by Wendy Vella
“I told James about the incident with the carriage today, and what happened several nights ago.”
“The Duke told me this, and may I say it was presumptuous to do so, Lord Sinclair.” She was trying for haughty again, but now he saw through the facade.
“Have you given thought to the fact that the carriage that nearly hit you outside the Watch House did so deliberately?”
She was surprised by his words. The gloves momentarily stopped flapping as she looked up at him.
“Why would that be the case? I-I have done nothing to warrant such a thing.”
“You are trying to stop whoever is taking those children from taking more, Lilly. You have repeatedly visited the Watch House. Had the boy, Toby, ask questions, and then you foiled the abduction of that boy the night I was there.”
“No.” She shook her head fast, dislodging the robin and sending it forward. Dev removed it gently from her hair.
“Why are you touching my head?”
“Your robin has flown the nest.”
“La, Lord Sinclair, you are most amusing.”
It was exhausting watching her slip in and out of personas. Dev could only imagine how taxing it must be for her.
“You must have a care now, Lilly. If what I have said has foundation, then you must not leave the house without at least two footmen and a maid.”
“I don't believe you are right.”
But he had made her think, and that, to Dev's mind, was a good thing. She needed to show caution.
He sat beside her suddenly, reaching for one of her hands before she could pull away. Cradling the slender fingers in his palm, he felt it again, the wonderful surge of heat from the contact.
“Don't touch me!” She struggled to pull away from him, tug her hand from his grasp. “I-I do not like to be touched!”
“Why do you not like your hands touched?”
She was frantic now, trying to escape him, but Dev opened his fingers, slipping hers through his larger ones until she was trapped.
“You told my sister at Temple Street that you did not like to be touched, and quickly pulled on your gloves when we arrived, even though your hands were sticky from the bun. Why?”
“You don't understand what you are doing—”
“Tell me, then.”
He watched as she struggled to breathe as his hand held hers. Switching his vision, he checked her color, but it was strong and healthy.
“Lilly, stop fighting me. Take a deep breath for me. Are you in pain from my touch? If so I will release you.”
She inhaled and then exhaled slowly.
“Again, that's it.”
“You don't understand.”
The whispered words were desperate.
“What don't I understand?”
Dev took her other hand, turning her in the seat to face him. He uncurled her fingers from the fist they were clenched in and lifted them to his face.
“Don't.”
“Do,” Dev said gently.
“I can't normally touch people.”
“Yet, you can touch me.”
She stopped fighting him, and then the hand on his face moved. Her eyes followed her fingers as they traced the edge of his cheekbone, across his brows, and down to his jaw.
She was gentle and left a trail of heat. Christ, his body was a furnace, and she was barely touching him. He could only imagine what would be between them when she lay naked beneath his body. Wrestling that image aside, he concentrated on her.
“Why can't you touch people, Lilly? What do you feel?”
She shuddered, eyes still on her hand as it ran down his nose.
“No.” She shook her head. “It matters not.”
“It matters to me.”
“Y-you have a bump.”
“Eden broke it when we were young.”
“Make me stop.”
“Why don't you touch people, Lilly?”
“Emotions and feelings, horrid feelings,” she whispered, letting her fingers trail down his neck. “But with you it feels so different,” she added in wonder. “So very different.”
“How long has it been since you touched a person?”
“Since my childhood?”
“Is it only your hands that cause this reaction inside you?”
She nodded. “Yes, although I still hate people touching my face.”
“Except me,” Dev rasped as she ran one finger around the outside of his ear.
“Yes.”
Dev knew she wasn't focused on her words or she would not be revealing so much about herself. He wondered if Lilly had a secret that even she did not understand.
Trapping her hand as it moved down his neck toward his necktie, he said, “Why were you dancing with Lord Danderfield when I could tell you did not want to?”
Her hands immediately stilled and her eyes cleared, losing the look of dazed wonder they had previously held.
“I must return, my lord. Please excuse me, I-I don't know what I was doing—”
“You were touching me, Lilly, and I loved every second your fingers were on me. Yet had you continued I would have been forced to lay you on the bench and ravish you, and when I do that it will not be on a cold slab of stone.”
“Y-you cannot speak to me in such a manner!”
He watched as she slipped her gloves back on. He then grabbed her hand back and held her in place as she attempted to rise. There was a flicker of something in her eyes, however he knew it wasn't fear.
“I will make you mine, Lilliana Braithwaite.”
“Not if I don't want it!” she snapped, and he smiled at her temper. It was far better to see the fire in her eyes than the desperation they’d held before.
“But you do want it, my sweet.” Closing the distance, he placed a gentle coaxing kiss on her lips. “But for now we shall content ourselves with a dance,” Dev said, standing upright while he still could. Placing her hand on his arm, he led them back inside.
Dev swung Lilly into his arms and they waltzed slowly down the ballroom with the other couples.
“I would ask a favor of you, Lilly.”
He was subjected to a look, her feathered brows lowering as she studied him, and he could see the wariness return as she wondered what he would ask of her.
“I don't want to promise you anything. This, what happens between us, is not right. I don't want or need it, or the complications it brings to my life.”
“Yet it is inevitable,” Dev said.
“No, we can go back to what we were—”
“No,”—he gave her hand a squeeze—”we can't. But we will leave that for now, and I would simply ask that if you feel the need to tumble headlong into danger, you come to me, and if not me, James, so one of us can escort you to wherever it is you need to go.”
“He has already asked that of me.”
“Excellent, so you will have no trouble giving me the same assurance you no doubt gave him?”
She huffed out a breath. “Don't you have enough people to care for, my lord?”
“Plenty, Miss Braithwaite.”
“Yet you feel it necessary to watch over me also?”
Dev merely smiled.
“You have been successful in caring for and keeping your family safe, my lord, and I commend you upon it, however—”
“Not always,” Dev muttered as visions of Eden at the mercy of their father, Essie with her broken heart, and Cam drinking himself close to death filled his head. He hadn't been able to save them until the damage had been done.
“Whatever trials you and your family have endured, Lord Sinclair, it is undoubtedly a testament to you that you are still together, both healthy and whole. However, you cannot save everyone and I will point out to you again, my welfare is not your concern.”
No, he couldn't save everyone, Dev thought remembering campaigns and men he had lost who would never return home to their loved ones.
“Why do you look sad?”
The words weren't offered in a sympat
hetic tone; she demanded an answer.
“I could not save everyone who fought with me.”
“Was it your job to do so then, my lord? Are you such a man that everyone under your command should have returned alive and uninjured? Surely even the great Lord Sinclair cannot work such miracles?”
He couldn't believe she was mocking him.
“I led them.”
“Then of course you failed in your duty.”
“I did not fail!” Dev felt his anger rise. “I was a very good leader.”
“Then why do you blame yourself for losing the men you did?”
He could find no response, and battled the urge to place his hand over her mouth before she said anything else that would increase his discomfort.
“Have you always had this ridiculous need to protect people? This controlling nature that suggests no one can expire or become injured if you are in their lives?”
“Be quiet.”
“Oh dear, do you not like feeling vulnerable, Lord Sinclair? Is it not easy to have your innermost secrets and fears exposed, then chewed over like a dog with a tasty bone?”
Her face was serious, the high cheekbones flushed. Her eyes were open and honest behind the glass of her round lenses, and the ache inside his chest that he felt continually when she was close intensified.
“I take your point, so there is no need to discuss the matter further.” Of course he’d known she would ignore him.
“Being the eldest of six siblings, my lord, I'm sure you have been called far worse than bossy and controlling. However, I wonder if the description, godlike, would also fit?”
“Yes, thank you, Lilly. I believe I said I understood the point you were trying to make…repeatedly.”
“Excellent, then we shall both stop annoying each other, and revert to the way things once were between us, as it seems when we are near, we pull emotions from each other that neither of us are comfortable with.”
The song finished, and she slipped into a curtsey and left Dev reeling on the dance floor. She had just slit open a vein in his heart and allowed him to bleed a little before resealing it and walking away.
“Damn,” Dev whispered. It had to be love.
Chapter Thirteen
“Smear the jam on your toast and not me, brat.”
“I want to go there.”
Dev looked to where the jam-coated finger pointed, read the small advertisement, and wondered if there was any way he could get out of it.
“Dr. Engle’s House of Ghoulish Horrors,” the youngest Sinclair sibling, Warwickshire, declared. Lounging half on his chair and half on Dev's lap, he eagerly scanned the advertisement in the morning paper.
“You'll squeal like a babe and have nightmares for weeks,” Cambridge said from across the table, where the twins were busy retying his necktie while he ate.
“Won't!”
Dev looked around him. They were all present, except Eden and their aunt and uncle. The room was full of laughter and teasing, and he would have it no other way.
“I want a Roman god starting with the letter P.” Dev shot Essie and Cam a look. They might be able to throw the young ones off the scent of visiting Dr. Engle’s House of Ghoulish Horrors if they played a few word games.
“Poseidon, and that was too easy.”
“Forgive me, Dorrie, I was just warming you up.”
“Try harder,” Somer said, her eyes alight with excitement. Unlike other children, his little siblings enjoyed learning, and the harder the challenge, the better. It was due to their heightened senses; for some reason, this increased their learning capacity.
All the Sinclairs spoke multiple languages, as their mother had loved learning them, and read ferociously.
“Who was honored in the temples known as Capitolia?”
That shut them up. Dorrie, Somer, and Warwick all leaned in and he heard whispering, until Warwick was elected speaker.
“Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva.”
“In Italian, if you please.”
Dev laughed as Warwick spoke in his most pompous tone.
“What herb is most commonly used to aid digestion?” Essie asked.
“The Egyptians said coriander had digestive properties,” Somer said. “But you can use chickweed.” She then looked at Dev. “And we still want to go to Dr. Engle’s House of Ghoulish Horrors, so no matter how much you try to dissuade us, it will not work.”
“I won't squeal either, Cambridge,” Somer said.
“Neither will I,” Dorrie added.
“Of course you wouldn't, my darlings,” Cam said, planting loud kisses on their cheeks.
“How about the park?” Dev said, wiping his brother's fingers with a cloth he had dipped into his water glass. Of course he would never have done that if his aunt had been in the room.
“No!”
“Museum?” Cam supplied. He was now wearing his necktie in a bow around his head.
“No!” all three of the little Sinclairs squealed.
He should have had breakfast at his own lodgings, and then this conversation would never have eventuated. The problem was, when he was alone his thoughts went to Lilly, and his body would grow tight and he wanted her with a fury that scared him witless. She was a fever in his blood, an obsession that Dev feared would only strengthen the more he saw her. He had woken numerous times during the past few nights with the feel of her lips on his and the touch of her hand on his face.
Then there was this business of her being affected when she touched other people. Not him; she had loved that. Dev shouldn't feel so good that he was the only one she could place her hands on, but he did, selfish bastard that he was. If his hunch was correct, she would soon be in for a shock when he explained what he believed the reasons behind her sensitive hands were, but that was for another day.
“Gunter’s?” he said quickly. That got them, Dev thought, as silence reigned around the table. They loved ices.
“No!” they cried in unison.
“I yield,” he muttered, raising his hands in the air. “But Cam and Essie will take you and I will meet you there. I have some business to see to for Uncle first.”
Everyone agreed, and Dev was immediately covered in kisses from his little sisters and a fierce hug from Warwick. Minutes later, smiling, he left the house.
The drive through London was slow, as horses, carriages, and carts jockeyed for position, but finally he arrived at the docks. Dev stepped down from his carriage and inhaled. He loved this place; he felt alive surrounded by the bustle, noise, and salt air. Having grown up near the sea, the smell was so familiar to him and made him long for Oak’s Knoll, his family's home.
Closing his eyes briefly, he reopened them when he was steadier. Looking at the scene before him was almost too much, an assault on the eyes, especially his eyes, as his vision allowed him to see more than most.
Ships rocked from side to side, their wooden hulls creaking and groaning. Masts waved, rigging jangled, and when they were quiet, the sound of men yelling filled the silence. Walking to where one of his uncle's ships bobbed gently on its moorings, he signaled his intention to board.
Dev had only really known the Earl of Wynburg, his uncle, since arriving in London. Previous attempts from their aunt and uncle to make contact with the Sinclair siblings had been rebuffed by their father. This had changed upon his death.
The siblings had been summoned by the Earl and Countess to London, and then they had learned just what a manipulative man their father had been, and that now they were heirs to the Earl's fortune.
“Morning, my lord. Captain Blake is in his cabin,” a seaman said as Dev arrived at the top of the gangway.
“Thank you.” He nodded and made his way along the decks to where the captain's cabin was located. Dev nodded to crewmen who were busy checking rigging and preparing the vessel to sail on the morning tide.
“Lord Sinclair, Lord Wynburg told me to expect your arrival,” the captain said, coming forward to meet him.
The ma
n's cabin was pristine. The wood and brass were highly polished, as were the boots of the man before him. He had a waxed mustache that made up for his lack of hair, and broad shoulders encased in a white shirt.
“Come, we shall begin the inspection of the stock and I will have my man make a list for you to take to your uncle.”
An hour later Dev left the ship with an inventory of the stock and where and when it would reach its intended destination. He had been impressed by the way Captain Blake ran his ship and had taken many mental notes during his time on board. Once again back on the dock, Dev felt his heartbeat increase as he made his way to another ship berthed two along.
He had another reason for being here today, other than doing business on behalf of his uncle. He was here to look over his recently purchased first ship. The Neptune's Lady was now his. It was the beginning of his fleet, and would carry cargo and passengers to far-off places and return with goods. Silks, spices, and any manner of things. Things he would sell and begin to build his empire. Lord, he wanted to be on board for the first voyage, but he could not leave yet.
“Permission to come aboard!”
A face peered over the railing above.
“Who are you?”
“The new owner of this vessel,” Dev said politely.
“Permission to board, my lord!”
Dev shook his head; surely they had heard that cry four ships away. Eden would have heard it many miles away. Making his way up the gangway, he found himself facing three somber-faced men at the top.
“Lord Sinclair, I am Captain Bilberry.”
“Captain Bilberry, it is a pleasure to meet you,” Dev said, holding out his hand. Surprise flashed across the worn face before him, but he took the hand and shook it firmly.
“I expect you'd like a tour of your new purchase, Lord Sinclair?”
“If you can spare the time, Captain, I would like that very much.”
Leaning on the deck of his ship two hours later, Dev looked at the scene below, enjoying the bustle and activity. He had viewed every inch of the Neptune’s Lady, from the gleaming brass in the tallest mast, to the hammocks swinging below deck, and loved it all.