He laid her down on a large tilted rock with a flat surface, keeping his hands on her hips to steady her, and it seemed as though she rested upon an island among the wildly tossing sea. Although the night was warm, the spray drifted against her, drawing a shiver from her.
“Cold, Pru?” Sebastian asked. She heard the seductive thread in his low voice, and trembled, but not from any chill. She shook her head. He eased her back down against the surface and parted her robe. The night was black around them, but for the glimmering stars and the faint shimmer of the moon that caught the pale curves of her breasts.
“Oh, my,” she whispered, swallowing thickly.
“Oh, yes,” Sebastian murmured. He bent over her, his hands sliding over her skin, his mouth finding hers, hot and open, his tongue thrusting in without preliminaries.
Prudence lifted her arms to encircle his neck, to press his hair-roughened chest against her breasts. Her senses were overwhelmed—by his touch, by his kiss, by the darkness and the moonlight, by the clean scent of the ocean and its thunderous music in her ears. Nothing she had ever conjured in her vivid imagination could match this night, and she gasped in joyous abandon.
Sebastian’s breath rasped against her urgently, his lips marking a trail down her body, the heat of him a heady contrast to the sudden cool dash of fine mist. Fire and ice, earth and water, all seemed to combine, commanded by the Ravenscar heir to do his bidding, and Prudence felt as if she would surely burn or drown in tormented ecstasy.
“Sebastian, please,” she moaned.
“Do you like my surprise, Pru, love?” he asked. Although his tone was even, Prudence heard the low catch in his lungs, felt the increasing pressure of his hands. He straightened, and the dark shape of his body, with its wide shoulders, was outlined by the faint light. He looked like some kind of pagan god, Hades himself, risen from the underworld. The Devil Earl in all his glory.
“Yes!” she whispered. It was an answer and a plea.
While she lay back against the stone, his fingers went to the front of his breeches, unfastening the fall to release his sex, huge and erect. He stepped forward, parting her thighs, wrapping them around him, settling himself between them as if to claim possession of her.
His head was thrown back against the star-filled blackness of the sky, and, with a low groan, he lifted her hips toward him to thrust deep. In one swift motion, he buried himself fully inside her, and Prudence, trembling with anticipation, climaxed immediately, in violent, shuddering waves of pleasure.
His release followed her own, his muscles tensing as he murmured his desire and her name, and he pounded into her, his tall form racked by the force of his satisfaction.
When he finally stilled, Prudence struggled to regain her breath. Sebastian remained standing above her, within her, his hands on her hips shaking slightly, his low gasps evidence of his own need for air. She lay staring up at him, her legs wrapped around him, her robe open, her flesh damp from sweat, mist, and Sebastian’s seed.
Around them the waves crashed, the water ebbing and flowing in the same timeless rhythm in which they had merged their bodies and their souls, and Prudence suddenly felt like weeping at the wonder of life. Stunned by the power of what they created between them, she lost all caution. “Oh, Sebastian!” she blurted out. “I love you!”
His head swiveled toward her, and she heard him suck in a deep breath. Typically, he did not reveal the depth of his emotion, however, and when he spoke, it was in his usual calm, deep tone. “How splendid, for I have been in love with you for some time.”
Prudence smiled, for she knew that he would not say it, if it was not true. She had hoped, but knowing that her feelings were returned filled her with such elation that she could not stay still. Her thighs tightened around him, drawing him in deeper, and she heard his low gasp. The heat inside her was growing, and she arched upward eagerly.
“Ah, Pru?” he said. One of his large hands settled on her hip, stopping her movement, while he rubbed the other palm across his face, as if to clear thoughts tangled by desire.
“Yes?”
“Does this mean you will marry me?”
By the time Sebastian carried Prudence back inside the cave, he was not sure his legs would work. Never in his licentious past had he ever performed so long and so well. He felt as if his bones had turned to dust, and he couldn’t suppress a stab of relief at Prudence’s insistence on walking once they were inside. He let her slide down his body, a gentle glide of smooth skin and damp robe and golden hair, and felt a heaviness in his chest. She loved him.
“It would be a shame to board the passage up forever,” she said wistfully, glancing back toward the rocks.
“Yes, well, maybe I shall simply put in another stout door and several locks,” Sebastian muttered. After what had happened out there, he did not know whether he was willing to close it up, either. After all, someday, when he regained his strength, he might bring her back here.
He went to retrieve the lantern, while Prudence wandered about, studying the walls, as if seeing something new about the place. Sebastian had to admit that, without its booty, the cave looked vastly different, the curves more evident, as they led around and then back in an unusual fashion.
Prudence had stopped directly in front of one of the strange turns. “There is something odd about this crevice,” she said.
“What is it?” he asked, moving up behind her. When he lifted the lantern, he could see a difference in the surface of the stone. What the devil?
“Look, here, Sebastian!” Prudence exclaimed. “Do you have your knife with you?” Without bothering to question her, he silently passed the weapon to her and watched as she poked the point directly into a pale-looking spot. “Soft! Just as I thought,” she mused.
“What is it?” Sebastian asked, catching a piece of the crumbling material. “Plaster!” He stared down at the bits in his hand and then over at his companion in amazement. Prudence would always astound him.
Oblivious of her near-naked state, she was calmly hacking away at the opening with his blade. With a sigh, Sebastian realized it would be useless to try to coax her into returning during the daylight hours, when they were fully clothed and armed with tools. Once Pru was focused on something, there was no dissuading her—which could be enjoyable at times, he thought with a wry smile.
Rather than stand there all night while she poked at the crevice, Sebastian hooked the lantern nearby and searched for a heavy piece of driftwood. “Step back,” he warned before he began knocking at the old plaster with a branch. It gave way easily, until a fairly large, utterly black hole gaped before them.
Taking up the light once more, Sebastian held it close and peered inside. He could see several low shapes that looked like barrels and crates. “There is something in there,” he said. “Perhaps the remains of some old shipment.”
While his attention was fixed upon the interior, Prudence ducked underneath him and stepped over the rubble into the darkness, sending his heart into his throat. “Pru! Wait, damn it! The bottom might not be steady, or the ceiling could be unstable. The whole place might go!”
“Nonsense,” Prudence called over her shoulder. “This is simply another part of the cavern, as safe as the rest of it. Yet someone sealed it off. I wonder why?”
Releasing a low string of curses, Sebastian followed her, for he had no choice. At least the ground seemed solid beneath his feet. Keeping a wary eye on the opening, he set the lantern down and glanced around. “I hate to spoil your fun, but maybe we could come back later, with brace beams and lamps. As much as I adore you, Pru, I have no desire to be buried alive with you for all eternity.”
He might as well not have spoken, for she was intent upon a lid, running her hand along the top, without thought of vermin or dirt. “These have been here a long time, Sebastian. Why, the dust here is thicker than on the containers in the French wine cellar.”
“I am not surprised. The very air smells old,” Sebastian replied, wrinkling his nose at t
he musty stench. Stepping closer to one of the boxes, he lifted an ancient tarp, only to feel it crumble in his hands. What the devil?
“Sebastian.” The crack in Pru’s voice made him turn toward her immediately, as visions of tons of cliff rock crashing down upon them leapt to mind. But all was still, and she was looking down, not up, at a chest.
Lifting the lantern again, Sebastian moved to her side, and immediately the light caught and glittered off gold. As she pushed back the top, he bent closer and sucked in a deep breath at what he saw. The box was filled with what appeared to be coins, gleaming with an unmistakable cast. Picking up one of them, Sebastian turned it over in his fingers. “Spanish!”
“The Devil Earl really must have been a pirate,” Pru mused.
“What?” Sebastian glanced at her in surprise.
“I would guess that he made a fortune harrying the Spanish, and this secret store is his private booty, put away against a future that was cut short by his own wife.”
Sebastian dropped the coin back into its nest. “The blackguard. No wonder he went through his inheritance so quickly. He had all this put away for later use.”
“Yes,” Pru said, smiling up at him. “And now, I believe it accrues to you, as the rightful heir of Ravenscar, my lord.”
She was right. This was not free-traders’ goods, to be turned over to excisemen, but pirate booty, stolen more than two hundred years ago from the Spanish. Legally, it belonged solely to Wolfinger Abbey and its inhabitants.
Sebastian thought of how eagerly his uncle would have spent such a fortune, of how rapidly he could have gone through it in his own dissipated youth, and he was thankful that it had remained hidden until now.
Now. The knowledge that this fortune was here, in his hands, available for his use, made him nearly dizzy. He could shore up his dwindling accounts, restore Wolfinger, reestablish the Ravenscar heritage—and provide for his wife and family. Beside him, Prudence had been strangely quiet. He glanced at her curiously.
“Maybe the Devil Earl will rest in peace now,” she said, her voice a low hush in the tomblike space.
“More likely, his wife will rest in peace,” Sebastian replied wryly. “She might have had a care for the future, but I doubt that the old pirate would want to share his booty with anyone—even his namesake!”
As if signaling the dead man’s agreement, wind suddenly whipped through the cavern, rattling the old tarps and howling like a banshee. Sebastian, who had thought himself inured to the abbey’s little eccentricities, felt the hair rise on the back of his neck.
“Come on, Pru,” he said. Leaving the lantern, he grasped the chest, pulling it and pushing Prudence toward the opening just as the walls started creaking ominously.
The rumbling grew into a thud and a crash, and Prudence threw herself through the opening to the cavern. “Sebastian, forget the gold!” she cried, but it came out a low croak, drowned out by the thunderous roar of rock collapsing. She fell forward, and the world went black.
Chapter Twenty
When all was quiet again, Prudence raised herself on her elbows. She could see nothing but the entrance to the cave, where the water glittered under a faint moon, just as if the night were as serene as it had been a minute before. Perhaps, out there, it was, for the sea continued its rhythms, undisturbed by human folly.
And what folly it had been to go dashing into an underground chamber in the middle of the night! Prudence shook her head, sending plaster dust and dirt into her eyes and nose. She coughed so violently that she jerked, realizing then that her legs were pinned under something—Sebastian’s driftwood, perhaps…
“Sebastian!” Prudence cried out his name, sudden panic giving her the strength to crawl forward until she was free. Whirling around, she searched the blackness for him, but without the lantern, she could see nothing.
“Sebastian!” It was a scream this time, the first one ever to leave her throat. Prudence Lancaster, gothic authoress, fearless seeker of ghosts and specters and hidden tunnels, was well and truly frightened. Her hands shook, and tears streamed down her face as she clawed at the pile of rubble.
“Sebastian!”
A bob of light appeared in the darkness, and Prudence turned to see Mr. Worth, a lantern in one hand and the blunderbuss in the other, peeking out of the passageway. ”Who goes there?” he cried in a shaken voice.
“Mr. Worth, help! Help me!” Prudence’s incoherent pleas seemed to scare the poor man, for he leapt back, training the gun directly on where she struggled in the dirt.
“Merciful God, what it is?” he whimpered, and for a moment, Prudence thought he might shoot her. Did it matter? If anything had happened to Sebastian, she did not care if she was killed. How would she go on living without the man who was a part of her?
“Mr. Worth, please,” she begged, her normally quick wits scattered by the thought of Sebastian lying under piles of cliff stone. “Bring the light over here. Sebastian—”
“Are you…are you the Devil Earl’s wife?” Mr. Worth asked.
“Not yet!” Prudence snapped, anger clearing her thoughts. “Nor will I be, until you help me find him!”
“Prudence, is that you?” Another voice, a sane voice, echoed in the cavern, and behind the worthless Mr. Worth, Prudence recognized Sebastian’s brother, holding another lamp. She had never been so glad to see anyone in her life.
“James! Oh, thank God! Help me! Sebastian is hurt!”
In an instant, he was at her side, in nothing but barely buttoned breeches and boots, his long hair falling into his face as he bent over the pile of rubble. Mr. Worth, still leery, approached more slowly.
“There was a cave-in, and—”
“Here he is!” James said, and with a shaky sigh of relief, Prudence saw Sebastian’s white face pressed into the ground. “He’s buried under some rock here. Damn! I wish I had my men,” James muttered, but he was already throwing off stones and chunks of plaster rapidly. “What the devil?” His fingers found the hard and heavy edge of the chest.
“I don’t think that is weighing on him, because he was dragging it behind him,” Prudence explained. Without further questions, James continued his task, tossing aside whatever covered his brother, while Prudence brushed away what she could of the dirt. Finally, they could see all of the earl’s tall, lean form, but still Sebastian did not move or speak, and when they brought the lantern close, Prudence groaned. He was bleeding from several cuts, including a nasty-looking gash on his head, and one of his long legs was bent at an odd angle.
“It must be broken,” James said. He touched the limb gently, and Sebastian moaned, his eyes fluttering open.
“Easy, now,” James said.
“James,” Sebastian muttered. Then he glanced at Prudence. Suddenly, she was acutely aware of her appearance. Her face was black and streaked with tears, and the tattered remains of her robe exposed more flesh than it covered. She tried to tug it close, and then gave up. Nothing mattered except Sebastian. If only he was not mortally injured…
“Prudence, when I can stand again, I am going to wring your neck,” he promised before closing his eyes.
“Worth, come here and help me get the earl upstairs,” James ordered, with a grin. Apparently, he had decided that Sebastian was going to be fine. “Have you no earthshattering revelations to report after your brush with death, brother dear?”
“Yes,” Sebastian said, his lashes lifting again. “Contrary to my previous belief, Prudence is not always right.”
The doctor was dragged forcibly into Wolfinger, his obvious superstitious bent disappearing only while he treated his patient. He set Sebastian’s leg capably, but his recommendation of crutches for the earl was greeted with a hail of foul curses. Muttering dire warnings and something about “the devil getting his,” he left Sebastian to the tender care of the other abbey residents, who, by this time, were all gathered about the bed.
Mrs. Worth had prepared him some tea with a sedative, which he refused to drink. Phoebe was flutter
ing around worriedly, and Prudence was sitting back in a chair, still dressed in her tattered robe, exhaustion setting in.
James appeared to be the only one whose mood was less than somber. “Well, I had planned to get Phoebe settled in the cottage tomorrow and then go on to Mullion to see about raising some money, but now I am not sure,” he said, a teasing grin upon his handsome face. “Perhaps I should stay and make sure you don’t hurt yourself again.”
“James.” Sebastian’s low growl was a warning, but his brother only laughed loudly. “I am sorry, Sebastian, but I have always been so jealous of my perpetually composed and capable brother. It is a relief to see that you are as human as the rest of us—age having made your bones more brittle than some, of course.”
“James!” Phoebe looked appalled by her husband’s rudeness, but Prudence smiled shakily at the banter between the brothers.
“Maybe I will have that tea, so that I would no longer have to listen to your ill-bred barbs,” Sebastian snarled. “And the crutches will make fine cudgels, I am sure.”
“I am most dreadfully sorry for your mishap, Sebastian,” Phoebe said, stepping between James and the bed. Obviously, she thought the arguing had gone on long enough. “But I am sure Prudence and Mrs. Worth will be able to take care of you. I sent a message to Cook and our day maid that we would be back at the cottage tomorrow.”
“So you shall, love,” James said. “I was only tormenting my brother.” He sighed. “And so should I be off, to get financing for the ship.”
“I do not think that will be necessary, James,” Sebastian said, “though why I should share my good fortune with you is beyond me at this point.”
“What good fortune?”
“Prudence and I stumbled upon a store of booty last night that appears to be that of the Devil Earl himself,” Sebastian explained.
The Devil Earl Page 27