“Devlin!” she rasped. “Oh! Stop, or I’ll surely swoon!”
“Don’t do that, pet,” he answered on a hushed chuckle, “or you’ll miss the best part.”
Whatever she expected next, it was not his hand covering her mound, his fingers sifting through the thick brown nest that guarded her most private parts, then separating the velvet folds in tender, seeking discovery.
“God, love!” he exclaimed softly. “You feel like hot,. wet satin. I could burst just touching you.”
Eden felt as if she already had. All of her thoughts, her senses, seemed to scatter, only to promptly converge on Devlin and where he was caressing her so intimately. His mouth claimed her breast once more, and the combined sensations made her cry out in wonder and alarm. He stroked, he pressed, and everywhere he touched, her body pulsated with tingling flames.
The tip of one finger probed at the portal to her most special feminine place, seeking entrance into her body. At the very moment it pushed into her, his mouth gave a sharp pull on her breast, and Eden’s world shattered. Her eyes flew wide in awe, as rainbows seemed to dance over her head. Her body stiffened and quivered like a hunter’s bow from which the arrow had just been released. Then, at the height of this magical, mystical phenomenon, Eden gave a queer little shriek and went limp in Devlin’s arms.
It took a moment for Devlin to realize what had happened, and when he did, he wasn’t sure whether to be offended or merely surprised. The wench had actually fainted!
With his own body still throbbing to the point of bursting, he gave a rueful laugh. Well, she’d certainly left him in a fine fix, hadn’t she? That he probably deserved it was beside the point. However, he now had two choices left to him, neither of which held much appeal. He could either take her while she lay unconscious and unknowing beneath him, little better than a warm corpse, or he could put her to bed, in virginal solitude, and take himself off to the bay for a cool swim.
Deciding to be a gentleman for once in his life, he carried her to the bed, quickly stripped her down to her chemise, and tossed the bed sheet over her. “Another time, duchess,” he promised with a wry chuckle and a shake of his head. “You won’t always elude me so easily. Nay, I’ll have my satisfaction yet, so rest well and gather your defenses, love, for surely you are going to need them.”
Chapter 16
Eden’s prickly attitude did not take an immediate change for the better, at least not until her embarrassment over the intimate activities she and Devlin had engaged in had begun to abate. Even then, there were moments when her wayward mind would suddenly wander back, and she would mentally relive those stolen kisses, those heated caresses—and her body would burn anew with forbidden desire, her face flaming with telltale color.
Perversely, this always seemed to occur when Devlin was present to witness her discomfort, and he never failed to give her a shrewd smile or a knowing wink. The hateful wretch! Under his watchful eye, she began to feel like a mouse being stalked by a huge cat. A big, beautiful golden cat, with velvet paws and an agile tongue and a lean muscled body. Gadzooks! What spell had the man cast upon her? She could scarcely dare to look in his direction, lest she begin to pant like a bitch in heat!
Hers was not the only strange reaction occurring these days, however. Of course, no one seemed to notice it at first, but one afternoon shortly after Blackbeard’s departure, Jane suddenly became aware that Devlin’s image was prone to linger for a few minutes after he and Eden had ceased touching each other. Always before, the instant they had broken contact, he had disappeared immediately.
Devlin was ecstatic with this new development. “Mayhap ’tis a sign that I’ll soon be restored completely,” he suggested. “Ah, to be normal again! ’Twould be bliss!”
“That may take some time yet,” Eden warned, wondering why the idea of Devlin’s recovery did not thrill her as much as it should. After all, consorting with a ghost was not the most convenient arrangement, and once he had his full self back, she would not need to be constantly tied to his coattails. They could both get back to their normal lives then.
And Devlin would leave. He would have no more need of her. Off he would sail, with hardly a thought of her.
Therein lay the cause of Eden’s downheartedness. Not only had she become accustomed to having the arrogant beast practically shackled to her, but in these past weeks, she had truly come to love him. Ironically, Eden’s words of warning to her mother had now come home to roost at her own doorstep. Nor was this a simple case of desire, though there was that also. She honestly loved him, with her whole being. When he left, as he surely would, her heart would be shattered, her entire life destroyed. Of this she was certain, and she could not look forward to it without being filled with dread.
On the other hand, the longer he stayed, the more he was around her, the better chance she had of convincing him to remain in Charles Town. Already he had insinuated himself into the fabric of their lives, and she knew he must care for her in some way. Obviously, he admired her mother, and Jane returned the affection. Besides, there was more to his life now than piracy; he was part owner of the warehouse and seemed to enjoy overseeing the work there.
If only the day would come when he would give up his hopes of returning to the sea, to that carefree outlaw life he’d had before. If only he loved her enough to stay. Not only for her sake, but for her mother’s, because when Devlin sailed away, Nate would go too— and there would be two brokenhearted women left behind to weep and live on memories for the remainder of their lives.
Eden shook her head, berating herself for such fantasies. And what good would it do her if Devlin were to set down roots in Charles Town if he remained a phantom? Even were he to stay, to declare his love for her, what kind of life could they actually have together? How could they marry? How could they function as normal families did, if she had always to be at hand in order for him to be visible to others? How would they ever have children—if it were possible even to conceive a child from a man who was half-spirit? And, if it were, how would they explain Devlin’s invisibility to their children, and manage to keep the fact hidden from everyone else all the while?
No, even as Devlin’s condition was the only thing that truly kept him here now, it also stood between them—an impossible obstacle. Either way, she was bound to lose him eventually. She could only hope that the day would not come too quickly.
Eden soon had more to worry about than the consequences of Devlin’s invisibility, or the duration of his stay. In spite of the additional security which had been posted in and around the warehouse since her office had been ransacked, yet another midnight incident occurred. This time it was a theft of goods in the warehouse itself, specifically of Devlin’s cargo. Fortunately, very little was taken, since the guards discovered the theft soon after it began.
“There were five of ’em,” Nate reported, having gathered the information from the guards. “Our fellows didn’t get a good-enough look at any of ’em to be able to identify ’em, though. The minute they knew they’d been discovered, they run like rabbits, scatterin’ goods all over the place as they went. One thing was mighty peculiar, if ye ask me. As dark as it was, all of those thievin’ arses seemed to know their way around the inside of the warehouse like it was the back o’ their hands. And that’s probably the only reason they managed to get away like they done.”
Devlin nodded. “Most likely, they were former employees. Tilton and his men.” Devlin was searching the area himself, trying to find any evidence the men might have left behind. “Have you noticed that none of the doors show signs of being forced open, and that none of the windows are broken?” he asked with a thoughtful frown. ‘That leads me to believe that someone, probably Tilton, still has the keys to the locks.”
“But, Devlin, you saw the man hand them over to me in the office the day I dismissed him,” Eden commented.
“Aye. But who’s to say he didn’t have a second set made for himself, or for Finster, at any time during his employ? Sinc
e he was the manager of the place, no one would have questioned it if he’d professed to need them.”
“Well, isn’t this just a fine kettle of fish!” she exclaimed in disgust, her small fists atop her hips. “If the man can come and go as he pleases, so conveniently and quietly, what’s to keep him from picking the entire warehouse as clean as a bone some night?”
Devlin grinned down at her, thinking she looked for all the world like a spirited, feather-ruffled hen. “For one thing, we’re going to hire a locksmith and replace all the locks. If they have to force their way in next time, chances are the guards will hear the racket and be able to catch them sooner. And once we have one of them, we’ll quickly have the others, for I doubt any of them are being paid well enough to take the blame alone. He’ll squeal louder than a stuck hog.”
Meanwhile, someone else was back to squealing his own tune. Dudley Finster was out to malign Devlin in any way he could, which mostly consisted of telling anyone who would listen what untrustworthy curs all pirates, and Devlin in particular, were. Not that everyone was listening to the mouthy little accountant. By now, most of them were well aware that jealousy was likely prompting his pique. Still, it was a sore point with Devlin and his crew, and to Eden and her mother.
Finster’s latest verbal ammunition had to do with the recent theft at the warehouse. It was particularly galling that Finster, who was probably masterminding the scheme from behind the scenes, was now pointing his finger at Devlin. He was loudly heralding “that unscrupulous jackal” as the culprit, claiming Devlin was trying to disguise his true purpose behind a thin cloak of respectability.
“Well, if that ain’t the pot callin’ the kettle black!” Nate declared. “Someone ought to stick a rotten apple in that nasty shoat’s mouth and roast him over a pit! Ye just say the word, Dev, an’ me and the mates’ll take care o’ this problem for ye.”
Devlin shook his head. “Not just yet, Nate. I’m thinking I’d like to have myself a bit of fun with this fellow first. The kind of pranks a ghost does best, if you take my meaning. If I could set the fear of the Devil into Blackbeard, why, I imagine I’ll hardly work up a sweat spiking Finster’s puny guns.”
Jane nodded her agreement. “I ask only that you keep the bloodshed to a minimum, if you please, and not drag our good name into the mess while you’re about it.”
“Mama!” Eden was aghast. “What a thing to say!”
“Now, daughter, don’t be such a faint-heart. Can you honestly stand there and tell me, after all that man has put you through, that you don’t want to see him get a bit of his own dirt shoveled back into his face?”
“No, but I would hope the matter could be resolved in a more peaceful fashion than by breaking bones and shedding blood. Thief he might be, but he hasn’t physically harmed anyone.”
“Not yet,” Devlin put in. “And I promise to conduct this mission of revenge in the most politic way possible. Does that satisfy your sense of propriety, duchess?”
She turned her nose up at him. “I won’t know that until I see the result, will I?”
Devlin’s first opportunity to put his plot against Finster into effect came the following afternoon. He’d just returned from his ship and was sauntering down the street in search of Eden and her mother. The two women had gone shopping for sewing materials and feminine furbelows, and since his own business hadn’t required that he be seen, they’d gone their separate ways. With his personal errands accomplished, Devlin now thought he’d pop in on them and lend a hand with their purchases.
He’d just peered through the window of a small tea shop and spotted them at one of the tables when who should appear at his shoulder but Dudley Finster. Unseen as he was, Devlin watched as Finster mimicked his own actions. However, upon seeing the Winters women inside, Dudley did not immediately enter the shop. Rather, with a tight-lipped smirk, he continued down the street, where he entered a dusty establishment which dealt in books.
Curious, Devlin followed, entering the store so close behind him that the bell over the door chimed but once. He watched silently as Finster selected a book of poetry. “Is this a proper book of verse for a lady?” he questioned the proprietor.
“Indeed, and quite pleased she should be to receive it, too. I’ve only these two copies of it, and the other is already promised to Reverend Johnston for his dear wife.”
“I’ll take it.” Finster counted out the proper amount and left the store, looking pleased.
Devlin didn’t need to be a prophet to know that he’d bought the book for Eden, and most likely intended to give it to her immediately. As soon as the proprietor’s back was turned, Devlin snatched up the remaining volume and stuffed it beneath his shirt. His fingers were on the door handle when he stopped short. Damn! Why had his conscience begun to plague him so relentlessly of late, when it had been so conveniently quiet for the past decade or more? Hurriedly, he dug into his pocket for the price of the book, tossed the coins behind him, and ran from the store.
Devlin dashed into the tea shop, fast on Finster’s heels. He arrived at the table just in time to see Finster extend the book to Eden. Pushing up close to her, with his back to Finster, Devlin whipped his own volume from his shirt and dropped it into Eden’s lap.
For all the confusion of the moment, Eden kept her head. As did Jane, who had seen the second book emerge from thin air. She watched with avid anticipation as Eden glanced first at the book, then up at Devlin, and then to the book Finster was yet holding out to her, an impish light dawning in her eyes.
“Why, Mr. Finster, I do believe you’ve purchased the exact volume of poetry I already own,” she cooed, retrieving the book from her skirts and holding it aloft for his perusal. “Amazing, isn’t it, that two people as different as you and I should select the same reading material?”
Devlin’s smile grew as Finster’s face fell. “But... uh, how ...”the man blustered. “The clerk at the bookstore swore that he had only two copies left, this and one reserved for Henrietta Johnston.”
Eden gave him a simpering smile. “Then I do hope you enjoy the author’s work, since it appears to be at such a premium, sir. If not, perhaps you can return it and have your money refunded to you.”
“And I hope Henrietta gets her copy before it disappears entirely,” Jane interposed wryly, spearing a stern look toward Devlin, or where she supposed he was standing.
Not content to be so easily defeated, Finster dredged up a thin smile. “Again, I seem to have chosen my gift unwisely. Will you let me make up for it by buying the two of you another cup of tea?” Without awaiting their consent, he promptly seated himself at Eden’s side and motioned for the serving girl.
While Finster was thus diverted, Eden cast a quick look at Devlin, who wagged his brows at her, grinned, and nodded. In turn, Eden gave a slight signal to her mother. “That would be most kind of you, Mr. Finster,” she answered belatedly.
When the fresh pot of tea was delivered, Eden poured each of them a cup of the steaming brew. Then she and Jane sat back and waited.
As Finster tried to chip a bit of sugar from the sugar cone, cone and spoon went sailing through the air. As luck would have it, the weighty cone bounced off of a neighboring patron’s bald head, nearly knocking the poor man senseless. The fellow’s portly wife was the recipient of the flying spoon, which landed in her cup and splattered tea from her hat to her mighty bosom.
The couple’s yowls were heard throughout the shop, and every head turned to witness the lady rising from her seat, a-drip with tea and as enraged as a bull. With narrowed eyes, and a threatening scowl, she glanced about for the culprit, while Finster did his best to appear innocent and insignificant.
The formidable woman was not to be denied, and Eden was perfectly willing to oblige her in her search. In a voice that carried to the four walls, Eden wailed, “Oh, Mr. Finster! How perfectly clumsy of you! Just see what you have done!”
Those terrible, fiery eyes leveled themselves on Finster, and he literally shrank down in his
seat. With a bellow that would put a charging elephant to shame, the woman grabbed up her parasol and lunged toward him.
Finster ducked the first swing, but the second whacked him squarely upon the head. The third sent his chair toppling out from under him; the fourth caught him aside the ribs. The next few minutes were complete havoc as Finster scuttled crablike toward the entrance under a continual rain of blows, fellow patrons hooting with laughter and hastily making way. Dudley was last seen limping down the street toward the doctor’s office, one arm shielding his head and the other wrapped around his ribs.
Eden was among the many people in the tea shop who wiped tears of mirth from their faces. “Land’s sake, but that was a sight to see!”
Devlin, who in the midst of the fracas had slipped behind a screen with Eden, grabbed hold of her arm, and become visible without notice, righted Finster’s empty chair and joined the ladies. “I had no idea ’twould turn out so well,” he told them, still chuckling. “I swear, that old harridan swings her parasol like a battle-ax! I wonder if I could persuade her to join my crew.”
“I’d like to know where she bought such a stout sunshade,” Jane piped in.
“I was under the distinct impression you would sooner be boiled in oil than allow a woman aboard your ship,” Eden said, wrinkling her nose at him.
“True,” he agreed. “Damned inconvenient at times, but true.”
Eden shook her head mockingly. “I despair of you, Devlin. Verily, I do. Your silly, superstitious nature will be the end of you. I’ve seen you step into the street to avoid walking under a ladder, knock on wooden objects to ensure good fortune, and thrown salt over your shoulder if you accidentally spill it. Why, I declare you would have turned purple if that lady had opened her parasol indoors.”
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