Page 33 of The Devil Himself
When he opened the door, Rys looked up from his shot, then smiled, eyes lighting up. “Are you done then, love?”
He would not think about how thrilling it was to move from my dear to love.
“I am. Though I have news.”
“Oh, damnation,” Rys said with some humor. “That has been bad of late.”
“It has indeed.” He closed the door behind him, knowing he had a few moments before the tea came. “Jarvis called for tea. I think he was very excited.”
Rys rolled his eyes. “Of course he was.”
Luc crossed the room to press his lips to Rys’s mouth, his hand on the back of Rys’s neck. He couldn’t help himself. He needed the contact.
“Mmm. Now that is far better than tea.” Rys kissed him again, then set the billiard cue aside to put both hands on his hips. “I like this wickedness.”
“You like all the parts.”
“The devil himself,” Rys murmured against his mouth.
Luc nodded, diving in for one more kiss before pulling away. It wouldn’t be long before they were interrupted, sadly. He crossed to sit at the other end of the big room, where a seating arrangement of settees and chairs had been placed.
Rys gave his mouth a regretful glance. “We’ll play that particular game again later, yes?”
“Yes.” There was nothing he wanted more, and the way his cock rose in his placket told him that he would get back to that sooner rather than later.
Rys watched him from across the room, a predatory expression on his face, until the knock came on the door, and a maid delivered the tea tray.
“Thank you, Molly,” Rys said.
“M’lords.” She curtsied, then left the room, the door snicking shut behind her.
Rys came to sit across from him, pouring tea, the pot looking absurdly small in his hands, just as it always did in Luc’s. “So, tell me this news.”
“There’s an estate man who’s listed Wyddan Abbey for sale.”
Rys’s brows shot up, his eyes flashing with smoky fire. “What?”
“They’re trying to sell off entailed properties.”
Scowling, Rys stood, going to a small escritoire in the corner of the room. Trust Rys to have a desk in every space in his house. A man of business. He dashed off a note, then strode to the bellpull to ring for a servant.
“Yes, m’lord?”
“See that this is delivered to Harris Manford at my club. Immediately.”
“Yes, sir.” The footman made off with all due haste.
“I told Finley to put a deposit on it to hold it for us.”
“Good. Good. Harris will deal with the rest.” Rys began to pace. “They’ve gone through their whole allotment already. Damnation, Luc.”
“It seems that way, yes.” Daffyd and Arthur would have inherited what their father left them when Owen died and was no longer administering a stipend. So if they’d gone through all that…
“It will serve them right when I buy the bloody place and make it my country home.”
“It will indeed. I know you spent a great deal of time there when you were young.”
Rys grabbed his cup, his white-knuckled grip giving away his agitation. Luc feared for the delicate china. “I did. It was my mother’s favorite estate, since it was so close to her own family home.”
