Chapters (26)
But sleep eluded him. Tired as he was, the thought of being without a woman, any woman at all, for several weeks, depressed him. He loved women. He loved their smiles, their fascination with ribbons and bows and jewels, the way they’d get irked over something trivial, yet had large enough hearts that they could forgive the grossest indiscretion with just a few well-chosen words. He loved the scents they used, the sound of their laughter. He loved the feel of their soft skin, the taste of their rosebud mouths. He loved the giggles and the sighs and the ease with which they showed their feelings. He loved them all.
Only…it wasn’t real love. It couldn’t be. But it was the only kind of love Devon was able to feel—exciting, thrilling, and lamentably brief.
He thought of the way his younger brother, Chase, had looked at his soon-to-be wife, Harriet, at their wedding. There had been something intense and almost magical about it. Devon had asked Chase how he’d known Harriet was the one, and he’d answered, “Because life without her would be worse than death.”
“Drama,” Devon said disgustedly, even as a flicker of jealousy touched him. Drama or no, it seemed as if Harriet and Chase had indeed found something special, something lasting. Something forever.
But that was not for Devon. The backs of his kneesitched with a sudden yearning to burst into a full out-and-out run, away from the thought of being leg-shackled to a woman who would eventually come to bore him. Once the magic of discovery was over, there simply wasn’t enough feeling left to sustain a relationship of any kind. Perhaps that was an ugly truth Chase had yet to discover.
Tiredness pricked at Devon’s lids, and he pulled the curtains more tightly closed about the bed, hoping the pitch blackness would lure him to sleep.
Perhaps he didn’t need to give up all women. Perhaps he could avoid only the ones who might be a threat to his heart.
Hm. Now that was a far more worthy plan. All he would have to do was define exactly what qualities were common among the women he tended to develop feelings for, brief as they might be, and avoid prolonged contact with those types of women. In his mind, he made a list of his past conquests and began comparing traits.
Half an hour later, Devon had to admit that he had a certain inclination toward petite, very feminine types of women. Women of birth who knew the benefits of guile.
Devon decided he wouldn’t have too much difficulty staying away from vixens of that particular cut. He would instead amuse himself with only ineligible, hoydenish women.
There. That should take care of that blasted talisman ring. Life was not too difficult after all. His eyes slowly slid closed and he fell weightless into a deep, deep sleep.