her future secure, and you will not want for anything.’ He turned her around to face him. ‘It is the only way. I will not permit you and Linette to suffer.’
His countenance, so sincere, with a look so loving, caused tears to prick her eyelids. ‘I cannot like being a burden to you,’ she said lamely.
He gathered her in his arms, holding her tightly against his chest. ‘You will never be a burden. My wealth is such that I may easily afford to provide you and Linette a life of ease.’ He took a deep breath and his chest rose tighter against her. ‘But I must have a wife to do so.’
He would be that rich? But he had been satisfied to count pennies and seek common employment. Why had he done so?
Her mind seized on an anxious thought. ‘Is there a woman for whom you have already spoken?’
He petted her hair. ‘No, my sweet, there is no one else.’
She glanced up at him. His green eyes were soft, though tiny lines of worry etched their corners. She lifted her fingers to feel the rough stubble of his beard. Her childish fantasy of a pirate whisking her away flashed through her mind. Would that it could be true, that this unshaven, half-dressed, hot-blooded man would whisk her away. Not send her away, as fate decreed.
His eyes darkened with passion. Adjusting his hold on her, he captured her lips. The kiss, rough and as yearning as her heart, sent fire through her. She uttered a deep, needful sound and grasped at his shirt, wanting to tear it away from where her hands longed to touch.
His hands untied the laces of her dress as he backed the two of them against the bed. She let her dress slip to the floor, not caring if she stepped on it. He lifted her on to the bed and moved back to rid himself of the shirt and unfasten his trousers. She lifted her shift. He climbed atop her and she relished the weight and nearness of him. His male scent filled her nostrils along with the more primitive smell of desire.
He kissed her again and she arched to him, wanting to join with him, the need more urgent now that she knew this golden time with him would end. She whispered for him to proceed with haste, and he made ready to comply.
‘Mama!’ Linette’s plaintive cry sounded through the door.
‘Deuce,’ Devlin muttered.
‘I have to see to her.’ Madeleine said, fighting her body’s craving to do otherwise.
‘I know.’ Devlin sighed and moved off her, grabbing her dress, which she hurriedly donned. He worked the laces as she headed for the door.
He stopped her at the door with a quick, regretful kiss. ‘See to the child. I’ll come below stairs soon.’
With one glance back, Madeleine opened the door to her room and headed for the outstretched chubby arms of her daughter.
Devlin dragged his hand through his hair and stared at mother and child, desire still churning through him. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths. Arousal faded little, but calm did not return.
He watched Madeleine tend to her child with confidence, efficiency, and calm good humour. How could she manage that when his body still throbbed with wanting her?
Lord, he did not want to leave her when their passion flamed like this. Marrying would not have to cause this to end, would it? He could continue to visit her, still warm her bed.
He quietly shut the door.
No, he would not see her again after the damned marriage. It would be too cruel to this hapless future wife for their marriage to include a mistress.
The wretched course he had decided upon was the correct one. The only one. But it sickened him all the same. To damn another lady to a future without love merely to secure his fortune was detestable, but not to do so meant damning Madeleine and her child to a living hell.
He prowled the room, unable to quiet the storm of emotion inside. He must give up Madeleine. It was the only way to ensure her a good life. Marriage was his only choice.
The walls of the room closed in on him, and his breathing quickened. He shut his eyes and yearned for escape, for freedom.
Until Waterloo, soldiering had been his freedom. Living by his own wits with men who understood what was essential in life. Making the most of each day. Grateful for food, shelter, the occasional warmth of a willing woman. Laughing and drinking and sleeping under the stars. Surging with excitement, raging against the enemy. Testing skill, courage and luck. He would trade everything to go back to those days in Spain.
What blithering nonsense. Those days had vanished with Waterloo.
A heavy fatigue overtook him, but he proceeded to shave and dress. He would put the best face he could on this day, for Madeleine’s sake.
Below stairs, he walked past the dining room and smiled. Their little household rarely supped at the table there, except for the last meal of the day. He liked the informality of the kitchen where they gathered as equals in this venture to survive.
That would vanish, too, with his decision. When his money flowed again, he would be master.
As he neared the kitchen door he heard Madeleine’s voice.
‘Sit, Sophie. Please do. I will tend to the meal.’
Sophie’s inevitable protest dissolved into a fit of coughing.
Madeleine looked up as he entered. Linette clambered over the chairs to get to him.
‘Deddy!’ The little girl jumped into Devlin’s arms.
‘Devlin,’ Madeleine said, ‘please tell Sophie to sit and allow me to do the work. She is ill.’
‘I am not ill.’ The little maid, sallow-faced with dark circles under her eyes, choked on her words and turned her head to cough some more.
Devlin opened his mouth, but had no chance to speak.
‘I cannot see how she fooled Bart. He never would have gone out had he known.’ Madeleine fussed at putting bowls on the table.
‘Deddy play?’ Linette batted her long lashes at Devlin.
Madeleine whirled to the child. ‘No, Linette, sit here and eat.’ She swept over and took the child from Devlin’s arms.
She put Linette back in her chair, raised high by a wooden box upon which Linette now stood, not sat. Madeleine continued, ‘Dev, please do something. Sophie will not listen to me.’
As if to prove Madeleine’s words, Sophie pushed her hands on the table to raise herself. Devlin pressed his fingers to his brow.
‘All of you, sit!’ he commanded.
The three sat, like obedient soldiers.
He glared from one to the other. ‘Linette, do as your mother says. Eat. Maddy, stop fussing. If you wish to ready the meal then bloody do it.’ He softened his voice for Sophie. ‘Little one, do not exert yourself. It is foolishness when Maddy is capable of a simple breakfast.’
Sophie did as she was told, coughing softly, eyes downcast.
Madeleine
