Page 92 of Enticing the Devil

Chapter Thirty-two

Beynon was doing his damnedest to avoid her. To avoid the unbelievable satisfaction of having her in his home, his bedroom, his bed. He exhausted himself every day and locked himself in his study until the earliest hours of morning in his determination to stay away from her.

Yet with each day—and night—that passed, it was becoming more and more apparent that, when it came to Anne, he had absolutely no command of his baser needs—and the emotions that fueled them. Despite his best efforts, it took very little—a sideways glance, a light touch, a gentle smile—and an instinct to claim her as his own took over all rational thought.

And why shouldn’t he take pleasure in his wife’s bold caresses and deep sighs and sultry moans?

Because he feared she’d hate him for it.

He’d seen firsthand the unfairness and cruelty of a society that held women accountable for the selfish behaviors of men who betrayed them. And he’d sworn to himself he’d never treat a woman so carelessly.

He’d already failed in that with Anne when he’d made her his wife.

Though she often reached for him in their bed and uttered quiet pleading words that so easily broke his resolve, he knew she could easily come to regret her desire for him.

And he didn’t think he’d be able to bear it when she eventually looked at him and saw nothing but the man who’d ruined her, trapped her into marriage, and taken her away from a life of privilege in London to one of rural domestication.

So, he stubbornly continued trying to keep his distance. And failed more frequently than he succeeded. He was starting to fear he’d never be able to stay away from her—that he didn’t have the strength required to protect her from himself.

Earlier in the day, he’d caught a distant glimpse of his wife running playfully with Carys through one of the pastures near the house. Her pale hair had slipped from its pins and fell in a reckless tangle down her back. Though he couldn’t see her flashing smile at such a distance, he’d heard her laughter—a sound so light and lovely it had pierced his chest like a golden-tipped arrow.

Her happiness was a pleasure and a pain at once. He was warmed by the sight of her frolicking with such a careless freedom. But he was fully aware that she’d never shown such lightness of being while in his company.

Angry with himself and frustrated by the very walls he’d forced between them, he stayed away from the house, missing dinner for the first time in several days. When he finally crept into his home, all was quiet, suggesting everyone had retired. Still, he knew he couldn’t go up to bed just yet.

He feared she’d be waiting up for him as she’d been doing lately. Her stubbornness was proving to be a fair rival to his own. And if he saw her now, he wasn’t entirely certain he’d be able to maintain the façade he’d been wearing for so long. His heart felt too heavy and his throat ached with so many things he’d never say.

He turned instead toward his study, fully acknowledging his cowardice.

As soon as he opened the door to his private sanctuary, he knew she was there.

Her presence overwhelmed the space. Her gentle scent. Her warmth.

His body responded instantly. Heating. Hardening. Tensing in a desperate bid to keep his emptions buried within.

She stood in front of his desk with her back to the door as her fingers trailed lightly over the ink stand. She looked so slight in her pale pink nightrobe cinched tight around her waist. Bare feet peeked from beneath the hem and her pale hair fell in soft waves down her back to lightly brush the rounded curve of her bottom.

Beynon’s heart tumbled to a hard stop. His hands curled into fists. And his blood roared through his veins.

She’d come to him—sought him out in this small cave of a room. Awaited him like a sensual snare.

He should’ve known she’d do it eventually.

He had known it. It was exactly what he’d been trying to prevent.

Whether he made some sound or she simply felt his presence, she gave a subtle start and looked over her shoulder at him. Her lips were a perfect tint of rose and her eyes were rich and turbulent in the candlelight. He could see the determination in the set of her chin. The pride and the disappointment.

Whatever she’d come here to say, he wasn’t ready to hear it. So, he stopped her in the only way he knew how. Closing the distance between them, he swept his arm around her middle before she managed to turn around. She melted against him. Her sigh was husky and her head fell back against his shoulder as her lashes lowered over her gaze.

She always responded so beautifully to him. Her surrender only a brief precursor to the passion and hunger that quickly followed.

Desperate to feel her skin beneath his lips, he swept her hair to the side and set his mouth to the side of her neck. He sucked her silken flesh against his teeth, drawing it in sharply enough to cause her to flinch before he laved the tender spot with his tongue.

The softness of her buttocks cradled his throbbing cock and he couldn’t stop himself from rocking against her.

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