Splendor

by Catherine Hart

  Eden grimaced delicately. “What occurred after that?”

  “I, Nate, and the part of the crew who had decided to align with us headed back to England. There, finally, I learned of the death of my parents, and for the first time set flowers upon their graves. My sole consolation was that they never knew that their beloved only son had become involved in such a nefarious life.”

  Tears swam in Eden’s eyes. “Then why did you not give it up and join your uncle, as was originally planned?”

  Devlin returned her look with a smile of self–derision. “By then, my dove, I had become accustomed to a much richer life than the carpentry business could provide. Piracy can be very seductive, as can the sea itself. I thrived upon it, and upon commanding my own vessel.”

  “Did you ever visit your uncle? Does he know what became of you?”

  Devlin shook his head. “I suppose he may have heard, but I’ve never gone to see him. He’s not the sort to condone brigandry, and I felt ’twould only embarrass him, were I to show up at his door. He has his family to consider, and I wouldn’t want to shame them.”

  “And what of you, Devlin? Do you not long for the companionship of your own kin? Do you never wish for a home and family of your own? To quit your lawless wandering and settle down to one place?”

  He caught her gaze with his, holding it and reading the yearning she tried to hide from him. “Eden.” He sighed. “My sweet Eden, if anyone could tempt me ’twould be you. But sailing is in my blood, lass. I could not forsake it for long.”

  She ducked her head to conceal her disappointment. “But must it be piracy? Many a man is content to sail the seas lawfully. Why not you?”

  He shrugged. “That could be somewhat difficult, wraith that I am. If this ghostliness proves to be permanent, I would be a most formidable sea robber, don’t you see? At any rate, I fear I am too restless to make a good husband.”

  She dared to look at him. “Do you know what I fear, Devlin?” she said softly. “I fear for your life, if you continue down this path of crime and violence. I fear for your soul.” She rose and made her way slowly to the door, as if weighted down with her bleak thoughts.

  There she turned to deliver a final, solemn comment. “You say you would not make a good husband? Could it be, great strong rogue that you seem, that you are afraid of committing yourself to one woman, to one place? If so, you are condemning yourself to a lifetime of loneliness. And it may prove to be a very short one, at the rate you are going.”

  Eden could have cut out her tongue, for she had inadvertently revealed more of her feelings to Devlin than she’d wanted. Indeed, more than she should have, since Devlin had felt it necessary to warn her away from thoughts of marriage to him.

  Lord, but she felt such a fool! Here she was, the dowdy Spinster Winters suddenly thinking herself so irresistible that a man as handsome and footloose as Devlin should fall over himself to gain her hand and her heart? Ha! What a farce! And how humiliating to be so bluntly reminded otherwise! The man had no designs on her heart, no desire for her hand. The randy rogue only wanted beneath her skirts. That was the long and the short of it, and high time she faced up to that fact once and for all!

  But, drat it all, he had seemed to care. When he hadn’t been trying to sweeten his way into her bed, they’d talked and laughed together. True, they’d yelled and argued equally as often, but they’d also shared private portions of their lives. He’d held her as she wept, and dried her tears with his kisses. Was this the act of a man who did not care?

  While Eden was wallowing in mortified confusion, Devlin was busy flaying himself with self-derision. Blarst! He felt as if he’d just tromped on a helpless chick! The pain on Eden’s face had torn at his heart. But he could not rescind his words, for they were true. Indeed, he did love roving the seas; he did enjoy the life of a pirate; he would make a poor husband. And there was possibly some unfinished business with Swift, which could soon take him sailing again.

  Yet he could not deny that he had led Eden down the garden path a bit in his pursuit of her. Oh, he’d never declared undying love, or anything of that sort. No, he’d been much more subtle, more underhanded. Without committing himself, he had led her to trust him, to believe in him. He’d watched her blossom beneath his praise and attention, and just when she’d felt secure, he’d pulled the rug out from under her feet! All in the name of lust! And damn him if he didn’t still want her, even as guilt gnawed at him.

  Before leaving Charles Town, he would keep his vow to her. He would rid her of Finster and the problems at the warehouse. He would also keep his pledge to himself. He would make love to Eden, right or wrong, regardless of her mother’s threats or any other consequences—and mayhap then he could rid himself of this obsessive desire, this relentless need for her. Perhaps then she would cease to haunt his every thought, waking and sleeping, stop taunting him in his dreams each night. Aye, he had to have her, if just once, before he sailed. Then he had to make certain he never set foot in Charles Town again, because Eden was much too bewitching to resist twice in one lifetime.

  The two of them proceeded to tiptoe around one another like a pair of wary alligators. Even as she accompanied him to town, while Devlin continued to sell and trade the merchandise he and his crew had stored at her warehouse, Eden remained uncharacteristically aloof and quiet.

  Then Devlin did something curious, something that shocked her out of her morose musings. He ordered Nate to bring the Gai Mer ashore, to beach the frigate on the short stretch of sand next to the warehouse wharf. She couldn’t help but question this command, or die of inquisitiveness, all the while hoping it somehow meant he’d decided to give up sailing after all.

  Her prayers were not to be so easily answered, however. “I’ve decided we might as well careen the ship, since we have the time and the opportunity,” he explained. “Besides, we’ve been in port so long that the men are beginning to get restless. They need more to keep them occupied, lest I lose them to another captain.”

  “Careen?” Eden echoed. “What is that?” She stared at the huge vessel, now toppled helplessly on its side on the beach, wishing he would tell her it meant to dismantle the ship for all time.

  “To scrape the hull free of barnacles and sea debris,” he told her, blithely unaware that he was deflating her hopes once more. “A ship’s underside needs a good cleaning every now and again, and ’tis a job that can only be done correctly on dry land, since the timbers usually need to be re-tarred as well. Unfortunately, we’ve let the Gai Mer go longer than she should, and she’s showing signs of sluggishness.”

  At Eden’s puzzled look, he went on. “The cleaner the hull, the faster the ship will sail, and in my business, speed is essential.”

  “Then you are making ready to sail soon,” Eden surmised, swallowing a lump in her throat and blinking back sudden tears.

  Devlin shrugged, scarcely noting the added brightness of her eyes or the extra huskiness of her voice. “I’ve no definite plans to do so, Eden. There is still this business with Tilton and Finster to finish, and I’ll not go until I’ve seen it to a satisfactory conclusion. However, I want the frigate ready when I am, and it takes a while to do the chore properly.”

  “How long?”

  “A couple of weeks, give or take a few days.”

  Eden wanted to scream. Two weeks? A mere fortnight more of having Devlin in her life? Oh, God! How would she ever bear it, knowing he would be gone so soon? No wonder he’d been so intent on selling his cargo and clearing it from the warehouse. Even then, he’d been thinking of leaving, anticipating his departure.

  “What of your invisibility, Devlin?” she asked hesitantly. “I thought you intended to remain in Charles Town until you got your body back.”

  “I may never get it back, and I can’t remain here forever. As I said, the crew is already showing signs of restlessness. However, I’ll stay as long as I can, and hope for a miracle before I go.”

  As will I, Eden thought. A miracle to keep you here.
A miracle to make you love me too much to leave me.

  Chapter 18

  A week had passed since the incident in the lending house. The offended baroness had taken the first ship back to England, as had the remainder of their visiting party. Gossip was still rampant, and the Finsters’ banking business was in a decline as a result. And still, though Eden hoped for his departure with great anticipation, Dudley remained in Charles Town.

  “What is keeping him here?” she wondered aloud, knowing she would not draw a full breath of relief until she’d seen the last of him. On the other hand, Dudley’s departure would, in all likelihood, precipitate Devlin’s, and Eden would rather have the threat of Finster hanging over her head forever than to see Devlin leave.

  “Mayhap he’s waiting for the talk to die down, thinking folks will soon forget and all will return to normal again,” Jane suggested.

  Nate nodded. “Given enough time, it just might. Looks to me like the man needs another nudge or two, Dev.”

  “Aye,” Devlin agreed. Then he shook his head and added, “Who would have thought we’d have this much trouble with the likes of Finster? Blimey! Even Blackbeard wasn’t this hard to convince!”

  “Blackbeard didn’t have as much to lose,” Eden reminded him. “Dudley’s entire future, and everything he’s striven for, are now at stake.”

  “Which makes the man more dangerous than ever,” Jane predicted.

  Devlin nodded. “Give him another day or two, and if he still hasn’t left, I’ll see what else I can do to hurry him along.”

  Later that evening, Eden was undressing for bed. She’d disrobed down to her chemise, and was attempting to unravel a knot in the laces, when Devlin spoke from the darkened corner of her bedroom. “Need help with that, pet? I’m uncommonly handy at aiding ladies out of their undergarments.”

  Swallowing a startled gasp, and clutching her hands over the lacy, low-cut bodice, Eden retorted breathlessly, “I don’t doubt you’ve had abundant practice, Devlin, though probably more with loose women than with ladies.” She peered into the shadows and found him lounging in the chair near the window. “I, however, do not require your help. I have been removing my own clothing for more than twenty years now, and can continue to do so quite nicely, thank you.”

  “Not as nicely as with my assistance.”

  “I’ll manage. Now, kindly remove yourself from my bedroom.”

  “But I’ve come bearing gifts, my dove.” He rose and sauntered toward her, his hands extended. In one he held a silver-backed brush, in the other an ornate silver-edged comb, a matching set. “I was hoping you’d let down your hair and grant me the pleasure of brushing it for you.”

  Even as she reached for the beautiful offerings, she commented skeptically, “Since when are you a lady’s maid, Devlin Kane?”

  “Ah, but sweets, I am a man of many talents, as you would know, if you would but permit me to demonstrate a few of my better abilities.”

  Eden turned toward the lamp on her dressing table, comb and brush in hand, the better to examine their intricate design. No sooner was her back turned than Devlin’s fingers were delving through her upswept hair in search of the restraining pins. Eden’s head snapped up, a ready reprimand on the tip of her tongue, as her eyes sought Devlin’s in the mirror.

  The retort froze on her lips. Her eyes widened in wonder. She could feel Devlin’s breath on the nape of her neck, his warm presence just behind her, though his hands were no longer tangled in her hair. She knew he was there, and if she were to turn toward him again, she was certain she would behold the teasing smile on his face, the sparkle in his dark eyes. Yet, for the life of her, she could not discern his reflection in the mirror before her!

  It was too strange! So eerie that gooseflesh peppered her skin. In all these weeks, while everyone else was experiencing this phantom phenomenon, Eden had always been able to see him. Never had she truly experienced him in this ghostly mien, as others had. Until this very moment.

  He’d told her he could not view himself in a mirror. She’d believed him. She’d also believed when others could not see him. But she’d never witnessed the oddity for herself, and it came as a jolt now.

  Her heart hammering a drumbeat in her breast, Eden whirled to face him. On a sigh of relief, once more her gaze met with sun-kissed flesh, actual cloth, and a substantial man.

  “Oh, Devlin!” she breathed gratefully, wilting against the solid breadth of his chest. “’Twas so queer! So frightening, not to be able to see you in the mirror! At last I realize just how immense a shock this must have been for everyone else. For you most especially.”

  Her words cleared the perplexed frown from his face, and Devlin chuckled, enclosing her firmly in the shelter of his arms. “Scary, isn’t it, duchess? Particularly the first instance or two. I’ve become so accustomed to your ability to see me, the thought never occurred to me that my reflection would be every bit as invisible to you as ’tis to me. Served you somewhat of a fright, eh?”

  She nodded. “Upon consideration, however, more’s the wonder that it did not happen sooner. Of all the shop windows and shiny objects and mirrors we’ve passed, not once have I noticed the absence of your image in them.”

  “Most likely because we were touching then,” he supposed. “At those intervals when I am totally visible to all, so is my reflection.” He turned her toward the mirror once more, removing his hands from her arms before she caught a glimpse in the glass. For the moment, hers was the only likeness reproduced.

  “Watch, now,” he instructed, laying a hand to her shoulder. Upon contact between them, his image flickered into view.

  Eden giggled. “’Tis like magic!” she murmured, enthralled. “A marvelous illusion! Do it again, Devlin.”

  Laughing, he complied. “You are easily entertained, Eden. So like a delightful, enchanting child at times. And so like a beguiling temptress at others,” he added softly, his deep voice rumbling near her ear.

  Their eyes caught and held as desire sparked between them, even through the looking glass. As Eden watched in breathless fascination, his hand slid from her shoulder, his touch ever-present as his fingertips lightly caressed the curve of her neck, the ticklish rim of her ear. Retracing the same path, he pushed the strap of her chemise aside, baring her shoulder and the high slope of her breast.

  Her eyes widened, their turquoise tint changing from light to dark as she anticipated his next move. His own eyes blazed with fiery intent, gleaming like polished jet in the shimmering lamplight.

  His tawny head lowered, inch by inch, until his hot, moist mouth closed over the arch of her shoulder, his teeth nipping gently at the sensitive tendon just beneath her skin. Instantly, a wild tingling streaked through her. As if at his personal, unspoken command, the peaks of her breasts hardened. Her belly burned; her knees threatened to buckle beneath her. Closing her eyes, she bit back a weak moan.

  “Nay,” he directed in a hoarse whisper. “Open your eyes, Eden. Look. See how your body responds to my touch. Feel it. Know it. Want it.”

  Her lashes fluttered open in helpless obedience, her gaze locking with his. As if spellbound, like a hare entranced by a hawk, she watched him adroitly unlace her chemise, his nimble fingers defying the knots with ease. Just as deftly did he deal with her corset, and suddenly . Eden found herself completely bared to his view—and her own.

  His arms closed about her from behind, drawing her firmly against the front of him. Beyond the silvered surface of her mirror, she saw his hands rise, the palms cupping to cradle her breasts, his thumbs brushing the aching crests. Though she caught at her lower lip with the edge of her teeth, her answering gasp would not be stifled. Nor could she suppress the immediate quickening of her body to his skillful manipulation, the flames that shot through her, heating her blood and bringing a telltale flush to her flesh.

  Even so, his sun-bronzed fingers made a startling contrast as they rested over her pale breasts, as they plucked gently at her rose-hued nipples, sending lightning deep
within to pierce her womb. One dark hand wandered lower, resting for a moment on the flat plane of her stomach, making her muscles clench ever tighter, then venturing further to delve into the nest of red-brown curls that sheltered her womanhood. A whimper escaped her, a wispy breath born half from yearning, half from apprehension.

  “Look, love,” he commanded yet again. “See how my hands adore your body, how they stroke and entice your loveliness.” He edged a knee between her own, parting her thighs and causing her to lean more heavily into him, to clutch at his upper arms for support.

  With her head cushioned against his broad shoulder, compelled by Devlin and by her own burgeoning longings, Eden watched in passion-glazed awe as his fingers parted her, darting unerringly to the very heart of her desire, that small kernel of flesh that seemed to house the soul of her sensual feelings. At that first, stunning contact there, she lurched in his arms and cried out softly. Reflexively, she closed her eyes, only to have them spring open again as Devlin continued his sweet torment, the fingers of one hand plucking at her nipple in concert to the rhythmic stroking he applied below.

  Her legs shook, her stomach trembled, her flesh felt seared to the marrow of her bones. Moist heat pooled inside her, flowing like lava in her loins. Everything tightened in intense anticipation. She ached. She burned. She wanted.

  ‘Tell me,” he urged softly, his mirrored eyes burning into hers. “Tell me what you feel.”

  “Hot!” she mewled. “So hot ... and wet ... and tight ... and ... empty!”

  Devlin slid a finger inside her, and she swallowed a muted cry of mixed relief and need. Instinctively, she moved against him, arching and twisted and reaching for more.

  And still she could not tear her eyes from their reflected image, from the sight of his flesh invading hers so intimately, the vision of herself writhing so wantonly in his embrace. His fingers stretched up inside her, plumbing, probing, while the heel of his hand tantalized that outer nubbin of desire. Incredibly, her passion rose further still, until she thought she would go mindless, forever and blissfully crazed with this splendid craving.