The Bride of Devil's Acre

by Jennifer Kohout

  Stubs.

  Steeling herself, Jacqueline turned to look at the dead man. He sat sprawled on the ground, one shoulder still propped up against the wall. His legs were splayed out in front of him, his trousers riding up above his socks to reveal fish-belly pale skin covered in black hair.

  Jacqueline spun her body around. The hook hung from a chain and gave her just enough slack to move half a step to either side. Reaching out with her foot, she hooked her toes over Stubs’ ankle and tried rolling it towards her.

  His leg was heavier than she expected and didn’t budge. The man was nothing but dead weight.

  Jacqueline adjusted her angle and tried to get more of her foot on the other side of his leg. Prepared for the weight, she stiffened her foot and pulled.

  Stubs’ corpse let out a sigh.

  Jacqueline jerked her foot away. Heart pounding, she waited, watching Stubs’ chest and expecting the man to mutter something or rise to his feet. Nothing happened. Once more, Jacqueline hooked her foot over his leg and pulled. Slowly, the sounds of fighting rising behind her, Jacqueline managed to move Stubs’ leg closer. Eventually, she was able to hook her foot behind his knee, pulling the body over and onto its side.

  Devil shook the hair from his eyes. He was sweating profusely, his body protesting the strain. He and Carver continued to dance around each other, both men content to stay out of reach of the other’s blade. Belatedly, Devil realized that Carver could easily outlast him. If he was to have any chance at winning, he needed to do something, and soon.

  Devil waited for an opening, slowing his steps and allowing Carver to get closer. Carver’s eyes lit, and Devil knew he saw the opening he’d given him. Carver jabbed, and Devil didn’t bother to try and to block him, instead bringing the hilt of his knife down on Carver’s wrist.

  The sudden sting of pain in his side told Devil that Carver had found his mark, but the metallic clang of the knife striking cement also told him that Carver had lost his grip on the blade.

  Devil grabbed his side, and his fingers came away wet with blood.

  Carver smiled. “Hurts, doesn’t it?”

  Devil took a step forward, prepared to end this. But he pulled up short when Carver reached behind him and slid a second blade from behind his back.

  Carver’s smile widened. “You should have remembered your words to Stubs.” He’d had the twin blades replaced in preparation for his time with Jacqueline. The quality was inferior to those he’d lost to Devil, but the blades were sharp, and that was all that mattered.

  Devil took a deep breath and watched as Carver tossed the knife back and forth between his hands. The man had always been good with a blade, better with two and could fight equally right- or left-handed.

  This time when Carver advanced, Devil was forced back, his feet shuffling to stay under him. Carver took a swing, the blade moving from right to left and up. Fire pierced Devil’s chest as Carver’s knife cut a path from hip to shoulder.

  Carver didn’t stop, shifting the direction of his blade and driving it back down.

  Devil flung himself backward, narrowly missing getting stabbed in the chest. Unfortunately, the movement cost him what stability he had. The world tilted, and the ground rushed up to meet him. Devil landed on his back with a thud, the air exploding from his lungs in a whoosh.

  “DEVIL!” Jacqueline, her feet balanced precariously on Stubs’ hip, turned just in time to see her husband fall.

  Devil didn’t move.

  Jacqueline stretched, sliding the rope to the end of the hook where it caught on the pointed tip. Jacqueline whimpered and stretched. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Carver circling her fallen husband, his knife tap, tap, tapping against his thigh.

  “Who’s the man now?” Carver sneered, nudging Devil with the toe of his shoe.

  Devil groaned, his chest heaving with the effort to breathe. His eyes fluttered as he tried to focus. Carver moved in and out of sight, the man a blur of color as Devil struggled to rise.

  Carver pressed his foot to Devil’s chest, pinning him to the ground. “It really is sad seeing a man struggle to stand.” Shifting his weight, Carver pushed Devil more firmly to the ground before removing his foot and kneeling beside him.

  Urgency gripped Jacqueline as she watched Carver kneel beside the still form of her husband. She had to get to him. Carefully, she stretched, moving from the balls of her feet to her toes. Beneath her, the soft body of Stubs shifted and she started to fall. Throwing herself forward, she went with the motion and prayed.

  The rope slipped off the end of the meat hook, and Jacqueline fell to the floor. Pain exploded in her knees and shot up her thighs. She scrambled back to Stubs’ body, pulling him over onto his back. One arm flopped to the side, the back of his hand smacking the concrete with a sickening sound. Eyeing the knife still protruding from his chest, Jacqueline didn’t allow herself time to think. She wrapped bloody fingers around the hilt and yanked it free.

  Carver leaned forward, making sure to fill Devil’s vision. “We both love her, you know. Each in our own way.”

  Devil flinched as cold fingers caressed his cheek.

  “She will go to her grave your wife, but wearing my mark. She will bind us together forever.” Carver raised his arm, the blade pointed down and aimed at Devil’s heart. It seemed almost a shame. He’d never had such a worthy opponent before.

  Jacqueline threw herself at Carver’s back. Fisting her hand in his hair, she yanked his head back and exposed his neck. “I may wear your mark, but the only one I belong to is him.”

  Carver froze.

  Devil forced his eyes opened in time to see his wife press a bloody knife to Carver’s throat. “Jac—”

  Devil’s voice was hoarse with pain, but Jacqueline didn’t take her eyes off Carver. She clutched the knife, her hands slick with blood and sweaty with fear. Her arms trembled from being held over her head for so long, and her stomach turned. Her mind rebelled at the idea of being this close to Carver, and everywhere they touched, her skin crawled. “Drop the knife, or I’ll cut your throat.”

  “Jac, get out of here.” Devil eyed his wife over Carver’s shoulder. She should have run.

  “You won’t do it,” Carver said, struggling to swallow. The fingers in his hair tightened, and his head was yanked back even further. He could feel the cords in his neck bulging under the strain. They walked the line between life and death together, but he felt no fear. If she killed him, it would only prove just how much she belonged to him. But she wouldn’t do it, and he told her so. “You’re not a killer. I should know.”

  Jacqueline pressed her face closer, her lips brushing the tender skin of Carver’s earlobe. “Now who does the hard thing?” she asked, her voice soft and lover-like. “She that can.”

  Jacqueline jerked the knife back, tearing the blade across Carver’s throat.

  Devil watched a thin line of blood appear as Carver’s neck opened up, obscuring the old scar. At the last moment, he closed his eyes just as steamy hot blood spattered across his face. His wife had hit the artery.

  Jacqueline stumbled backward as Carver jerked out of her arms. He turned to her, his eyes wide with shock. Both hands wrapped around his neck in a fruitless effort to stop the bleeding. Blood gushed through his fingers, soaking the front of his shirt.

  Carver blinked, his mouth working soundlessly, and reached for Devil’s wife. Jacqueline lunged and drove the blade still in her hand into his chest.

  The two of them knelt face to face as Carver slowly collapsed in Jacqueline’s arms. She held him there, eyes locked, watching him die. Her skin no longer crawled, the heat of his life’s blood warming her like nothing else could.

  Devil groaned as he rolled over onto his side. Slowly, painfully, he got to his hands and knees and crawled to where his wife still knelt, locked in death’s embrace. “Let go, Jac.”

  Jacqueline didn’t hear him.

  “He’s dead, Jac. Let him go.” Devil pried his wife’s stiff fingers from Carv
er’s shoulders, easing the man out of her arms and laying him out on the floor. Turning his back on the dead man, Devil roughly pulled his wife into his arms.

  “Devil.” Jacqueline sobbed her husband’s name, burying her face in his chest. They were both covered in blood and surrounded by death.

  “It’s OK,” Devil cooed, wrapping his arms around her and resting his cheek on the top of her head. “It’s over.”

  “He’s dead.” Jacqueline closed her eyes.

  “Yes,” Devil confirmed, though there had been no question in Jac’s voice.

  “I killed him.”

  “You saved us,” he said, and when he hadn’t been able to. As a man, he should have felt shame, but as a husband all he felt was pride.

  “I want to go home,” Jacqueline whispered, clinging to the back of her husband’s shirt. “Take me home, Devil.”

  Devil nodded. Jacqueline had started to shiver, her body trembling in his arms. Slowly, he managed to get them both on their feet. Wrapping one arm around his wife’s shoulders, he tucked her against his side, holding her close while he looked for his coat.

  Finding it, Devil helped Jacqueline get her arms in the sleeves, wrapping the too-big coat around her and escorting her outside. It took them a while, moving slowly and making a few wrong turns. They’d both been brought in unconscious, and neither knew the way out. Finally, they stumbled upon the exit, opening the door and spilling out into the crisp, clean night air.

  “Devil!”

  Devil lifted his head in time to see Finn rushing toward him, Moose right on his heels. “Where in the bloody hell have you been?”

  “We got here as soon as we could.” Finn ducked under Devil’s arm, helping to hold the man on his feet.

  “Sorry, boss. I had trouble finding him,” Moose said. He’d left Devil outside Lord Edwards’ townhouse, hurrying to Purgatory expecting to find Finn fucking Annie. Only he wasn’t there, and neither was Annie. It took him some time to track down Lady Jade only to learn that Finn, wanting to keep the pretty whore safe, had taken Annie to his house.

  “Take her,” Devil said, easing Jacqueline into Moose’s arms.

  “No!” Jacqueline clung to Devil, ignoring the hands that gently tried to pull her away.

  “It’s OK,” Devil assured her. His head was pounding, and the cut across his chest was on fire. He could barely feel his legs, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he lost it altogether. “I’m not going—”

  “Devil!” Jacqueline tried to catch her husband as he fell.

  Devil heard his wife’s cry from far away. His head rolled back, and the night sky filled his vision. Jac was safe, he thought, staring at the star-studded sky overhead. That’s all that matters.

  The stars were the last thing he saw.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “Devil!”

  “It’s OK, Lady J. He just fainted.”

  I don’t faint.

  “He’s bleeding.” His wife’s voice was shaky with fear. For him? Or were those the remnants of her time with Carver?

  “Aye, he is, but I suspect it’s the blow to the head that has him off his feet.”

  Devil felt himself being lifted.

  “Let’s get him home.”

  “I can’t…”

  Devil could all but see his wife shaking her head. Can’t say that he blamed her, not one bit. She’d killed a man because of him, because he brought her into his life and failed to protect her.

  Devil let the darkness take him.

  Devil opened his eyes as the last of the dream dissipated.

  Not a dream.

  Devil lay on his bed. The mattress was soft beneath him and the ceiling the same one he’d fallen asleep under for the past several years. Daylight filled the room. Turning his head, Devil watched the drapes stir in the breeze brought by an open window and mused that the dust motes danced on the air for him.

  Mrs. Barrett wouldn’t be happy to hear there was dust in her house.

  “Kind of you to join us.”

  Devil rolled his head across the pillow. Finn sat sprawled in a chair next to the bed. The Irishman was disheveled. His hair was mussed, and he looked like he’d slept in his clothes, more than once. “How long was I out?”

  “Four days.” Finn roused himself, pouring Devil a glass of water and helping him to drink. “The doctor figured it for a concussion and told us to let you sleep.”

  “Doctor?” Devil lifted his head to drink. There was a dull throb at the base of his skull, but it was a far cry from the splitting pain he’d been expecting.

  “Aye, Lady J sent over the physician.” Finn nodded toward Devil’s chest. “He’s the one who stitched you up.”

  Devil glanced down at himself. The bedsheet had fallen to his hips revealing a stark-white bandage. Wrapped from armpit to waist, he looked like a half-wrapped mummy. “How bad is it?”

  Finn shrugged and sat back in his chair. “Think of it this way: the ladies always like scars. They think it gives a man a dangerous air.”

  Devil frowned. He was a married man; he didn’t need to worry about the ladies. Not unless—“Where’s my wife?”

  Finn’s lips thinned as he shook his head.

  Devil looked away, looked back toward the window. After a minute of silence, he said, “It’s for the best. You were right. I never should have married her. Hell, I never should have taken her in the first place.”

  God, but that hurt to say. Devil resisted the urge to rub at the pain starting in his chest. This one had nothing to do with his wound.

  He was going to let her go, he realized. Eddington had told him of the annulment. At the time, Devil had hoped to argue against it and convince his wife to return to him. But now, now he would see that she was well provided for. Maybe he would set her up in a house of her own and ask Andrew to help with the annulment. It was the least he could do—that and stay as far away from her as possible.

  “Aye, well, I hope you don’t plan on lounging around in bed all day,” Finn said. He didn’t feel the need to say I told you so. “While you’ve been getting your beauty rest, I’ve had to deal with Lady Jade and the club.”

  “Everything all right?” Devil asked, grateful for the distraction from his thoughts.

  “As well as can be expected,” Finn said. “She’s a real piece of work.”

  Devil smiled knowingly. “It’s one thing to deal with her as a customer and another to be her boss.”

  “I prefer not to deal with her at all.” Lady Jade hadn’t liked a single decision Finn made on behalf of their boss. Of course, Finn making decisions in general was laughable.

  Devil tossed back the covers. He was naked from the waist down as well.

  “For the love of God, man!” Finn said, throwing an arm up to cover his eyes. “Put some trousers on that white arse of yours before you blind me!”

  Devil laughed and took his time fetching his clothes. The stitches pulled under his bandage as he pulled his trousers up over his hips. He’d take a look later and see just how bad the damage was. “Let Jade and the others know I’ll be by this evening. I’ve got some personal business to see to first.”

  Finn nodded but didn’t say anything. A few minutes later, he left Devil still getting dressed. The bossman was moving carefully, and there were new shadows in his eyes. But his face had settled into its usual hard lines.

  The Devil was back.

  “Lady Jacqueline.” Emme bent over her sleeping mistress, nudging her shoulder gently. Lady Jacqueline had fallen asleep by her father’s bed, her head resting on arms folded on top of the mattress. “My lady, you have a visitor.”

  Jacqueline’s eyes lifted slowly, and the events of the past few days came rushing back. “Papa?”

  Emme shook her head.

  Jacqueline looked from her maid to her father’s still figure. Lord John lay silent and unmoving, his normally large frame seeming small and inconsequential under the thick blankets. “You said I have a visitor?”

  “Y
es, my lady.” Emme stepped back as Jacqueline got to her feet. “Mr. Radcliffe is here to see you.”

  “Devil,” Jacqueline whispered. Her heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t seen him since leaving him at the slaughterhouse. Torn between two men, she’d returned home to check on her father. She’d seen the gunshot wound and knew there was every chance her father was dead. Still, she needed to see for herself, and Finn had assured her that Devil would be all right.

  Jacqueline glanced uncertainly at her father.

  “Go, my lady,” Emme encouraged gently. “I’ll stay with Lord John until you return.”

  Jacqueline nodded and went to freshen up.

  Downstairs, Devil stood waiting in the study. The room had been scrubbed clean, the bloody carpet rolled up and undoubtedly destroyed so that no sign of the violence that had visited this room remained.

  Staring out the window, his back to the room, Devil didn’t hear her come in.

  “Devil.” Her husband stood with hands clasped behind his back. He wore a charcoal gray suit, the color only a few shades lighter than his black hair.

  Devil turned and felt something settle in his chest. Finn had assured him his wife had escaped any serious injury and returned to her father relatively unharmed. But it wasn’t until he was able to see for himself that he truly believed she was all right.

  She was beautiful. The emerald dress she wore set off her hazel eyes and colored them a deeper shade of green. Her hair, those thick mahogany locks he’d loved running his fingers through, was piled high on her head, not a loose tendril in sight. The only thing out of place was the purple bruise marring her stubborn chin. It was fading, the edges already yellow with age, but it still served as a reminder as to why he was here.

  Jacqueline folded her fingers in front of her as they continued to stare at each other from across the room. “How are you?” she asked finally.

  “I’m well,” Devil said. “I understand from Finn that I have you to thank for the skillful physician.”

  Jacqueline waved the matter aside. “It was the least I could do.” After he’d finished seeing to her father, Jacqueline had sent the doctor to tend to Devil. He had followed up on her husband twice, both times reporting back to Jacqueline.