Between the Duke and the Devil

by Devon, Eva

  “But—”

  “There is darkness ahead, Annabelle,” he replied, pulling her to him. “More darkness. And I want only happiness for ye.”

  “Happiness?” she breathed. “I do not know what that is.”

  “And that is the dilemma,” he proclaimed passionately. “I think neither of us ken, now. My sister does no’. Before ye choose me. . . before ye choose this castle with its sad history, I want ye to promise me that ye will let me try to make ye happy. For I shall no’ keep ye if ye canna find happiness here.”

  “Oh, Tristan,” she said softly, raising a hand to his cheek. “I wouldn’t be happier anyplace else.”

  He shook his head. “So ye say now. But when winter comes and the wind wails along the balustrades. . .”

  “We will face the darkness together,” she bit out, suddenly unafraid of whatever might lie ahead. After all, she had her husband. “Let us at least try to help each other.”

  He nodded. “Let us try,” he agreed.

  “For what else is there?”

  The unspoken word, revenge, seemed to whisper between them. But she wouldn’t summon the specter of that now. Now, she had won enough. Now, they could at least try to make a way forward. Despite all the ills facing them.

  Somehow, they would ignore the future storms looming in on them. For if anyone could defeat those threats, it would be Tristan. . . with her help.

  Chapter 24

  Heath was gone as quickly as he’d arrived. In fact, the only remaining member of the visitors who had arrived so promptly at his call was Drake. The duke had seemed in no hurry to return to his estates or London.

  The man kept taking long walks, staring out across the sea loch as if the answer to some eternal question lay upon the horizon. Drake was an enigma but a damned good man.

  Perhaps the answer Drake searched for did rest on the horizon. But if it was there, Tristan had yet to find it.

  Instead, he had allowed himself to embrace the strange calm that had come after his and Annabelle’s flight north.

  The prince wouldn’t summon her until the marriage was established.

  Her uncle was likely dead.

  Caxton? Caxton was out there somewhere, unchecked but living like a rat.

  Yes, he could face this strange calm. He refused to give voice to the frenetic energy underneath his skin which sent him pacing the castle walls.

  With each step he took, wind whipping at his cape, he strove to decide what next step was best.

  For though the skies were cerulean today, soon the squalls would come.

  Of that, he was certain. They always did.

  His sister still kept largely to her secret rooms or the heather.

  From his high vantage point, he sometimes spotted her upon the steep bens, wandering about the wildflowers and rugged rocks.

  How he wished he could ease her soul.

  It had astonished him when he’d begun to see another figure by Jane’s side.

  Annabelle.

  The two had become companions wandering the Highlands.

  What secrets did they share? Were they made stronger by them?

  He felt certain the answer was yes.

  As he gazed out at the heather-covered bens, he realized he’d never known how much he needed someone like Annabelle in his life. How much his sister had needed someone like Annabelle in her life.

  For Annabelle was a woman who had triumphed over the greatest hardship. And sometimes, someone simply needed to see someone who could survive such things, because it taught him and it taught his sister that they, too, could survive the pain of the past and find a new future. That they could survive the pain that was to come, no doubt.

  But still, he wished Annabelle happiness. And though she seemed happy here, he wasn’t absolutely certain that that was the case. For she had come to a new home, to a new place, to a new people, and all he wished was for her to feel as if she had something of her own, something he knew that she had never had, except perhaps the stars.

  And so, as he turned down from the parapet and headed down the narrow stairs, he knew exactly what needed to be done. And he couldn’t wait to do it.

  Annabelle raced inside the castle, laughing. She couldn’t recall ever having laughed quite so much as she did now. She bounced her bonnet by the strings on her fingertips and placed her hand in her coiffure, assuring that it hadn’t fallen apart entirely.

  It was so wonderful to be here. In all her life, she’d never known such freedom. She’d never known the potential for such happiness, for such delight in small things.

  Always she’d been controlled and watched. But now, she could go about however she liked and with whom she pleased. And she’d discovered that despite the darkness, that Jane was a marvelous companion. All Jane had needed was someone to talk to, someone who had understood.

  Jane might never confess the depths of what happened to her, but it was clear Caxton had ruined her. . .

  Caxton had taken advantage of Jane’s innocence and good heart.

  He’d used her brutally.

  Some would condemn her.

  Most would, in fact.

  Ladies were supposed to be paragons of control and innocence.

  But Annabelle understood. She knew what it was to be used, and to have been cruelly taken advantage of. To be made a fool. For she had, as a child, hoped beyond all measure that things would turn out just as they would in a fairy tale. But, of course, they had not.

  Even now, she was tempted to think that, perhaps, her life could become as wonderful as the end of some story one read about in a novel. But she was no fool. That was not how life worked.

  For now, she’d have to be content with what she had with Tristan.

  So, as she placed her bonnet down on the table in the center of the towering foyer, she smiled to herself, determined to be pleased with the moment that she had. It didn’t matter that she knew difficult times were coming. They would face those, and they would have to.

  But right now, the sun was shining, the air was warm and the castle that she lived in was one that was full of promise and not a prison at all.

  “There ye are,” Tristan called.

  She turned towards Tristan, nearly jumping.

  “My goodness, you do know how to surprise one.”

  “Well, ye seemed quite caught in yer own thoughts,” he replied. “What ever were ye thinking about?”

  “The beauties of Scotland,” she replied.

  “I can see how one could be quite absorbed in that,” he said. “Ye ken, I have lived here my entire life and one would think that I was used to it. But I’m no’. Every day is a marvel.”

  “I couldn’t agree with that more,” she said. “It doesn’t seem that the days that I’ve spent here have lessened my awe. Instead, they have increased it.”

  “Good,” he said. “I’m glad that ye like it here.” He hesitated. “There’s something that I wish to show ye.”

  “Show me?” she queried.

  “Yes. Come along.” He gestured with his large hand.

  And she, being curious, decided to follow.

  As they headed down the hall, he said, “Have ye ever been to the stables?”

  “No,” she said in passing. “I have been through most of the castle, but I’ve never felt compelled to go there.”

  “Well,” he said. “We’ll go now.”

  But before she could follow, a scream tore through the castle.

  Annabelle whipped around at the sound of Jane’s distress.

  Before she could even think what to do next, Tristan bolted around Annabelle. He darted towards the entry of the castle and the harrowing sound.

  She followed, quick at his heels. When she caught sight of Jane, Annabelle could hardly believe her eyes.

  Caxton stood across from her sister-in-law, a russet brow arched with disdain. He was windswept and travel-stained, as though he had stayed in barns and hay-strewn lofts. His face was lined with exhaustion and anger.

 
; His entire stance suggested fury and combat, a spoiled child, denied his toy.

  Jane’s visage had gone an impossible shade of white, her dark hair wild about her face from her earlier walk.

  In answer to this harrowing scene, Tristan stood stock still, not out of fear, it was clear, but because he did not wish to upset Jane.

  “What the devil are you doing here?” Tristan demanded coolly.

  Caxton grimaced. “I assure you, I’d rather be many places, but since your wife there so completely destroyed my plans, here I stand.”

  Suddenly, it struck Annabelle. How had Caxton not realized that Jane was Tristan’s sister? Surely, Caxton would have been far more suspicious of Tristan at her uncle’s if Caxton had known. . .

  As if he could read her thoughts, Caxton drawled, “Did Jane tell you, Ardore, about what transpired between us? The truth, that is? How I didn’t even know her name and she barely knew mine when I took her?”

  Jane flinched, her mouth pinching with pain.

  Tristan curled his hands into fists.

  It was a miracle her husband didn’t fly across the room and kill Caxton on the spot. Care for his sister was the only thing which stopped him, Annabelle was certain.

  “I assure you,” Caxton boasted, smoothing his rumpled waistcoat. “If I’d known she was the sister of a duke, I would have left off. But she was such a sweet piece, and so eager for the taking. A moment alone in the garden and she was had. . .”

  Jane let out a sound of protest. “I-I thought ye a gentleman.”

  “We’re all animals in the dark, darling,” Caxton spat. “You were there, alone, which made you willing. You all but offered yourself to me.”

  “And ye took,” Jane hissed. “It mattered no’ that I had no understanding of what ye could do. And then ye threatened me with blackmail to keep my secret.”

  Caxton narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps you haven’t heard about my difficulties. I’m not exactly as well positioned as your brother.”

  Annabelle’s lip curled. She’d known men like Caxton her whole life. Men who took because they could. If Jane had gone out to the garden at night alone, to a man like Caxton that was as good as offering herself on a plate. And apparently, he’d eaten his fill.

  What had happened to Jane became clearer.

  An innocent girl such as Jane wouldn’t have understood the ramifications of being alone with a man like Caxton. Not truly. And then he’d made her life hell for making such a choice.

  “So, you ravished her,” Annabelle bit out.

  “Ravish?” Caxton repeated. “She put up a pretty show as all girls who wish a bit of sport do. But if she’d been so innocent, she would have never left the ball.”

  Tristan let out a low growl. “Why are ye here?”

  “Funds, Ardore,” Caxton replied simply. “I’ve no other resource. If you don’t wish me to spread to all and sundry that your sister is a game piece who took me and probably a host of fellows, then, well. . . you’d best pay.”

  A snarl escaped Jane’s lips and she rushed at Caxton with her hands raised, fingers curled.

  Stunned, Caxton’s eyes flared. But instead of darting away, Caxton grabbed Jane, swallowing her up in a tight embrace.

  He whipped her around, her back to his front, his forearm wrapped about her throat.

  “Gone feral, have you, dear?” he hissed in Jane’s ear.

  “I’ll kill ye,” Tristan warned.

  “I see now why you baited me so fiercely that night,” Caxton taunted, clearly having been pushed far in a corner with the death of her uncle and loss of any fortune from the prince. “Avenging your sister and all that.”

  Caxton jerked his head towards Annabelle. “Well, running off with her was all the revenge you needed. I’ve got nothing.”

  “Ye’re still alive,” Tristan said, his voice dark.

  Jane stood in Caxton’s hold but, to Annabelle’s amazement, she didn’t seem afraid.

  In fact, a cold fury seemed to settle over her.

  Jane’s gaze darted to the side as if she could see something that none of the others could.

  Annabelle frowned.

  “Now, you’ll pay up,” Caxton squeezed his hold on Jane. “Or I shall make your life a merry hell.”

  “Ye already have,” Jane ground out before she opened her mouth and sank her teeth into Caxton’s hand.

  He yowled and tried to shove her away.

  But she bit deeper and blood slipped from his skin.

  “Bitch!” Caxton yelped as he shoved again.

  This time, she let go immediately and darted across the chamber. Just as she did, a figure stepped out of the shadows from the adjacent hall.

  A startled expression passed over Caxton’s face. Slowly, it changed to one of horror as he swung his gaze to the Duke of Drake.

  Drake twisted his hand in Caxton’s side, and he leaned in.

  Caxton grabbed the duke’s shoulders, as if he were grasping life.

  Drake pulled him closer. “Men like you deserve to be executed.”

  Annabelle sucked in a breath as she realized that the Duke of Drake had driven a dagger into Caxton’s side.

  The jeweled hilt winked in the afternoon sunlight, a thing of beauty in a gruesome act.

  Slowly, Caxton’s feet gave out and Drake lowered him to the floor.

  Blood bubbled up from his lips.

  Jane strode up to Caxton, her long green skirts swishing. She crouched down and, this time, it was she who arched her brow disdainfully. “I suppose you’re the one who is taken now. You never should have come here if you hadn’t wanted it. Should you?”

  A wild, broken note broke past Caxton’s lips before he shook for a moment then stilled.

  The wretched quiet that surrounded them all was. . . impossible to take in.

  Annabelle had known violence and seen murder as a child. It had shaped her.

  This instant should have filled her with terror. It was so sudden and in seemingly such a beautiful place.

  Yet, as they stood around the man who had destroyed Jane and come to hurt her further, Annabelle could not feel horror at his death. In fact, here, in the Highlands, it felt. . . it felt like justice. And a promise that no one would suffer at Caxton’s hand again.

  Annabelle’s gaze darted to Jane, who looked shocked but strangely at peace then to Drake, his almost angelic face unreadable.

  She swung her gaze, at last, to her husband.

  Tristan stood, blinking, as if he could not quite believe what he’d seen until, finally, he lifted his hand and placed it on Drake’s back. “Thank ye, my friend.”

  Drake nodded. “It was my pleasure.”

  From the steadiness of those words, Annabelle knew Drake meant them. She studied the duke she barely knew and wondered what devils plagued him.

  Still, she was grateful. He hadn’t hesitated when it had become clear that Caxton was a rabid beast, there to make them all suffer.

  “Shall we roll him in the loch?” Drake asked dryly, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. Calmly, he wiped his hands.

  “The bog, I think,” Jane said firmly. “The loch is too clean for him.”

  Tristan eyed his sister as if she had transformed into an entirely new woman.

  And, she had.

  Annabelle drew in a steadying breath.

  Some might be destroyed by witnessing such an act of violence, but Jane? Jane seemed as if it had brought her a remarkable peace and clarity.

  She was no longer a victim of a horrible man, but a woman who had taken destiny into her own hands when she’d sunk her teeth into Caxton.

  “Jane?” Tristan asked carefully.

  Jane’s attention darted to her brother before she crossed to him. “I know ye would have tried to save me from him. Ye would have done anything to make it so. . . but thank ye. Thank ye for no’ rushing in. Thank ye for this.”

  Tristan nodded silently then pulled her into his arms.

  Jane held on to her brother tightly.
/>   And for the first time since Annabelle had known them both, she witnessed a moment where brother and sister were not afraid of hurting the other.

  Annabelle turned to Drake, the man who had made this possible, and wondered. . . if he could kill another with such ease, what else might he be capable of?

  Yet, she couldn’t dislike him for it.

  Not at all. Because even with Caxton on the floor, his blood sliding over the polished wood, she knew that this was a new beginning for Jane and Tristan.

  And a man like Caxton? He would have gone on hurting people his whole life, without remorse.

  That was over now.

  And that was all that mattered.

  Drake met her gaze and, somehow, he understood her gratitude. He bowed slightly and strode back down the hall he’d so easily emerged from.

  To fetch supplies to tidy away the body, she had no doubt.

  After a long moment, Jane extended a hand to her and Annabelle crossed to her sister-in-law, truly glad that Jane was free.

  Chapter 25

  A strange peace settled over the castle that night.

  Jane and Annabelle had supervised the cleaning of the hall while Tristan and Drake had escorted Caxton up into the hills to be claimed by the ancient peat bog.

  She was no stranger to blood. All her life she’d seen rather violent ends but she was surprised at how easily Jane had taken it in.

  But then again, Jane had been living in her own hell for some time. And what might be hell to others was freedom to some.

  Jane sat before the fire, sipping her wine.

  Much to Annabelle’s astonishment, Jane had not gone back up to her room, high in the turret.

  Rather, she’d walked into the library when they had finished and instructed wine for them to drink be brought.

  The servants had happily leapt to her order, seeing the change in her.

  Caxton’s death would no doubt become an open secret. But here in the Highlands, Annabelle realized that the clan would take care of its own.

  If anyone came looking for Caxton, and that was highly unlikely given his reputation, the people who lived on Tristan’s lands would know nothing about him.

  They were a close family that she was now a part of and she could hardly believe that.