Wolf Island

by Cheryl Gorman

  She would never forget the way he had kissed and touched her the evening before or the expression in his eyes when she asked him to tell her why he was so unhappy. At least now she knew the truth.

  There was no way she was going to leave until she knew for certain that he was safe. He had held her last night as if she were something precious, a treasure that he valued.

  Devlin turned on the floor lamp on his end of the loveseat and slumped into the overstuffed cushions on the stripe-patterned sofa. The words warm and cuddly sprang to her mind. All he needed was a pipe and slippers. He definitely looked like the lord of the manor. She had an inexplicable urge to wrap her arms around him and cling.

  “It’s so quiet,” she said. “The last time we were here together, we heard chimes ringing and then ...”

  Devlin reached over and squeezed her hand. “Try not to think about it. This morning, Otis and I double-checked all of the windows and doors in the castle to make sure they’re secure. The only way anyone will get back in is if they can walk through walls.”

  Walls. Abby thought about the strange scraping noises she’d often heard through her bedroom walls since her arrival at the castle. But when she’d peeked out of her bedroom door or looked behind her in the hallway, no one was there. “Speaking of walls ... I’ve heard some odd scraping noises from time to time, but when I investigated, I found nothing. Do you have any idea what these noises could be?”

  Devlin rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe tree branches brushing against the castle walls, or mice scratching around for food.”

  She wasn’t sure about either explanation, but decided to drop it for the time being. Abby grimaced and gave him a mock shiver. “I hate mice, so don’t even mention them.”

  Devlin smiled. “You seem to be feeling better.”

  “I am.” Abby retrieved the diary from the desk, then sat back down beside Devlin. “I found this wedged in a drawer in the desk.”

  “What is it?”

  Abby looked up at him, reached out her hand, and caressed the side of his face. “Your mother’s diary. I’m so sorry, Dev.”

  He didn’t move, just looked at her as though he’d been kicked in the stomach. “You know. Oh, God, you know.” He tried to draw away, but she grabbed his hands and held them tight. “Don’t pull back, or nothing will ever change. Can’t you see that?”

  He stared at her with misery on his face and pain shadowing his eyes. “What did it say?”

  “Just that she was raped and you were raised by your grandparents.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Basically, yes.”

  “Did she say anything about me? Did she say --”

  He turned his face away, but she raised his hands to her lips and kissed his knuckles. “Talk to me, Dev.”

  “What’s left to talk about?” The grief she heard in his voice broke her heart. “You just read it all.”

  “Tell me how your parents met.”

  He looked away for a moment, then back at her. “Valerie and her best friend, Emily Good, came here for the summer, right after Victor arrived home from college. They stayed with Emily’s older sister, Catherine. They spent most of their time sunning themselves and sketching down on the beach.”

  He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “One day the two of them wandered up here to the castle. Victor was out riding. He came galloping up just as they crested the hill and nearly ran them over. All it took was one look at Valerie and he fell madly in love with her.”

  Madly in love. How does a man go from madly in love to rape?

  “Six weeks later, they were married.” His voice trailed away, wistful and sad.

  “She didn’t mention anything in the diary about how she met Victor or their wedding. I think the diary I found was a continuation of another.”

  Devlin’s head snapped up, his face an expression of surprise. “Do you think there could be another one somewhere in the castle?”

  Abby shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. But does it really matter if there is?”

  “No, I guess not. It would probably just be filled with stories about Victor’s jealousy.”

  Jealousy? Abby nodded as if she knew exactly what he was talking about and waited for him to continue.

  “They had been married barely six months when Valerie opened a gift shop down in the village. Emily had stayed on the island and helped Val out in the shop a few afternoons a week. Had a lot of tourists, even in those days, who came to the island to rent cottages for the summer.”

  He paused as if gathering his thoughts. “Victor didn’t want her working. He tried to talk her out of it. He couldn’t stand for her to be out of his sight. At first, my grandparents were amused at his possessiveness, but then he started showing up at the shop on the spur of the moment and would find her helping a customer. My mother was a beautiful woman. She was friendly and handled the men who came into the shop well. Harmless flirtations. She brushed them off because she only had eyes for Victor. Only, he couldn’t see that.”

  Abby blinked away the tears that nearly rolled down her cheeks. How terrible for a man so obviously in love to allow something like petty jealousy to come between him and the love of his life.

  She reached for Devlin’s hand and entwined their fingers. “Dev, no matter what you tell me, I’m not going anywhere.”

  He looked away. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” Hurt, old pain, and guilt laced his words.

  Abby couldn’t resist giving him some comfort. She touched her hand to his arm. He looked up at her. “Devlin Morgan, you’re a fine man, and nothing can ever change that. Tell me what happened with Valerie and Victor.” She was anxious for him to finish the story.

  “At first Victor would just become angry and storm out of the store. Then he started making nasty remarks to the customers. He became belligerent. One day he broke a man’s nose. My mother was horrified and incensed. She tried in vain to convince him there was nothing going on and there never had been. They had some terrible fights. He started drinking, and the more he drank, the angrier he became.”

  In spite of what Victor had done, or perhaps because of it, her heart went out to them both. How could the deep love he’d held for Valerie have become so twisted, so distorted by the intrigues he had unjustly imagined?

  “But there was something else going on, too, something no one realized at first. Months went by, and he started hearing things. Voices in his head. He misread every little thing Valerie said or did. He accused her of having an affair with Emily’s boyfriend. He even went down to the village and nearly beat him to death.”

  Deep sadness filled Devlin’s eyes. Instinctively, Abby reached over and laid a hand on his arm. He looked at her, smiled briefly, then stared across the room as if observing the memories his grandparents must have shared with him. “His drinking became worse. Every time Valerie left the castle, he quizzed her about where she was going and what she was planning to do. Then he started following her. He would sit in the shop and practically dare her to smile at anyone who came through the door. As you might guess, the situation became unbearable.

  “My grandparents tried talking to him, tried to persuade him to see a doctor, to get some help, but he refused. He accused them of encouraging Valerie to pursue other men.” He shook his head. “Can you imagine a father telling his daughter-in-law to cheat on his son? No amount of talking could convince him otherwise.”

  Abby squeezed his arm. How awful it must have been for them to just stand back and watch their son become worse and worse and not be able to help him.

  “Slowly they watched their son’s mind disintegrate before their eyes.” Devlin looked at her and smiled. “He wasn’t always a bad man, Abby. They weren’t sure what had happened to make him change so drastically, so they consulted a psychiatrist on their own, to try and get some answers as to how and why it could have happened.

  “They were told that mental illness usually runs in families and that unless Victor was willing to submit to so
me testing and agree to therapy, medication, and so forth, there was nothing he could do to help him.

  “I’m sorry.” Such pitiful, ineffectual words, but Abby truly didn’t know what else to say.

  “My grandparents did some checking on their family backgrounds. They discovered that my great-grandfather suffered from schizophrenia. They’d had no idea. Of course in those days, not much was known about the disease or exactly how to treat it.”

  He exhaled heavily. “My great-grandmother told my grandfather that his father had died. He had no memory of him. He was institutionalized shortly after my grandfather was born. Apparently the disease skips a generation -- that’s why my grandfather never suffered from it, but Victor did.”

  The distress deepened the color in his eyes. Abby put her arms around him and tried to ease the hurt he felt. She drew back and rested her hand on his cheek. “There’s no use contemplating what-ifs. What’s done is done. Maybe there’s a test, a way to find out if this illness would definitely be passed on or not? Remember the genome project where they identified all of the genes in a human being? You could have yourself checked to see if you’re a carrier.” She felt hopeful for the first time since Devlin had told her of his father’s illness.

  “I just read about this woman who had a similar procedure because she was afraid of contracting breast cancer like her mother and her grandmother. It was discovered that she didn’t have the gene. Her mother didn’t pass it on. Perhaps Victor didn’t pass it on to you.”

  Devlin looked at her, his eyes full of sadness, and a grim expression played over his mouth. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  He ignored her question. “I’ve told you this much -- I suppose I should finish my story.” “One day, my grandparents took the ferry over to the mainland to see a lawyer. They were going to try and get some kind of court order to have Victor committed. They were afraid he might harm Valerie. But when they returned, their worst fears were realized.”

  His brow furrowed in sorrow; his mouth settled into a line etched with misery. Devlin closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again and looked directly at Abby. “My mother left the castle and walked to the village.” The weariness in his voice touched her deeply.

  “She just needed a few minutes of fresh air and to get away from Victor. He had fallen asleep in the study. As she was coming back to the castle, he met her on the road. Of course, he accused her of running out to meet her lover.

  “It was nearly dark, so no one saw him drag her into the trees or heard her scream ... when he beat and raped her.” His voice cracked with emotion, then faded.

  Abby winced inwardly. Oh, God, how had Devlin and his family managed to endure after everything that had happened to them?

  “Victor just left her there, ran off, and hid on the other side of the island. The west side of the island is riddled with caves, the forest is thick, and the cliffs are steep and treacherous. The police searched for him, but they never found anything.

  “Then a boat was stolen from the marina, and they assumed he must have taken the boat and escaped to the mainland. The authorities never stopped looking until they found him. He was declared insane and put in an institution.”

  Devlin leaned back against the sofa and exhaled a deep breath, as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. Abby laid her hand over his. “Thank you for telling me.” He glanced at her, and one corner of his mouth turned up briefly. Then he closed his eyes. The warmth of his skin made her feel safe and comforted. Now, if she could only comfort Dev, or at least distract him from his brooding thoughts.

  She snapped her fingers. “I have an idea.” His eyes popped open as she continued. “A picture of you for the website would work wonders for tourism on the island.”

  Abby retrieved her digital camera and settled back on the sofa next to Devlin. He rubbed a hand through his hair, and Abby couldn’t help noticing that the white Henley shirt he wore was open at the throat. A tuft of dark hair curled through the opening. She knew it was soft and springy because she’d had her fingers just there when they’d kissed the night before.

  The rolled sleeves revealed muscular arms with a dusting of dark hair. How would it feel to have the freedom to reach out and caress his arms with her fingertips?

  Devlin’s legs were stretched out before him with his ankles crossed. Bare ankles again. She hadn’t a clue why the sight of those ankles should make her feel so hot and bothered. The only thing she knew for certain was that she wanted to wrap her fingers around them and kiss the arch of each foot.

  Abby jumped because she was shocked at the direction her thoughts had taken.

  “You okay?”

  She cast her gaze his way and smiled. “I’m fine. I was just thinking.”

  “Hmmm.” His hum was low. “About what?”

  “Just some things I forgot to take care of before I left home.” Abby couldn’t help studying Devlin out of the corner of her eye. Lately, the thought of having an affair had run through her head more than once.

  And if a woman was going to have an affair, it should be with someone good. A gentleman, to be sure, but a gentleman with edges. Edges that weren’t so smooth. A man capable of extreme passion. Abby had no doubt that Devlin was just that sort of man. A bit dangerous and secretive, but sexy and alluring.

  The passion she’d seen in his eyes last night was real. He wanted her. Could she have an affair with him and walk away? Did the aura of danger that surrounded him matter more or less than the way he made her feel when she was in his arms? How would she feel during and after a hot affair with him?

  “Why do you keep staring at me?” A frown wrinkled Devlin’s brow. “Are you wondering how much I might look like him?”

  Abby fixed her gaze on the coffee table and tamped down her anger at Victor Morgan and his wife for bringing so much pain into their son’s life. “I’m not staring at you.” She lifted the camera and focused on his face. “I’m just thinking about which angle I should take your picture from.” She snapped a couple of pictures, put down the camera, and reached for her tea cup.

  Something tickled her leg.

  She shifted her body on the sofa. She felt it again. Suddenly she had a vision of a large, hairy spider rubbing up against her leg. This was a castle, after all. Just then, something leaped into her lap with a soft meow.

  The kitten.

  Startled, she jerked, and the tea in her cup flew through the air.

  “Damn it, Abby.” Devlin growled.

  Abby whipped her head around and, with a cursory glance, saw exactly where the tea had landed.

  On Devlin’s crotch.

  A large wet spot spread out over his thighs. Quickly, Abby grabbed a napkin as she set the kitten on the sofa between them. Unfortunately, the kitten promptly climbed into Devlin’s lap and began licking the soaked fly of his pants.

  Devlin tried to pull the kitten from his lap, but the scalawag dug in his claws, and Devlin yowled. Abby stopped wiping with her napkin and instead started prying the kitten’s claws from Devlin’s legs and crotch.

  When she grasped the second paw, the kitten stuck his nose down between Devlin’s legs, lapping up the remains of the spilled tea mixed with lots of milk. Her hand brushed over the rather prominent bulge in his pants. There was a twitch, and the bulge grew larger.

  Hastily, Abby withdrew her hand, lifted her chin, and stared at him.

  Devlin scowled right back at her. His green eyes were slightly darker. She supposed the color must deepen when he was irritated or ... aroused? His handsome mouth wore a thin-lipped smile. “What did you expect?”

  Abby straightened into a sitting position and scooted back to her side of the sofa. Her face burned with a blush she couldn’t control. She tossed her napkin on the table and folded her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry. I was only trying to help.”

  He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll go change and meet you downstairs for lunch.”

  · * * *
*

  Later that night, Devlin was in his office answering mail when the sheriff knocked on the door. He looked haggard, and his normally pressed uniform was rumpled. He took off his hat. “Dev,” he began. “I’ve got some bad news.”

  Please God, don’t let him say someone is dead. “What’s happened?”

  Jake shifted to a chair in front of Devlin’s desk and sat down. “Remember the plan I told you about with Officer Lowell?”

  Devlin nodded and waited for the bomb to drop.

  “He showed himself. She got beat up pretty bad before anyone could get to her.”

  Devlin sprang from his chair and walked around the front of his desk. “Oh, God, is she all right? Did he -- Did he rape her? What about that Taser thing? Didn’t she use it?”

  Jake shook his head. “No. He tried, but we got to her in time. There was a scuffle with one of the officers, who sustained some injuries, but Victor ran off. He’s one big son of a bitch. And Officer Lowell didn’t even have a chance to pull the Taser.”

  Devlin slumped against the desk, gripping the edge until he felt the granite biting into his fingers. “We failed. Again. What the hell are we going to do?”

  Jake shook his head. “We’ll try again, that’s all. And we’ll keep trying until he’s caught.”

  “How, Jake? I never thought that plan had a chance in hell of working. Now another woman has been hurt by that monster!”

  “I’m sorry, Dev. We should have listened to your concerns and given them more thought. Officer Lowell is a damn good officer. Victor is bigger, faster, and stronger than we gave him credit for. But one thing’s for sure -- we’ve got to come up with something better. He thought that Officer Lowell was your mother, and when he saw that she wasn’t, he got really mad. I think we can use that anger against him.”

  “How?”

  Jake rose from his chair and laid a hand on Devlin’s shoulder. “Get some sleep. I’ll come by in the morning and we’ll talk about it.”

  · * * * *

  Abby swung her legs over the side of the bed and switched on the bedside lamp. She’d been lying there for the past hour, trying to go to sleep and failing. All she could think about was Devlin and her missing sister.