The Devil's Gift

by Laura Landon

  He kissed her again while his hands roamed across then down her back. He pulled her even closer and skimmed his fingers around her middle and upward to her breasts.

  She allowed it.

  With an unfamiliar low moan, she shivered in his arms and sank against him. He touched her, rubbing and kneading until she feared her legs would give out beneath her. When she thought she could take no more, he kissed her one last time, then lifted his mouth.

  She was thankful he didn’t step away from her, but pulled her close and nestled her in his arms.

  “I’ve dreamed of that for nearly a month,” he gasped. “I couldn’t wait to get back to make sure you were all right.”

  “I am.”

  “Have you healed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t ever make me leave you again.”

  Jack pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then, with a finger beneath her chin, lifted her face to kiss her once more.

  This kiss was brief, sweet, not nearly so desperate as their other kisses had been. Yet for some reason Jenna didn’t understand, this show of emotion seemed filled with more passion than any kiss they’d previously shared.

  “It’s time to tell me what’s going on here, my love.”

  Jenna didn’t answer. She couldn’t. How could she explain what her stepmother was capable of doing? Or why Jenna allowed such abuse?

  Surely Jack would want to know why Jenna didn’t pack her bags and leave. He knew she had an aunt to go to in London. He would wonder why she didn’t escape this madness. And madness it was.

  “Tell me.” He grasped her by the upper arms and held her away from him enough to look her in the eyes. “You know you can trust me.”

  Jenna squeezed her eyes shut tight. Oh, if only she could. But she couldn’t.

  “Trust you? The man who I caught searching my father’s home for evidence to convict him of a crime? The man who shows up a second time masquerading as nobility?” Her words held accusation, even couched in the tender tone with which she spoke.

  He looked as if she’d struck him.

  “But that was before—”

  “It makes no difference, Jack. Nothing has changed. Except that by pretending to be someone you’re not, you have exposed yourself to more trouble than anyone can get you out of.”

  “Someone I’m not?” he asked as if she’d just spoken in a foreign language.

  “Yes. The Earl of Devlin. Whatever were you thinking? How did you hope to get away with this?”

  He lifted his chin and looked down on her as if she’d landed him another blow he wasn’t prepared to handle.

  “I know you meant to help, Jack, but—”

  “Come here.”

  He led her to a small stone bench beneath a large elm tree. He helped her sit, then sat beside her and grasped her hands in his.

  “My name is Jackson Rafferty. I am the Earl of Devlin.”

  “Yes, I know that’s who you are pretending to be. But we both know who you really are. You’re—”

  “I’m Jackson Rafferty. That was the name my father gave me when I was born. After my brother died, I became the Earl of Devlin, a title I proudly hold.”

  Jenna stared at him for several long moments, then shook her head. He wasn’t. He couldn’t be. Because if he was, that meant she and Jack were betrothed.

  “You can’t be. The Earl of Devlin is dead. He died in an unfortunate accident.”

  “My brother, Sheridan Rafferty, the former Earl of Devlin is dead. But he did not die in an unfortunate accident. He was murdered.”

  The earth spun beneath her and Jenna reached out to clamp her fingers on either side of the stone bench where she was sitting. “Murdered?”

  “He died in my arms.”

  “No!”

  Jenna bolted from the bench and backed away. But he followed her, rising from where he’d been seated and stepping toward her until there was very little distance separating them.

  “His dying words were a warning to me.”

  Jenna clutched her arms around her middle and inched away from him. She didn’t want to hear the warning.

  “He warned me not to let your father get me, too.”

  “No!”

  Jenna held out her hand to keep him away. This wasn’t the Jack Hawkins she’d kissed more than once in the last month. This wasn’t the Jack Hawkins she’d kissed here in the garden tonight.

  This was the devil incarnate Maggie had warned her about that night when Aunt Chloe’s carriage had arrived. And this devil had the power to destroy her. And her father as well.

  “Who sent you?” she demanded, knowing this had to be a conspiracy of some sort. “Who can possibly hate my father so much they would go to these lengths to destroy him?”

  “No one sent me. Someone murdered my brother and the only clue I have is the name he spoke with his last breath.”

  “Then he was mistaken. My father couldn’t have killed your brother.”

  “I’d like to hear that from your father. Where is he?”

  “That’s none of your concern.”

  “I’m making it my concern. I’m making everything about you and your father my concern.”

  Jenna tried to turn away from him. She needed to escape. She didn’t want to hear anything else he had to say.

  But the minute she made a move to leave, Jack reached out to hold her.

  “I’m here to discover who killed my brother and I won’t give up until I bring the bastard to justice.”

  “It couldn’t have been anyone from Kingston Estates. Especially not my father!”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “We didn’t even know your brother. He’d never visited once since that time he came with his father nearly ten years ago.”

  “What about your stepmother?”

  “My stepmother!”

  Any words Jenna thought to say caught in her throat. Eleanor had a cruel streak that ran through her, but surely she wasn’t capable of murder. Surely she wasn’t capable of taking another human being’s life.

  Jenna swallowed hard then looked up into Jack’s eyes. She knew the look in her eyes wasn’t nearly as confident as it had been earlier. “I don’t know. She doesn’t confide in me.”

  “No, she only whips you.”

  Jenna couldn’t hold his gaze. She wished she could deny his accusation, but it would be a lie.

  “I want to help you, but I can’t unless I know what you’re hiding.”

  “I’m not hiding anything.”

  “Then tell me where your father is.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “Because.”

  He grasped her shoulders and held her. “Who are you afraid of? Is it your father?”

  “Stop it!”

  “Stepmother?”

  Jenna cast a frantic look toward the house. Even though she knew it was impossible for anyone to overhear their conversation, she couldn’t control the fear that seemed to suffocate her. “Stop it,” she hissed.

  His grasp on her shoulders loosened and Jenna was afraid for a moment that Jack intended to release her. Instead, he gathered her in his arms and held her close. “What is your stepmother holding over you? And don’t tell me there’s nothing, because there is.”

  Jenna considered not answering him. Maybe if she said nothing he’d let his question go unanswered. But she knew he wouldn’t.

  She took a deep breath and answered as normally as possible. “The problem is of my own making,” she said, praying he’d believe her.

  “Allowing your stepmother to hurt you like she did isn’t something I can believe you’d allow. Not unless you’re protecting someone else. I saw your strength over and over when I first arrived. What threat does she pose that gives her such control over you?”

  Jenna struggled to know how much to tell him. And she would have to tell him at least a fraction of the truth. But she could never tell him all.

  And she couldn’t say what she had
to with his arms around her and his heart beating against her ear.

  Jenna pushed her palms against his chest and stepped away from him, then turned her back to him and walked a few paces away.

  “She is trying to force a marriage between the Duke of Ridgeway and myself.”

  “The Duke of Ridgeway? No one in polite society would force even their worst enemy to marry Ridgeway.”

  “He’s desperate to marry someone young enough to give him an heir. It seems he decided I was a most likely candidate.”

  Jenna felt Jack’s hands on her upper arms as he turned her to face him.

  “When did the Duke of Ridgeway approach your father with this offer for your hand?”

  “I don’t know. A year ago. Perhaps, longer.”

  “And what did your father say?”

  “You know what he said. He told Ridgeway that I was already betrothed to the Earl of Devlin. That the agreement had been drawn up more than ten years earlier. And that he had no intention of breaking the betrothal.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. That’s when all the trouble started between my father and my stepmother.”

  Jenna knew she shouldn’t say more but reason compelled her to. It was a relief to confide in someone.

  “Go on,” he said, leading her to the bench and sitting beside her.

  “The two of them have never been on the best of terms. Their marriage wasn’t a love match. In fact, far from it.”

  Jenna looked down to the ground in front of her. “I think Father was tired of being lonely. Mother and he had been so close. When she died he nearly died too. Eventually though, I think he thought it might be possible to find such happiness again.”

  “Instead, he found your stepmother.”

  Jenna released a heavy sigh. “Yes. My stepmother was looking for a wealthy older man to marry so she could bleed him dry of his resources.” She took a deep breath. “My father is not wealthy. He never has been. But she believed he was and rushed him to the altar with such haste she didn’t have time to discover the true state of Father’s affairs.”

  “So she’s been making you pay for her mistake ever since.”

  “It’s as if she’s frantic to have wealth.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not sure. There’s a desperation in her words when she tells me I have to marry Ridgeway. I think my stepmother needs a large amount of money quickly and the reason has something to do with her brother.”

  “Brackston?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have any idea what that might be?”

  Jenna shook her head. “But one evening last spring three men came to visit Father. I don’t know who sent them, but I think even Father was a little afraid of them.”

  “Could it have been Ridgeway? Are he and your father connected in a venture of some sort?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “What did the men need to see your father about?”

  “I don’t know, but I think it also had something to do with Viscount Brackston.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “They asked to see Father in private, but my stepmother wouldn’t allow it. I think she knew they were here because of her brother.”

  “Did you hear what they said?”

  “Only a few words, but they didn’t make sense to me.”

  Jenna rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “They referred to something about the London air in November.”

  “The London air in November?” Jack repeated.

  “I told you the words didn’t make sense to me. But they must have meant something. After the men left, Father and Eleanor had a terrible argument. Eleanor accused Father of hating her brother but Father said he wouldn’t have anything to do with whatever Brackston was involved in. Father said it was time Brackston answered for his own stupidity. Eleanor said if anything happened to her brother it would be Father’s fault.”

  “What happened then?”

  “Nothing more that night, but the next morning...” Jenna tried to speak twice before any words came out. “...we received word that your brother had died in an accident.”

  “What was your father’s reaction?”

  A spike of anger raced through her. “He wasn’t pleased, if that’s what you mean. In fact, he took the news very hard. He was determined to follow through with the betrothal agreement he and your father had signed.”

  “Then what?”

  She’d revealed enough. Any more and she’d be putting her father in jeopardy.

  “Nothing.”

  “Jenna, don’t. How can I help you if you won’t trust me enough to—”

  Jenna bolted from the bench to stop him from finishing his sentence. She took several steps deeper into the shadows then stood beside the trunk of a large tree. He didn’t follow her, but she knew he’d risen to his feet and was looking at her. She felt his eyes burning into her back.

  “Why do you stay here? Your father isn’t here to protect you, so why haven’t you gone to your aunt in London for refuge?”

  “Running away won’t help.”

  “Staying here and going through the torture she inflicts will?”

  “Stop it!” she said, then turned around to face him. “Don’t you dare think to tell me what to do. You know nothing about what’s going on here.”

  “Then tell me.”

  Jenna shook her head.

  “Why? Because you don’t trust me?”

  “Because I can’t trust you!”

  Jack was quiet for a few seconds, then he came toward her. She expected to hear some leftover fury in his voice, but when he spoke there wasn’t a hint of anger. Only confusion mixed with a measure of disappointment.

  “Where is your father? Why doesn’t he step in to protect you?”

  Jenna felt the urge to unburden herself. She was tempted to reveal everything to Jack and accept his help.

  But what if his intent was no different than Eleanor’s?

  Her father was safe only as long as Jenna kept him hidden. He was safe only as long as she didn’t weaken.

  She held firm to her resolve not to trust Jack.

  Her silence widened the chasm that grew between them. She knew he wanted her to trust him, but how could she? What if he still thought her father was behind his brother’s death and had come here to gather enough evidence to convict him?

  But a little voice wouldn’t allow her to accept that theory without at least a small argument.

  The Jack she knew wasn’t that conniving. The man who’d kissed her with such passion hadn’t come here to destroy her or her father.

  And a feeling deep inside her told her that Jack was telling her the truth. He hadn’t come here to trick her into believing a lie, but to discover who had murdered his brother and why.

  Jenna pushed herself away from the tree where she’d been standing and paced back and forth while she tried to find answers to the questions that raced through her mind.

  “Are you in truth the Earl of Devlin?” she asked, stopping in front of him so she could look into his face.

  He smiled. “Yes. I will recite a list of my ancestors beginning with William the Conqueror if you’d like.” He took a step toward her. “But I’d prefer if you simply took my word for my heritage.”

  She thought, then gave a quick nod. She wanted nothing more than to take his word in this. “Very well. My lord.”

  “Thank you,” he said and Jenna knew she’d passed a huge test.

  Jack looked at her. “What else would you like to know?”

  “You said you were with your brother when he died. What were his exact words?”

  “You aren’t going to like everything he said.”

  “Do you think I like having my father accused of murder?”

  “I suppose not,” he admitted. “Very well.” He locked his hands behind his back and faced her. “Only hours before Shad was shot, he told me he was going to call off his engagement to
you.”

  Jenna tried not to show her surprise.

  “I told you that you weren’t going to like this.”

  “Go on. Why was your brother going to call off our betrothal?”

  “He didn’t give an exact reason, other than...” He paused.

  “Yes, other than...”

  “Other than the Kingston name was behind something that could condemn us.”

  Jenna felt the blood rush from her head. “Condemn you?”

  “Or worse.”

  “What was he talking about?”

  Jack shook his head. “I don’t know. He was killed before he could tell me.”

  Jenna’s knees grew weak beneath her and she fought the knot growing in the pit of her stomach. What was her stepmother involved in that was profitable enough to kill for? And how was Ridgeway connected to any of it?

  What if Brackston was into Ridgeway for a great deal of money and Jenna was the payment for Brackston’s debt? What if the Earl of Devlin was murdered to free Jenna from the betrothal agreement?

  What if no one who showed an interest in her was safe? Even someone who claimed to be her betrothed?

  “What are you thinking?” Jack asked her finally. “Have you thought of something important?”

  Jenna looked into his handsome face and stamped down the mounting fear that erupted inside her.

  “You have to leave,” she said. “Now. Tonight.”

  She knew there was a frantic sound to her voice, knew her words were rushed, but there was no time for a calm discussion. She had to convince him to leave before something happened to him, too.

  “What are you talking about? I have no intention of leaving.”

  “You have to!”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re not safe. If Brackston or anyone else with ties to the Kingston name did kill your brother, you could be next.”

  “Could that someone be your father?”

  “No!”

  She couldn’t let him think her father had anything to do with his brother’s murder, but she knew it was entirely possible that her stepmother or Brackston did.

  “If you can only allow yourself to believe one thing I tell you,” she said, praying he’d believe her, “let it be this: My father had nothing to do with your brother’s murder.”

  Jack studied her several long moments, then capitulated with a long sigh.