Part 5 (1/2)
”You are a strange man,” Tyrell said sharply. ”And I am not the only one who worries about you.”
”Tell Mother I am more than fine. I captured an American merchantman carrying gold to a Barbary prince, a ransom for their hostages,” Devlin said smoothly. ”With my share of the booty, I could ransom a hostage or two myself.”
”You should tell her yourself,” Tyrell said flatly.
Devlin turned away. He missed Askeaton terribly, but he had learned in the past years that his home was a place to be avoided at all costs. For there, the memories were too volatile; there, they threatened to consume him; there, the boy still lived.
A FEW HOURS LATER, pleasantly relaxed from an abundance of wine, Devlin started upstairs, Tyrell having gone to the Adare town home in Mayfair. His private rooms took up an entire wing of the second floor; upon possession of the house, he had gutted the master suite completely, as if gutting the Earl of Eastleigh himself. He strolled through one pretty parlor after another, past vases and artwork others had chosen, past a piano that was never played, aware that not one item in the house-other than his books-gave him pleasure. But he hadn't bought the house for pleasure. He had bought it for a single purpose-revenge.
A maid met him on the threshold of his bedroom. She was flushed and perspiring, a pretty thing with brown hair and pale skin, and briefly Devlin thought of inviting her into his bed. But she turned a brighter shade of crimson upon espying him and then fled past him and down the hall with a gasp.
Devlin glanced after her, amused and wondering what had caused such a swift retreat. Had his intentions been that obvious? He was h.o.r.n.y, certainly, but not aroused.
And then he entered the master bedroom and understood.
A blond Venus arose from the midst of his ma.s.sive bed, a sheer undergarment caressing and revealing full, billowy b.r.e.a.s.t.s with large dusky nipples, round, lush hips, plump thighs and a dark ruby-red delta between.
Elizabeth Sinclair Hughes smiled at him. ”I received your message and came as soon as I could.”
His loins filled as he looked at her. She belonged to his mortal enemy, a man he was slowly but surely wreaking his vengeance upon, and she aroused him as no other woman could.
Elizabeth was very pretty, and now her green eyes moved directly to his swollen groin. ”You are in need of attention, Captain,” she murmured.
He moved forward, red-hot blood filling his brain, removing his s.h.i.+rt as he did so. With the raging blood came raging l.u.s.t-blood l.u.s.t-savage and uncontrolled. The beast always chose this moment to walk the earth. Devlin mounted her as he mounted the bed, pus.h.i.+ng her down, unfastening his britches, thrusting his ma.s.sive hardness inside.
Elizabeth cried out in pleasure, already hot and wet. He moved as hard and fast as he could, images of Eastleigh filling his mind, gray of hair, fatter and fifty now, and then fourteen years ago, slimmer, younger, crueler. His hatred knew no bounds. It mingled with the l.u.s.t. His mouth found hers and he thrust there deeply, hurtfully, grinding against her, until he had become the beast itself. Elizabeth never knew. She gripped his sweat-slickened back, keening wildly in her ecstasy.
He wanted to release himself, too, but the hatred, the pleasure and the l.u.s.t were so great and so satisfying that he refused, pounding deeper, harder, but ugly memories rode him now as he rode her...ugly, b.l.o.o.d.y glimpses of a dark and terrible past, rising fast and furious-a small boy, a headless man, a severed head, sightless eyes, a pool of blood.
He forgot the woman he rode as the wave preceding his climax, a wave of intense, growing pleasure, turned into one of anger and pain, and he was swept forward, against all will, a wave that now unfurled like a topsail, hard and fast. Behind that wave the memories chased him. His father's furious, sightless eyes accused him now. You let me die, you let me die. Devlin sought now only to escape, and when he climaxed, he did just that.
There was no moment of peace, no moment of relief. Instantly he was conscious, aware of the woman he lay upon, aware of the man he was cuckolding-aware of the gruesome memories that he now must bury, at all cost. Devlin flipped over, away from the countess, breathing harshly. In that instant a painfully familiar emptiness emanated from deep within him and consumed him entirely. It was so huge, so hollow, so vast.
Devlin leapt to his feet.
”Good Lord, one would think you'd been without for an entire year,” Elizabeth murmured with a satisfied sigh. Then she eyed him with a small, pleased smile, her gaze lingering on his narrow hips and muscled thighs.
Naked, Devlin hurried across the bedroom, hardly aware of her words, quickly pouring a gla.s.s of wine. He downed it in a gulp, shaken, as always, by the memories he had vowed never to forget. He drained the gla.s.s and fought the beast until it finally returned to its lair.
”Nothing ever changes, does it, Devlin?” the countess asked, sitting up.
He poured another gla.s.s of wine and approached her, aware of his manhood stirring. Her gaze moved to his groin and she smiled. ”You are becoming terribly predictable, Devlin.”
”I could change that easily enough,” he remarked casually, handing her the wine. As he did, he paused to admire her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. ”You haven't changed,” he added.
”And you remain a gentleman, in spite of your reputation,” she said, but she was smiling and pleased. ”I'm a year older, a bit fatter and l.u.s.tier than ever.”
”You haven't changed,” he said firmly, but now he noticed the slight wrinkles at her eyes and the equally slight thickening of her waist. Elizabeth was several years his senior, although he wasn't really certain of her age-he had never cared enough to learn what it might be. She had two adolescent daughters, and he thought, but wasn't sure, that the eldest was fourteen or fifteen. Neither daughter belonged to Eastleigh.
”Darling, would it ever be possible for you to lie quietly by my side?” she asked, setting her gla.s.s down and stroking his inner thigh.
He hardened like a shot. ”I have never pretended to be anything but what I am with you. I am not a quiet man.”
”No, you are His Majesty's Pirate, for that is what I hear you called from time to time, when your exploits become dinner conversation.” Her hand drifted upward, its back brus.h.i.+ng his phallus as she toyed with his thigh.
”How boring those dinners must be.” He couldn't care less what he was called, but he didn't bother to say so. The countess loved to chat idly after their various bouts of lovemaking. She had been the source of much of his information about Eastleigh for the past six years, so he usually encouraged her chatter.
Now she murmured, ”I have missed you, Dev.”
There was simply nothing to be said; he took her hand and placed it firmly on his swollen shaft. ”Show me,” he said.
”Spoken like a true commander,” she said hoa.r.s.ely, lowering her head.
He hadn't meant to give an order, but it was his nature now. He didn't move, waiting patiently for her to nibble and lick him, watching her dispa.s.sionately as she did so. One day Eastleigh would learn of their affair-he had only to decide which moment to choose.
Suddenly she lifted her head and smiled up at him. ”Will you ever tell me that you have missed me, too?”
Devlin tensed. ”Elizabeth, there is a better time for discussion.”
”Is there? The only time we are together is in moments like these. I wonder what beats beneath your chest? Sometimes, Dev, I do think your heart is cast of stone.”
His erection had been complete for some time, and talking was actually painful. But he said, ”Have I ever made you any promises, Elizabeth?”
”No, you have not.” She sat up, facing him. ”But it's been six years, and oddly, I have become quite fond of you.”
He did not respond. He did not know what to say, for once in his life at a loss.
”I may be in love with you, Dev,” she said, her gaze riveted to his.
Devlin stared at her attractive face, a face as enticing as her body. He carefully considered his words. He felt nothing for her, not even friends.h.i.+p; she was a means to an end. But he didn't dislike her-it was her husband whom he hated, not Elizabeth Hughes. He preferred for things to remain exactly as they were-he did not wish for her to be hurt, and not out of compa.s.sion. He was not a compa.s.sionate man. The world was a battlefield, and in battle, compa.s.sion was a prelude to death. He did not want to hurt Elizabeth only because she remained so useful to him; he wanted her at his disposal, on his terms, not hurt and angry and spiteful.
”That would not be wise,” he finally said.
”Can't you just pretend?” she asked wistfully. ”Lie to me, just once?”
He didn't hesitate. He rubbed his thumb over her lips, ignoring the tear he had just glimpsed forming in her eye, and then he rubbed it lower, over her throat, her chest and, finally, a swelling nipple. His mouth followed in the path of his finger. Several moments later, they were once again entwined in frenzy, with Devlin pounding deeply and forcefully inside her.
Several hours later, Devlin tested the water in his hip bath and found it warm enough. Elizabeth was dressing; he climbed into the claw-footed tub and sank down into the tepid water. After months at sea, the temperature was very pleasant. He'd had enough climaxes so that now, finally, his mind remained a blessed blank and there were no monsters to defeat.
”Darling?”
Devlin jerked-he had dozed off in his bath. Elizabeth smiled at him, elegantly dressed in a sapphire-blue gown with black velvet trim. ”I'm sorry, I shouldn't have awoken you!” she exclaimed. ”Devlin, you look so enticing in that bath, I could jump right in with you.”
He raised a brow. ”Isn't Eastleigh expecting you?”
She frowned. ”We have supper plans, so yes, he is. I just wanted to tell you that I will be in town for another two weeks.”