Devil's Bride by Stephanie Laurens Read Free Book Online Page A

connection.
The horseman in question turned his head; hands negligently crossed on the
pommel, he was strikingly handsome. His coloring—brown hair, brown brows—was
less dramatic than Devil's, but he seemed of similar height and nearly as large
as the man beside her. They shared one, definitive characteristic—the simple
act of turning his head had been invested with the same fluid elegance that
characterized all Devil's movements, a masculine grace that titillated the
senses.
    The horseman's gaze traveled rapidly over her—one
comprehensive glance—then, lips curving in a subtle smile, he looked at Devil.
"I take it you don't need rescuing?"
    Voice and manner confirmed their relationship beyond
question.
    "Not rescuing—there's been an accident. Come
inside."
    The horseman's gaze sharpened; Honoria could have
sworn some unspoken communication passed between him and Devil. Without another
word, the horseman swung down from his saddle.
    Revealing his companion, still atop his horse. An
older man with pale thinning hair, he was heavily built, his face round, his
features more fleshy than the aquiline planes of the other two men. He, too,
met Devil's eye, then he hauled in a breath and dismounted. "Who are
they?" Honoria whispered, as the first man, having secured his horse,
started toward them.
    "Two other cousins. The one approaching is Vane.
At least, that's what we call him. The other is Charles. Tolly's brother."
    "Brother?" Honoria juggled the image of the
heavyset man against that of the dead youth.
    "Half brother," Devil amended. Grasping her
elbow, he stepped out of the cottage, drawing her with him.
    It had been some time since anyone had physically
compelled Honoria to do anything—it was certainly the first time any man had
dared. His sheer presumption left her speechless; his sheer power rendered
noncompliance impossible. Her heart, having finally slowed after the jolt he'd
given it by kissing her fingers, started racing again.
    Five paces from the door, he halted and, releasing
her, faced her. "Wait over there—you can sit on that log. This might take
a while."
    For one pregnant instant, Honoria hovered on the brink
of open rebellion. There was something implacable behind the crystal green,
something that issued commands in the absolute certainty of being obeyed. She
ached to challenge it, to challenge him, to take exception to his peremptory
dictates. But she knew what he faced in the cottage.
    Lips compressed, she inclined her head. "Very
well."
    She turned, skirts swirling; Devil watched as she
started toward the log, set on stumps to one side of the clearing. Then she
paused; without looking back, she inclined her head again. "Your
Grace."
    His gaze fixed on her swaying hips, Devil watched as
she continued on her way. His interest in her had just dramatically increased;
no woman before had so much as thought of throwing his commands—he knew
perfectly well they were autocratic—back in his teeth. She'd not only thought
of it—she'd nearly done it. If it hadn't been for Tolly's body in the cottage,
she would have.
    She reached the log. Satisfied, Devil turned; Vane was
waiting at the cottage door.
    "What?"
    Devil's face hardened. "Tolly's dead. Shot."
    Vane stilled, his eyes fixed on Devil's. "Who
by?"
    "That," Devil said softly, glancing at
Charles as he neared, "I don't yet know. Come inside."
    They stopped in a semicircle at the foot of the rude
pallet, looking down on Tolly's body. Vane had been Devil's lieutenant at
Waterloo; Charles had served as an adjutant. They'd seen death many times;
familiarity didn't soften the blow. In a voice devoid of emotion, Devil
recounted all he knew. He related Tolly's last words; Charles, his expression
blank, hung on every syllable. Then came a long silence; in the bright light
spilling through the open door, Tolly's corpse looked even more obscenely wrong
than it had the night before.
    "My
God. Tolly
!" Charles's words
were broken. His features crumpled.