The Devil's Daughter

by Laura Drewry

  A long moment passed before Berta spoke, and when she did, it was little more than a guilty whisper.

  “I want to help you.”

  “Help me?” Lucy’s laughter was anything but funny. “You just stood there and told me what a good man he is.”

  She hesitated, tried to swallow against her parched mouth, then lowered her voice even more. “You know he’ll go straight to Hell once I’ve taken his soul.”

  Berta nodded slowly and wiped her eyes.

  “And Maggie.”

  Another nod.

  “And. . .the baby.”

  Her nod was shorter, briefer, and followed by a choking sob. “You are my only concern.”

  “Me?” Lucy scoffed. “You gave up your right to be concerned for me when you abandoned me. You left me to be raised in a place so awful, no mortal can even begin to imagine.” She fought back the knot in her throat. “Why would I believe you’re suddenly concerned about me after all these years?”

  The woman’s shoulders slumped. “I’m so sorry, Lucy. I begged him not to take you. I offered to go in your place, but he didn’t want me. He only wanted you.” She paused, took a breath. “I was so scared. And it seemed the more frightened I became, the stronger he was.”

  The backs of Lucy’s eyes prickled slightly, but she blinked it away. That was how her father worked; he preyed on human fears and hatred.

  “I begged God and any saint I thought might listen to bring you back,” Berta said. “No one did.”

  “You should have tried harder.” Lucy would not feel anything for this woman. She wouldn’t. “I was your child.”

  “Yes,” Berta sobbed. “You were. You are. And there’s nothing I can do now to change what I did. Saying I’m sorry won’t make anything better.”

  “You’re right.” Lucy stiffened. “It won’t.”

  Berta took a moment to compose herself before she spoke. Once she did, her words came out over hiccupped sobs and sniffles.

  “I can’t pretend to know what you’ve been through, but if I can help keep you from going back, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  Jed came around the corner of the barn with a long board balanced on his shoulder. Berta scurried back to the table and busied herself with the bowl of batter she’d abandoned. When Jed raised his brow in question, Lucy simply shrugged and pretended to check the cooling pot of stew.

  “Should be ready in just a while,” she called out, surprised at the calmness in her voice.

  He grinned, set the board against the north wall of the barn and headed back where he came from.

  Berta waited another moment, paused near the door of the house, listened, then headed back to the fire.

  “If you want out,” she whispered, “you need a baby’s soul. Am I right?”

  Lucy nodded hesitantly. Could she really trust this woman?

  Berta’s face scrunched. “Let me help you.”

  There was no mistaking the pain in the woman’s voice. And though Lucy would have willingly handed her over to Satan right then and there, something pulled at her.

  “Berta.” She took a small step closer, then stopped. She did not want this woman to touch her. “Do you have any idea what that would mean for you?”

  “I won’t lose you again.”

  For a moment, Lucy thought Berta might be sick, but the woman struggled through a few long choking breaths, then continued. “I’m going to Hell anyway,” she sniveled. “There’s nothing I can do about that. But I won’t let it happen to you again. Not if there’s anything I can do to prevent it.”

  Lucy chewed her lip raw. Her mother, of all people, wanted to help her, and was willing to do anything it took.

  Before she could move away, Berta grabbed her hands and squeezed them tight.

  “Jedidiah Caine is the last person on earth who deserves Hell, but if he has to be sacrificed to save my own child, then so be it.”

  Lucy fought through the fog in her brain. None of this made sense. This had to be Deacon’s doing.

  Jed came around the barn with another piece of lumber, smiled brightly at Lucy, and disappeared again. Had she smiled back? And what would he think if he saw Berta holding her hands?

  “Lucy.” Berta’s gentle tug pulled her back to their conversation. “You’re half human.”

  Human.

  A glint of hope shone in her mother’s eyes. Hope for what? All her life, she’d believed her mother was just another dark soul her father had claimed. Never had she suspected her mother was human!

  It certainly explained why Lucy was weaker than Deacon, but that’s all it explained. Berta’s smile brightened.

  “You have the capacity to love. And you have the capacity to be loved.”

  “No.” She shook her head, even as the truth of Berta’s words ripped through her heart.

  “Yes.” Berta’s fingers tightened around Lucy’s. “Your husband is crazy in love with you already. And I’d wager you feel the same way for him.”

  “What?” Lucy gasped. “Have you lost your mind? How can you even suggest such a thing?”

  “Deny it all you like, Lucy, but it’s there. And it could save you.”

  Poor Berta. Like all humans, she held on to the slightest glimmer of hope any time it presented itself.

  “No, Berta. It can’t.” She pulled out of her mother’s grasp and stepped back. “It doesn’t matter if I l. . . feel anything for him or not, the fact is simple. Once he learns the truth – and he will learn the truth eventually – he’ll despise me.”

  “No,” Berta protested. “He can’t hate you – he loves you!”

  Lucy didn’t answer. Sure, Jed might think he loved her, he might even want to say it out loud, but no human loved enough to take on the devil.

  “Miss Blake!” Maggie’s cry carried through the closed door and out into the yard.

  “Oh dear,” she muttered. “Think about what I said, Lucy. We can do this. I can help.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTTEEN

  “Maggie’s resting again.” Berta carried the two chairs outside and set them next to the fire. “I suggested her time might be very close, so she should get as much rest as she possibly could.”

  Lucy tried to steady her breathing, but it wasn’t working very well. How could she stay calm with both Berta and Jed sitting there around the fire? Knowing her luck, Deacon would show up, too.

  “You’ll join us for supper, then?” Jed asked with a smile. “Seems only fair.”

  Lucy looked back at Berta and felt Jed’s gaze follow hers. He took in a sharp breath, but neither woman turned to look at him again. They simply sat staring at each other, Berta’s red puffy eyes begging forgiveness and Lucy trying desperately to make sense of everything.

  “Is there something going on?” Jed asked. His voice, low, and full of concern, seemed to fill the air around them.

  Lucy watched Berta for another moment. If her mother was lying to her or working with Deacon, Lucy was in a great deal of trouble. But there was something in Berta’s eyes, something deeper than fear, deeper than shame. It was like a fire burned there, but not the fires Lucy was used to.

  She leveled a pointed warning glare at Berta, then turned to Jed and smiled.

  “It’s fine.”

  Jed shuffled on his feet, his hat twisting between his hands. “Fine like supper was fine or fine like fine?”

  Lucy laughed softly. Jed Caine really was a funny creature.

  “Fine like fine,” she answered, then rose from her chair to take Jed’s arm. “In fact, Berta and I have some, um, surprising news.”

  Jed’s brow shot up, his gaze flipping between the women. “What’s that?”

  Lucy reached her other hand toward Berta, urging her out of her chair. The other woman mopped her face before rising to her feet and facing Jed.

  “We’ve just discovered Berta is my mother.”

  Shocked silence stretched between them until Jed finally found his tongue again.

  “Your mother?” He blinked hard and star
ed first at Berta, then Lucy, then back at Berta. “How the hell. . .I mean. . .how’d you figure that out?”

  Berta’s expression froze.

  “It’s a long story,” Lucy said.

  Jed’s expression hardened, his jaw tightened. “Did you find Lucy through Deacon?” he asked.

  “Deacon?” Berta frowned, her head shaking hard enough to fall off. “He’s no child of mine.”

  “Deacon is my, um, half-brother,” Lucy explained, turning back to Jed. “My. . .father. . .wasn’t exactly an honorable man.”

  “There’s an understatement.” Berta snorted, chuckled, then covered her face with the towel and cried through her laughter.

  “Wha. . .?” Panic shot across Jed’s face, then confusion. “So Deacon’s not your son?”

  “No,” Berta choked out. “Lucy’s my only child.”

  “And her father. . .”

  “Is the devil himself,” Lucy answered. Berta glanced up from her towel, her mouth O’d in shock, then she started laughing all over again.

  “That he is,” she muttered into her towel. “That he is.”

  “What?” Jed squinted at Lucy.

  Poor Jed. Even though he was hearing the truth, he would never believe it. Most humans didn’t.

  “It’s fine,” Lucy laughed. “Really. We just need a little time to get used to this is all. It’s all a bit of a shock.”

  Jed blew a breath over his bottom lip. “A bit.”

  “How about some stew?” Lucy dipped the spoon into the pot, and began dishing out the delicious-smelling concoction. She would have to learn how to make this!

  She could feel Jed’s eyes on her as he peered over the rim of his bowl. She could feel the confusion clouding his mind and the worry he felt about Lucy finding her mother after all these years.

  Thankfully, though, Berta’s stew was too delicious to give him time to talk or ask questions. He finished two full bowls, shamelessly accepted a third after some was set aside for Maggie, then waited until the ladies were good and full before he lifted the pot from the rocks and licked it clean.

  “How long can you stay, Berta?” Jed winked at Lucy then ducked out her reach as she stabbed her fork toward him.

  “Don’t you have chores, husband?”

  “Not if there’s pie for dessert. . .”

  “No such luck,” Lucy answered.

  He nodded his thanks to Berta, then Lucy, and headed off to the barn. Lucy and Berta wouldn’t have a lot of time to talk, so she needed to get things sorted out quickly.

  “How is Maggie doing?”

  Berta frowned. “Does it matter?”

  How could Lucy explain it? She’d seen so very little of the woman since arriving as Jed’s wife. Yet, somehow, Jed’s worry had become her own. And that worry was one more thing to wear on Lucy’s strength.

  “She’s as healthy as a woman can be in her state,” Berta said with a sad smile. “That baby’s a feisty one, I’ll tell you that. Reminds me of when I carried you.”

  Two fat tears slid down Berta’s cheeks. The last thing Lucy expected was to feel tears of her own for Maggie or her baby, yet there they were. And more surprising was how many fell. The faster she wiped them away, the faster they sprang up.

  What the hell was wrong with her?

  o0o

  The fire snapped and danced in the still evening air. Red and pink streaks faded from the sky as darkness crept in, easing the last remnants of daylight beyond the horizon.

  Jed settled on the blanket behind Lucy and eased her back against him. She fit perfectly, as though she were meant to be there. It was probably not the most gentlemanly thing he could do, given her mother was sitting with them, but that hardly mattered anymore. Wasn’t so long ago Berta had seen him in nothing but a blanket.

  Besides, he wanted her to know her daughter was cared for. Hell, he more than just cared for her.

  He loved her. And no mother could ask for more than that.

  Berta watched them for a second, a sad smile on her face. What was there to be sad about? By no small miracle, she’d been reunited with her daughter. And by yet another small miracle, that daughter was married to a man who loved her and wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his days making her happy and giving her children.

  Lots and lots of children.

  Neither Lucy nor Berta had offered any details as to how they became separated in the first place, and Jed wasn’t about to ask. He’d seen enough tears in the last few days to last him a lifetime. He wasn’t about to do or say anything to cause more.

  “I think I’ll tuck in for the night.” Berta rose to her feet, brushing the dirt and pebbles from her dress.

  “’Night, Miss Blake.” Jed rose to his feet and nodded briefly. “Much obliged for the stew tonight.”

  An odd look washed across Berta’s face, but she smiled her sad smile again and nodded. “Good night then.”

  “Good night.” Lucy stepped up to Jed, her back resting against his stomach.

  He wrapped his arms around her, and rested his chin on the top of her head, but Lucy wanted more. Always more. She pulled his arms tighter around her, then rested her own arms atop his.

  “Quite a day, huh?” he asked quietly.

  “Hmmm.” She yawned.

  “Come on, then,” he said. “Let’s get you tucked in, too.”

  He doused the fire as quickly as he could, then wrapped his arm around her shoulders and headed toward the barn, Lucy’s teeth chattered the whole time.

  Jed snickered and pressed a kiss against her head. She’d never survive winter.

  “I need to tend the horses. And you--” He tapped her on the tip of the nose-- “need to tend to you.”

  Lucy nodded sleepily and wandered over to their corner in search of her beloved blanket.

  The irony of Jed’s life hit him like a brick.

  He’d wanted to earn her respect before he took her to bed. She’d wanted to get straight to bed, respect be damned. Now he was dying to make love to her, and she wasn’t ready. And if that wasn’t torture enough, he was going to have to sleep next to her all night without touching her.

  Again.

  It was the most exquisite kind of torture.

  With the speed of a demon, he had the horses fed and watered and the tack stored out of the way. He turned down the lantern and crept toward the last stall, aching to crawl in with Lucy – even if it meant he had to keep his hands to himself.

  It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dimness, but there she was, curled up in a tight ball, the blanket wrapped around her like a cocoon. Still her teeth rattled. What was wrong with that girl?

  “Lucy.”

  “Yes?”

  He swallowed his laughter. “I’m going to make a suggestion, but before I do, I promise you it’s completely innocent.” Well, mostly. “It’ll help keep you warm.”

  “I’ll do anything.”

  Jed wiped his palm across his mouth. “Take off your clothes.”

  Lucy snorted over a shiver. “How is that supposed to warm me up?” she asked.

  Jed started on his own buttons. “Our body heat will keep each other warmer than our clothes will.”

  “Nice t-try, Jed.”

  He finished with his buttons and yanked his arms out of the sleeves. “I know it sounds strange.” He tugged one boot off and tossed it aside. “But it works.” The other boot followed. “Trust me.”

  She peeked out from beneath the blanket, her eyes suspicious. “This isn’t your way of. . .”

  Jed’s fingers froze against the top button of his trousers.

  “No.” He must be crazy. He couldn’t lie next to her, skin to skin, and not do anything. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea after all. “If you’d rather--”

  Lucy stopped him before he could reach for his shirt.

  “Wait.” She stared up at the ceiling for a long moment. “Do you really think it’ll work?”

  His tongue wouldn’t move, so Jed simply nodded.


  “Okay. But just wait there a minute.” She ducked under the blanket and squirmed around for several minutes before poking her head back out. One hand held the blanket around her chest, while the other reached back under and brought out her nightgown.

  Jed’s eyes blinked about a hundred times. Why the hell couldn’t he breathe? When she was done, she snuggled deeper into the straw and smiled shyly.

  Sweet Jesus.

  She’d done it. She’d taken off all her clothes and now she lay there – completely naked – under one ridiculously thin blanket. And all because he promised her she’d be warmer.

  When he hesitated, Lucy clicked her tongue at him.

  “I’m f-freezing here, Jed. Could you hurry up, please?”

  He shucked his trousers in less time than it took him to find his breath. He could do this. He was a practical man. His wife was cold and he needed to warm her up – without causing himself too much embarrassment.

  Jed took a deep, steadying breath, then slid in beside her. He could do this.

  He could.

  They tucked the blanket around them and lay side-by-side, both staring up at the ceiling.

  “Okay,” he struggled to say. “You’re going to have to slide up against me, like last night.”

  Even in the dimness of the darkened corner, he could see the color fill her cheeks.

  “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” she murmured. “It’s going to be too hard.”

  “It’s already too hard,” he muttered, then released a harsh breath. “Never mind, just come on.”

  He propped himself on his side and waited while Lucy did the same. When she was settled, he ground his teeth together and moved up against her, biting back every curse he could think of.

  “Is that--” she squeaked.

  “Yes.” He wrapped her in his arms and pulled her in as tight as he could. “Now for God’s sake, don’t move.”

  She straightened her legs and pressed their length against his. Blood crashed through his veins.

  At least last night he had the bulk of the blanket between them. Tonight there was nothing. Just skin against skin.

  “You. . .” God, if she didn’t stop moving like that. . . “Your legs. . .”

  “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I just can’t get comfortable.”