Through the open door, the lights blinked on in the hallway. “See?” Devlin gestured toward the hallway. “Otis must have checked the fuse box.”
She swallowed and inhaled a calming breath. “So, how about a few more nights’ stay in the castle?” After all, Abby knew she could design a very sophisticated website for the island. “You never told me what you thought of my idea.” She rubbed her hands together and glanced at him, waiting for him to answer. But only the gentle flutter of the flames in the hearth filled the silence in the room. He was watching her the way a man watches a woman he finds attractive.
She had little experience there, although she was no virgin. He walked toward her, slowly. Her pulse quickened. The closer he came, the harder her pulse beat.
As he moved toward her, his gaze never left her face. Unable to meet his eyes a moment longer, she stared directly at the center of his chest. Muscles shifted beneath his blue shirt. A hint of dark chest hair curled through the opening at his throat, inviting her to touch.
Within seconds, he stood barely an inch away. His scent grew more powerful, nearly overwhelming her, the warmth from him a gentle caress of her body. He raised his hand and laid his fingers over the pulse in her neck. Her heart accelerated to a jackhammer beat.
The heat from his hand infused her skin. Hunger and yearning flowed from him into her bones. Inexorably, he lifted her chin until she looked deeply into his eyes.
The moment her eyes met his, she experienced a sensation of spinning down a deep emerald chasm of which there was no end. Clear green eyes with the iris circled in black mesmerized her. His breath, with the faint tinge of coffee, warmed her lips. Her blood heated and raced while her bones slowly melted.
“Staying here more than one night is a lousy idea.” His husky voice did strange things to her insides. Concern flickered in his eyes.
What did a man like Devlin have to be worried about? Did his anxiety have something to do with Miranda’s disappearance?
She wanted -- oh, how she wanted -- more from Devlin. But how could she? He could be connected to Alice Howard’s death somehow.
He rubbed his thumb in a lazy circle against the jumping pulse in her neck. Her breasts ached to be touched in just such a way. How would his mouth feel on hers?
She took a step away to put some much needed distance between them, but he moved closer. Instinctively, Abby laid a hand on his chest. His heart beat steadily beneath her palm, warming her, making her skin tingle. Firm muscles flexed while strength emanated from him, surrounding her in a drugging haze.
Lord help her, she wanted to lean into him, rest her head in the middle of his chest, and let the sensual drumbeat flow into her.
What was she thinking? Her attitude toward him was beginning to soften, and she couldn’t allow that to happen. “What worries you so much, Devlin? Why don’t you want me here?”
A spark of some indefinable emotion burned briefly in his eyes. “Something that would curdle your blood if you ever came face to face with it.”
His chilling words made uneasiness curl through her stomach. “What do you mean?”
He dropped his hand from her neck, breaking the tenuous connection between them. Her palm tingled with the warmth from his body, and cool air brushed over her neck where he’d laid his hand.
“Never mind. You’re leaving tomorrow.” His offhand manner belied the note of regret in his words.
“But you can’t just make a statement like that and then leave me hanging.” Exasperation rang in her voice. The man was being deliberately obtuse.
He gazed at her for a moment, and the corners of his mouth turned up in a slight smile. “You’re a curious cat, aren’t you?”
“I’m a teacher. It’s my nature to be curious. Why won’t you answer my question?”
A clock on the mantel in her room chimed the hour in light, musical notes. “I’ve answered all the questions I intend to for one day.”
Chapter Three
The scent of food permeated the air in the dining room and made Abby’s mouth water. Devlin sat at the head of the table and looked at her. His hands rested on the arms of the big chair, the tips of his fingers moving slowly back and forth, reminding her of how he had caressed her skin earlier.
She tried not to think about what had happened up in her room, but the vivid details of how he had stroked her neck, the bloom of sensual heat that had formed between them, stayed fixed in her mind. A flush warmed her cheeks, and his mouth curved slightly as if he read her thoughts.
She shifted her gaze to Otis, who sat across the table from her. She was no snob, but it seemed a bit unusual for Otis to be sharing dinner with his employer. There must be more to their relationship than just employer and employee. Curiosity overcame her usual decorum. “How did you come to live at the castle, Otis?”
Otis looked at her. “Mr. Dev and me go way back.” He reached for a piece of cornbread, dipped one corner of the bread into his bowl, and took a big bite.
“Really. How so?”
He looked at Devlin, then back at her. Dev shifted in his seat and stared at his food with a frown creasing his brow. Why did their conversation make him uncomfortable?
Otis swallowed and rested his spoon on the rim of his bowl. “Trouble be like poison ivy sometimes. If they lucky, people barely brush up against it and hardly get a rash. Me, I broke out good. Top of my head to the soles of my feet. Nobody else would take me in except Mr. Dev.”
Interesting. Abby sipped her iced tea and threw a surreptitious glance at Devlin, who glared at Otis out of the corner of his eyes. “Why?”
Otis pursed his lips and rubbed a hand over his chin, contemplating her question. Then he raised his head and looked at her. “Back in N’awlins, when I was a teenager, I was a real bad ass. Always gettin’ into trouble. My mama worked two jobs to take care of me when my daddy walked away. I started out shoplifting things so Mama would have something nice to wear. I told her I saved my money and bought the stuff, but she found out I stole it. She told me to stop, but I wanted more for her and for me. Then I found out I could make money selling drugs, until one day a kid in my neighborhood turned up dead from an overdose of drugs I sold him.”
Abby set her glass down on the table. “I’m sorry.”
“Ain’t nothin’ for you to be sorry about. I caused it, and I have to live with that for the rest of my life.”
Oh, the poor man. She couldn’t imagine how Otis must feel, being responsible for the death of a child. She sucked in a ragged breath. But Otis’s explanation still didn’t answer her question. Why did Devlin allow Otis to live there? How and where did they meet?
What did it matter? She couldn’t afford to let him or Otis get to her. Miranda was still missing, but she couldn’t help but feel curious.
Abby swallowed a spoonful of gumbo. The flavor was exquisite, a mixture of spices and just a touch of fire. She looked at Otis and smiled. “This is delicious. Where’d you learn to cook like this?”
Otis grabbed another hunk of cornbread from the plate and rested it beside his bowl. “Baton Rouge.”
“Did you work in a restaurant?”
“I learned from my mama. She was the best cook in our parish.”
“How did you find your way here?”
Had Otis gone to jail for his share of the responsibility in the death of that boy? Was he in league with Devlin? Did they both have something to do with Miranda’s disappearance?
“Stop grilling the poor man.” Devlin’s quiet but firm voice let her know he meant it.
Otis threw him an amused look and pushed back from the table. “I’ll get dessert.”
When dinner was over, Otis left the dining room, leaving Abby alone with Devlin. At the touch of Devlin’s warm hand on her arm, she looked up at him. His eyes appeared a darker green, more compelling and unfathomable.
“Come. I’ll take you to your room.”
His deep, inviting command brought more heat to her face and tightened the ball of nerves in her st
omach. She reached up and played nervously with a button on her blouse.
As they walked up the stairs, Devlin loomed beside her like a gorgeous giant. She inhaled his alluring, spicy scent in spite of herself.
I must stop this fascination I have with him. Miranda is still missing.
The attraction building between them posed a threat to her goal of finding Miranda. She’d always taken care of her sister, and she wasn’t going to stop now.
Abby directed her attention to the painting of the woman holding the chimes and away from her sensuous thoughts. She looked up at him. “Who is the woman in this picture?”
Devlin kept his gaze pinned to the portrait. He seemed to drink in the image like a little boy seeing someone he cared about, after a long absence. “My mother.”
“You must look like your father.”
A muscle worked in his jaw. His eyes, now filled with anger, slid to hers. “I guess so.” Control edged his voice as if he were holding back a dam of emotions. “Have you ever been married?”
“No.” Not even close. She turned her attention back to the painting and away from her concerned thoughts about Devlin. She couldn’t afford to consider his feelings too closely; her focus needed to stay on finding Miranda. “Why is she holding chimes?”
“A young woman made them by hand and sold them from the gift shop in the village.”
Why did he continuously evade her questions? Abby looked at the portrait. “She looks so sad. Do you know why?” Abby closed her eyes for a moment and groaned inwardly at her rudeness.
Devlin drew his gaze away from the portrait and looked down at his feet. A frown furrowed his brow. “It doesn’t matter now.” His tight, clipped voice admonished her further.
“I’m sorry. That was really rude of me. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
He gave her a small smile. “Forget it.” He enclosed her hand in his as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Devlin entwined their fingers and pressed their palms together. Heat raced up Abby’s arm and across her chest. Her breasts felt heavy and warm, while sexual tension crackled between them. Just a couple of steps and she could be in his arms. What was she thinking?
She tried to pull her hand free. He held on with a firm but gentle pressure. Why was he holding her hand? Why the change in attitude? Was it his intention to seduce her? Her heart pounded in an erratic dance. The pulse shimmied through her veins. How could she be attracted to a man who might have been involved in her sister’s disappearance?
Whatever his motives, she didn’t trust his actions. But why not play along? She might uncover some of his secrets and find her sister in the process. Thankfully, they’d reached the top of the stairs. Hoping to go ahead alone to her room, Abby tried once again to remove her hand from Devlin’s hold. He tugged lightly on her fingers and kept walking. “You seem anxious to be rid of me.” His quiet tone warmed her, even as his thumb caressed the skin of her inner wrist.
She knew he felt her pulse jumping, but there was nothing she could do about it. “No, it’s been a long day, that’s all.”
In a moment, they stood in front of her bedroom door. Slowly, he pulled her toward him until his aura surrounded her in a sensual ambience. He stroked the back of his hand over the hollow at the base of her throat, following the movement with his eyes.
Desire swept through her blood and pooled in her stomach. Desire that she shouldn’t feel, considering the circumstances; longing that had nothing to do with reason and everything to do with the man standing in front of her. He lifted his gaze and locked eyes with her. Once again, she felt her senses spin out of control, and a soft, white cloud settled over her brain.
Gradually, he lowered his head, his eyes never leaving hers until his lashes swept down, covering his verdant gaze. He laid a warm kiss with just a hint of tongue at the base of her throat.
When he lifted his head, cool air brushed over the spot he had kissed, making her feel bereft. He watched her for a moment, his gaze resting on her mouth. “Sleep well, Abigail.” His velvety words hung in the air as he turned and strode down the hallway.
She couldn’t move, at least not until her fluttering heart slid down from her throat into her chest and the strength eased back into her wobbly legs. She heaved a calming breath, wiped her sweaty palms on her thighs, and watched Devlin until he disappeared around the corner.
Instinctively, she raised a hand to her throat and touched the spot that he’d caressed. When his lips had settled on her skin, she’d never wanted to be kissed, really kissed with plenty of lips and tongue, more in her life.
She rubbed her palm between her breasts and sighed. What was he up to? What kind of game was he playing? Should she play along?
She shook her head to clear her mind of the sensual fog Devlin had created, and glanced at her watch. The night was just beginning, and she had work to do.
Hours later, Abby paused in the murky darkness of Devlin’s office and shone her flashlight around the room.
His desk, a slab of granite on a large maple pedestal, sat in front of two wide windows flanked on either side by bookcases. A dark brown leather sofa occupied space in front of a white marble fireplace.
Somewhere, a clock chimed the hour. The sound echoed eerily in the silence of midnight. She had decided to start her search in Devlin’s office and go from there, even though she wasn’t much of a detective. Perhaps there were phone records or guest receipts that might give her a clue as to Miranda’s whereabouts.
Miranda had an abundance of wanderlust, so it wasn’t unusual for her to go running off at a moment’s notice. But even during her adventures, she always managed to keep in touch.
Abby swept the flashlight’s beam over the top of the large desk. No drawers in which to hide things. Papers were stacked neatly over the surface, and a fax machine sat on one corner.
Creak. Bump.
A spurt of panic kicked her heartbeat into a rapid tattoo. The breath seized in her lungs. She halted in her tracks, switched off her flashlight, and listened.
Please, God, don’t let Devlin catch me snooping.
Rain and wind beat against the windows and the castle walls. Lightning flashed. She whipped her head toward the nearest window and saw a man’s dark silhouette through the glass. A scream slid from her gut into her throat, and she covered her mouth with her hand to stifle the sound. Lightning flickered and popped again, but through the window, only rain met her vision.
Abby inhaled and exhaled several calming breaths. After a moment, her heartbeat settled and her pulse slowed to a more normal rhythm. Devlin was right -- being here in this castle affected her imagination. Who would be outside in such a storm? No one in their right mind, that’s for sure. There were some trees growing close to the window. She must have seen their shadow, that’s all.
She clicked on her flashlight once more and rifled through the papers on the desk. She found nothing to reveal the slightest detail about her sister, only a lot of correspondence between Devlin and a company called Morgan Research and Development.
Was the company a family business, or did Devlin own it outright? What was the real reason he gave Otis a home? They’d grown up in separate parts of the country, with completely different backgrounds. He could hire anyone to cook for him and help with the upkeep of the castle. Why Otis in particular? The man was indeed an enigma.
A picture of Devlin sat on the corner of his desk. He stood next to a man a little younger than he. They appeared to be standing on a butte of some sort.
She shifted the flashlight’s beam to the wall on her left. Climbing equipment hung from hooks, along with a series of pictures of Devlin and this other man scaling the side of a rock face. Devlin smiled at her from the picture. He appeared so different with a grin on his face, as though he and his companion had just shared a joke. She tried to imagine Devlin telling a joke and couldn’t.
The shadows she’d seen in his eyes were gone. He actually looked ... happy and much more approachable. Her h
eart turned over in response to seeing a different side of him. Instinctively, she reached out and smoothed her fingertips over his face. What are you hiding?
Outside, the wind moaned. Abby shivered against the chill in the air, despite her cotton sweats and matching pullover. She drew her attention away from the picture, turned from the desk, and scanned the spines of books on the shelves of a large oak bookcase.
They were shelved in alphabetical order. Abby smiled. She was a teacher who kept her classroom neat, but even she didn’t shelve books alphabetically. Most of the titles consisted of thick, weighty tomes on chemistry, drug development, and drug interactions. On one of the lower shelves, she saw a large black book and pulled it from the shelf. It appeared to be a scrapbook of some sort. She sat down at Devlin’s desk, directed her flashlight onto the book, and opened to the first page. A newspaper clipping from the Wolf Island Gazette glared back at her in the bright shaft of light.
“Local Girl Attacked.” The date on the paper read January 1993, a little over twelve years ago.
Intrigued, Abby read on.
Wolf Island village suffered a severe shock when the body of local shopkeeper Alice Howard, 23, was found by a local man Friday night on the side of the road leading to Morgan’s Keep. Authorities say it appears she was abducted while walking to the castle. Howard’s death reflects similarities to another rape/murder committed on the island many years ago. The Maine State Police are currently investigating, but have made no arrests. In a strange twist, the attack was predicted by Catherine Good Townsend, the victim’s aunt and a direct descendant of Sarah Good, one of the accused and convicted witches in the Salem witch trials of 1692.
Trepidation danced through her veins. She recalled Miranda’s words once more. I believe he’s connected somehow to the murder of Alice Howard. Her breath shuddered through her lungs. She’d heard about murderers keeping trophies to remind them of their victims ... She flicked her gaze to the photograph on the wall and illuminated Devlin’s smiling face with her flashlight.
Wolf Island Page 3
