dismantle it, so I’ll just have to learn.”

“You mean you intend to be involved?” asked Chase. “I shouldn’t think that would go over too well with—what’s that fellow’s name—he’s supposed to be one of the best trainers around.”

“You mean Willy O’Neill?” said John.

“That’s the fellow. I understand he runs the place with an iron hand,” said Chase.

“Well, he’ll just have to learn to get along with me. Or I with him, if you prefer it that way,” declared Devon.

“Hmmm,” Chase said, reflecting, “a woman taking charge of a Thoroughbred breeding and training operation. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of that.” He looked questioningly at John. He wondered what his daughter’s fiancé thought of Devon’s plans. He wasn’t sure what he thought of them himself. It was a most… unwomanly occupation, he thought.

“I have complete faith in Devon,” John said, with a warm glance at his fiancée. “Although I’ll admit it’s an unorthodox arrangement,” he added diplomatically, turning back to Chase.

“Don’t you think I can handle the job, Father?” Devon asked with a teasing look at him.

Chase turned to Laurel, hoping she would say something to rescue him from Devon’s question, but she just looked at him, eyebrows delicately raised. Sometimes he felt positively outnumbered.

“Well…” Chase mumbled, “I think you’ll have a difficult time of it.” He couldn’t imagine a strong trainer taking to a woman boss. Chase thought it extremely likely the man would quit.

“I think you’re right,” said Devon thoughtfully, “but I like challenges.”

Chase knew that. He admired Devon for it, but at the same time was sometimes afraid for her. He often wondered why his favorite child always seemed to be doing things that were… well, unconventional. It made him uncomfortable, although he could not quite say why. Unconsciously, he shrugged his shoulders, then changed the subject.