Stephanie Laurens - Devils Bride

Gabriel eyed her warily; a tinge of color crept into his lean cheeks. He flicked a glance at Devil, who merely raised his brows back. Frowning, Gabriel looked at Honoria. "Your information is accurate."

"Indeed?" Honoria's eyes flashed pure steel. "And exactly how much did you-all of you-win?"

Gabriel blinked. To his left, Sebastian gurgled-there was no point looking to Devil for help; His Grace of St. Ives was besotted with his son as well as his wife. At the edge of his vision, Gabriel saw colors gathering in a phalanx by the door-Honoria's supporters, their mothers. Nearer to hand, he sensed Harry's tension. Vane shifted, uncrossing his legs; Richard and Lucifer both slowly sat up. Gabriel had no difficulty interpreting their silent message.

Which was all very well-they weren't the ones facing Her Grace of St. Ives's fire.

"Seven thousand, six hundred and forty-three pounds." Honoria's brows flew. Then she smiled. "Mr. Postlethwaite will be pleased."

"Postlethwaite?" Richard's tone reflected their escalating unease. "What's he got to do with it?"

Honoria opened her eyes wide. "The village church needs a new roof. Mr. Postlethwaite's been at his wit's end-good lead is becoming so costly. And, of course, as we endow the chapel here, he didn't like to approach us."

Gabriel glanced at Vane; Vane looked to Richard, who was looking at Harry. Lucifer bent a look of disbelief on his brother. Jaws aching, Devil kept his head down, his gaze locked on his son's cherubic countenance.

It was Vane who stepped into the breach. "So?" The single syllable was steeped in unchallengeable superiority; with any other woman, it might have worked.

Honoria merely turned her head, looked Vane in the eye, then turned back to Gabriel. "You will donate the entire proceeds from your enterprise, with any interest accrued, to Mr. Postlethwaite, to use as he sees fit. As you were in charge of this infamous book, I will hold you responsible for collecting the funds and conveying them to the vicar." Her tone was that of a magistrate pronouncing sentence-it left no room for argument. "Furthermore, as a final penance, you will all attend the dedication." She paused; her gaze swept the gathering. "I trust I've made myself clear?"

Her eyes challenged them to gainsay her; each considered it-none did.

Briskly, Honoria nodded.

Sebastian cried, an eloquent warning of impending hunger. Honoria immediately lost interest in wagers, lead roofs, and indelicate speculation. Turning, she held out her arms commandingly; Devil handed his son over, an unholy smile lighting his eyes, lifting the corners of his lips.

With Sebastian at her shoulder, Honoria headed for the door, utterly ignoring the five large males she passed. She swept straight out of the room, the ladies closing ranks behind her.

Six males watched her go-one with glowing pride, the other five with uneasy trepidation.

They paid up without a whimper. Mr. Postlethwaite was delighted.

One month later, they attended the dedication; each uttered a prayer that fate wouldn't, just yet, turn her attention their way.

Unfortunately for them, fate wasn't listening.