“And the other half?”
“My mare, Cartimandua. She carries premium racing blood, and you’ve just said you wish to improve your racing stud.” Diana prayed she would not have to make that sacrifice.
DeVere stared down at the pearls with a confounded frown. “A necklace and a horse? Do you take me for a pawnbroker, madam?”
“No,” she said. “I take you for a gentleman. One who might be inclined to assist a lady in need.”
“You appeal to my sense of chivalry?” DeVere laughed. “How droll to imagine anyone thinks I have one!”
“I know you are aware of my tenuous circumstances. My husband has us on the brink of ruin.”
DeVere frowned, neither confirming nor denying the statement. “And how came you by this information?”
“I have no desire to discuss it.” She evaded his question. “But the way I see it, this race is my only hope of recovery. Of keeping what is rightly mine.”
DeVere took up the necklace, lacing the pearls between his fingers as if admiring their luminescence. He looked into her face with an intense and assessing expression, a combination of interest and calculation that sent a scintillating shiver of awareness through her.
“Your only hope?” he murmured. “Surely not. You lack imagination, my dear.”
“I don’t understand,” she said. But perhaps I really do.
Her breath seized when DeVere’s hand left the back of the settle. He trailed his fingers gently over her skin from her bared shoulder to her nape where he toyed with a loose curl. He maneuvered behind her, pearls in hand. “Oh, but I’m sure you do.”
The light touch of his fingers whispering over her skin as he replaced the pearls sent flares of sensation plummeting to a place deep in her belly. She closed her eyes, overwhelmed with acute awareness of his all-too-masculine and too-close presence and his spicy sandalwood and male scent, but at the same time wanting nothing more than to drink him in. Her body tensed at his warm breath caressing her neck as softly as the words he murmured against her hair. “There is no need to be coy. There is at least one other, far better option for you to consider…and all you have to do is whisper one simple, little word.”
One simple, little word. It was as if she’d fallen into her own erotic dream. You only have to say yes, and I will lay paradise at your feet.
She quivered inside as he fastened the clasp. His lips scorched her nape, firing an agonizing ache in her womb and a descent of hot, wet heat that dampened her thighs. She dared not open her eyes. She dared not even breathe for fear of breaking the seductive spell woven by her satyr’s words, his caress, and the brush of his lips. His hand was metaphorically outstretched, and Diana felt the word taking shape in her mind, flowing outward, and forming itself on the tip of her tongue.
“There you are, darling.” The voice of the duchess shattered the illusion with stark reality.
“Bloody hell! God damned bloody hell!” Diana heard DeVere growl through his teeth.
She looked up to find Caroline paused on the threshold between DeVere’s bedchamber and the sitting room. She shot Diana a virulent look “Why Baroness! What on earth could you be doing all alone with Lord DeVere in his private apartments? One could come to so many wicked conclusions, you know. I wonder what your husband would say?”
“That’s enough, Caro!” DeVere snapped. “The lady and I had some private business to discuss.”
She chuckled. “Darling, there is only one kind of business I know of that requires you to put your hands on her body.”
“You presume falsely, duchess. I was having trouble with the clasp.” Diana knew her protest was as feeble as her alibi. “But our business is most certainly complete.” Diana rose, anger at her own weakness fueling her words. “I see how mistaken I was to come here. I had even been forewarned what manner of man you are. Now I know there is only one kind of gallantry you understand. A good afternoon to you, my Lord DeVere.” Diana crossed the room in a fury of swishing silk.
Caroline swiftly took the place she had abandoned by the viscount’s side.
“Four o’clock,” he said, just as Diana’s hand touched the doorknob.
Diana spun around. “Excuse me?”
“I will see the mare run at four o’clock.”
She almost forgot to breathe. “Then we have an agreement?”
“A conditional agreement,” he responded. “I won’t allow you to hazard what little remains in your possession unless I deem her a true prospect to win.”
“It is hardly your decision what I do with my jewels or my horse, but you won’t be disappointed,” Diana said.
The corner of his lips twitched. “I hope not. Twice in one day would surely be more than I can bear.”
CHAPTER SIX