Page 58 of The Devil’s Lair

I grin. “Felicity must be furious.”

“She can be as furious as she likes. She rolled the dice and lost.”

“And there’s no chance of her filing another motion?”

“No.”

He says it so matter-of-factly, whereas I’m sitting here with my head spinning, with an urge to scream at the top of my lungs.

“I was thinking, do you want to maybe go away somewhere for a few days? You, me, and Isla.”

“Like… a honeymoon?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, why not? Just because this is a marriage of convenience doesn’t mean we can’t follow some conventions.”

“I’ve never had a holiday.” Excitement circles my stomach. “Where were you thinking?”

“How about Cornwall? My family owns a cottage on the coast.”

Sounds idyllic. A cozy cottage with low beamed ceilings and an overstuffed couch set in front of a roaring fire. “I’d really like that.”

“I’ll arrange it. I have some meetings I can’t get out of this week, but how about traveling next Sunday? Traffic will be light then.”

“Perfect.”

He gets to his feet. “I’ll leave you to get some rest. It’s been a long day.” He makes his way to the door, pausing with his hand on the doorknob. “I’ve always known I’d never have a proper marriage, and I worried how I’d square the circle when my time to marry came. Yet with you, I find myself rather sad that this isn’t real and can’t ever be real.”

He leaves before I can respond. Not that I'd know what to say. But sitting here alone, I have to admit there's a part of me that's sad this isn't real, too.

Chapter Eighteen

TOBIAS

On the drive to Cornwall, Isla falls asleep with her head on my shoulder. I didn’t think it was possible to love her anymore, but she’s proved me wrong.

Rebecca’s been quiet since we left Oakleigh, shooting me the occasional shy smile before burying her head in the book she brought from the library. This time an absorbing thriller rather than a book about a long-dead politician. I leave her to it. Her head must be spinning with how different her life has become in a few short weeks.

I’ve been so busy tying up loose ends this week, we’ve hardly seen each other. I wonder if she’s had time to think about a career path. If I sense the time is right, I’ll ask her during our trip. I want her to feel at home, as a true De Vil, and a part of my life. An important part.

The gates to Braxton Hall open and, Caleb, my driver, steers the car through and drives up to the house. I’m not sure what Rebecca expected, but her wide-eyed stare as she gazes at the six-bedroom, seven-bathroom, thatched-roof house tells me this wasn’t it.

“You said it was a cottage.”

“It is.” I get out, motioning to my bodyguard Benton to leave Rebecca’s door to me. She’s my wife. I should be the one to open her door.

My wife. That’ll take some getting used to, though I relish it. We’re from completely different worlds, and I’ve only scratched the surface of the circumstances she grew up in, yet I feel more kinship toward her than to many who may be considered “my own kind”.

“Tobias, this isn’t a cottage. It’s a mansion.”

Rebecca ducks back into the car and unfastens Isla’s safety harness, then lifts her out. She immediately reaches for me, and my heart explodes. I hoist her into my arms and kiss her soft cheek.

“Ready to go exploring?”

She nods, wide awake now we’re here. I take them both on a whirlwind tour of the cottage, then we change into comfy shoes, warm coats and hats, and head down to the beach. I lift Isla up onto my shoulders, hanging onto her legs to keep her steady.

“Is it odd being followed everywhere you go?”

I glance behind me. Benton’s a short distance away yet close enough to intervene if there’s any trouble, even though the beach is virtually empty.