Page 16 of The Devil’s Bargain (The Lovers’ Arch: Later in Life #2)
16
Becoming Mrs Elmstone
C aroline followed Devlin through the brewery’s iron gates, the scent of hops and yeast heavy in the morning air. She’d expected dark, cramped conditions like those she’d glimpsed in other factories. Instead, sunlight streamed through high windows, illuminating well-organised workspaces and surprisingly content faces.
Workers paused in their tasks to bow or curtsy as Devlin passed. What struck her wasn’t just their deference, but the genuine warmth in their greetings. “Morning, Mr Elmstone!” called a broad-shouldered man hauling barrels. Devlin stopped to ask after the man’s wife, who had recently given birth. Caroline watched, startled, as her husband demonstrated detailed knowledge of his employee’s family circumstances.
“And this,” Devlin said, leading her to a row of massive copper vats, “is where your filtration system will revolutionise our process.” He removed his coat and rolled up his sleeves as he explained, revealing muscled forearms that caught her attention more than she cared to admit. When he reached up to tap one of the higher pipes, his shirt pulled tight across his shoulders, and Caroline found herself studying the play of muscles beneath the fabric.
“Mrs Elmstone!” A group of female workers approached, their faces bright with curiosity. “We’ve been dying to meet you!”
“Is it true you designed the new filtration system yourself?” one asked eagerly.
Before Caroline could formulate a properly modest response, Devlin answered, “Indeed she did. My wife’s brilliant mind will help us produce the cleanest, purest beer in London.” The pride in his voice made her cheeks warm.
“The workers seem... happy,” she observed as they climbed to the upper level.
“They’re well-paid and treated fairly.” He helped her over a step, his hand lingering at her waist. “Happy workers make better beer.”
Caroline stiffened at his touch, hating how her skin heated beneath her dress where his fingers pressed. Was this all carefully orchestrated? Show the caring employer, the brilliant businessman, make her forget he was the same man who had threatened to destroy everything she’d built?
She noticed details that spoke of genuine care—the safety rails, the ventilation systems, even a small infirmary. Each discovery felt like a betrayal of her determination to hate him. A young boy ran past with a message, and Caroline realised none of the children appeared underfed or mistreated. She hadn’t expected his workers to genuinely respect rather than fear him.
Damn him for making her question her certainties.
“Here,” he said, offering her a small glass of their finest brew. “Tell me what you think.”
His gaze lingered on her mouth, sending an unwelcome thrill through her body. She took a sip to hide her reaction, then blinked in surprise. “This is... excellent.”
“Of course it is.” His smiling eyes held hers. “I accept nothing less than excellence in all things. Including my spouse.”
The possessive pride in his voice made her blood boil. How dare he claim ownership of her when he’d forced her into this marriage through blackmail? She turned away sharply, pretending to examine the nearest vat while silently cursing how her traitorous body responded to his presence behind her, his heat seeming to brand her even through her dress.
“Shall we discuss where to implement your innovations?” he asked, his voice low near her ear. Too close, too intimate.
“Yes,” she managed through clenched teeth, clutching her notebook like a shield between them. “Though I warn you, I’ll need to inspect every inch of the operation.” She stepped away, needing distance from his overwhelming presence.
“I would expect nothing less.” His smile held admiration rather than condescension, and she hated how it made her chest tighten. Every glimpse of genuine respect from him felt like another subtle manipulation.
As they delved into technical details, Caroline found herself caught in a maddening spiral of confusion. Her fury at his arrogance warred with unwilling appreciation for his comprehensive knowledge. Each intelligent question he posed made it harder to dismiss him as merely the ruthless blackmailer who had trapped her in this marriage.
The devil, it seemed, contained unexpected depths. And that made him infinitely more dangerous to her peace of mind.
Caroline stormed outside, needing air that wasn’t thick with Devlin’s overwhelming presence. Rain had started to fall, but she welcomed it. Anything to cool her heated skin.
She didn’t hear him follow until his coat settled around her shoulders.
“You’ll catch your death,” he muttered.
“Since when do you care?” But she clutched the coat closer, surrounded by his warmth and scent.
“I’ve always cared.” His voice was so quiet she almost missed it. “Even when I shouldn’t.”
She turned to face him, rain plastering his white shirt to his chest. For once, his carefully controlled expression had cracked, revealing something raw beneath.
“Why did you really force this marriage?” she asked. “The truth this time.”
He was silent so long she thought he wouldn’t answer. Then, “Because you’re the first person I’ve met who matches me. In intellect, in drive, in sheer bloody-minded determination.” His laugh held no humour. “I told myself it was about business, about acquiring your patents. But really, I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else having you.”
“So you took what you wanted, as always.”
“Yes.” He reached out, brushing a raindrop from her cheek. “I’ve never claimed to be a good man, Caroline.’
“No.” She leaned into his touch despite herself. “But sometimes... sometimes I see glimpses of one.”
His hand cupped her face fully now, thumb tracing her bottom lip. “Only with you.”
The dining room felt oppressively intimate with just the two of them, flickering candlelight casting shadows across the damask tablecloth. Caroline pushed her meal around her plate, acutely aware of Devlin’s presence at the head of the table.
“The brewery tour proved illuminating,” she said finally, breaking the charged silence.
“Did it?” His voice held that knowing tone that never failed to irritate her. “And what precisely did you find illuminating?”
“Your workers seem genuinely loyal. Though I suppose even you can inspire devotion when it suits your purposes.”
His laugh was low and rich. “Still casting me as the villain? After seeing how I treat those under my protection?”
“Protection bought with power and fear.”
“Are you claiming you’ve never wielded those weapons yourself?” He stood, moving to the sideboard to pour brandy. “Such as using your feminine charms to coax information out of a man?”
She accepted the offered glass, careful not to let their fingers brush. “That’s different.”
“Perhaps, but you’re not as pure as you make yourself seem.”
Caroline bristled, feeling offended. “I thought I was perfect in your eyes.”
A charming grin split his face. “You are, and that’s one of the reasons why.” His eyes gleamed in the candlelight. “Can we stop pretending you’re not as fascinated by me as I am by you?”
“You’re impossibly arrogant.”
“And you’re irresistible when you’re angry.” He leaned over her shoulder, his warmth seeping into her. “Especially when you’re trying so hard to resist me.”
“You’re vexing.” She shot up from her chair but only to be trapped in his embrace. Pushing her chair aside, his powerful arms circled around her waist as his lips trailed kisses along her neck. His scent, leather and shaving soap, wrapped around her like a physical touch. She found it impossible to tear herself away from him.
He linked his fingers with hers then, to her bewilderment, began talking about work. “For your technology to work effectively, we require twice the current capacity.”
Caroline tried to focus on the words, but her mind didn’t give a damn. It only cared about the sensation his lips were creating along her shoulder, neck, jaw…
“The filtration requirements are complex,” he murmured near her ear. “But I’m sure your brilliant mind will solve that particular puzzle.”
“D-Do you think you can seduce me with flattery?”
“No.” His hands bracketed her hips and turned her around, pinning her against the table. With a subtle tilt of his head, he ordered the servants to clear the table.
His lips brushed against her ear as he said, “I think you’re already seduced. By my mind as much as my body. Just as I am by yours.”
“That’s out of—” But his mouth caught her protest, turning it into a moan. She meant to push him away, but somehow her hands were in his hair, pulling him closer as his tongue traced the seam of her lips. The kiss deepened, became something hungry and desperate, full of all the tension that had built between them. Before she realised what was happening, Devlin pulled up her skirts and wrapped one of her legs around his hip.
“Devlin, this is—” His caressing fingers along the back of her stockinged leg made her forget herself. Gasps and moans were the only sounds she could utter. He continued his assault on her mouth, his kiss becoming fiercer, more desperate, while his fingers stroked her lightly, reverently.
Finally, when they broke apart for air, breathing hard, he pushed the skirts away from her hips. Overpowered by her own desire and curiosity, Caroline was helpless to push him away. She’d had relations with Edward, then Thomas Findlay, and there had even been some passion in the latter. But not like this. Never like this.
Once the skirts were cleared out of the way, Devlin, still holding her gaze intensely, burrowed his member against her thigh. He watched her face with concern and possessiveness, as if to see if she liked it and to remind her who was touching her. Caroline gasped at his hardness, at the sheer size of it.
When he dipped his head again for a kiss, she was surprised yet again by his tenderness. His lips brushed against hers, now swollen and sensitive from his ardour. He nipped and licked her lips lightly, the delicate touch soothing her skin. Then, just as tenderly, his hand crept up to where her stocking ended, caressing her skin underneath the lace first then slowly making his way toward her heat.
“This doesn’t change anything,” she whispered, not quite convinced herself. “I still hate you.”
“Noted,” he rasped. “Even if you wish to punish me, don’t deny the pleasure I could give you.”
“Like you gave those courtesans?” Her voice came out cold, surprising her with the jealousy she felt.
He chuckled softly, his fingers still drawing circles, getting closer to her sex.
“I shall do more. Much, much more to my wife. To please her. To keep her wanting me.”
Caroline’s eyes widened. “How many ways are there?”
“This, for instance.” Then his fingers were on her cunny, fondling her folds and her entrance. Then he stroked her swollen bud, his motion confident and firm.
The protest died in her throat and Caroline released a moan instead.
“Blast it, you’re sensitive. Just the way I like my wench,” he muttered against her mouth before kissing her with urgency. Supporting her leg and bottom firmly with one hand, he traced the outlines of her folds, then groaned at the moisture pooling at her entrance.
“Bloody tight, Caroline…” he whispered as he entered her cunny with his middle finger. Her gasp had his member twitching, growing even more than she thought possible. The hard ridge of his rod dug into her thigh as his finger burrowed into her quim.
Gripping the back of her head with his large hand, he exposed her elegant neck to his hungry eyes. His teeth grazed along the sensitive flesh as his finger plunged in and out of her pussy. With each movement he stroked her bud, now swollen fully upon his ministration. Caroline didn’t recognise the moans leaving her lips as the light skimming of his teeth, the caress on her sensitive bud, and the movement of his finger—stroking her inner wall in the exact spot that eased her ache—shot overwhelming pleasure through her body.
The sensation built and built until it exploded beautifully, flooding her body with heat until she was overpowered by pleasure. The damned man seemed to know exactly when to slow down his finger, when to press on her bud, and… my God, when and where to stroke her cunny to drain the last drop of honey from her sex. She felt utterly spent, powerless under his tender ministrations, completely undone by such a simple act she had experienced with other men. Except this was wholly singular. Caroline held onto him, her only anchor in that moment.
They didn’t speak for a while, and only their shallow breathing filled the room.
“Would you like me to demonstrate the next technique?” his voice teased, awaking her from her dream-like state.
“No!” Caroline pushed away from him in a hurry, embarrassed by her display of wantonness while professing to hating him. She quickly straightened out her skirts, and while looking everywhere except at him, she bid him good night and retired to her study.
Later that night, Caroline lay in her bed, her heart thrumming against her ribcage at the anticipation of having him in bed with her. Everything felt different now. Her body seemed to hum with anticipation at the thought of him. She already craved what he’d done to her with his finger... and that was only the beginning. Or it would be if she allowed him.
Damn the man for making her curious!