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LENGTH: Category Novel
SENSUALITY: Carnal

Cover art (c) Eliza Black 2005
ISBN 1-58608-400-3
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Quentin Blackwell, the Devil of Devlyn, has returned home five years after a bitter betrayal by the woman he loved. He'd like nothing better than to extract his pound of flesh and when the opportunity presents itself, he's more than eager to accept the challenge. Especially when it means exploring Sophie Hamilton's delicious curves. He's determined not to give his heart away, but there's something about Sophie he can't resist.

At forty-one, Sophie Hamilton is beyond just sitting on the shelf. Hopes of love and family are a lost dream at this stage of her life. But her inexperience in the ways of the flesh can easily be remedied, and the Devil of Devlyn, despite his tender age of thirty-two, is just the man to accomplish the task. As she finds passion and pleasure in the arms of a younger man, she struggles with the notion of a love that can bridge the age difference between them.

Rating: Contains graphic sexual content, adult situations, and explicit language.

LOVE'S REVENGE

By

Monica Burns

© copyright April 2005, Monica Burns
Cover art by Eliza Black © copyright April 2005
ISBN 1-58608-400-3
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

Chapter 1

"Fischer!" Quentin Blackwell, Earl of Devlyn, hollered for his butler as he strode through the front door of his country home. Behind him trailed two enormous wolfhounds. As Devlyn halted in the foyer, he peeled off his riding gloves and slammed his crop down on the long table braced against the wall.

The mirror overhanging the furniture flashed his reflection at him, and he grimaced at his appearance. He was a mess. The sleeve of his jacket was ripped at the shoulder and a smudge of dirt streaked its way across his browned cheek, emphasizing the scar that ran from his ear almost to his mouth. Shoving a hand through his tousled black hair, he turned and headed toward his study.

With each stride he took, his fury grew. If it were the last thing he did, he'd make Spencer Hamilton rue the day he'd picked a fight with the Devil of Devlyn's Keep. The insolent pup.

"Fischer," he roared. "Where the devil are you?"

The door to the study slammed backward against the wall as he stormed into the room. A moment later he was splashing a stiff shot of whiskey into a glass. Tossing the liquor down his throat, he relished the burning sensation. Where the hell did the boy get the idea that his sister was the injured party in their brief affair almost five years ago?

No doubt, Eleanor was responsible for the boy's misconceived notions as to his sister's innocence. The idea infuriated him. A sudden snap rent the air as the glass he held shattered under the weight of his grip.

"God damn it!" He grimaced as shards of glass bit into his hand. "Fischer! Get the hell in here!"

Whipping a handkerchief out of his pocket, he proceeded to clean the small cuts lacerating his palm. Behind him, he heard footsteps hurrying into the study.

"I'm sorry, my lord. There was a minor catastrophe in the kitchen and Cook required my assistance." The sparse looking man eyed Delyn's appearance with an arched eyebrow. "Another brawl, my lord?"

Devlyn glared at his butler, manservant and all around man of affairs. When one's finances were in such a miserable state as his, he was fortunate to have a loyal retainer like Fischer. But the man had the ability to make him feel like a chastened schoolboy at times. And today wasn't a good day for being chastened.

"I never brawl, Fischer."

He clenched his teeth at the skeptical look the man gave him. At least not anymore he didn't. Granted, the man had dressed his wounds from more than one brawl in the past. The last time had been when a sailor had sliced his cheek open two years ago. It had taught him to curb his temper and walk away from a fight. Now as Fischer studied him with an air of disappointment, he grimaced.

"If you must know, the baron's youngest offspring discovered I'd returned and tried to avenge his sister's supposed honor."

"I see."

"Damn it, Fischer. Even you think me guilty."

"Not at all, my lord. I know you too well to imagine you capable of betraying Miss Hamilton."

Devlyn turned away abruptly at the statement. No, he would never have betrayed Eleanor. He'd been in love with her. The day she'd broken his heart, he'd set out to earn himself the title, Devil of Devlyn's Keep. He'd explored every debauched sin and deed in the past five years with the sole purpose of obliterating her from his mind.

Until today, he'd been successful in doing so. Then Hamilton had accosted him at the pond this morning, ripping open the wound he'd thought scarred over completely. But it wasn't the wound he'd expected. For the first time today, he realized he didn't love Eleanor. Probably never had. No, what had scarred him was the injustice of it all.

Shrugging out of his torn jacket, he tossed it to Fischer. "See that it's mended. I don't know when I'll have funds to purchase a new riding coat."

The humiliating statement made him twist his lips in a bitter grimace. Eleanor Hamilton had done her work well the day she'd betrayed him. Running to her father, Eleanor had convinced Baron Townsend to avenge her so-called honor. The man had made it his business to destroy what little of the Devlyn fortune still existed. The bastard had almost succeeded. If it hadn't been for his attorney's quick thinking to shift his investments, he'd be destitute.

As it was, he retained his townhouse in Mayfair, Devlyn's Keep here in Shellingham and a few small investments that provided him with enough to live on if he was frugal with his spending. At least until his American investments came to fruition, which he expected sometime in the very near future.

"Perhaps you might forgo my salary this month, my lord. I think it might afford you at least a new coat. This one is rather worn. I'm surprised the sleeve hasn't ripped before now."

The man's generous offer made Devlyn tighten his jaw. He often forgot how much Fischer truly was a part of his family. He was the last living Devlyn, and Fischer had been with him throughout his younger years. Forcing a smile to his mouth, he shook his head.

"I'm not that destitute, Fischer. You'll have your salary as always, and you can't say you don't earn every farthing."

"No, my lord. Indeed I can't." Folding the coat over his arm, the manservant nodded toward Devlyn's hand. "Shall I send Cook in to look at that hand?"

"No, I'll be all right. That will be all, Fischer."

"My lord." The manservant bowed and left Devlyn alone with his thoughts.

Eleanor. He wanted to wring the bitch's neck, slowly squeeze the life out of that dainty, golden-haired body of hers. No, that would be too easy a punishment for her. No. He wanted to humiliate her. Make her pay for the lies she'd told and the humiliation he'd suffered. And he wanted to make Townsend pay for trying to strip him of his fortune.

He'd been the innocent and gullible fool throughout the entire thing. Eleanor had simply used him to avoid the scandal her pregnancy would have wrought. When she'd declared him the father of her child little more than a month after he first bedded her, he should have known something was amiss.

Unwrapping his cut, he stared down at the miniature lacerations already puffy and red. He reached for the brandy and poured a small amount of the liquor over his palm. He grimaced. The stinging reminded him of Eleanor's betrayal. He'd been oblivious to every one of her faults.

Instead, he'd allowed love to let him believe her lies. He'd even come close to marrying the woman. Never again would he allow his heart to blind him in such a way. No doubt, she would have continued her whoring after they were married. But fortunately, he'd caught the bitch and her lover rutting like common beasts in one of the Townsend's horse stalls.

It had hardly been surprising to see Eleanor turn into a raving witch when he'd broken their engagement. Then when Townsend had confronted him over the matter, things had only gotten worse. Eleanor claimed the child was his and Townsend hadn't needed anything else to propel him into action.

Then, in less than a week, the bastard had put him on the edge of financial ruin, while Eleanor had married some unsuspecting member of the peerage a few weeks later. Thoroughly disgusted, he'd traveled to America to try to rebuild his fortune. And while he was there, he'd taken it upon himself to explore every debauchery he could find. In doing so, he'd achieved a modicum of success, not only in his sinful endeavors, but in his financial situation as well. Still it would take several more weeks before his ventures turned profitable.

He wrapped his cuts with the clean side of his handkerchief and moved to stand behind his desk. With his uninjured hand, he sifted through a thin pile of invitations. Word had already spread throughout the county that a Devlyn was once again entrenched in the keep. He smiled cynically. It seemed his neighbors were more than ready to overlook his past transgressions. Well, to hell with them. To hell with every one of them.

"My lord." Fischer's voice ended on a high-pitched note pulling Devlyn's gaze up with a jerk. Whatever had gotten his manservant into a state of apoplexy had to be important.

"What is it, Fischer?"

"It's a lady, my lord."

"A lady?"

"Yes, my lord. But ... well, I'm afraid...."

"Out with it, man!"

"It's Miss Hamilton."

His body snapped to attention, his limbs rigid with tension. Eleanor. No. She was married now. She wouldn't use her maiden name. Her sister most likely, hoping for a verbal duel with him as opposed to the physical one he'd endured with the youngest Hamilton. Her visit would no doubt be quite interesting. "Send her in, Fischer. Send her in."

"Very well, my lord."

A moment later, he watched a tall, lushly figured woman enter the study. Caesar and Beast immediately stood up and approached the woman. Despite their size and fierce appearance, the wolfhounds were gentle creatures, but his visitor couldn't have known that. He waited for her to draw back in fear. Instead, she scratched Beast under the chin and tugged on Caesar's ear before straightening.

Dressed in a royal blue riding habit trimmed in black, there was a mysterious quality about her. Black netting covered her face and he couldn't distinguish her features. The woman made a slight curtsey then inhaled a deep breath. Behind her, Fischer closed the door to the study. She jumped at the quiet sound of the latch falling closed.

"Lord Devlyn. I hope you'll forgive my intrusion. I'm sure it's unexpected." The husky sound of her voice tickled his spine. It intrigued him.

He gestured toward the chairs in front of his desk and waited as she sat down. There was a fluid grace to the way she moved. It reminded him of a sleek cat. The dogs trailed after her, and he scowled at the traitors before ordering them to return to their usual resting place. Sitting down, he leaned back in his chair and threw his feet up onto the desk. It was a rude gesture and he knew it. Her body stiffened in response, and he smiled with just a touch of derision. Had she really expected him to be a gentleman? He'd dispensed with gentlemanly behavior a long time ago. The Devil of Devlyn's Keep answered to no one and did as he pleased.

"So tell me, Miss Hamilton, to what do I owe this honor?"

"I ... I came here with a ... a proposition for you, my lord."

"A proposition." He arched an eyebrow at her. The woman had definitely piqued his interest. "Do go on."

"I'm here to offer you revenge."

The words made his limbs tighten with tension. What exactly was this hussy up to with her offer of revenge? Revenge for what? Despite her efforts to hide her trepidation, he saw her hands tremble, and the netting over her face quivered from her rapid breaths.

From the tremor that shook her, he knew his insouciant reaction intimidated her. He smiled slowly, the slight curl of his lip tilting upward on one side. Although he couldn't see his own features, he knew his smile emphasized the scar on his face. Women had told him it gave him a dangerous look.

"What an intriguing concept. Revenge on whom?"

"My sister, Eleanor."

He'd expected the words, but they surprised him nonetheless. So this was the mysterious Sophia Hamilton, Townsend's eldest brat. He'd never met Eleanor's only sister. She'd been away in Scotland while he was courting Eleanor.

"You're willing to betray your only sister?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

A shudder shook her body as he watched the netting covering her face stir with her accelerated breathing. The sight fascinated him for some reason. It reminded him of how fast a woman breathed when she was on the threshold of a climax during lovemaking.

"Because what my father and sister did to you was wrong. Eleanor ... Eleanor has always been spoiled. She's only ever cared for herself, and my father has simply catered to her every whim."

"This is all quite fascinating, but you'll forgive me for being just a tad skeptical as to your offer."

"Of course, I understand. But I assure you, my lord, I'm most serious about this. I have information that will allow you to recoup what my father stole from you, and at the same time, you'll have the opportunity to confront Eleanor with her lies and deceit."

"You've still not really answered the question of why. Why are you willing to betray your father and sister?"

Confusion and trepidation radiated out from her. She sprang to her feet, twisting her hands around the riding crop she carried. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come. Please ... please forgive my intrusion."

Not about to let her leave without learning more, he scrambled to his feet and pursued her to the door. Her hand was on the knob when he braced his palm against the wooden barrier, preventing her escape. She immediately took a step back and he followed. Her height amazed him. If he lifted her veil, she'd be almost eye to eye with him. And something made his hand itch to remove that netting, but he refrained for the moment. Instead, he trailed his forefinger along the edge of her jaw, the coarse netting hiding the softness he was certain lay beneath the veil. It aroused him.

"Surely you don't think I'm going to let you leave without discovering why you're willing to betray your family."

"Please, my lord. It was a mistake to come here."

"Perhaps, but nonetheless, I'll have an answer from you."

"Or what?" The sudden challenge in her voice amused him. At least she had backbone.

"Hmm, what could I do to persuade you to answer?" His fingers touched the snowy cravat tied around her neck. With a lazy movement, he gently tugged at one of the ties. Her cravat tumbled open to expose her creamy throat. God, she was a tempting wench. She gasped as he pressed his thumb against the hollow of her throat. Again, the netting fluttered wildly against her face.

"My lord, please."

"Please is a subjective word, Miss Hamilton. Are you asking me to do something wicked? Or are you begging to tell me your reasons for this interesting proposition of yours?"

"I ... I wish to ... oh bloody hell!"

Her abrupt response was so completely unexpected he jerked back in surprise. She began to pace the floor in front of him, and his eyes narrowed as he watched her prowling. Again she reminded him of a cat. After a moment of tense silence, she stopped and whirled to face him.

"My lord, I came here to offer you revenge on Eleanor and my father because I want revenge too. You weren't the only one they betrayed. They betrayed me as well."

"I see." He folded his arms across his chest and waited.

"When Eleanor became pregnant with her lover's child, she needed a husband. You suited her purpose, but when you refused to marry her, Father helped her steal my fiancée instead."

"You were engaged to that weakling, Shively?"

"Yes. He was ... he was my last hope."

"Last hope?"

"Yes. I'd already given up hope of ever marrying until I met Andrew. I was never the pretty one in the family."

He watched her take a deep breath as she slowly reached up toward the netting covering her face. As she revealed her features, he eyed her with curiosity. For someone who believed herself unattractive, she was quite the opposite.

Although she wasn't a beauty by any stretch of the imagination, her hazel eyes were large and echoed with warmth, while her complexion was smooth and creamy. Wisps of brown hair framed her heart-shaped face and her full mouth pouted in a manner that brought his cock to attention. The reaction startled him. Clearing his throat, he turned away from her.

"I think you underestimate yourself, Miss Hamilton. I'm sure there are plenty of men willing to offer for you."

"No, my lord you're wrong. Offers of marriage have been nonexistent for many years."

"Come now, I think you exaggerate."

"Do I?" With his back to her, he could almost see the small shrug of her rounded shoulders. "Perhaps. Well, my lord, you've received the answer to your question. Now if you don't mind, I should like to leave."

He didn't want her to leave. She intrigued him and something about her made him feel protective of her. Eleanor had hurt her too. He understood that pain.

"Before you go, why don't you tell me what you'd hoped to receive in exchange for this method of revenge you offer me?"

"Marriage."

Stunned, he spun around to stare at her. "Marriage? To me?"

"Yes."

"Good God, woman. Whatever made you think I'd make a suitable husband?"

"I didn't. In fact, I knew you would be far from the ideal husband."

"Then why settle for me? I'm sure there are any number of men willing to marry you."

She heaved a sigh of annoyance. "I'd heard you were intelligent, my lord; however, I'm beginning to have my doubts. I'm Eleanor's older sister. What man would want to marry me?"

"I can only guess at your age, but since Eleanor is younger than I am, I'd say you're about my age."

Her pink mouth formed a moue of astonishment before she burst out into laughter. It was a pleasant sound. "Oh my word. I must admit to being extremely flattered. But you see, my lord. I'm much older than your tender years."

Irritated by her amusement, he frowned. "I'd hardly refer to the age of thirty-two as my tender years."

"It's quite tender when I consider my own age of forty-one."

The comment made his jaw sag. How was it possible that this attractive woman could possibly be so much older than him? She hardly looked old enough to be his age, let alone having almost ten years on him. Impossible.

"You jest."

"No, my lord. Sadly enough I'm an old maid. Any hope of marrying vanished five years ago when Eleanor ran off with my intended."

"And yet you still want to marry?"

"Yes. I want to experience what it's like between a man and a woman." She blushed and it made her look like a fresh debutante. "I could pay for the experience I suppose, but I'm not quite that bold. Coming here was the boldest thing I've ever done."

The idea of teaching this woman about the pleasures of the body captured his imagination. An older woman who'd not yet been initiated into the art or power of lovemaking. An intriguing possibility. His cock stirred again. He stepped toward her and traced the curve of her mouth with his forefinger before his thumb pressed down on her lower lip. It was plump and tender.

He heard the sharp intake of her breath. It excited him. When was the last time he'd had the pleasure of initiating a novice? Years. The scent of lilacs drifted up into his nose as he lowered his head toward her.

"And you're willing to put yourself completely into my hands?"

"Ye-yes."

"Are you certain of that? I've not earned my title without a great deal of wickedness."

"Your sexual prowess has always been widely touted in social circles. I doubt you've acquired more deviant practices while in the colonies." The pulse at the side of her neck fluttered beneath her skin. He excited her. A smile tilted his mouth and he leaned forward until his lips were just a hairsbreadth away from her shell-shaped ear.

"I believe you'll find the social circles are only half accurate. I'm far more decadent than any rumors you may have heard."

"Oh," she breathed.

"So shall we strike a bargain then? My name and experience for the means to avenge myself."

Speechless she barely nodded her head. What the hell was he doing? A wife? He studied the woman in front of him closely. Perhaps it was time to try for an heir, and he could do much worse that this delectable creature. And if the woman didn't give him a child, then his cousin's brat could inherit for all he cared.

Another smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he watched excitement and trepidation flash across her features. Her heart had to be pounding in her breast. He glanced down at the snug fit of her royal blue habit. And they were firm, plump looking breasts too. It was difficult to believe she was so much older than him. The anticipation of the decadent pleasures he wanted to introduce her to as his wife made him grow hard as a rock. His lips curled into a deeper smile as he pinned her with his gaze.

"Then we're agreed. Revenge and nights of pleasure. A decidedly decadent proposition."