Though unused to allowing such mutinous behavior to go unpunished, much less to expect it from a female, Devlin wisely let her comments pass. He reasoned that perhaps it was better to let her temper flare a bit now, if it were to cool by the time they reached her home. It would not do to have her too upset upon greeting her mother, and whoever else might be there.
He remained silent until they drew up before a two-leveled sand-colored house built entirely of stone and tabby. It had a mellow, welcoming air of permanence to it, as though it could weather a hurricane and still remain standing for years to come. Vines twined around several sturdy pillars, while the foundation of the surrounding veranda was colorfully edged with blossoming shrubs and flower beds. He had no doubt that Eden’s father must have been well-to-do, to have built such a dignified home, for the windows sported real glass panes, and while the place was not a mansion, it was fair-sized and of good construction.
Reminded of a question he’d not posed, he said, “You’ve spoken of your mother, that she is an invalid with only you and a servant to care for her. Whatever became of your father?”
Sadness furthered darkened her shaded features beneath her bonnet. “He died almost three years past, following a lengthy illness the doctor could neither name nor cure. It was a terrible time for us all, but especially for my mother. On the very day they placed my father in his grave, she lost the use of her legs, and she has not taken a single step since.”
Eden gazed past him toward the house, her beautiful eyes dull with sorrow. “The doctor claims it is more a sickness in her mind and soul than a physical condition,” she continued on a heartfelt sigh, “but that does not alter the fact that she cannot walk. I doubt she ever will, after all this time. That’s why I am so determined to keep the business and the house for her, to see that she is kept comfortable and in want of nothing, though all she ever wanted was my father, and he is the one thing I can never return to her.”
They drove to the rear, to a small carriage house. There Devlin helped Eden unharness and stable the two horses before following her up to the main residence. On the veranda she paused. “For my mother’s sake, if not for mine, I implore you to try to remember not to speak or make any undue sounds. Please.”
“I’ll be as quiet as a mouse,” he promised.
She rolled her eyes. “That does little to alleviate my worries, Captain Kane, since everyone knows that mice can be quite noisy.”
Suddenly spying the mud he’d tracked onto the porch, she remonstrated stiffly, “And would you kindly scrape the filth from your boots before entering the house, lest you leave ghostly footprints all across my mother’s clean floors?”
The door had no sooner opened than Eden’s mother called out from the parlor. “Eden, dear? Is that you?”
“Yes, Mama. I’ll be right in.”
Upon hearing Eden’s given name for the first time, Devlin’s brow rose in mild amusement. He caught her arm to halt her for a moment, little flickers of heat licking through him as he immediately began to become visible.
“Don’t do that!” she warned softly, lest her mother hear her. Pulling loose of him, and noting the odd look on his face, she asked, “What is it?”
“My name is Devlin Kane, but they call me ‘The Devil,’ ” he told her, watching for her reaction. She simply blinked at him and waited for whatever else he would say. “Some have associated my surname with that of Cain, who slew his brother Abel, though mine is spelled K-A-N-E. Don’t you think it ironic that the one woman who could prove to be my salvation is called Eden? Is that not a fine joke for the Fates to play upon us, Miss Eden Winters?”
She could not deny that it was, indeed, strange. Neither could she keep her wayward tongue from commenting, “More illogical than a pirate well acquainted with the Bible? You are an extraordinary enigma, Captain.”
She stepped into the front hall. “Now, ’tis imperative to have no more touching. I fear Mama would not take it well to have a ghost in her home. Particularly one who appears and fades at every whipstitch.”
Together they entered the parlor to find Eden’s mother sitting propped in a chair before the window. On a glance, Devlin compared mother and daughter. Mrs. Winters was clearly slight in stature. She was also more plump than Eden, whether by nature or enforced inactivity, Devlin could not assess. The older woman’s pale face bore the markings of time and mourning, though her lackluster brown hair was only slightly streaked with gray and she was clearly not past forty. As she looked up from her embroidery, Devlin’s breath caught. It was from her mother that Eden had inherited her magnificent turquoise eyes, but never before had Devlin witnessed such deep sorrow as that displayed in Jane Winters’s.
A slight frown creased Jane’s forehead as she welcomed her daughter. “My, your step seems heavy this afternoon, dear,” she said. She shook her head, gave Eden a loving smile which did little to lessen the sadness in her eyes, and jested, “Are you perhaps feeling weighed down with those nasty accounts you are forced to balance? I know how you dread that chore.”
Eden bent to receive her mother’s kiss. “They are a trial for me,” she admitted. “And I must battle them yet again on the morrow, for I fear they won the fight today. But enough of that dreariness. How was your day, Mama? Did you have a nice visit with Reverend Johnston and his wife?”
“No more or less than usual. Henrietta is still after me to let her paint my portrait, though heaven knows why she would want to commit this wrinkled old face to canvas. I much prefer those she did of your father and me before James’s illness. And ’tisn’t as if she needs the practice, after all, with everyone in Charles Town pleading for portraits of their own.”
Eden nodded in agreement as she loosened the ties of her bonnet. “Yes, she does have a remarkable skill with color and brush.” Paying little attention, she tossed the hat toward a nearby chair. It landed on Devlin’s knee.
“My stars!” her mother exclaimed, noting the way the hat seemed to hover half a foot above the cushion. “What on earth ...”
Quickly, Devlin shoved the hat from his knee, causing it to tumble to the floor. Jane stared, then swiftly recovered and offered the explanation herself. “I’ll wager that dratted Dora has left half the windows in the house open, as well as the kitchen door. I’ve tried to tell her what an awesome draft it creates, but she refuses to heed my words, particularly on baking day. Says she cannot work well when the house is so stifling hot.”
Eden heaved a tremendous sigh of relief and met Devlin’s taunting black gaze. He lifted a broad shoulder in a mute gesture, as if to say it wasn’t his doing this time, but hers.
A while later, it was Eden’s turn to smirk. As she and her mother dined on tender roasted capon, potatoes, and new peas fresh from the garden, Devlin was forced to sit quietly and watch. The aroma alone was enough to set his mouth watering and his stomach begging for respite. By the time they had finished their meal, he could have eaten the crockery. And as Dora, their stout indentured servant, cleared the table, he could barely withhold a pathetic moan. The gloating gleam in Eden’s turquoise eyes did nothing to ease his torment.
He was regarding the remaining dishes with longing when Dora rounded the corner of the table nearest him. It came as some surprise when she lifted the back of his chair and attempted to push it into its proper place, almost toppling him from his seat in the process. No small woman, Dora gave the chair another hefty shove, frowning when it scarcely budged. As she bent to examine the legs, which appeared to be stuck fast, Devlin hastily made his escape.
By this time, Eden could not contain her glee. Though she covered her mouth with both hands, a cascade of giggles bubbled forth, earning her a perplexed look from her mother.
“Eden, what has gotten into you this evening?” Jane inquired. “Why, I declare, you’re as skittish as a spring colt. Not at all your usual self. Now this fit of giggles over nothing. Are you sure you are feeling well?”
“I’m fine, Mama,” Eden assured her, though she was anythi
ng but. “I’m just tired, and a bit giddy with it.”
It was not until Dora and Jane retired for the evening that Devlin finally got the opportunity to appease his hunger. As he raided the pantry, Eden stood watching, grimacing he tore into the food as if it were the last morsel he was likely to consume. She’d seen animals eat with better manners!
“Damn me, but I’m starving!” he declared, his head half-buried as he searched the shelves. “ ’Twas mean torture, you getting to eat while I sat and watched, salivating over every spoonful that went into your mouths.”
“You should have considered that before you invited yourself into my home,” she replied, not at all sympathetic. “Perhaps you should rethink your plans. I’m sure this is not the last of the pitfalls you will encounter.”
“We,” he corrected around a mouthful of food. “As in you and I, my sweet. I am not about to quit our agreement so easily. And if you want that pesky moneylender off your scent, neither will you. ’Twould serve you well to remember that ’tis my gold that will ransom you from his greedy clutches.”
Once Devlin’s appetite was satisfied and the kitchen tidied once more, Eden showed him upstairs to a spare bedroom, all the while wondering at the amount of food he’d consumed and how she would explain its disappearance to Dora. Though neat, the room was small and sparsely decorated. The bed was shorter than he might have liked, but topped with a plump feather mattress and pillow, crisp white sheets, and a colorful quilt.
“We’ve quarters above the carriage house, but Dora occupies those rooms. If not for that, you would be staying there,” Eden informed him curtly.
“Nay, Eden. I would not. ’Tis here I will lay my head.” An arrogant grin, one Eden was fast coming to know, curved his lips. “Here, or in your bed.”
“When asses speak the King’s English!” she retorted, too shocked to properly watch her tongue.
He chuckled, accepting defeat graciously. “Ah, well, you can’t blame a man for trying. If you have a change of heart, come seek me out, my beauty.”
For answer, she tartly reminded him to make up his bed in the morning, lest Dora become suspicious, and made good her exit, scurrying to her own room and bolting the door behind her.
Much later, as she lay abed unable to sleep, listening to the clock in the downstairs hall tolling the midnight hour, Eden was reminded of the old French folktale her father used to tell her. It had to do with a girl named Cinderella. Feeling somewhat silly, she nevertheless crossed her fingers and squeezed her eyes tightly closed, on the hope that she, too, would miraculously resume her simpler, saner existence by the time the clock had struck its last.
It was not to be. As the final chime died away, beyond the thin wall separating her bedroom from Devlin’s, she heard his bedstead creak.
Cursed fool pirate!
Infernal half-ghost!
Handsome, flattering rogue!
He was fast coming to replace Finster as the bane of her existence.
Chapter 5
“Eden. Eden!”
She awoke with a start, her heart pounding as she tried to rouse herself from a sound sleep. On a quick look around, she realized it was still night, with not even a hint of light creeping in around the window sash. What had wakened her? Even as the question flitted through her groggy brain, she heard an odd grumbling sound, followed by a loud snuffle.
She was still trying to decipher its source, bafflement furrowing her brow, when Jane called out from the bedroom across the hall. Sleep fled, alarm lending strength to her limbs as Eden tumbled hastily from her bed. Her mother never called for her in the night unless she was sick! Dashing across the room, she yanked at the door, nearly pulling her arm from its socket before she recalled locking it earlier in the evening. Cursing, she fumbled with the bolt, finally dislodging it, and ran to her mother’s aid.
“Mama? What is it?” she asked breathlessly. “Are you ill? Should I send Dora for the doctor?
“No, no. Now, shhh!” By the light of the bedside candle, Eden saw the tremor in her mother’s hands as she waved her to silence. “I’m fine. Just a bit shaken. I don’t mean to alarm you, dear, but ... Am I imagining things, or do I hear a man snoring in this house?”
Eden’s eyes flew wide, her mouth even wider. Saints above! That was what that strange sound was! It was Devlin Kane snoring fit to lift the rafters! How was she supposed to explain this away?
“Uh ... uh ... Oh, Mama! That’s impossible!” she stammered, willing Devlin to silence. Evidently, he was not to be shushed quite that easily, for another grunt resounded almost immediately.
“Then pray tell me what it is that I am hearing?” Jane implored, fright aglow in her eyes. “Eden, I fear we have a midnight visitor, though why he would have fallen asleep in our home is beyond me. While I hate to put this problem upon your shoulders, there is no help for it. You must sneak past this intruder and run for help. Oh, but do be careful! There’s no telling what he might do if you should waken him! But first, get me your papa’s gun from the wardrobe.”
“Mama! No!” Eden thought quickly, fabricating the first thing to come to mind. She laughed nervously, trying to display a calm she did not feel. “Oh, Mama! We’re such silly geese! Do you know what we’re hearing? Nothing more than a stray hog rooting in the yard! Why, I’m almost sure of it! Listen! There it is again! Nothing but a big old pig scaring us half witless!”
To herself, Eden was fuming, thinking it certainly was a big swine making all that racket!
“Are you certain?” Jane queried, cocking her head. “It sounds so close. As if it’s right down the hall.” “I’m certain, but if it will set your mind at ease, I’ll go check. Now, you just lie down and go back to sleep.”
Accepting the explanation, Jane settled against her pillows with a wan, weary smile. “I feel so foolish! Still, promise you won’t go outdoors in the dark. Just look from the windows and throw a slipper at it. But do stay indoors. Swine can be temperamental when they take a mind to.”
So can riled spinsters, Eden thought angrily. Oh, was Captain Kane in for a rude awakening! And her slipper would be more useful in his big mouth than aside his head!
Retrieving the candle her mother had lit, Eden noted thankfully that Jane was already nearly asleep. Quietly she crept from the room, pulling the door shut behind her. Then, bereft of robe or slippers, wearing nothing but her thin lawn night shift, she charged across the hall, mad as a bull. Not bothering to knock, she threw the door to the guest room wide, and marched toward the bed where Devlin lay blissfully snoring. Barely taking the time to set the candle on the bedside table, she promptly administered a resounding wallop to Devlin’s shoulder with the flat of her hand, hitting him so hard that her fingers stung.
One second, she was looking down upon him, the dawning of a satisfied smirk on her lips. The next she found herself hurtling through the air, to end flat on her back on the mattress, his big body atop hers. More than merely startled, Eden’s wide-eyed, fear-filled gaze caught the wicked gleam of a knife blade, held in a hand that rested threateningly against her throat. Eyes as black as sin glittered down into hers for countless heartbeats as Eden gasped for air, a single frightened squeak emerging in place of a scream. Dear God! At this fateful moment of impending death, she found she couldn’t even close her eyes!
He cursed. Softly. Succinctly. Still holding her pinned with his bulk, he glared down at her and exclaimed, “Damn it, woman! Don’t ever creep up on me that way again! Are you trying to get yourself killed?” He tossed the knife aside, relieving the pressure on her neck only slightly.
“N-no!” she squawked, quivers tripping along her backbone. “I only meant to wake you.”
“A kiss would have served you better, though it would no doubt have landed you just where you lie now,” he growled. His gaze darted to her lips, noting the lower one caught between her teeth to still its trembling. “Have you changed your mind and decided to try my bed after all, my curious cat? Is that what this visit is all about?”
“Absolutely not!” she declared, ire overcoming her lingering fear. Wriggling one arm free, she pushed ineffectually at his, which still lay across her chest and throat. “Get off of me and let me up this instant!”
He stared down at her with a mischievous grin and drawled, “I think not. Not until you have told me why you are here, and why you felt it necessary to slap me awake, when a word or two would have done the trick.”
“You were snoring the draperies from their rods, you infernal idiot!” she hissed, remembering to keep her voice low. “You woke my mother, and I had the Devil’s own time trying to explain all the noise you were making with your snorts and groans.”
“And what did you tell her?”
Eden glared up at him, her eyes narrowed into turquoise slits. “I convinced her ’twas swine loose in the yard—when in truth, ’twas a grunting pig in the house.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you have a very sassy, very tempting mouth?” he countered softly.
Eden was calm enough now to become aware of several things she had dismissed in all the excitement. Of their own accord, her eyes drifted downward from his, encountering the mat of blond hair covering his chest. “You .. . you aren’t wearing a nightshirt,” she stammered, flames licking at her cheeks. And he was lying over her, covering her completely, the heat of his big, hard body seeping through her night shift.
“Sweetling,” he answered with undisguised amusement, “I do not own a nightshirt. Nor do I imagine one would do me much good now, except perhaps to startle your maid if she should chance into my room and see a bundle of cloth moving about the bed of its own.”
“ ’Tis highly improper,” she declared stiffly. So was wondering what that swath of chest hair would feel like beneath her fingers; and reveling in the sight of his magnificent torso; and drinking in the warm male scent of him.
He chuckled. “I suppose wearing nightclothes about your hips is more proper than wearing none at all?” he taunted.
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