The Demon's Mistress by Jo Beverley

Author:Jo Beverley [Beverley, Jo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group USA, Inc.
Published: 2011-05-07T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

“What’s the matter?” he said in a voice turned lazy by drink. “No one’s going to know except Noons, so I’m not breaking the rules.”

A chair sat opposite the chaise on the other side of the fireplace. She went cautiously toward it, but then at the last moment she turned to the table of decanters. She put her candlestick there, took a glass and the decanter of claret, and sat on the floor in front of the chair, facing him.

She filled the glass, then placed her decanter on the floor in mirror image of his and took a drink. “There are certainly times when getting drunk seems like an excellent idea.”

Guarded eyes rested on her as he sipped. “You mean there are times when it doesn’t?”

The bleakness hit her, but she tried not to show it. She didn’t know what she was doing here, but she knew she mustn’t fall into emotion. “Did you get drunk before battle?”

“Not on purpose.” He shifted slightly, relaxing. He was, at least, willing to talk. “Some did. They tended to die. Perhaps happier than the ones who died sober. Or even the ones who lived . . . I was caught in the bottle once or twice. . . .”

He eyed his almost empty glass and the decanter, and then went about filling it with notable care.

Maria sipped her wine. This was the first time he’d mentioned the darker side of war. Was that good, or bad? Was it war memories that chained him in the dungeons, or the loss of his family, or both? She couldn’t wipe one away, or bring the other back. She had to try to give him reason to live.

“Why did you join the army?” she asked, as if making idle conversation. “You were an only son.”

“Still am. Last of the line as well. All the hopes and expectations of the Vandeimens rest upon these paltry shoulders.” He toasted her and drank. “You have a lot of hair.”

Instinctively, she touched the tight knot of plait, but she stuck to her purpose. “So, why did you join the army?”

The eyes half-glimpsed beneath lazy lids suddenly shot wickedness. “Let down your hair and I’ll tell you.”

Perhaps she should rise and leave now, but she knew she couldn’t abandon him here like this. She could call his bluff, but she suspected that Demon Vandeimen never bluffed.

She raised her hands and pulled out the pins, letting the braid fall heavily down her back. “Don’t think to play your games with me, sir. You’ll neither win nor escape by pretending to desire me.”

“Pretending? You can come over here and feel if you want.”

Her breath caught and she couldn’t help glancing at his crotch. She hastily looked up. “So, why did you join the army?”

“That isn’t really down,” he complained, but then said, “The others were. Why not?”

“The others?” Her mind was stuck on his earlier words, however. He was aroused? Now? By her? A responsive beat began between her thighs.

“Con. Hawk.” He knocked back an irreverent amount of her very good cognac.

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