Page 62 of Lady Tempts a Rogue

Devin did not care if he smelled like a horse’s back end. No blackguard was climbing into his wife’s bed, making Devin a cuckold.

“Trinity!” he bellowed as he flung the door open to the bedchamber his mother had always referred to as the garden chamber.

Hand-painted silk wallpaper bedecked with pastel flowers, vines, and birds adorned the walls. Floral brocades in pinks and yellows covered the armchairs, hung from the windows, and covered the cushions and counterpane. Potted ferns on white wicker stands stood before the windows as a fire crackled merrily in the tiled hearth behind a scrolled screen.

A single candle on the classical Italian inlaid nightstand illuminated the feminine room.

He pointed his livid gaze at the bed with its gold-carved headboard.

No hairy, muscled man—naked or otherwise—lay sprawled there.

Shrieking, Trinity yanked the bedclothes to her chin, her blue eyes wide and frightened.

She should be alarmed.

Devin’s heart cracked further with every agonizing beat.

Too late. Too late. Too late.

She’d found another.

“Where is he?”

Devin stomped into the room, looking this way and that, scraping every corner and shadow with his furious inspection.

“I know he is in here. I heard you talking to him.”

“Who?” She eyed him warily, her forehead puzzled in genuine confusion.

He shoved the draperies aside.

No man lurked there.

He charged to the wardrobe and yanked the doors open.

Only gowns—lots and lots of new, expensive, high-fashion gowns—met his furious scrutiny. To be certain no bounder hid behind the silks and satins, he shoved an arm between several.

“Have you lost your mind? Barging into my chamber without so much as a by-your-leave.” Ire flashed in Trinity’s eyes as she lowered the sheet a few inches.

She had plaited her sable hair, the long braid draped over one shoulder, and she wore a chaste white nightgown buttoned to her chin.

Not the most romantic of nightwear, though she’d never looked more beautiful to him.

Hands on his hips, Devin searched the room with his gaze again. “I know the blighter is in here.”

He did not have time to escape through the window into the garden below.

Aha. The blackguard hid under the bed.

He strode forward, and Trinity shrank back against the pillows.

“What are you doing?” She held out an unsteady hand. “Stay there, Devin.”

“It did not take you long to find someone to warm your bed,” he snapped. Furious with himself. Furious with Trinity. Bloody furious with the libertine hiding in this room.

“Still, I blame myself. I should’ve been here. Should’ve treated you with dignity and respect.”

She canted her head, but her gaze remained flint-like. “Yes, you should have done.”