Page 12 of The Devil Himself (The Devil You Know #1)

Eleven

L uc woke to the fire having burned down in the grate, the blankets that had been placed over him a welcome ward against the chill in the room.

The chesterfield was hardly a good substitute for a bed, but by the time they had moved him from the club to Rys’s home, and he had sent a message to his staff to accept the decoy and to act as though he was convalescing at home and not accepting visitors, Luc had been too tired to climb the stairs.

So he had told Rys he would wait for him here in the study.

He groaned, trying to rise to a sitting position. He rather desperately needed to use a chamber pot that Rys had pointed out to him when they had arrived.

“Let me help you, Luc,” Rys said quietly from the desk, making his heart leap, startling him badly.

“I’m afraid I’m in need of the chamber pot.” He grimaced, his weakness aggravating him. He should be past this by now, but the doctor had told him the bullet had done some damage and to be patient.

“Come on, then.” Rys crossed the room to help him, and he leaned hard on that solid body, letting Rys’s heat seep into him. “How do you feel?”

“Sore. Thirsty.”

“I’ll ring for a tray once you’re done here. Do you need help?” Rys took him to a tiny room, hidden away in a hall under the stairs. Ingenious.

“I can manage.” And he did, but he knew Rys was right outside, ready to lend aid. It was both humiliating and reassuring.

“Done,” he said as he exited the door. Washing up had been the hardest part, and now he felt as if gravity was yanking him down toward the floor.

“Come along. We’ll feed you while I relate what I found out, and then we can put you to bed.”

“I am not a child,” he snapped, grunting as Rys eased him back to sitting on the sofa.

“I know.” Rys gave him a once-over that made his cheeks heat, something about it scorching. It made him tongue-tied and clumsy.

“Oh.” He swallowed hard as Rys strode to ring for a footman. “What news?”

“Let me get you something to eat and drink.”

“Did you dine?” He thought he recalled that Rys had promised dinner with him.

“No. I’ll get us a variety, shall I?”

“Please. Though I’m not certain I’m up to oysters.” The sweat from his exertions was drying, and he simply wanted something to drink now. His throat felt parched.

Laughing, Rys ordered supper from the footman, but Luc was only half listening. His arm throbbed, his breath slowing as his heart stopped pounding.

Rys joined him again, sitting opposite him on the sofa, which seemed intimate, somehow. Improper, but it wasn’t as if he was a society debutante who could be compromised, so he needed to simply stop letting Rys affect him so.

He blinked hard, trying to stay awake, but he still dozed until the tray came, bearing soup, bread, cold meat and cheese, and a variety of juices and water from Rys’s private cistern.

One of the maids had brought him some earlier, explaining how they still boiled it, just in case.

“Luc. Did you want to eat, my dear?”

His dear? He blinked his eyes open, the low light casting a glow on Rys’s raven’s wing hair. “Please. I’m sorry.”

“No need. You had a long day, and you are far from recovered. The doctor assured me that close up to the shoulder as it was, the shot injured more muscle than lower on your arm might have. Now, there’s some nice pea soup, some bread and butter, some cold chicken, and some juice, tea, and water.”

“You’ll have a plate with me?”

“Of course.” Rys took the cover off a bowl of pea soup, handing him a spoon, then proceeded to stack bread, cheese, and meat together for himself.

“What did you discover?” Luc asked, sipping soup. But it was the juice that really did what he needed, bright and clear and good from Rys’s orangery.

Rys sighed. “Not much more than we knew.” Rys relayed what he had learned from a lady of the night named Cora, and Luc mulled that over, trying to connect the pieces like one of Owen’s children’s puzzles.

“So do we simply have them watched?”

“For now? Yes. That seems the only way.” Rys munched his sandwich. “Or I could have them beaten within an inch of their lives preemptively.”

“Rys.” He had to laugh, though. “That would be as bad as they are.”

“I have told you before, Luc. I am not a nice man.”

“Mmm. But then you bring me pea soup.” He ate a piece of bread and a goodly bit of soup, but it was the juice he returned to. Then he surprised himself by yawning. Honestly, he was as bad as a child.

Rys moved the tray to the low table in front of the sofa. Then he grabbed one of the blankets to wrap it around him.

Luc found himself leaning, and Rys propped him up, pressing them together from shoulder to hip. “You should go to bed.”

“I should,” he mumbled. “But this is too comfortable.”

“It’s dangerous, Luc.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I am an admirer of men.”

It took several heartbeats for him to understand what Rys meant by that, and then he looked up into those smoky gray eyes, understanding the glances and words he’d gotten of late. “So?”

“Luc…”

He reached up with his good hand to touch Rys’s face. “I am in no condition to explore it today, but you would find me amenable.”

Rys’s eyes went wide, his pupils dilating. “I would?”

“You would.”

“Then I vow we shall revisit this again. Soon.” And Rys bent to kiss him, mouth sealing over his, lips firm and hot and perfect.

Luc and his wife had shared many a passionless embrace in the pursuit of an heir. As soon as his son was born, he had rarely revisited her bed. Just enough to try for a spare.

Rys’s kiss was a revelation. It brought everything in him to life, his lips tingling, his cock rising despite his exhaustion. He started to reach up with his other hand but grunted in pain when his wound made itself known.

Rys pulled back, jaw clenched. “My apologies, Luc. I would not ever hurt you.”

He snorted. “I hurt myself. But I would agree to do this again when I am better able.”

Rys took Luc’s good hand in his and pressed it over the placket of Rys’s breeches, the move crude and sexual and exciting. He had seen the size of it during their dinner together at the club, but feeling it was infinitely better. “Soon, Luc. It cannot be too soon.”

He nodded, caught by that silver-gray gaze. “Soon.”

“Good.” Rys rose abruptly. “And now I will show you to your room.”

He stood, his belly full, his shoulder aching.

But Luc was no longer at all sleepy. In fact, he had a feeling it would take him hours to fall asleep tonight.