Devil’s Cove (Tortured Souls) (25 page)

He shoved her away and covered his face, breathing hard. His knees grew weak, and he leaned against the wall, resting his forehead on the cool surface. Goddammit, but his heart ached something fierce. He ought to rip the damned thing out and be done with it.

“All that because I saved you, Eveline,” he whispered. “You owe me this one small favor. Arrange a meeting with Josephine for me. I’ll do the rest.”

• • •

Grace wavered on her feet, certain she was going to faint, only to be steadied a moment later by a strong pair of hands.

“Come sit here,” Hatchet said, leading her to a nearby chair.

Dominick Sommerset. Devlin was Dominick. It couldn’t be true. He’d died shortly after saving her life. She’d cried for months afterward, saddened and angered by the injustice of his fate, wishing countless times it had been her instead. Only she’d been wrong. His fate was far, far worse.

Bile rose in her throat, and she gagged, swallowing it back as she choked on her anguished cries. Devlin had been tortured because of her, because she had been a stupid and selfish child who’d lost control of her emotions and attacked a reckless boy. She was the evil one, the horrible one. How he must hate her. All this time he had endured her presence in order to get close to Josephine. It was no wonder Devlin hadn’t taken her to his bed, didn’t make sweet love to her. How could he? That he was even able to tolerate her kisses and pawing must have taken Herculean effort.

Oh, how she wished he had left her to die that day, then none of this would have happened. She would be safe in the bosom of God, and he would have led a happy life.

You’re nothing but a pawn in a dangerous game he plays.

Josephine’s words couldn’t be further from the truth. Devlin was the pawn, and the one person who should have loved and protected him above all others in the world had played him. His mother. Instead, she’d sacrificed him to the Butcher. Grace grasped her pinky, drawn to the memory of Devlin’s missing digit. She gagged again, thankful for an empty stomach. How many scars did Devlin conceal from the world?

You owe me this one small favor.

She owed him so much more than he asked of her. Her gratitude. Her forgiveness. Her life. All of it she owed to him. What did it matter anymore if she arranged for a meeting with Josephine? Grace had nothing left worth living for. Her parents were dead. Devlin detested her. And she was a burden to Brother Anselm, had always been a burden.

She stood, straightened her shoulders, and walked to the parlor door, ignoring the dead mass of muscle nestled in her chest cavity. For once she was grateful for her blindness, for she could not have borne the loathing that must exude from Devlin.

“I’ll arrange a meeting for you with Josephine this afternoon and then stay out of your sight.”

Grace ambled up the staircase toward her bedroom, her mind swept away in a whirlwind of activity. Where would she begin her search for Josephine? Perhaps she should ask Emma to draw another bath. But no, Grace didn’t care to meet again under such circumstances where she felt exposed. Besides, she could ill afford to drag others into her plans. Josephine may cherish Grace so long as her soul remained intertwined with that of Josephine’s first love, but she couldn’t trust the creature to treat others with equal respect. Praying at the chapel wouldn’t do any good under the circumstances, and she couldn’t wait for her dreams, for they were not real.

At the top of the stairs, she paused, halted by low murmurs drifting up from the foyer. Hatchet’s gruff voice reached her as the front door opened and a gust of wind swept into the mansion.

“Good day, Lady Beaufort,” he said curtly. “Your carriage awaits.”

The lady’s rose-scented perfume curled beneath Grace’s nostrils. She pressed the knuckle of her forefinger between her lips, stifling a sharp cry. Why hadn’t she noticed the familiar odor earlier? The fragrance was everywhere, assaulting her the first time she’d stepped into the mansion, lingering on her sheets the first time she’d dreamed of her lover, clinging to the moist air radiating off her bath during Josephine’s first visit.

She must be going mad to draw a connection between Lady Beaufort and Josephine. Yet she couldn’t shake the odd sensation rippling across her skin. Something about the morning’s visit wasn’t quite right. Perhaps it was the way she’d felt compelled to answer Lady Beaufort’s never-ending questions before Devlin’s arrival. But it was impossible! Grace would have recognized her voice. Besides, Josephine was half-serpent and would have sent the staff running for their lives, screaming.

Grace shook her head and stumbled toward her bedroom. She barged inside and retrieved her wool cloak. A walk by the lake would clear her mind and allow her to think through her predicament. With a little luck she would avoid Devlin on her way out the door. As far as she knew, he still lingered in the parlor. Taking the stairs as quickly as she dared, Grace rushed out the front door and onto the gravel pathway, turning left toward the lake.

The crisp morning air seeped into the neckline of her cloak and inched its way down her spine, but she wouldn’t be deterred. The chill kept her alert. Her strides lengthened with her resolve to find Josephine and put the nasty task of negotiations behind her. The earthen scent of the forest wafted over her, bringing with it a sigh of relief. Of course, that was it! Josephine lived within the depths of the forest. Hadn’t she implied as much in the ballroom?

I’ll be waiting for you at the edge of the forest, near Neptune.

Grace paused, her heartbeat thumping an erratic beat. Did she dare to go into the forest without an escort? She must if she was to fulfill her promise to Devlin. Involving others in this affair was out of the question, and, in her heart, she knew Josephine would see her safely returned to the mansion.

Before she could change her mind, Grace pushed forward and drew forth a mental image of the lake and the forest looming beyond. She had traversed the grounds countless times in her dreams. This would be no different. A sense of adventure filled her breast, and she strode with confidence along the path, instinctively curving around the edge of the lake until the odor of pine and damp leaves overpowered her senses.

This was it, the point of no return. Her first steps into the forest were tentative, her hands outstretched to avoid planting her face into a tree.

“Come to me, my love,” a sultry voice whispered on the wind. “Follow your heart.”

Grace swallowed her cry of relief. Josephine was waiting for her, and in that moment, the world around her came into sharp focus. Sunshine flooded the forest floor, reflecting off the russet and gold hues of the leaves. The trees stood tall and proud, beckoning the forest dwellers to climb their heights and discover the treasures they offered.

Conscious thought evaded her as Grace quickened her pace and began to run through the forest with sure strides. Her lungs filled with fresh air and burned with the exhilaration found only through invigorating exercise. Laughter bubbled out of her as she soared over fallen logs and crunched through piles of leaves.

This was home; this was her destiny.

The terrifying thought halted her in her tracks, and she bent over, heaving in great gulps of air. The longing to return to the forest and Josephine was intense, ingrained in every fiber of her being. Josephine’s soul mate was strong, and her will to reunite a powerful force that threatened to overtake Grace’s free will.

Instead, she stood upright, clenching her hands into fists. She wouldn’t give in so easily to the temptation. Could not allow it. How had she found herself in the midst of this paradox? Though Grace no longer cared about her own fate, she cared about Devlin’s. He would get the meeting he demanded with Josephine.

“Welcome home, Grace.”

She whirled around, coming face to face with Josephine in human form.

Her body came alive with a vibrant energy, sending tingles of pleasure radiating through her extremities. Josephine was magnificent, with lustrous black hair falling seductively over her shoulders and piercing red eyes that beckoned Grace closer. The woman possessed a wild air about her that was both thrilling and terrifying, as if nothing or no one could keep her from realizing her every desire. Grace stretched out her hand and wrapped a lock of Josephine’s hair around her forefinger.

“Why do I feel as if I can truly see you?” Grace asked. The silky strands bent to her will, catching the rays of sunlight permeating the canopy of trees. The color was so dark, so pure, it gave off hints of midnight-blue tones. “This isn’t a vision, is it?”

A serene smile spread over Josephine’s lips. “No, my love, it isn’t a vision. With me by your side, you shall have the world at your disposal. There is nothing I cannot give you. You need only ask.”

Tears blurred Grace’s vision, turning Josephine hazy for a brief moment. It wasn’t a lie; she was seeing everything before her. Oh, to see the world again! An intense pressure weighed against her heart, and she whirled around, feasting on the breathtaking scenery. A chestnut-colored squirrel gathering nuts at the base of a nearby tree, a lone blue jay chirping from a nest high above the ground, and the pine trees interspersed with oaks, maples, and other rich foliage. She bent to grab a handful of dirt, crushing it in her hand and laughing as bits crumbled and slid through her fingers, back to the earth.

She wanted to see Devlin, Maribeth … Brother Anselm. Through all the years in his care, she had never laid eyes on him in her visions. The muscles in her throat tightened, and she closed her eyes to the cruel reality of her situation. This wasn’t real; it would fade the moment she left the forest.

“We must talk,” she said, shoring up all her strength to turn and face Josephine again. “You were right about Devlin’s motives. He wants to meet with you in person to negotiate the terms of your assistance. I beg you to grant his wish. Please. I owe him as much.”

Josephine’s lip curled in an unsightly snarl. “You owe him nothing. His mother was bent on ruining him long before he saved your life. Don’t think I don’t know his past, or yours.”

Grace stared at her, unable to fathom this new revelation. What did she mean?

“Do you think his mother could’ve orchestrated his demise within a week of your accident?” Josephine asked, her eyebrows arching high. “The Butcher would not race to shore at the beck and call of a mere woman. No, my love. The negotiations between his mother and the pirate had been completed long before Devlin beat Willie to a bloody pulp. But I’m willing to concede that the event likely spared his mother a sense of remorse.”

Even if what Josephine claimed were true, it didn’t matter. Devlin had saved Grace’s life, and in doing so, he had earned this one boon.

“I would still ask you to meet with him,” Grace said, her gaze unwavering. “As a favor to me.”

Josephine rubbed her chin thoughtfully while she began to circle Grace. Her strides were long, her gait elegant. The folds of her full skirt rippled about her, reminding Grace of a picture she’d once seen of a band of gypsies. Confident. Alluring. Secretive. What was she thinking, feeling, contriving in that moment as she surveyed her from head to toe?

“Even favors come at a price. What will you give me in exchange for meeting with the captain?”

Gooseflesh pebbled along Grace’s arms. She was willing to give anything but to admit as much would be insane. Searching the memories of her dreams, Grace sought to identify a fair price. Josephine wouldn’t concede easily. But there was little she could propose that would interest her lover. Except …

“One passionate kiss bestowed willingly, here and now,” Grace said, blurting the offer before she lost her nerve. Her traitorous heart pounded in rapt anticipation, and she glanced over her shoulder to catch Josephine’s eyes.

Josephine stopped her perusal and leaned in to whisper in her ear, “Accepted.”

Closing her eyes, Grace concentrated on drawing in a fresh breath of air as the gatekeeper continued circling her, a hand trailing on her waist. How many times had the woman caressed her bare skin in her dreams? Josephine stepped closer; Grace felt the heat of her breath on her lips. A quiver of lust traveled through her, and she threaded her fingers through Josephine’s hair as their lips clashed in a rapturous kiss. The flames of desire coursed through Grace’s body, and she let go of her fear, let go of her worries, let go of herself, allowing Josephine’s soul mate free rein to revel in the brief reunion with her lover.

Josephine devoured her mouth, tasting her lips and tongue with unabashed frenzy. Her ardor matched Devlin’s stroke for stroke, sending Grace spiraling out of control. She became overwhelmed with the need to breathe and pulled back, sucking in a gasp of air. Josephine’s eyes glowed molten red, the heat of her desire searing in its intensity.

“Rosalie,” Josephine whispered, running her hands up and down Grace’s cloaked arms.

Grace shook her head. Had she imagined the siren’s call? Rosalie … the name was so beautiful … so familiar. A wave of longing washed over her, and she tensed. Could it be her soul mate’s name?

“What did you say?” she asked, searching for Josephine’s reaction.

A flicker of despair flashed in her eyes, but Josephine recovered, and the corner of her mouth turned up. “Nothing, my sweet. I thank you for the kiss. It far exceeded my expectations. Tell me you cannot deny the attraction any longer.”

To deny the animal magnetism between them would be a lie, nay, more than that, it would rip her heart out. Grace felt the last pieces of herself fading into the recesses of her mind and suppressed the urge to struggle.

“No, I cannot deny it.”

“Come along.” Josephine held out her hand. “We’ll walk back together, and you can inform Captain Limmerick that I await him in the ballroom. I always deliver on my promises.”

Why must they meet in the ballroom, of all places? Grace froze midstride, shoving the mental picture of her father’s mangled body from her mind.

“Please don’t hurt him,” she whispered. “He has suffered enough for one lifetime.”