The Devil's Gift

by Laura Landon

  “Is there anywhere we can go where we won’t be overheard?”

  Jenna nodded, then turned toward the stairs that led to her mother’s study.

  Neither of them spoke until she closed the door to the room where she knew they wouldn’t be interrupted.

  “Does your stepmother know about this room?”

  Jenna followed Jack’s gaze as he scanned the room, from the writing desk against the wall by the window to the floral settee in the middle of the room, and the marble-manteled fireplace on the side wall.

  “I think she knows it’s here but refuses to enter because my mother’s presence intimidates her.”

  “What’s in there?” he asked, pointing to a door on the wall beside the fireplace.

  “It’s a bedroom. Mother didn’t like to stay in the bedroom she shared with Father when he was gone, so she normally stayed here.”

  “Was he gone often?”

  “No. But he had to take an overnight trip to check on his investments in London several times a year.”

  “Your mother didn’t go with him?”

  Jenna shook her head. “She didn’t care for London. She was a very private person.”

  “So your father went alone.”

  “Yes, but he never stayed long.”

  Jenna walked to the small writing desk by the window while Jack scanned her mother’s bedroom. When he was satisfied the room was empty and no one was there to overhear them, he came back into the room and walked toward her.

  “One of the servants was bringing this to you and I intercepted it.”

  Jenna looked at the paper he had in his hand.

  “It’s the list of names your stepmother wants included for the invitations,” he volunteered.

  “Is there anyone who seems suspicious?”

  “I haven’t had time to study the names as yet.”

  Jenna looked at the clock on the mantel. “Do you wish to look at it now?”

  “There isn’t time. Lord Brackston was joining his sister when I left.” Jack tucked the paper back into an inside waistcoat pocket. “We’ll study it later.”

  When he’d returned the paper to a safe place, he reached for her hand and led her to the settee. He sat with her but didn’t let go of her hand.

  “I’d like to ask a favor,” he said, nestling her fingers in his large hands as he looked into her eyes.

  “A favor that will not be pleasant,” he added as if he needed to prepare her.

  Or perhaps he was giving her a chance to refuse.

  Jenna kept her gaze locked with his. His warm, discerning eyes seemed darker tonight. Their usual chestnut brown seemed like a richer shade of coffee. His thick dark brows arched to make his expression more intense.

  “I want you to concentrate your conversation on our betrothal celebration tonight. Talk about the invitations that are ready to go out, the food you and Cook have decided upon, the decorations, the—”

  “You intentionally want our meal to be unpleasant?”

  “Yes.”

  Jenna couldn’t help but laugh. “Why?”

  “In hopes that your stepmother will reveal something that she doesn’t intend for us to know.”

  Jenna sobered. “Oh. What exactly are you hoping she’ll tell us?”

  “I’m not sure. I just know how opposed she is to having you marry anyone but the Duke of Ridgeway. Perhaps in her fury she’ll say something unexpected, mention a name.” He paused. “It won’t be pleasant, so if you’d rather not—”

  “No,” she said, nearly smiling at the concern etched in his expression. “I’m quite used to Eleanor’s ravings. I would prefer that you are not subjected to her lack of control firsthand.”

  “I’ve already seen the results of her temper,” he said, and Jenna knew he was referring to the night he’d seen the marks on her back.

  “Very well. I’m sure it won’t take long for me to put her in a fit.”

  Jack nodded, and Jenna thought she saw a hint of regret in his eyes.

  “Thank you,” he said. “The more information we can gather before the night of the ball the more advantageous it will be for us.”

  Jenna knew he was right and for the first time in her life she wasn’t as frightened of her stepmother’s temper as she might have been. She didn’t want to admit Jack’s presence was the reason for her calm, but she knew it was.

  “Well,” she said, moving her gaze from Jack’s face. “Let’s see what we can force Eleanor to divulge.”

  “Jenna?”

  “Yes.”

  Jenna turned back as Jack’s mouth lowered to hers.

  He swept her into a kiss that spoke of things greater than ardor. Greater than passion. It seemed to signify...permanence.

  Jenna wasn’t sure why that word came to mind. Surely she meant thankful. As if he were thanking her for the role she’d volunteered to play in their scheme to bring Jenna’s stepmother to justice.

  Or tender. As if he felt some sense of regard for her and his kiss was an outward show of approval.

  But the word permanent implied something that lasted forever, and Jenna knew better than to allow herself to believe in such a notion. Life held no guarantees. No promises of forevermore.

  He lifted his lips from hers and their gazes met and held.

  “You’ll never have to face your stepmother alone again. I won’t let her hurt you. Ever.”

  He was asking for her trust.

  Jenna was almost willing to give it.

  Almost.

  . . .

  Jenna kept her composure as she walked up the stairs after dinner, appearing to anyone who happened to notice her that she’d just spent a most enjoyable meal with her family and her betrothed.

  In reality, that was as far from the truth as east was from west.

  Jenna walked down the hall toward her room as if she were retiring for the night, then turned to the left instead of the right and walked up the stairs to her mother’s study. She’d arranged to meet Jack there in an hour, but she didn’t want to go to her room and relive the events from dinner if Maggie was full of questions. Sitting alone in her mother’s sanctuary was the very kind of comfort she sought.

  The door opened with an easy turn and Jenna stepped inside and closed it behind her. Before she gave herself time to breathe a sigh of relief, she made her way to the window that faced the Chisolm’s cottage.

  She didn’t need a light to find the way. She came here every night in the darkness to check for the glow that would signal all was well with her father.

  She lifted one edge of the elegant drapery and focused on the light glimmering beyond the hedgerow. Jenna stared at it for a second longer, then dropped the drapery back into place and turned around in the darkness. She pressed her back against the wall and breathed a sigh of relief. At least her father was safe another day.

  “I watched you come to this room every night around the same time and wondered what you came for.”

  His voice startled her and she pushed herself away from the wall with a gasp.

  “It took me a long while,” he said, his soft footsteps coming near her, “to figure out what you did when you came here. You never lit a lamp, so you didn’t come to read, and often you didn’t stay any longer than the time it took you to walk across the room, lift the drapery as you did tonight, and check for something you expected to see.”

  “I told you, this was my mother’s room,” Jenna said, hoping her accusation would turn his conversation from the path she knew it was taking. “And I wasn’t expecting to find you here already.”

  “I know. We didn’t arrange to meet until later,” he said, stopping when he reached her. “But I knew you’d be here.”

  His nearness both warmed and chilled the blood within her veins.

  She shivered and he placed his hands on her upper arms and turned her so she was facing away from him. With an arm around her waist, he pulled her close to him, his chest and middle and thighs molding perfectly to her back and hips. She
wanted to stay like this forever. In this safe, peaceful embrace.

  Then, he reached out one hand and pulled first one side of the drapery, then the other. The damask panels opened wide, exposing the moonlit expanse of English countryside.

  “For a long time,” he said, lowering his head and kissing the side of her neck, “I couldn’t imagine what you were checking for when you came here.”

  He kissed her again, then nipped the lobe of her ear.

  Jenna shuddered and clutched his arms that still encircled her waist.

  He’d removed the coat he’d worn at dinner. Jenna closed her eyes and pictured his pristine white shirt and dove-gray waistcoat, the neatly-tied cravat he’d had on when they went down to dinner. There was no way to tell if he still wore it or if he’d removed it. She tightened her grip on his forearms to keep from reaching up to find out.

  “It’s a beautiful view from here, isn’t it?” he said as he kissed the side of her neck again.

  “Yes,” Jenna whispered, tipping her head to give him better access to the tender flesh just below her ear.

  “Every night after you left I came here to study the same view you seemed so intent upon watching.”

  Jenna knew she should be concerned. Her body warned her to be wary of what he was implying. But how could she when his mouth did such delicious things to her flesh. And his hands—

  Jenna sucked in a breath when his hands moved upward.

  “Do you know what I saw?”

  Jenna couldn’t answer him. She could only cover his hands with hers and follow his lead as he moved over her.

  “Who lives in the cottage beyond the hedgerow where the light signals you each night?”

  At first she didn’t understand the significance of what he asked. At first all she could concentrate on was the burning path his lips made as they moved from beneath her ear to the crook of her neck.

  Oh, how she wanted to turn in his arms so he could kiss her mouth. Oh, how she wanted to feel his lips on hers. How she wanted to provide him with at least a portion of the pleasure he was offering her.

  She turned her head—hoping, praying he would understand her need.

  “Jack?”

  “Who lives...in the cottage...Jenna?”

  She couldn’t think. She couldn’t speak. But neither, it seemed, could he.

  His kisses became more erratic, more desperate as they moved over her flesh. His hands skimmed from one spot to another, touching, kneading, circling. Oh, if only he’d turn her in his arms and kiss her.

  “Jack, please,” she gasped.

  “Who lives...in the...”

  He paused as if he didn’t have the breath to say another word. “Who?”

  “The Chisolms,” she said in a rush that couldn’t seem to leave her body fast enough.

  The moment the name left her mouth, the voice of regret echoed in her head.

  What had she done?

  Jack’s mouth still moved across her flesh, touching in a desperately worshipful manner, but now his touch didn’t affect her like it had only seconds ago.

  She stiffened, then separated herself from him with a firm tug that he seemed to notice.

  “Why are you interested in who lives in that particular cottage?”

  His chest heaved while he sucked in a long breath. Was it possible for him to so completely separate his emotions from his sense of purpose that he could kiss her so convincingly, while at the same time intentionally use her vulnerability to get what he wanted?

  Jenna took another step away from him and clutched her arms around her middle. The thought of what she’d just done made her ill.

  “Why?” she repeated, trying to suppress the anger that welled inside her.

  “I think you know the answer to that.”

  A small cry escaped from deep within her and she clamped her hand over her mouth to keep any other cries from rushing out.

  The moon shone through the window and Jenna thought she saw a look of regret cover Jack’s features. When he reached out to hold her, she stepped beyond his reach.

  “Don’t!”

  He held his hands up in front of him. “Your hiding place is still safe, if that is where you have your father. Please trust me enough to know that.”

  The laugh that escaped from her sounded strange even to her own ears. “Oh, yes. Trust you. You have a strange way of eliciting trust, sir.”

  “Would you have told me where your father is hidden if I had asked?”

  “You know I couldn’t.”

  “I know you don’t trust me enough to believe that I will do everything in my power to keep your father safe.”

  “I can’t!”

  “You can. I have already explained that I know your father isn’t involved in anything illegal.”

  “Do you think that was ever my concern?” Jenna couldn’t believe she’d put so much of her faith in Jack, yet had gained so little ground in his understanding. “Anyone who has ever met my father knows he’s incapable of involving himself in anything illegal.”

  “As I’ve said, I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting your father. Don’t you think it’s time I had the honor?”

  Jenna wanted nothing more than to take Jack to where her father was staying. She wanted nothing more than to let him see her father, and talk to her father, and finally understand how important it was to protect him.

  But she couldn’t.

  Her only choice was to play out this charade they had started. To pretend she would marry the Earl of Devlin in three week’s time. And pray Jack stayed safe while they drew out the person her stepmother was involved with.

  That meant they had to do everything in their power to gain an advantage.

  “Leave it be, Jack.” Her voice held little of the conviction she hoped to convey. Jenna cleared her throat and stiffened her spine. “I mean it.”

  “Hm. Yes.” Jack stepped back a pace. “Alright. I can see that you do.”

  She clasped her hands in front of her, and found them to be a meager barrier.

  “Do you have the list of guests my stepmother wants included?”

  Jack walked to the writing table and lit a lamp. When there was light, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper and placed it on the table. Jenna took the paper and sat on the chair by the table that Jack pulled out for her.

  “Do you recognize any of the names?”

  Jenna studied the paper, quickly skimming down the list of names. She stopped when she reached the Duke of Ridgeway’s name. “I recognize nearly all of them, including Ridgeway’s.” She turned her gaze and looked at Jack. “Why do you think she invited him?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m glad she did. He’ll be there when we announce our engagement, which will leave our intentions clear.” He brought a chair next to hers and sat down. “Which ones don’t you recognize?”

  “This one,” she said, pointing to the Earl and Countess of Chancery.

  “That’s your stepmother’s godmother. Have they never been here to visit?”

  “No. Eleanor doesn’t have many guests other than an occasional overnight visitor.”

  “Who else?”

  “Lady Penterton. I’m sure I’ve never heard Eleanor speak of her.”

  “She and your stepmother attended school together. She stood up for your stepmother when she and your father were married.”

  Jenna huffed. “How do you know these things.”

  Jack’s faced cracked in a crafty smile. “Your stepmother dictated her list to her footman.”

  “Oh. Murdoch.” Of course he would know those things. But how Jack got him to spill the details was something she had not the energy at the moment to enquire. She should have known these details, but had to admit that she had been so angry when her father remarried that she hadn’t spoken to anyone at the festivities. Especially anyone her new stepmother had invited.

  Jenna forced the disquieting memory aside.

  “And this one,” she said, point
ing to the last name on the list. “The Marquess of Fullmont. I’m sure I’ve never heard her mention him.”

  “Is that all?” Jack asked, avoiding providing any information regarding this guest.

  “Yes,” she said giving the list another glance to make sure she hadn’t missed anyone. She went back to the last name she’d given him. “Who is he?” she asked when she found she wanted more information on the guest Jack seemed intent on avoiding. That mere fact told her Jack knew something that might be important.

  “No one who matters,” he answered in a tone that seemed carefully modulated.

  “Why don’t I believe that?”

  “Because you’re very skeptical,” he offered.

  “And in this case, you don’t trust me enough to answer my question?”

  “Trust has nothing to do with it.”

  “Then this will be the first topic between us where trust isn’t an issue.”

  Jack hesitated a moment then turned in resignation to face her. “The Marquess of Fullmont is known to associate only with the most select circles in London. He sports a reputation for having an uncanny ability in all business matters. He also has a reputation for being quite ruthless.”

  Jenna thought this last statement was the most important. “How is Eleanor associated with him?”

  “I’m not sure whether she is. Brackston, however, is rumored to be connected.”

  “He’s involved in a business venture with Fullmont?”

  “That is the speculation. As to why he’s invited to our betrothal ball is an unanswered question.”

  Jenna thought this newest information over. It puzzled her that a business acquaintance of Eleanor’s brother should garner an invitation but Jack didn’t seem to know the answer either. It was a puzzle not to be ignored.

  “Do you have any names you’d like added to the list?”

  Jenna was surprised when Jack reached inside his jacket and produced a piece of paper.

  “There are only a few names on my list—a couple of friends, my father’s two sisters and their husbands, and my godmother on my mother’s side. I don’t want to think of the repercussions from any of them if they weren’t invited to meet my future wife before the wedding.”

  “I know that it’s important to pretend—”