Sensation

by Thea Devine

  Owww .. . Emily, leading the way in the darkness. There was soft diffused light ahead of him, though, the wine room as he re­membered. And the scent of smoke thicker here.

  He pushed open the door.

  He saw bodies; he saw Angilee.

  Five bodies on the floor. Angilee, naked, sobbing, cradling one of them ...

  He made a sound, and she looked up, her face blurred with tears.

  "Help him."

  He ignored the rest, and ripped off his jacket and covered her, and then knelt beside Zabel to feel for a pulse, a movement, any sign of life.

  Zabel's eyes opened just for a moment. "Oh, it's you." There was so much blood. Kyger ripped his shirt and stuffed it against the wound.

  "So Lujan wins." Zabel coughed out the words.

  "Lujan could be dead," Kyger said tersely. "And Wroth, and their whole damned plot to turn Wroth into another Tony Venable. Hold still."

  He pressed harder against the wound as Zabel coughed again, or maybe he was laughing.

  "You fool." He barely got the words out. "Not Wroth." He coughed again. "It was Lujan they were grooming. Lujan who believed all that Venable crap, Lujan who wanted it more than life ... so he killed him—he killed Venable ..." He spit up again. "Your brother—he had that power ... power—and everyone liked him ... not like Wroth ..."

  Kyger remembered: all those men in high government positions with whom Lujan had been acquainted... how it had stunned him. He was stunned now. Or not, knowing what he knew.

  But Lujan—the political savior the Tony Venable faction was waiting for, praying for? Lujan, the enforcer for the Sacred Seven? Oh, God, dear God .. .

  "He's not dead," Zabel said suddenly, clearly. "You'll see—"

  What?

  But Zabel was gone, his head lolling against Angilee's naked breast, and her tears washing away all of his sins.

  And Jancie was gone, vanished off the face of the earth, as far as Kyger could tell, as he ransacked the house looking for her. Even Angilee.didn't know—just that she'd burst into the wine cel­lar, blasting away until everybody was down on the ground, had unchained Angilee, and together, they had seen to Zabel, know­ing already that it was too late.

  "And then she left. She said she had to go. She said Emily would stay with us, and she would come back for her—some­day." Angilee was dressed now, in some of Jancie's clothes, and somewhat more composed.

  It had been a harrowing afternoon. All those deaths, and the revelation that the four other men were men of distinction and worth—all brethren—Haverdene, Beddington ... every percep­tion of them smashed in the face of the profanity of what they had been about to do to Angilee.

  And then, the anguished Mrs. Ancrum coming back to Waybury with the news that Gaunt, whom she had brought for a visit to the Elsberrys, had totally disappeared, and they couldn't find him anywhere, and they searched for hours.

  "Miss Jancie came and took him," Kyger assured her.

  "I don't know that, I can't know that, and what will I tell her if she comes back and he's not here?"

  "I'll tell her. I know she came and took him." Owww, Emily said. Listen to him.

  Emily's assurance didn't lessen the tension, however, and there was so much to be done, the authorities called, the explanations, the interrogations, none of which satisfied the inspectors. And then, the disposition of the bodies which were taken back to London.

  The end of the story.

  If it ever got public, it would be a sensation.

  But what was the end of the story?

  Even Kyger didn't know. He did know they were not staying at Waybury any longer than these three days, and accordingly the following morning, he called for a carriage, and they went back to London, with Emily cuddled in Angilee's lap.

  "She left Emily for me," Angilee whispered.

  Mrroww. Yes she did, Emily affirmed.

  They drove past the ruins of the town house, which was a mass of stone, brick and smoldering debris. That beautiful, beau­tiful building—

  "More questions about that," Kyger murmured. There would never be an end to it, and maybe this was Lujan's legacy—that he would never be rid of him, that Lujan would always haunt him, always be a part of his life, always on the edges waiting to strike.

  The house was on Belgrave Square. Angilee felt reassured by that, but not by the notion that she now was a very wealthy woman. They could rebuild the house; they could go anywhere in the world to get away from everything that had happened.

  Funny she was thinking in terms of they ...

  Or she could divorce him as she had originally planned and live her life the way she wanted to.

  She didn't know what she wanted to do.

  She wanted to go to the flat she had rented. Her business in London. How ironic that seemed now.

  When Kyger halted the carriage in front of the building, she felt as if she had lived there a lifetime ago. Kyger helped her out, and she walked up the steps slowly. "Don't come in."

  "Why is that?"

  "This is another chapter in my life I have to close," she said,

  but in truth it was because she thought Mrs. Geddes might still be

  there.

  She mounted the steps reluctantly. Stopped. Thought to call Kyger, and then didn't. Knocked on her own apartment door. Waited. Heard noise behind the door, a scurrying, and then the door was opened.

  "Well," Mrs. Geddes said. "It's about time. I'm leaving."

  "I should hope so," Angilee said.

  "Wroth is dead you know—it was in the papers. They found his body in the Galliard town house."

  Why was Mrs. Geddes telling her this? "Did they?" Why was she feeling so strange about her?

  "So the thing is, he owes me a lot of money."

  "Does he? How is that, Mrs. Geddes?"

  "Why, he set it up so that you would hire me, of course, and paid me to keep an eye on you and make sure you didn't accept a proposal from any other man."

  Angilee's heart went reeling. "Did he? How clever of him. How nice he's dead and out of my life. How do you figure that I owe you anything?"

  "Well—you're a rich woman now. Really rich. And I know where some bodies are buried."

  What an awful rat of a woman. How could she have hired her, trusted her . .. this was such a nightmare ... "I'm certain you do, Mrs. Geddes, but I think we're finished here. You've had free rent for many weeks. I'm certain you've ransacked my belongings and taken whatever is of worth there. And it may well be you've found my money, and so with all of that—as of this moment, you're trespassing on my property, and if I call the authorities, I will accuse you of theft—you can be certain that I'm the one who will be believed..."

  "Well, when did you get claws and a backbone . .. very well, Miss Rosslyn. You may or may not be correct in your assump­tions, but I'll leave. Just be aware I'll always be here . .. watch-ing..."

  And she took her hat, she took her suitcase which was at the ready at her feet, she took her coat, and she marched down the steps in high dudgeon.

  Angilee closed the door. Went downstairs. Found the landlady and paid her a month's additional rent.

  And then she closed the door on that part of this awful night-

  mare.

  Angilee insisted they go to Claridge's and stay in Zabel's suite rather than try to find rooms in one of the hotels that were crowding up in anticipation of the Queen's Jubilee. And that in spite of the fact that Kyger had been told that Zabel was not reg­istered.

  "No. Not possible. Watch me." She approached the desk. Introduced herself as Zabel's daughter. Explained the situation, which was that her brand-new husband had been mistakenly told that her father was not registered at the hotel, which had to be a great big mistake, because he was paying great big money for that great big suite he'd rented in February, a month before they'd even come.

  The clerk was wary; there were a hundred stories from a hun­dred people desperately trying to find a room for the upcoming festivities,

&n
bsp; "Well, something must have changed. I need to see the man­ager, please. It may be that my father owes this hotel thousands and thousands of dollars because you see—he ..."

  Thousands of dollars was a language that everyone under­stood. The clerk immediately felt he had an obligation to investi­gate Miss Rosslyn's claim and called the manager, and together they went through the records and ultimately found, buried in the paperwork of a hundred other confirmations, a record of her fa­ther's reservation, his check, a letter detailing everything he wished to have ready on his arrival, and a note from him latterly, asking that the reservation be switched into another name.

  Ah.

  Her mother's name, Angilee saw.

  Oh.

  And no one had claimed the room yet.

  Well.

  Could she at least see, and they could come with her, whether her father had removed his things? Money changed hands, and

  they all went up to the suite, and there they found that all of Zabel's possessions were still intact. His papers, particularly.

  The manager could see a hundred problems stemming from the fact that the suite had been empty all this time and staff had had access to it.

  There was no other claim on the suite, and Angilee and her husband were free to occupy it for as long as they wished. At the same room rate, and the manager would correct the record and issue new keys.

  "Of course," Angilee said graciously. They'd be honored, she and her husband.

  The word sat strangely in the air.

  But it was done.

  That part was done.

  Nothing else was done.

  And suddenly they were strangers, with a meddling meowy cat between them.

  They sent for room service.

  Ooww. Good idea. I'm hungry.

  "There is so much to be done," Angilee said despairingly, ig­noring Emily rubbing against her arm. "The lawyers, the funer­als, getting money, clothes, your town house, if I want to stay, if you want to go ..."

  "There's nothing that has to be done," Kyger said. "Not this minute. It can all come later." -

  "I'm very very rich now," Angilee said.

  "Me, too," Kyger said.

  "Really?"

  Mrroow, Emily said. He is.

  "Really. There really was a fortune in diamonds. It's all in the bank. I didn't marry you for your money."

  Angilee sniffed. "I can't believe this ..."

  "Don't. Right now, it never happened."

  "But we're married."

  "Yes, we are."

  "You don't want to be."

  "Maybe I do.

  "Why? You're not in love with me."

  "Damned close. Always wanted you. Couldn't get enough of you. Always wanted to protect you, which I didn't do a hell of a good job of,"

  Angilee sniffed. "Me, too."

  "All right, then. So let's not do anything about it yet. Let's just be married."

  "Do you think...?"

  He shushed her. "I'm not going to think for at least a year. We have enough to keep busy, enough to deal with. We have time to come to grips with everything that's happened. We've had terrible losses. But we have each other, too, and now we have a shared history. That is not a bad foundation, Angilee. I desperately want a foundation,"

  Mrrrrooooww, Emily said emphatically. Me, too. But what about Jancie... f

  "What about Jancie?" Angilee asked.

  "I don't know, I think we have to find her. But I think we have to give her some time. That's why she left Emily with us. She'll come back for Emily. Just let's give her time."

  They didn't eat dinner when it carne. Instead, they climbed into bed together, her bed, not Zabel's, and Kyger held her, as Emily nestled nearby. And she cried, and he wondered about the journey that had brought them together and to this place.

  He thought about his father, about Jancie and Lujan, and if Lujan were really gone like Jancie, and he thought, if they were gone for good, he'd know it, because they both would have ac­cessed their share of the diamonds. He wondered if he wanted to know.

  He didn't want to know. Not now. Maybe not ever. Maybe it was safer that way.

  But for now, he felt safe holding Angilee. This moment was his, now and forever; he had a wife, he had a future, he had van­quished the evil, even though evil still lived. Evil never died.

  And they would bury the past, he'd make sure that they kept looking toward the future, and they'd take tomorrow as it came. And he wanted that—a hundred tomorrows that weren't tainted with the ambitions of their fathers, and the sins of their sons.

  That was what he wanted. A clean slate, a bright clear fu­ture—with Angilee.

  His beautiful, amazing, indomitable Angilee.

  His wife.

  Slowly, in the depths of the night, they moved toward each other. Slowly, they moved into the magical touching and kissing and caressing that was the slow mounding prelude to that hot naked connection they both yearned for; slowly and tentatively they came together, as if she didn't know him and he'd never made love to her.

  So luscious, so edible—he didn't have to rush now, he could take his time, he could savor every moment, every lick, every nip as he explored the alluring hollows of her body. As he sucked lightly at her raspberry nipples, ran his tongue in the valley be­tween her hip and her belly, as he tasted her everywhere, end to end, top to bottom.

  And when he finally nuzzled his way between her legs, and in­sinuated his tongue firmly into her slit, he could have sworn he tasted chocolate.

  "Damned close. Always wanted you. Couldn't get enough of you. Always wanted to protect you, which I didn't do a hell of a good job of,"

  Angilee sniffed. "Me, too."

  "All right, then. So let's not do anything about it yet. Let's just be married."

  "Do you think...?"

  He shushed her. "I'm not going to think for at least a year. We have enough to keep busy, enough to deal with. We have time to come to grips with everything that's happened. We've had terrible losses. But we have each other, too, and now we have a shared history. That is not a bad foundation, Angilee. I desperately want a foundation,"

  Mrrrrooooww, Emily said emphatically. Me, too. But what about Jancie... f

  "What about Jancie?" Angilee asked.

  "I don't know, I think we have to find her. But I think we have to give her some time. That's why she left Emily with us. She'll come back for Emily. Just let's give her time."

  They didn't eat dinner when it carne. Instead, they climbed into bed together, her bed, not Zabel's, and Kyger held her, as Emily nestled nearby. And she cried, and he wondered about the journey that had brought them together and to this place.

  He thought about his father, about Jancie and Lujan, and if Lujan were really gone like Jancie, and he thought, if they were gone for good, he'd know it, because they both would have ac­cessed their share of the diamonds. He wondered if he wanted to know.

  He didn't want to know. Not now. Maybe not ever. Maybe it was safer that way.

  But for now, he felt safe holding Angilee. This moment was his, now and forever; he had a wife, he had a future, he had van­quished the evil, even though evil still lived. Evil never died.

  And they would bury the past, he'd make sure that they kept looking toward the future, and they'd take tomorrow as it came. And he wanted that—a hundred tomorrows that weren't tainted with the ambitions of their fathers, and the sins of their sons.

  That was what he wanted. A clean slate, a bright clear fu­ture—with Angilee.

  His beautiful, amazing, indomitable Angilee.

  His wife.

  Slowly, in the depths of the night, they moved toward each other. Slowly, they moved into the magical touching and kissing and caressing that was the slow mounding prelude to that hot naked connection they both yearned for; slowly and tentatively they came together, as if she didn't know him and he'd never made love to her.

  So luscious, so edible—he didn't have to rush now, he could take his time, he could sav
or every moment, every lick, every nip as he explored the alluring hollows of her body. As he sucked lightly at her raspberry nipples, ran his tongue in the valley be­tween her hip and her belly, as he tasted her everywhere, end to end, top to bottom.

  And when he finally nuzzled his way between her legs, and in­sinuated his tongue firmly into her slit, he could have sworn he tasted chocolate.

  THE END

  She's the hottest writer in the industry.

  Romantic Times calls her "the queen of erotic romance," and Affaire de Coeur

  hails her as "the divine mistress of sensual writing." She's Thea Devine, and she's the

  author of twenty steamy historical romances and featured in the bestselling

  romance anthologies, Captivated, Fascinated, All Through The Night,

  Taken By Surprise, and / Love Rogues. She also writes contemporary romance

  and is a long-time freelance manuscript reader. She has two grown sons, and lives

  in Connecticut with John, her husband of nearly forty years, and two dogs and

  one cat. You can contact her at TheaDevine@aol.com and visit her Web site at www.theadevine.com.