On deck, Devlin was in his glory. Sword drawn, he fought at Nate’s back, as was their customary arrangement, to protect each other from an unseen rear attack. All around them, their comrades did likewise. With relentless determination, and his usual nimble skill, he swiftly dispatched several brigands on their merry way to hell. All the while, even as he dueled with remarkable finesse, he was anxiously awaiting the arrival of his archrival, the captain of the lead attacking ship.
Even as changed in appearance as Swift was, after near-death on that deserted island, and the lengthy interval since they’d last parted, Devlin had immediately recognized him at the helm of the enemy ship. Half-prepared though he’d been, it had still come as a shock to see his old foe alive—to view that familiar flat-mashed nose, those same thick, sneering lips that had cursed and taunted him for so long, and those piercing, deep-set gray eyes that had never failed to make Devlin think of slimy creatures slithering from a grave. Evil oozed from this man, who had reveled in the most dastardly deeds known to mankind, who had gleefully dragged innocent men and boys into his rancid web of sin—capturing them and forcing them to his will by means of whips and chains, starvation and keelhauling, until they eventually bent to his bidding. Devlin knew his day would not be complete until he and his nemesis met face-to-face in a final, deadly confrontation.
At this very moment, Swift was edging toward Nate’s blind side. Not that the quartermaster could have done much to prevent it, had he been aware of the approaching danger. He was fending off an opponent from his front, trusting Devlin to protect his back.
As he watched Swift’s approach, Devlin’s smile was diabolical. The sneaking bastard was in for a rude awakening, one Devlin was only too glad to provide! Quickly, he dispatched his own adversary, just in time to prevent Swift’s sword from striking at Nate from behind. With righteous anger, Devlin met the man’s thrust with his own. Their swords clashed in midair.
Devlin laughed aloud. “Come on, you spineless cur!” he roared. “If ’tis a fight with the Devil you seek, you’ve damned well found it!”
Swift’s sunken eyes went wide with surprise at hearing Devlin’s voice resounding from beneath the fearsome black hood before him. “Thought ye’d seen the last of me, didn’t ye, lad?” he jeered, recovering quickly. “Ye always were a hasty pup, and too squeamish for yer own good. Now ye’ll pay for that failing, and for those endless months I spent marooned on that little spit of worthless sand.”
Swift slid his blade free, only to have his next lunge met more forcefully than the last. “Did ye know I feasted on Dobbs’s flesh for a week?” he taunted further. “Sucked his skinny bones dry, I did. And I’ll do the same with yers.”
Though Swift’s words revolted him, as they were intended to, Devlin kept his head, concentrating all his efforts and his anger into his sword arm. Assuming the offensive, he flashed his blade forward in a series of furious thrusts that left his aging opponent no more time or breath for talk. Though Swift somehow managed to parry a number of the masterful blows Devlin leveled at him, he could not keep the pace for long. Soon he sported several small wounds, courtesy of Devlin’s superior skill. Then, inevitably, Devlin’s steel found its mark, driving deep into Swift’s right shoulder. The man dropped his sword, grabbed at his wound, and stumbled to his knees before Devlin’s hooded gaze.
Suddenly the moment of Devlin’s absolute triumph was upon him. At last he would collect his full revenge for his lost youth, his forfeited dreams, all the agony he had endured at his former captor’s hands. He drew back his sword for the single, deadly thrust that would pierce Swift’s heinous heart and send his black soul to everlasting perdition.
But at that exact moment, before he could deal Swift the final, fatal blow, Eden’s frantic screams resounded over the clamor of the ongoing battle. Despite knowing he should never look away from an opponent until the contest was completed, well aware that he was breaking a primary rule of successful swordsmanship, Devlin jerked his gaze from his cowering prey and searched for Eden in the mad melee.
“There!” Nate shouted, waving his sword in the direction of the lower deck. She was being dragged before a burly seaman, a knife held to her throat. Two more grinning accomplices followed close behind, their flashing cutlasses successfully holding her would-be saviors at bay.
Devlin turned back, intending to quickly finish the task before him and rush immediately to Eden’s aid. To his profound shock and dismay, he discovered that Swift had seen his chance to escape and managed, miraculously, to crawl away. He was now being aided over the rail by two of his crewmen.
“We’ll meet again, Kane!” the man threatened. “I’ll hound ye till yer dying day!”
Cursing softly, Devlin raised his sword in answer. “If you survive your wounds, Swift. May they putrefy and kill you slowly!”
At his back, newly engaged with yet another foe, Nate yelled, “Go, Dev! Save Eden! I can fend for me-self! The lass can’t!”
Devlin’s feet could not carry him rapidly enough. Spying a line close by, the far end of which was attached to a spar of the mainmast near where Eden now struggled, Devlin hacked it loose. Taking only enough time to secure his sword at his side, he grabbed the line with both hands and launched himself from the quarterdeck. Feet first, he soared downward like an avenging angel, knocking several men aside as he went. The last of these were the two rogues guarding Eden’s captor. They went sprawling, and were quickly set upon by their eager enemies.
Devlin landed with a thud little more than an arm’s length from Eden and the fellow who held her. Never had he seen her eyes so wide with fear, her face so white. Yet, when he appeared so suddenly before her, a glimmer of faith was immediately born in her tearful face. That simple confidence that he would save her sent a lump to Devlin’s throat. Even as she stood there, her life in peril, she believed in him completely.
In all his days, Devlin had never been as humbled by a mere look, or as frightened as he was at this moment. Her captor’s blade was a hairsbreadth from her slender neck. One slip of the man’s foot, one errant bump against his elbow, and Eden’s life could end horribly.
In that instant, as he gazed into her trusting eyes, Devlin knew the truth he’d been denying for so long. He loved this woman, with all his heart and soul. He loved her quiet beauty, her dauntless spirit, the very essence of her being—and he would gladly give his life to spare hers, if need be. Hopefully, such sacrifice would not be required of either of them this day.
As Eden’s captor watched, a taunting grin on his broad, flat face, Devlin whipped his hat from his head and sent it sailing. The man laughed, but his evil cackle caught on a horrified gasp as Devlin’s hood followed suit, revealing no head beneath the black cloth. In that moment, while the man stood immobilized by fear, Devlin grabbed his forearm and pried it, and the threatening knife, away from Eden’s throat. She stumbled free, her skirts tripping her as she tried to run. She tumbled to the deck, struggling to regain her legs beneath her.
No sooner had she fallen than Devlin was jostled from behind, two combatants crashing into him. One of Eden’s flailing feet caught his, further eroding his precarious balance. Devlin staggered forward, his body thrown against that of Eden’s attacker, their arms and the knife caught between them.
The man’s agonized scream reverberated in Devlin’s ears so loudly it might have been his own. When he found his footing and stepped back, he beheld his opponent stuck fast to the mast behind him, impaled on the very knife he’d held against Eden.
Behind Devlin, at his feet, Eden gagged. A hasty look around them assured him that the battle was won, that he could safely attend to Eden without imperiling the lives of his mates. With the ragged remnants of his crew, Swift was escaping in one sloop, the grappling lines severed and the ships drifting further apart with every surge of the sea. The second enemy ship, which had sustained the most damage in the opening exchange, was being left behind, forfeited to the victors.
Even now, Nate was capably directing
the removal of dead bodies from the deck, ordering the confinement of several prisoners, and recruiting aid for the remarkably few members of the Gai Mer’s crew who had been wounded—none fatally, so it appeared. They had been extraordinarily fortunate, and would all live to fight again—perhaps to meet Swift at another time, another place, for an even more momentous conquest.
As gently as possible, Devlin hauled Eden to her feet and guided her toward the nearest rail, lending support while she relieved her stomach of its contents. When she had heaved her last, he gathered her trembling body into his arms and carried her back to his quarters. His cabin door hung crookedly on bent hinges, but he succeeded in shoving it shut again, affording them the privacy they required.
“ ’Tis done with, love,” he crooned as he bent over her. She was curled into a ball on the bed, her knees drawn up to her chest, sobbing as if she would never stop. His big hand stroked her hair. “There’s naught to fear now, sweetling. You’re safe.”
“I ... I know!” she said, hiccuping. “I ... you saved me. I knew you would. I ... just can’t s-seem to stop sh-shaking.”
Gathering her back into his arms, he held her, rocking her. Her hands were like ice, while her cheeks were flushed with vivid heat. “Oh, Devlin!” she wailed, throwing her arms about his waist and burying her face against his chest. “I’ve never seen such carnage! Until you appeared to rescue me, I’ve never been so scared! Not even when Tilton was choking me!”
“Tell me, Eden. Tell me all of it. Let it free, lest it grow in your mind and fester there.”
“Those men! They beat the door down! I thought if I stayed in ... I’d be safe ... The door was barred ... My shot missed.” She was stammering and crying, her words all but incoherent, yet he heard within his heart what she was trying to tell him. “They grabbed me, and they were going to . . . but they had no time, and thought it better to take me to their ship. They wanted to ... to ...”
“I know, sweet. I know what they intended. Just assure me they did not harm you, for I’ll never forgive myself if they did.”
“Nay,” she confirmed. Then she scrubbed at her lips with her fist, as if to negate her claim. “God! I can still feel the horror of those lips on mine! And their hands clutching at me ... at my clothes!”
Devlin stiffened. “Eden, the truth now, on your honor. Did those men violate you? Did they do more than kiss you and grab at you?”
“Nay. I swear it. But I still feel so dirty, as if their slightest touch has defiled me.”
“Then let me make you clean again,” he said softly. “Let me take away the memory of their touch, and replace it with my own.”
Slowly he peeled away her clothes, taking the utmost care not to upset her further. His hands stroked tenderly, his touch as light as the brush of an angel’s wings. His lips whispered over her bared flesh in a lover’s promise.
When at last she lay naked before him, her quivering somewhat abated, he fetched soap and water, and began to bathe her. He applied the damp cloth gently, thoroughly, his intent not to excite but to soothe, to make her feel cleansed and treasured. On the side of one breast, he saw the violet shadow of a bruise arising, and for a moment he wished he could kill the man who had put it there. But the man was already dead, and could not be slain twice. Shoving such thoughts from his mind, he reminded himself that this was not the time for contemplating revenge. It was a time for cherishing the woman he loved.
Like a loving parent attempting to ease a child’s pain, he placed a petal-soft kiss over that bruise, and others he discovered—on her arm, her throat, her fragile jaw. Her lips were slightly swollen, either from brutal advances or the scrubbing she’d administered, and he took extreme care not to abrade them further. No part of her, from head to toe, escaped his healing touch. Even her hair received his attentions as he relieved it of its pins and gently combed it through his fingers.
By this time, Eden’s eyelids were beginning to droop, the adventures of the day taking their final toll. Yet, when he would have wrapped her in a thin blanket and left her to rest, she objected.
“Nay, Devlin.” Throwing her arms about his neck, she refused to let him go so easily. “Please. Stay with me. Lie with me. Love me.”
Though he’d never been particularly intuitive to a woman’s emotional state, Devlin realized she needed this comfort. Despite her recent fright, she seemed to crave his reassurance, to know that she was still desirable to him. But this, too, he must achieve through a delicate wooing. This could be no rough-and-tumble mating, the seeking of fleshly pleasures before all else.
Easing himself down beside her, Devlin drew her into the haven of his arms. For long minutes, he did no more than caress her, murmuring sweetly to her between lingering kisses. He thought perhaps this might be enough for her for now, that if she were to relax sufficiently, she would soon drift into slumber.
But Eden had other intentions. It was she who thrust her tongue into his mouth, seeking to deepen their kisses. She who drew him more tightly into her embrace, who rubbed her slender limbs over his so enticingly. She who brought her breasts to his lips, a tantalizing offering. And she who shamelessly undressed him and took him in hand, stroking the silken length of him to rigid attention.
All of Devlin’s best intentions took wing. His mouth, his hands, became more demanding than he’d meant for them to be. But Eden was just as eager, urging him on, meeting him move for move. Her fright at the hands of her assailants had long since burned to ashes in the flame of their mounting desire, and when he came over her, into her, she was ready for him, her body welcoming his.
As one, they climbed the golden stairs, each step taking them higher, further than they’d ever gone before. For a timeless, breathless moment, they stood poised on the brink of eternity, the world spinning dizzily around them. Then they plunged over the crest together, falling, crying out, clinging tightly as rapture claimed them, enshrouding them in the shining folds of its resplendent robes.
She slept peacefully afterward, her arms still about him. It was some time before Devlin had the heart to leave her, and only then because ship’s business demanded his attention. There were crewmen awaiting his orders, the wounded to tend, prisoners to question, punishments to mete out—and, thankfully, Eden awaiting him when these gruesome tasks were done.
Eden’s grand scheme had come to an end, and now she was at a loss as to what to do about it. With Devlin unbound and once more in command of the Gai Mer, circumstances were drastically altered. She cornered Nate and asked, “Are we still headed for New Providence? Or has Devlin redirected the ship in search of those pirates who attacked us?”
Before her future stepfather could answer, Devlin appeared behind her as silently as a big cat With a low growl to match, and a taunting smile, he purred softly into her ear, “I’ll have plenty of time later to catch up with Swift, my precious pet. At the moment, Nate is more determined to gain his pardon, so he can rush home and wed your mother.”
Her relief was so evident that he had to laugh. “Still hoping to reform me before we get there, Eden? Ah, but you do have a problem with that now, don’t you? No longer can you dangle such tempting rewards beneath my nose, like a carrot before a donkey, the ultimate prize for my agreement. You shall have to think of some other means to gain my consent but having given all to the cause, what is left for you to offer? What more could I possibly desire that I’ve not already gleaned?”
Fortunately, Nate had wandered off, allotting them their privacy, for which Eden was profoundly grateful. With no audience to hear their words, she faced Devlin squarely, her chin tilted at an imperious angle, her eyes assessing him. “Have you ever had a mistress, Devlin?” she asked with feigned calm.
Devlin nearly swallowed his tongue. Of all the things he might have expected her to say, this was the last “A mistress?” he echoed stupidly.
“You do know what I’m talking about don’t you?” she persisted with a too-sweet smile. “At various times, I believe they have been called paramou
rs, pillow friends, companions, amorata, lovers. Of course, they all mean much the same thing.” Again she posed her question. “Have you ever had one?”
“Nay.” His eyes narrowed speculatively. “Why do you ask?”
“Would you like one?”
“Come to the point, Eden. Are you suggesting such an arrangement between us?”
“If you want After all, we are more than slightly familiar with one another now, and there is no longer the matter of my virtue to consider. Also, we have fairly well determined that I am not a curse to your ship or your crew, so that is no longer an issue. I would be able to travel with you, wherever you go, should you decide to keep sailing.”
His smile was sardonic. “In return for your continuing favors, I would be expected to apply for pardon, I assume?”
“Most assuredly.”
“And what if I decline your gracious offer?”
“If, by the time we reach New Providence, you do not decide to plea for amnesty ... how shall I put it? The cow will cease to give milk.”
“Aptly phrased. However, you have neglected a major factor. What if I choose to keep the ‘cow,’ whether she wishes to stay or not? Given her sensual nature, I’m sure I can convince her to give milk again, and still not have to pay the price for it. In other words, my haughty duchess, I could simply keep you captive, and have my wicked way with you all I wish.”
“You think so?” she challenged.
“I know so.”
She gave a careless shrug. “Mayhap, but what would be the fun of it then, having to force me each and every time, when I have offered myself to you willingly, if only you agree to my terms?”
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