Wolf Island (16 page)

“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.

She
rose from the bed and slipped on her robe. A restlessness plagued her as though
something were about to happen. She shook her head and smiled at her thoughts.
This castle, the island, and, most of all, Devlin were responsible for her
unusual feelings. These emotions were more like something Miranda might feel,
not her.

Abby
tied the belt around her robe, then picked up a magazine lying on the coffee
table, flipped through it absently, and laid it down again. Then she remembered
the rabbit Devlin had found. He’d mentioned something about a trail of blood
leading to the bookcase and how it had stopped. Now was the perfect time to
check it out; the castle was quiet, and no one was about. Abby retrieved her
flashlight and headed out the bedroom door. As soon as she stepped into the
hall, she heard the strains of Devlin’s violin drifting up from downstairs. The
music drew her like a spell. She crept down the stairs and sat on the bottom
step.

Had
his mother ever heard him play? If she had, how could she listen to the notes
he drew from the instrument and believe that he was anything like his father?
The music wept with such yearning, such love. Her feet grew cold, and a chill
swept over her body. The fire had died down in her room, and she knew that
Devlin probably had a blaze going downstairs. But that was only an excuse.

What
she really wanted was just to see him, talk to him, touch him. Abby rose from
the step and followed the sound of the music. At the end of a darkened hallway,
she saw a door standing ajar with light spilling out. The music poured out into
the hall.

Abby
looked through the opening. She saw Devlin standing with his eyes closed, much
like she had seen him on her first day in the castle, holding the violin in his
big but gentle hands as if it were a part of him. He stood in front of the fireplace
and seemed unaware of his surroundings, only the music.

She
slipped inside the room and walked stealthily over to a chair to listen.
Listening to him play was almost like listening to his heart. There was such passion,
such longing, such happiness and deep sorrow all tangled up together in his
performance. She sat in a chair and just watched him. He continued to play
without opening his eyes. When he finally stopped, he exhaled a deep breath and
opened his eyes. He jerked when he saw her, and his mouth popped open.

“How
long have you been sitting there?” he said with a hint of irritation.

She
probably should apologize, but she wasn’t sure why. His left brow rose as he
waited for her reply, and his eyes were dark and compelling. “A while. You play
beautifully. I tried taking up the violin once, but I never moved beyond the
strangling-the-cat stage, so I switched to the piano instead.” She was unable
to hold back the trace of laughter in her voice.