Devil's Fire (6 page)

I must have dozed again. It was a dreamlike kiss that awakened me, to discover that the inner tinglings I felt came from the warm hand covering my breast. I allowed myself to remain in that state between wakefulness and sleep while Hyde unbuttoned my bodice to caress my bare skin. My nipple stood at rigid attention already, and his damp tongue drew circles that made me whisper his name.

‘So responsive,’ he murmured, ‘so perfect. I’m going to miss you, sweet lady.’

I moaned, shifting lower on the seat. He must have stopped the carriage somewhere while I was asleep, because we weren’t moving. Instead of the storm, I heard the rustling of wings, as though birds were settling in for the night.

‘Open your eyes, Mary Grace. I want you to be looking at me when you come.’

My eyes did indeed fly open, because a decisive thrust of Hyde’s fingers wakened my entire body. Somehow he’d found a sweet new spot inside me, a pleasure-pain so intense I clutched his shoulders. His face was a study in seduction, its manly contours shaded by a slight stubble and its square jaw clenched. Those russet eyes glowed from behind a thick wedge of his hair, which was mussed from being under my skirts. When his nostrils flared, I realised he was as caught up in my passion as I, and a final, deep lunge of his hand made me scream and squirt a torrent of juice.

I grimaced, mortified. ‘My Lord, I’ve relieved myself all over you.’

‘No, it’s not what you’re thinking,’ he assured me with an awed smile. ‘Some women can climax from deep within, when touched in the right place, and it seems you and I have accomplished that! Just another reason I want to keep loving you — to discover how much pleasure you’re capable of enjoying.’

I was too muddled to understand what he meant, but I had faith Hyde Fortune would bring me to further glories over time. And he wanted to keep loving me!

He stroked my hair, his expression pensive. ‘May I ask a favour, while we’re still alone?’

‘Anything,’ I whispered.

His smile made my insides shimmer, for it was obvious he cared for me. ‘Would you…do you recall what Yu Ling did for Sebastian, as we watched through the peep-hole?’

He sounded almost shy, as though afraid he were asking too much. I saw the Celestial quite vividly in my mind, taking the sextant’s thick, red erection into her mouth. It gave me pause, knowing how long and strong Hyde’s member felt when he thrust it inside me. Yet how could I refuse him? He’d mentioned this desire before. And he’d always seen to my pleasure first, as he promised.

I ran my thumbnail up the bulge in his trousers with more confidence than I felt. If that little serving girl could please him with either set of lips, I would have to aspire to even bolder heights to prove I was a better lover than she. So I reached for Hyde’s front buttons, and was rewarded by an eager smile.

Solomon jutted out proudly as we freed him from the constraints of clothing. I grasped the solid, pink base and squeezed, letting Hyde guide my hand’s rhythm and pressure. Once more I imagined the scene we’d spied upon, and extended my tongue towards the jewel of juice at his tip. With a moan, Hyde braced his foot against the edge of the seat. My licking made him pant in desperation while his hips quivered.

‘Take me — God, take me in your mouth, sweetheart. Now.’

Making my lips into an O, I slid them down his shaft. He smelled of sex and sweat, and the secretive taste of him was nothing like I’d expected. Up and down I slid, letting my tongue slither wetly around him while I fondled his sac. His excited little gasps cheered me on; he speared his fingers through my hair to increase the speed of my strokes. I could feel him tightening, straining towards release. Solomon filled my mouth and prodded the back of my throat, until Hyde paused with the tip of him just inside my lips. He made a strangled sound, and then filled my mouth with warm spurts of cream that tasted like salty-sweet butter.

For a moment, I was at a loss. Now that he was spent, what did I do with this liquid? Hyde was catching his breath, his member deflating but still between my lips while I feared my mouth might overflow. Again calling upon recollection, I realised Yu Ling hadn’t spat afterwards. So I swallowed in two big gulps. Hyde cradled my head against his flat lower belly, his pleasure evident in his sigh.

‘What a woman,’ he crooned. ‘You’ve given me another fond memory to fill the hours until we can play this way again. Lord, but you’re a natural at this, Mary —’

The sudden opening of the carriage door made us both jump. Cold air blew in around us, but it was a chilly female voice that sent gooseflesh all over me.

‘Brother Christy is waiting,’ the intruder insisted. ‘We thought you’d been detained by the storm, until Ahmad came to report your carriage parked at the edge of the vineyard.’

I wanted to die. Through the slit of one eyelid I saw a woman who suited that disdainful voice perfectly: with her steely hair pulled back in a tight knot, wearing the severe black uniform of a maid, she was the picture of a shrewish spinster who delighted in making others feel unworthy. Behind her, several people clad in simple brown tunics peered curiously into the carriage. At the sound of a snicker from among them, Hyde snatched the door from her.

‘We’ll see Brother Christy momentarily. Meanwhile, I know my way to the abbey without a group escort. Thank you.’

He slammed the door. ‘Should’ve known Mrs Goodin would sniff us out!’ he said in a disgusted whisper. ‘Once we entered the grounds, I pulled over, hoping the rain would stop before we unloaded the kitchen supplies. But I couldn’t help wanting you one last time.’

I was frantically adjusting my dress, wishing for a mirror so I could straighten my hair. ‘Nothing like making a grand entrance,’ I hissed. ‘Now all those people will think I’m some sort of hussy, come to —’

He stopped fumbling with his buttons to take my face between his hands. ‘You’re more a lady than any of them can ever hope to be — because I say so, and because you’re mine,’ he insisted. ‘So stand tall and walk proud, Mary Grace Michaels. And stop blushing. It’s far too becoming.’

As though his words weren’t confirmation enough, Hyde suddenly plucked the remaining pins from my hair. ‘We’ll show them just what sort of woman you are, sweetheart. We’ll make them wish they had half your inner strength and beauty. After all, you’re going to lay them several golden eggs, so to speak.’

Ah, but the goose in that story lost her head, I mused.

As Hyde took up the reins and urged Beau back on to the vineyard path, however, I kept my concerns to myself. Perhaps he was right: perhaps my quilts would redeem my unseemly entrance into this mountaintop world. I knew better than to assume Mrs Goodin would ever have a better impression of me, but I trusted Hyde’s judgment. I would only be a whore if I let them treat me like one.

A
s the carriage approached the abbey, with its Gothic spires and leering gargoyles, I sensed we were being watched even though none of those previous onlookers loitered outside its massive double doors. Heaven’s Gate loomed like an ancient sentinel, and in my imagination’s eye the stone pattern above those tall, lozenge-shaped windows formed eyebrows raised in disdain. Those who came here were being warned to repent and prepare for the Kingdom.

I tried to brush the flour from my skirt. ‘Hyde, I’m a sight! What will these monks think when they see us? They’ll know damn well what we’ve been doing.’

He pulled Beau to a halt. ‘They’ll regret ever taking a vow of celibacy. And they’ll envy me as the luckiest man alive. No doubt they’ll have a lot of praying to do, to get beyond their lust and covetous thoughts.’

His gaze remained steadfast — not a hint of a grin — until I scolded him.

‘Why, that’s the most — you’re incorrigible!’ I swatted the hand he was easing up my thigh. ‘I’ve come here to work, Mr Fortune. I care about making a bad impression already.’

His face relaxed into the boyish grin I’d come to love. ‘They must accept you as you are, Mary Grace. Some of the vagrants who’ve come here from the Home for the Friendless are guilty of far more grievous sins than ours, yet I’ve never taken anyone back down the mountain. Lost souls seem to find a purpose here that makes them stay.’

When I looked beyond the forbidding facade of the monastery, his words rang true. Although it was January, the grass grew lush and clusters of white cottages gave the place a more homely air. Beyond these living quarters grew groves of trees laden with fruit, and a huge garden laid out like a patchwork quilt. Then row upon row of well-tended vines stretched towards the horizon, heavy with grapes that glistened in the late-afternoon sun. This little world atop the Rockies could’ve been a still life rendered by an idealistic artist, perfect in every detail of form and colour.

Hyde was right. Work well done was its own reward, and I was silly to let my state of disarray override my reason for coming here. This was my chance to start fresh as an artisan whose talent would justify her presence until she was on her feet again, emotionally and financially. Not many females got such an opportunity. I decided to stop whining and present myself as a resident worthy of respect, whose dignity would not be compromised by unseemly appearances.

I’d no sooner stepped out of the carriage into Hyde’s arms than those heavy fortress doors opened. That shrew in the dark uniform stalked towards us, followed by a shorter, plumper monk with the most cherubic face I’d ever seen. I liked him immediately, but we first had to endure another scolding from the woman who’d thrown open the carriage door.

‘High time you arrived,’ she said in an accusing voice. ‘Brother Christy and Father Luc have been forced to delay their afternoon prayers, thinking you’d be here sooner.’

Hyde bowed slightly, still holding my hand. ‘Mrs Goodin, I’d like you to meet Miss Mary Grace Michaels. As her father, the Reverend Jeremiah Michaels, has recently passed on, she’s come to share her quilting abilities — and the profits from them — here at Heaven’s Gate. I’m sure you’ll make her welcome.’

The woman’s expression soured and her fist found her hip. ‘Your explanations for these foundlings grow more incredible with each one you leave us, Mr Fortune.’

‘And where would we be without the people he brings, and his promotion of our products?’ the monk behind her demanded. He stepped forward with his hand extended to Hyde, but his bright smile was all for me. ‘We’re delighted to have you, Miss Michaels. We hope your stay here will ease the grief of your father’s passing and bring you the peace you seek.’

‘Thank you,’ I murmured. It was the first time anyone had expressed concern about my situation without blaming me for my father’s suicide and the wrongdoing that drove him to it.

‘Mary Grace, this is the Brother Christy you’ve heard me speak of,’ Hyde said with a smile. ‘I have no qualms whatsoever about entrusting you to his care between my visits.’

After being caught by those curiosity-seekers, I felt immediate relief when the chubby monk took my hands in his as Hyde looked on. Brother Christy’s round face beamed like an angel’s in a religious painting, although I saw no halo floating above the sun-streaked blond hair, which fitted his head like a bowl. Blue eyes twinkled behind rimless spectacles. Although he exuded a fatherly air as he gazed up into my face, I sensed he was young in outlook if not in years. He seemed ageless in an almost mystical way, and I couldn’t help smiling at him. Just being near this diminutive man made me feel happier than I had in months.

He turned to Mrs Goodin. ‘Our friends are tired and hungry after a longer trip than usual,’ he remarked. ‘Would you please have a meal and a basin of warm water brought into the guest quarters? I’m sure Hyde and Miss Michaels would like to freshen up before they meet with Father Luc.’

The woman turned on her heel, giving the impression she wasn’t accustomed to taking orders. When she’d passed beyond earshot, the monk flashed me an apologetic smile. ‘Mrs Goodin serves as the abbey’s housekeeper, as well as tending the laundry for everyone here at Heaven’s Gate,’ he explained quietly. ‘We all wonder if her exposure to lye soap and starch hasn’t affected her disposition.’

I stifled a chuckle. ‘Poor Mister Goodin. How does he stand it?’

Brother Christy’s laugh resounded against the stone facade of the abbey, but he then sobered. ‘None of us knows what happened to the man and we don’t dare ask, for fear we meet the same fate. You’d be well advised to stay on her better side, Mary Grace. Mrs Goodin’s temper is legendary, and she has an excellent memory of all our shortcomings.’

I nodded, realising that already.

‘Well! Shall we fetch our lady’s luggage and quilting materials from the back?’ Hyde said as he walked to the rear of the carriage. ‘The rest of the load is flour and cocoa and such, which Sybil ordered for the kitchen.’

‘Fine. We’ll have one of her helpers unload it while you two refresh yourselves. I’ll tell Father Luc we’ll meet him in an hour.’ The beneficent monk then bowed slightly, smiling at me. ‘Make yourself at home, Mary Grace. Everyone here will be so pleased to have you.’

Those last words, and the way Brother Christy’s gaze lingered within mine, sent a warning tremor along my spine. I dismissed it, however, as a sign that I was tired from our treacherous journey up the mountainside. After all, Hyde trusted the little man completely, and he’d been gracious enough to provide food and warm water instead of making an issue of my disarray. He took the large box of sewing supplies Hyde handed him, and I then followed him through the abbey doors, hugging two of my illustrated quilts.

Our footsteps echoed in the vaulted entrance. The high stone walls glimmered in fragile pastels where light came through the stained-glass windows, and a hint of ancient incense inspired the hushed reverence of a grand cathedral. Although I knew better than to intrude upon monastic rituals, or to overstep my place as a guest, I couldn’t wait to wander around this abbey and drink in its magnificence. I was wondering why being the caretaker of such hallowed halls hadn’t softened Mrs Goodin’s hard edges, when she shot like a bullet from a narrow hallway, aimed straight at me.

‘Drop those at once! Father Luc insists upon meeting with you immediately!’

My arms tightened around my unwieldy bundles. ‘But Brother Christy said —’

‘The first thing you’ll learn here, young lady, is that no one’s instructions come before the abbot’s,’ she barked. ‘And your next lessons will be in humility and decency. I’ll see to it myself.’

With that, she gripped my arm to steer me down the passageway. Since Brother Christy had gone on ahead, and Hyde hadn’t yet returned from the kitchen, neither man could come to my defence. I trotted along like an errant schoolgirl being hauled to the front of the classroom, struggling to keep hold of the quilt in each arm. The starched laundress propelled me through a doorway and slammed the door behind us.

‘Here she is, Your Excellence. The latest of Mr Fortune’s indigents.’

The small chamber rang with silence while I closed my eyes against my quilts. Then a low, sinuous voice said, ‘This is the one you found kneeling before him in the carriage? Licking his jism from her lips?’

‘Yes, Your Excellence.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Goodin. You may go now, confident that your watchfulness and concern for this young woman’s soul will be rewarded.’

I felt the weight of her mocking smile as she walked away. My knees were knocking and my cheeks burned with rage. I’d hoped to impress Father Luc and Brother Christy with my quilting skills, and instead I’d been dumped like a slut to await the abbot’s judgment. It was too much to hope that Hyde would find me. No doubt the housekeeper was now detaining him in some insidious way.

‘You may lower your bundles and present yourself, Miss Michaels.’

Slowly, I let the ribbon-tied quilts slide to the floor. Summoning my earlier confidence, I reminded myself that no one could make me feel dirty or worthless unless I allowed it, but I was unprepared for this audience. My hair tumbled around my shoulders and my dress was smudged with flour, rumpled from lovemaking. The heat of this moment was reviving the scent of our sex, and in a room this small the abbot was sure to smell it.

‘Has anyone ever told you your hair glows like hellfire?’

I looked up into the most arresting face I’d ever seen. Father Luc, his thronelike chair raised on a small dais, frowned like a disapproving patriarch of the Bible. His hair swept back like raven’s wings from a deep widow’s peak; a close-clipped beard accentuated his lean features and matched the brows now raised in a haughty sneer. It was a Valentine-shaped face, yet the narrow black moustache framing those sinister lips suggested a heart of darkness, completely the opposite of Brother Christy’s. His eyes locked into mine. He cleared his throat, waiting.

‘I — I beg your pardon, sir?’

His expression remained inscrutable, suggesting I should take some sort of cue from it. ‘If you can’t hear me, you must step closer,’ he finally muttered.

It was the sort of manipulation my father had used. I bit my lip against a retort, deciding to shorten this ordeal by going along with him. ‘No, sir. You’re the first to tell me I resemble anything from hell.’

For a moment he seemed amused, but then he stiffened. ‘There’s no pride in that, you know. From here on, you’ll wear your hair discreetly fastened back, rather than flaunting it like some hussy. And that dress — why is it crumpled?’

He knew, of course, how Mrs Goodin had found us, so there was little point in lying. ‘I was leaning against stacked flour sacks, in the back of Mr Fortune’s carriage.’

‘And Hyde was humping you from behind, like a crazed dog?’

‘I wouldn’t describe it like —’

‘Remove the dress. It defiles you.’

My jaw dropped. This was an abbot, a man of God, commanding me to disrobe. I was about to protest, but the narrowing of those feral eyes warned me not to. Reaching awkwardly behind me, I fumbled with the buttons down my back, aware of how this thrust my breasts forward for Father Luc’s scrutiny. He allowed me to struggle this way for several minutes, until I’d undone all but the buttons between my shoulder blades.

‘Just rip it off. You won’t be wearing it again, anyway.’

Wondering desperately where Hyde and Brother Christy were, I wrenched open the dress. The colour rose up my neck and into my face as I stepped out of the green-and-ivory striped gown. This left me standing before my arrogant host wearing only my lace corset and bloomers, with cotton stockings and pumps.

‘And why are your drawers sticking to your thighs? Did you wet yourself, girl?’

‘Of course not!’

‘Then whose sex do you reek of? Hyde’s?’

‘No! I —’

‘Ah, yes, I remember now. Mrs Goodin and the others witnessed that little act first-hand, didn’t they?’ Father Luc leaned forward, his gaze burning over my body before honing in on my face. ‘What exactly happened to Hyde’s semen?’

At that moment it was roiling in my stomach, threatening to spew up my throat. A sheen of sweat sprang over my body and the room suddenly felt airless.

‘Look at me when I’m speaking to you, Mary Grace.’

I raised my face, opening my clenched eyes. The abbot wore a mocking smile as he enjoyed every moment of my humiliation.

‘Now what happened in that carriage? Where did Hyde climax?’

‘In my mouth,’ I murmured.

‘And what did you do with his juice, Miss Michaels?’

My face burned a shade redder. ‘Swallowed.’

Father Luc stroked his black moustache again and again, contemplating my punishment, no doubt. His piercing gaze roved over me and then fixed upon the fabric clinging to my thighs. ‘Is that a hole in your seam?’

‘Yes.’

‘And how did that happen, Mary Grace? I refuse to believe your bloomers were so worn they split of their own accord.’

Damn him! I’d thought of trying that line, since I came to Heaven’s Gate destitute, but this cruel man in the black cassock seemed to read my mind — and seemed extremely interested in the most intimate and degrading details. So I decided to humour him.

‘No, sir, Hyde gave them to me new this morning — after I spent the night in his bed,’ I added in a coiled voice. ‘And on the trip up the mountain, he couldn’t get enough of me. Threw up my skirts and began to lick and suck and gnaw at my cunt through the fabric. Ran his teeth along the seam until I was crying out his name, and then ripped open a hole so he could stick his tongue up me. I shot my juice all over him, and it hasn’t had a chance to dry.’

Father Luc’s eyes had caught fire and his olive complexion darkened. ‘Show me the slit,’ he breathed.

I did him one better, as I was tiring of this game. Curling my fingers on either side of the gaping seam, I tore my drawers so hard they split all the way up to the drawstring. No sense in them hanging there, tattered, so I let them drop to the floor. With the toe of my shoe, I swung the limp garment so it landed on the dais, in front of the abbot’s chair. ‘I suppose you’ll be wanting to sniff that.’