Page 43 of The Devil to Pay

Her head was whirling long before the dance began as she replayed Mark’s words. He had called her love, and that she belonged to him. To him! If she had been any other woman, she would have known at once that it was a declaration, but she was Selina Davenport, and from this man…

He had turned up on her doorstep, intent on humiliating her by pretending to be someone he wasn’t. Yes, he’d admitted to all that, and he had apologised, but he had never revealed himself. His appearance tonight, the reaction of her neighbours and friends, was startling enough to prove, if proof were required, that he was not only a gentleman, but from the highest ranks of society. A man like that would not be looking for a wife in the depths of Monmouthshire, of all places. Unless it wasn’t a wife he wanted. Selina gasped.

“Beg pardon, did I tread on your toes again?” Mr Parry asked cheerfully.

“No, not at all,” she replied, the words automatic, for he had stamped over her toes several times already, just not at that moment.

She looked at him, her heart thundering. He was a decent fellow, a good man with a pleasant face, though shiny with perspiration. His hands were clammy, too. He owned a handsome farmhouse about ten miles from her own home and was a prosperous landowner. It was by no means a brilliant match, but not one to blush for, either. She would have a comfortable home, a kind husband, a family of her own. It would not be an offer to turn her nose up at, assuming she had correctly interpreted the gleam of interest in his eyes.

Finally, the dance ended, and Selina hurried towards the doors before Mark could waylay her. She needed a moment alone, to collect herself. Making her way past the refreshments room and the queue for the ladies retiring room, Selina hurried on, relieved to discover there were quite a few people milling about outside, taking the air. She shivered, turning her face up to the cold night sky, and leaping from her skin as a deep voice sounded behind her.

“You don’t escape me that easily, Davenport.”

Swinging about, she faced him. The hard planes of his face seemed sharper in the moonlight, too handsome, the glitter in his eyes a warning she was out of her depth.

“What do you want from me?” she demanded.

His expression changed to something softer and a little bewildered. “I hardly know,” he admitted. “All I know is I can’t get you out of my head, you dreadful girl.”

“And you want… you w-want…” she began, not knowing how to put such a crude demand into words she could speak aloud.

He took a step closer. “I want you,” he said, his voice a thrilling murmur of sound that slid over her skin like a caress, too intimate, too arousing. Far too tempting.

“There are men here that would marry me,” she said, putting her chin up.

He snorted. “I am well aware of that, I assure you. Why the devil else do you think I’m so determined to stake my claim before I leave?”

Selina’s breath hitched. The nerve of the man! “So, you mean to secure me as… as what? Your sometime mistress, to pass the time while you are stuck out in the countryside with nothing better to do?”

He reared back as if she’d struck him.

“I mean to do what?” he repeated, and with such outrage, she wondered if she had been a little hasty.

“I don’t know!” she threw up her hands, fighting to moderate her tone before people started looking at them. Except, the music had begun again, and everyone had gone back inside. It was only the two of them now. She focused on her point, determined to understand what it was he wanted with her. “You come here, out of the blue, telling me things I find exceedingly difficult to comprehend, and I—”

She didn’t get to say anything else, for he pulled her into his arms and kissed her with such savagery, her mind went blank. He held her ruthlessly tight, so tight she could not breathe, his lips punishing against hers. It was marvellous.

Finally, he released her, and she might have stumbled if he hadn’t caught hold of her again.

“You ridiculous girl, Davenport. You can’t seriously believe I was offering you a carte blanche?” he demanded, amusement and exasperation in his voice. “A fellow doesn’t do that to respectable females, surely you know that much?”

She gave a hiccoughing sort of laugh, too stunned to know much of anything at that moment.

“Then why?” she asked, staring up at him with too much hope in her heart. Her mind was screaming at her, telling her it was a trick, a lie, that it was too good to be true. Men like him did not fall in love with or marry girls like her. At least, not outside of romance novels. Happy ever afters only belonged within the pages of a good book.

He reached out, caressing her cheek with his hand, staring at her with affection in his eyes. “I hardly know, Davenport. I only know that you have got under my skin. I think of you constantly and I want to be with you. I admire you, more than I have ever admired any woman outside of my own mother. You’d like her, by the way.”

“Your m-mother?” she repeated, dazed with shock.

“Still think I’m giving you a slip on the shoulder?” he asked with laughter in his voice. “Because I would not refer to my mother in those circumstances, I assure you.”

“I should think not,” she replied indignantly, still finding it hard to follow the conversation with anything approaching seriousness. “B-But, Mark, I don’t even know who you are.”

His face fell, those glinting green eyes suddenly serious. “No. I know, and we need to speak about that.”

She nodded, bracing herself for the worst.

Voices and laughter coming from below the terrace they stood on and, moving closer, caught his attention and he gave an irritated sigh. “Come, we can’t stay here. You’ll be well and truly ruined if you’re discovered alone with me.”