Taste of the Devil by Dara Joy

with his fingertip. Then he brought the juice to his own mouth and slowly sucked the droplet off the tip of his finger.
    Thick black lashes lifted in languid manner. His eyes locked with hers, as he drew on his sweetened fingertip.
    Caught in his riveting focus, Ginny flushed crimson.
    The silvery blue eyes were not gentle waterfalls now, they were more like... heat lightening.
    Smiling to himself, Tyler ate another berry, his clear-sighted regard fixating steadily on her.
    Ginny resisted the urge to fan herself. Zounds! He is making me feel uncomfortable.
    When he leaned forward to feed her another berry, however, she quickly turned her head away. “I– I don’t want anymore.”
    “Had enough already?” he drawled, his heated gaze focusing on her slightly parted lips. “I adore sweet fruit. In fact, sometimes, I can’t seem to get enough of...,” he paused a beat, “... raspberries.”
    Ginny swallowed. As so often happened with this man, she had a sense that there was something going on that she could not quite decipher. Her best course of action was to ignore the rakehell; she fell back on the blanket.
    Soon, she was lost in gazing up at the sky through the veil of the leaves fluttering overhead.
    “Daydreaming?”
    Ginny jumped as warm breath caressed her neck.
    Oh, she knew the man was toying with her and he really shouldn’t, but, she supposed it was rather in his nature. Like a snake shedding its skin once a year– it was a bit offensive to others but perfectly normal for the snake. She turned her head, and saw, to her dismay, that his lordship was lying right next to her.
    She immediately turned away and looked up at the sky again. “I’m– I’m watching the clouds drift by.
    They take on so many shapes. See that one there? It looks like a big, shaggy pup.”
    Tyler followed her gaze. “Hmm. I rather think it looks like a lady undressing for her bath.”
    Ginny snorted. “You are incorrigible, my lord.”
    “’Tis a trait of mine, ask anyone. What about that one over there? He pointed to a fluffy cloud. “What do you see there?”
    “That one reminds me of a nice soft counterpane.”
    A faint breeze had sprung up. Ginny was becoming drowsy from the excellent food and wine. No wonder she was thinking of coverlets.
    Tyler noticed her drooping eyelids. “It does, doesn’t it?”
    “What about that one, Tyler?”
    He peered at a boxy-looking cloud. “It appears to sail across the sky like a schooner at sea. I have often noted the similarity between clouds and the sails of my–” He quickly corrected himself, “–dreams.”
    “The sails of your dreams? How very poetic, Lord Devon. Do you compose perchance?” Ginny yawned sleepily.
    Tyler regarded the heavens. “I used to, once,“ he replied in a serious vein. “A long time ago, when I was but a young boy. I thought that when I grew up I should like to be a knight of the quill...”
    He looked over at her, noting that she had fallen asleep. “But life often takes twists and turns we cannot foresee, Ginny,” he finished softly. “I became not a knight at all.”
    In a contemplative mood, he looked again at the sky, wondering not for the first time how different his life might have been if he hadn’t climbed that oak tree to overhear the words that forever changed his life.
    Soon, his eyes drifted shut as well.
     
    * * *
     
    Something was tickling her neck.
    Ginny opened her eyes. She was not in her bed, but lying on a blanket in a sun-dappled vale.
    She blinked, and full awareness returned. She must have dozed off... The last thing she remembered was gazing at the clouds.
    Again, she felt a cozy nuzzle at her nape.
    Lord Devon!
    He was wrapped tightly around her. His arm encircled her waist, pulling her up against him. One long leg was thrown carelessly over hers, pinning her in place with a boot, as if to ensure that his comfortable pillow remained firmly in place.
    The rogue’s beautiful face was buried deep in her hair.
    It was the