Frustration at Abby thinking he would ever do such a thing repulsed him down to the marrow in his bones. He yanked his hands away, stood straight, and squared his shoulders. “I’ve never forced my attentions on a woman.” His words grated through clenched teeth. “I don’t have a problem with the word ‘no.’”
Her face brightened with surprise at his reaction. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just --”
Devlin held up a hand, stopping her words. “Forget it.” He raised a brow and looked at her. “Would you like some help packing?”
· * * * *
Devlin rubbed a weary hand over his face and glanced at the clock. A quarter ’til two. He needed to get some sleep, but after finding the rabbit ... He’d known as soon as he’d seen it, that bastard put it there. He’d walked right into the castle within a few feet of Abby!
Devlin raked a hand through his hair and closed his eyes. How could he sleep now? What if Victor came back? Devlin’s room was next door to Abby’s, but still ... Maybe he should leave the doors open so he could hear her plea for help in case she called him. The walls inside the castle were thick, after all. The thought of that monster so much as touching one hair on her head sent fear ripping through his body.
The bastard was getting into the castle somehow. After finding the gull, Devlin had checked all the doors and windows, and all had been locked. There were secret passages throughout the castle, but none led outside. He’d grown up playing in those passages and knew them by heart.
Devlin swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his jeans. If he was going to have any hope at all of getting to sleep, he needed to check on Abby and make sure she was all right. Guilt settled in the pit of his stomach over what he was about to do.
He zipped his jeans, put on a pair of sneakers, and grabbed a flashlight. Once dressed, he reached behind the high, carved headboard on his bed and pressed a button fixed to the wall. A door beside the bed swung open, revealing a dark passage. He shone the flashlight into the passageway and grimaced when he saw a large black spider skitter away from the light. Cobwebs hung in tatters from the ceiling and walls. The air smelled musty, and dust motes danced in the flashlight’s beam. He hadn’t been through the passage since he was a little boy playing hide-and-seek.
He stepped into the darkness with only the flashlight to guide him. In a few moments he came to the end of the passageway, stopped, and listened. The quiet murmur of the storm outside filled the air. Devlin directed the light near the top left side of the door. As quietly as possible, he reached up and lifted a latch. The door swung open.
He waited a bit, then stepped into Abby’s room. He shouldn’t be doing this, but he had to make sure she was all right. Lightning glimmered, filling the room briefly with light. Abby lay in bed on her stomach, her arms hugging a pillow. He couldn’t see her face clearly because she had it shoved into the pillow. She’d kicked off the covers, and her gown bunched around her waist. The sight of her sweet fanny and toned thighs made his groin tighten.
He remembered how it had felt to touch her, hold her, kiss her. With vivid clarity he recalled the feel of her ripe breast in his hand. What was the matter with him? She lay there innocently asleep while he watched her like a voyeur, but seeing her unharmed soothed his worry.
First thing in the morning, he would put her on the ferry and send her back to England, away from the danger stalking this island ... and away from him. Devlin slipped back into the dark passage and closed the door.
Abby awakened with a start. The storm still raged outside her window, but she felt certain the wind and rain had not disturbed her sleep. She switched on the bedside lamp.
Scrape. Creak.
Her gaze darted about the room into every shadowed corner, trying desperately to find the source of the noise. Everything seemed to be in order, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had been there, watching her.
A chill raced over her skin at the thought. Instinctively, she pulled her nightgown down over her legs. She listened to the rain for a moment and smiled at her fanciful thoughts. After hearing about the rabbit, her imagination had undoubtedly worked overtime. Snuggling beneath the covers, she decided to leave the light burning.
Just in case.
· * * * *
Devlin stepped out of the shower just as his cell phone rang. He grabbed a towel, wrapped it around his waist, and walked into his bedroom. Snatching the phone from the bedside table, he pushed the answer button. “Hello.”
“Hey.”
Devlin heard the familiar voice of his brother crackling over the phone line. “It’s about damn time you called.” He’d been worried and couldn’t keep the edge of irritation out of his voice. “How are you feeling?”
“Not bad ... considering my shoulder hurts like a bitch and the nurses won’t give me a moment’s peace.”
Devlin smiled as relief washed over him. If his brother could gripe about having to stay put for more than one day, he was well on the way to recovery. “Quit whining. You’re safe. That’s the only thing that matters.”
“You matter, too, brother.”
Devlin rubbed a towel over his dripping hair while the warmth of his brother’s words settled like a balm on his soul. “Have you told ... her?” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word mother.
“No. She and dad are in Europe.”
Dev and J.D. hadn’t met until after they were grown because their mother wouldn’t have let him near J.D. when they were kids. Devlin had initiated the first contact. Later, they’d discovered their mutual love of rock climbing.
One afternoon, a piton had slipped from the cliff face they were climbing, and Devlin had pulled J.D. up to safety. They’d been tight ever since. Having someone he could call brother meant everything to him because he felt so isolated and alone. Knowing J.D. took away a lot of that loneliness.
Devlin plopped down on the edge of his bed and told J.D. about the two grim calling cards he’d found the evening before.
“Sounds like his fixation has switched from me and Miranda to you. Be careful. He almost killed me.”
That knowledge scared Devlin down to his soul. Someone else cared what happened to him. J.D.’s caring provided a kind of link with the mother they shared. His friendship eased some of the hurt Devlin had suffered over her rejection of him. If something happened to J.D., he didn’t think he would ever get over it.
“Miranda and the doc just walked in. Gotta go.”
A dial tone buzzed in Devlin’s ear.
“What do you mean, it isn’t running?” Devlin growled into the phone a few minutes later.
“Sorry, Dev.” The ferryboat captain’s voice shouted on the other end of the line. The connection crackled with static from the storm. “The rain’s slacked off, but the tide’s a bitch this morning. We’ve got warnings all over the island. No watercraft. Too risky.”
Devlin huffed out a breath of frustration. That meant Abby couldn’t leave today, so he would have to keep her close. Real close. “Yeah. I understand. What about tomorrow?”
“Updated report says this weather will be moving out later tonight.”
Devlin heard someone yell in the background. “What’s going on? You need some help down there?”
“No. A couple of boats need to be secured.”
“Right. If you need help, let me know.”
“Will do, Dev. Thanks.”
Devlin hung up and slumped back in his chair. He should never have let Abby set one foot inside the castle. He should have put her on his boat that day and taken her back to the mainland himself. If he had, she would be safely on her way to England and away from danger, where she belonged. Instead, he’d given in to that wide-eyed innocent look of hers and been lured into allowing her to stay.
A fire licked at thick pine logs in the fireplace and chased away the chill in the air, but did little for the bitter rush of fear through his blood. After he’d found the macabre package outside the kitchen and then the rabbit in the li
brary, the stakes had risen considerably.
The monster had been inside the castle.
Devlin looked out one of the office windows. Dim, watery light sifted like an ivory mist through the glass pane, but an overhead light cast a golden glow over the room, dispelling the gloom.
His stomach growled, and he checked the time. Half past seven. Jake and the policewoman from the mainland would be here soon to discuss a strategy for capturing the bastard.
Coffee. He needed coffee. Devlin rose from his desk and headed for the kitchen.
Moroccan music, heavy with the click of castanets and the high-pitched lilt of horns, drifted down the hallway and throbbed through the kitchen door. A corner of Devlin’s mouth curled upward. He knew Otis sometimes listened to music while he cooked, but his choice generally ran toward something with a Cajun rhythm.
Devlin shifted closer to the door, laid his hand against the wood, and pushed. He peeked into the kitchen. To his surprise and delight, he saw Abby standing in the middle of the room, eyes closed, facing the door. She held her hands over her head with her arms slightly curved. Her fingers and thumbs snapped together as if she held small cymbals.
She’d kicked off a pair of brown leather loafers, and her sock-covered feet slid over the gray-tiled floor to the rich beat of the music. She wore a pair of brown corduroy slacks that molded to her sweet hips, and a long-sleeved beige shirt outlined the shape of her breasts.
The feel of those pretty, round breasts floated through his brain, along with the flavor of her mouth and tongue. He remembered every single moment of the time they’d spent together, just a few hours earlier in her bedroom. What a paradox, buttoned up like a nun while her hips undulated like Salome.
Abby had bundled her hair up into a clip on the back of her head, exposing her slim, white neck to him. The texture and flavor of a neck he knew intimately. Devlin opened the door wide enough so he could slip through, closing the door quietly at his back. Enjoying the show, he crossed his arms over his chest and couldn’t have stopped the grin of appreciation if he’d tried.
He fantasized for a moment about Abby wearing one of those I Dream of Jeannie outfits made of sheer material and sequins, with lots of skin and a generous amount of cleavage showing. Complete with toe ring and ankle bracelet.
A private dance for his pleasure alone.
The cadence of the music pulsed faster and faster; the sound of the horns swelled higher, their tone growing sharper by the second. Abby turned slowly in a circle, her hips gyrating to the swift tempo, her feet shuffling to the flow of the lavish notes. With each rise in the pitch of the music, Abby thrust her pelvis forward then backward, with increasing ripples and rolls. Desire stroked his nerve endings and warmed the pit of his stomach. He wanted to know the heat of her between those sexy legs.
A look of naked joy and intense pleasure covered her face as she let the swirling frenzy of sound sweep her away. The music, blaring from the portable stereo, finally reached a crescendo, then suddenly stopped.
For a moment, Abby remained perfectly still. A light sheen of sweat beaded her forehead, and her chest heaved in rapid breaths. Devlin watched a smile shimmer over her lips before her eyes drifted open.
Their gazes locked, and her violet eyes widened with shock. Her mouth formed a perfect O. She jerked her arms down to her sides as a hot blush burned up her neck and spread red streaks over her face. “How long have you been standing there?”
Devlin raised a brow and smiled. “Long enough. Morning.”
She stuffed her feet back into her shoes and cocked her head in his direction. “Why didn’t you say something?”
Devlin leaned against the dark granite counter and stuffed his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “And stop the performance? No way. It’s not every day a man gets to see a woman jiggle her fanny in a sexy dance before breakfast.”
She raised a nervous hand and smoothed back a stray tendril of hair that had fallen from her hair clip. The blush of color still brightened her pale skin, and he could see the tension in the rigid set of her shoulders.
He watched her lick her lips and swallow, trying desperately to pull herself together. Abby had been together since he met her. About time she loosened up. “How long have you been belly-dancing?”
Murmuring absently over her shoulder, “A couple of years,” Abby headed for the coffee pot.
Devlin glided down the edge of the counter until he stood next to her. The aroma of soap and woman slid past his nose but failed to smother the emotional warmth that emanated from her. Her warmth settled the uneasiness that continuously hammered at his soul. “Did you take lessons, or learn from a videotape?”
She straightened her shoulders and cleared her throat. “I took lessons.”
“Have you got one of those little harem outfits, or do you always practice in your regular clothes?”
She threw him a sharp look. “No, I don’t have a harem outfit.” Sarcasm ripened her voice. “No one was around, and I thought --” She bunched her hands into fists. “It was rude not to speak up.”
“You’re just angry because I’ve discovered your little secret.” Devlin grinned. “I would never have pegged you for a belly-dancer, Abigail.”
She sucked her lower lip into her mouth, then let it slide out all wet and dewy. “I belly-dance strictly for the cardiovascular benefits. I saw this belly-dancing class advertised as the next generation of Jazzercise.” He liked her precise, matter-of-fact tone.
“Is that so?”
She raised her chin and looked at him. “I’m hoping you’ll forget about this and pretend it never happened.”
The way those simple words fell from her tongue in that precise British accent of hers burrowed deeper under his skin. “Not a chance. Sleep well?”
Abby reached for one of the large blue mugs Otis had placed on the counter. She turned her head and glanced at him over her shoulder, relief shining in her eyes that he’d changed the subject. “Very well, thank you. You?”
“No, I didn’t. I don’t think you did, either.”
Abby poured herself a cup of coffee, stirred in a spoonful of sugar, and added a dollop of milk before she turned around. She leaned against the counter, took a sip, and eyed him over the rim. “Odd choice of words, considering we didn’t sleep in the same room together.
An unexpected image of Abby lying naked in his arms in the center of his bed flashed like a freaking neon sign into his brain. Devlin laughed and shook his head. After witnessing her very sensual dance, he wanted to let go and ease the aching sexual need that rode him every minute they spent together. Only, he was afraid his unwanted need for her went way beyond sex.
Something else about Abby nudged at him, something he didn’t want to uncover and look at with his heart. Something he had to fight down to the rough edges of his soul, especially with the delay in her departure due to the storm.
To keep from reaching for her, Devlin paced over to the kitchen table, pulled out a chair, and sat down. “I just got off the phone with the ferryboat captain. They aren’t making any runs to the mainland today, so you can’t leave. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”
She set her mug down on the counter. “Great, it will give me a chance to talk to the locals about Miranda and see if they’re interested in a website.”
He slid his gaze to the rounded neck of her shirt, to the sweet, sensitive hollow he’d kissed. She was like a pristine package wrapped up snug and warm, one he wanted to peel open and spoil. Devlin shifted his gaze back to hers.
The kitchen door breezed open, and Otis stepped inside, along with the sheriff and a petite woman with auburn hair, dressed in a police uniform. Otis slipped off his long brown oilcloth coat and hung it by the door.
Devlin rose from the chair to shake the sheriff’s hand. “Morning, Jake.” He’d be glad when he could meet Jake on a purely social level.
Jake introduced the policewoman as Beth Lowell, and Devlin offered them both coffee. Otis ran his hand over the t
hatch of gray hair on his head, scattering raindrops. His black eyes fixed on Devlin and Abby. “Guess you waitin’ on breakfast.” He gestured with his right hand. “Sit down. I’ll have some French toast ready directly.”
“Thank you, Otis.” Abby set her mug of coffee on the counter. “Would you like some help?”
“Sure, you can mix the eggs.” Otis looked at Devlin. “What about you, Mr. Dev?”
“I can never pass up your French toast, Otis.” His empty stomach rumbled. He looked at Abby. “I need to speak with Jake and Officer Lowell. We’ll be right back.”
· * * * *
Devlin ushered Jake and the policewoman down the hall to his office. In the hallway, he heard Abby’s laughter drift down from the kitchen. He liked hearing her laugh. Seeing her afraid last night, the worry clouding her eyes, made him sick to his stomach. This had to end. Soon.
Jake took a seat in front of Devlin’s desk, and Officer Lowell sat in a chair next to him. She was a slip of a woman, probably not an inch above five feet. How could she possibly help capture a big, strong madman?
“Dev.” Jake motioned to the officer. “Officer Lowell and I have come up with a plan to capture him once and for all. We think it has a good chance of success. Go ahead, Beth. I’ll let you explain.”
Devlin looked at Officer Lowell. She regarded him with quiet gray eyes. Her features were delicate, her skin fair. “Mr. Morgan, I obtained some photos of your mother from when she lived on the island. I brought some clothes similar to the ones she wore in the pictures.” She paused for a moment, as if letting her words sink in.
Devlin nodded for her to continue.
“I plan to dress in these clothes, walk through the village, up the castle road, and onto the castle grounds. If he has indeed come back to the island, we’re hoping he’ll see me and think I’m your mother, returned to Wolf Island. And maybe he’ll make a move.”
Devlin shuddered inside. “Officer, I mean no disrespect, but you’re a small woman, even if you are a trained police officer. What kind of defense could you possibly use again him? You could get hurt or possibly killed!”
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