Vane's grin surfaced. "Devil, again-what else? Honoria's due about the same time as Patience, so it'll be quite a summer celebration."
Babies and wives all over. Demon could just imagine.
Having brought him up to date, Vane heard creaks upstairs and, with a raised brow and an understanding smile, made his excuses and left. But instead of repairing upstairs, to further indulge himself with the feminine charms of the luscious body he'd left sprawled in his bed, Demon remained at the table, considering all Vane had told him-chilled, more and more, by the shadow of impending fate.
Which just went to show.
Demon drummed well-manicured fingernails on the table; he was going to have to do something about his situation. The situation he now found himself in.
First Devil, then Vane, now Richard. Who would be next?
There were only three of them left-him, Gabriel and Lucifer-and he was the eldest. There was no doubt in his mind who the aunts and connections would next expect to front the altar.
The odds were narrowing-to a degree he didn't like.
But he'd already made his vows-to himself. He'd vowed he'd never marry-never put his trust, his faith, his heart in any woman's hands. And the notion of limiting himself to one woman sexually was beyond his ability to comprehend. How the others managed to do so-Devil, Vane and now Richard-he couldn't imagine. They certainly hadn't before.
It was one of life's mysteries he had long ago decided he didn't need to unravel.
The question now before him, on this brisk sunny morning, was how to avoid fate-a fate that was steadily closing in on him.
His position wasn't good. Here he was, in London, with
the Season about to start, with his mother and all his aunts in residence, with the scent of blood firing them…
Drastic action was called for.
Strategic retreat to safer surrounds.
Abruptly ceasing his tattoo on the table, Demon raised his head. "Gillies?"
A moment later, an unprepossessing face popped around the door. "Yessir?"
"Fig out the bays. We're going to Newmarket."
Gillies blinked. "But…?" Deliberately, he raised his eyes to the ceiling. "What about the countess?"
"Hmm." Demon looked up, then he grinned and stood, cinching his robe tight. "Give me an hour to satisfy the countess-then be ready to roll."
Newmarket, and assured safety, were only a few hours away, but once there, he'd be starved for the usual rake's fare-he may as well indulge his appetite before leaving.
As he climbed the stairs two at a time, Demon grinned. The countess was no threat-and Newmarket was safe.
He was well on the road to being the one Cynster in all the generations to finally escape fate-and the trap she laid for all Cynsters.