Read Online Devil Takes A Bride by Gaelen Foley - Free Book Online

Carlisle.”
    Rising with a smooth motion, he stared at her, for all the world like a big, bristling wolf.
    â€œLizzie, this is my Devlin.” Beaming, the old lady clung to his gauntleted hand.
    He moved in front of his aunt slightly—as if to protect the dowager from Lizzie!
    â€œMy lord.” Her heart thumping, she managed a stilted curtsy.
    â€œMiss…Carlisle.” The way he held her in an arctic stare, it seemed she was not so invisible, after all; all things considered, she rather wished at the moment that she were. His sea-bright eyes brimmed with dangerous fury and a rich promise that she was in for it.
    Still waiting on the very knife edge for him to expose her lie, she swallowed hard and ventured forward with her peace offering. “Um, towel?”

C HAPTER
T HREE
    What the hell was going on? Raw nerved and jittery with exhaustion, his heart pounding, head reeling with the aftermath of shock and fear, Dev took the towel warily but kept his outraged glare pinned on her as he ran it over his damp hair. His relief upon finding his aunt well was so complete, he could have wept, but his fury grew as the evidence of how he had been duped sank in. A trick! But how? And for God’s sake,
why
? He did not know this chit. He had never wronged her. Why would she torture him like this?
    â€œShall we repair to the parlor, children? I’ll have the servants draw you a bath, Dev, dear. It will be but a moment.”
    â€œThank you, ma’am,” he growled, his gaze still fixed on the young deceiver—this “Lizzie” person—this stranger who had invaded the only home he’d known in years and seemed to have taken it over.
    She dropped her gaze, all cool serenity, turning away from his fiery glower. Veiling her dove-gray eyes beneath the sweep of her dusky lashes, she grasped the handles of his aunt’s Bath chair and assisted her without a word, wheeling the dowager into the parlor.
    Dev tracked them slowly, keeping a guarded distance. He was ravenously hungry, soaked to the skin, and did not own a muscle that did not ache, but the day would never come when he was too hungry or fatigued to notice a shapely young female in his sights, especially one that he knew now to be dangerously clever.
    Good God, the chit had played him like a harpsichord.
    He was in no mood to admire the sheer brazenness of it. At the moment, her mysterious allure only added insult to injury. Inspecting her rudely from behind, he hoped that she could feel his stare and that it unnerved her. Her prim, beige gown, high-necked and long-sleeved, was sprigged with small white flowers, but Dev’s practiced eye took in the way the soft, light muslin draped her round bottom and flowed against her hips with her gliding walk. The floppy white house cap that hid her hair was better suited to a spinster twice her age, but a few soft-brown curls escaped the ugly thing to play at her nape, as though beckoning him to tear it off and loose the rest of her tightly suppressed locks.
    Upon reaching the parlor, she maneuvered the Bath chair around so that his aunt could face him, then went to the table and brought the old woman her tea. Dev watched her every move. For a moment, he did not hear a word his aunt was saying. Time seemed to slow in his fascination as his gaze drifted down to the young woman’s gentle, white hands.
    Steady and soft, unerringly capable, they fluffed the pillow behind his aunt’s back, then snugged the old woman’s shawl more closely around her bony shoulders. The demure simplicity of those hands, and the tiny lace ruffle at her dainty wrists, did something strange to his insides.
    His hungry stare traveled up her slender arms until it came to her breasts, round and smooth and tantalizing. Between them dangled a small, plain crucifix on a gold strand. No sign of vanity, this. Not like the glittering whores he slept with in Town.
    This was something altogether new…and