Wolf Island (18 page)

To
his relief, a wash of color had come back into her skin. The look she gave him
was like the Abby he knew and ... and cared for. Warmth slid through his
blood with an ease he had never felt with any other woman but her. The feeling
frightened him, made him feel cold and hot all over, at the same time.

Had
he ever allowed himself to care for a woman in his life other than his mother
or grandmother? He knew the answer. He had not. Too risky. And yet, somehow, a
prissy schoolteacher had managed to crawl under his skin and stay there as if
she were a part of him.

She
propped her fists on her hips and glared at him. “Are you and Otis in cahoots
to scare me away?”

“No,
of course not.”

He
grasped her hands. She resisted his touch, but he gently pried her fingers
apart and clasped his own around them. Her skin felt icy, and her hands were
rigid, as if she were ready for a fight. He rubbed them between his own and
lifted them to his mouth to warm them with his breath. Her hands relaxed for a
moment. “I can tell by the look on your face that you don’t believe me.”

Her
hands stiffened slightly, and she pulled them gently from his. “No, I don’t.”

Her
reluctance to accept him at his word bothered him greatly. “You’ve got to trust
me,” he implored with everything that was in him.

She
studied him for a minute. “I’m trying to, Dev. I really am.”

He
was getting to her; he could tell by that wistful note of longing he heard in
her voice. His heart soared. He had to gain her trust. She gestured toward the
chimes lying on the bed. “But what about those chimes? They just happened to
show up in my room right after I’d been scared down to my toes.”

Why
was he surprised that Abby couldn’t trust him? No woman ever had. Oh, God, how
he wanted her to. “I already told you why earlier. But let’s not debate that
now.” He cleared his throat in an effort to hide his churning emotions. “Just
tell me exactly what happened.”

She
frowned and glanced away. “I had a bad dream.”

Devlin
touched the side of her face and drew her attention back to him. “What was your
dream about?”

Abby
turned and walked over to the fireplace. The wood popped and hissed in the
grate as she held her hands out to warm them. “I can’t remember.”

He
suspected she could remember but didn’t want to tell him. He wanted her to tell
him -- no, needed her to confide in him. He wanted to hear her relate
every detail of her dream to him. Only to him. Did this dream have something to
do with him? He didn’t want to think about her dreaming of him and being
afraid. “Okay, then tell me what you saw or heard.”

Devlin
sat in a chair by the fireplace and listened to her gentle voice tell him
everything that had happened. The more she talked, the more anxious he became.
But he was careful to keep his face composed.

“Abby,
don’t you think that the incident the other night was the inspiration for the
light you saw and the voice you heard? You probably were still half asleep when
you woke up from your dream, and what you saw, or think you saw, was no more
than a continuation of that dream. Your brain was still foggy, and you were
upset.”

Abby
scowled at him and tightened the belt on her robe, much to Devlin’s
disappointment. It had loosened and given him a fetching view of her dressed in
a thin white nightgown. He looked at her, with her chin held high and her eyes
sparkling. He wanted badly to smile. Actually, he wanted to grab her and twirl
her around in his arms. She looked like herself again. But he knew if he so
much as uttered a chuckle, she might slug him. He’d much rather she kissed him.

Abby
walked over to him and poked a finger in the middle of his chest. “Do you think
I get up in the middle of the night and scream the house down for fun?”

“What
I think is that you have a vivid imagination.”

She
straightened and walked back to the fire. “I’m a teacher and a very logical and
practical person.” She stood there shivering with righteous indignation. What a
woman she was. If only he could tell her he believed her, that he knew beyond
any doubt what she had seen and heard was real.

Devlin
stood up and moved to her side. He propped his foot on the hearth and rested a
hand on the mantel. There was a small figurine sitting there, a shepherdess
that had belonged to his mother. To have something to do with his hands other
than gather Abby into his arms, he looked at the figure and stroked his finger
over the woman’s placid face as he talked. “Did you ever think that perhaps you
closed the window? And maybe the voice you thought you heard was actually the
wind.”

When
she started to interrupt him, he laid his fingers lightly against her lips.
“Hear me out. Please.”

He
stroked a hand over his mouth and cleared his throat. “You’ve been under a
great deal of stress the last couple of days, since I told you about finding
the rabbit in the library. And then there was your accident in the village.” He
shuddered inwardly at the thought of what could have happened. “Having someone
push you in front of a moving vehicle would rattle anyone.”

“It
wasn’t stress.”

“I’m
not finished. You experienced some sort of nightmare that you won’t talk about.
With everything that’s happened, I’m sure you just imagined the light and the
weird voice.”

Devlin
turned his head and looked at her. He wanted to hold her. He needed to hold
her.

Suddenly,
all the reasons why he shouldn’t fled his mind.

What
harm could a hug do? He didn’t want her to go to bed thinking he’d deliberately
set out to frighten her. Would her misconception make her leave Wolf
Island ... and him? Did he really want her to? He wanted her to be safe,
but she’d brought a light of happiness into his life that he’d never known
before.

Devlin
slipped his arm from the mantel and moved toward her. She stood her ground,
though wariness crept into her eyes. The closer he moved, the warier her
expression became. She dropped her arms to her sides.

“What
are you doing?”

He
smiled. “I’m going to hold you.”

“Why?”

“Because
you need a hug.”
Because I need it
.

“How
do you know what I need? You didn’t believe a word I just said.”

Yes,
he did. “Please, let me hold you for just a little while. I want to make sure
you’re okay.”

Before
she could argue with him anymore, Devlin stepped closer, wrapped his arms
around her, and pulled her against his body. He slid his hand around the back
of her neck so that her head rested on his shoulder. In slow, lazy circles,
Devlin moved his palm over her back and closed his eyes.

Something
nudged him in the dark corners of his heart. A sigh, a spiritual breath that
poked at the barriers he’d erected. It shoved and prodded, urging him to open
his heart a little bit more. He fought, and fought hard. He knew he should let
her go, but he couldn’t.

A
narrow ray of light shone into a shadowy area of his soul and pushed away some
of the sadness, the loneliness, the pain that infused him. It was a small part,
but he couldn’t help but wish and hope that this new feeling was only a
beginning. Could this mean that someday, somehow, he might be able to give his
love to a woman who would give him her love in return? And not just any woman.
Abby.

Her
arms wrapped around his waist, and her hands clutched at his shirt as if her
life depended on her holding on to him.

As
if he might save her life.

The
truth resounded in his brain. Could Abby be saving his?

No,
he couldn’t believe that it might be true. The small bubble of happiness that
Abby had brought into his life since her arrival might burst, and then where
would his heart be? Could the woman he wished to become a part of his life be
Abby? Hell, he needed to blow off any dream he had of making something solid
and lasting between them. He couldn’t allow himself to hope.

Devlin
pulled back from her, gently grazed her cheek with his fingers, then gathered her
close again. When his lips touched hers, desire flooded through him. Her lips
were so pliant, so giving. She held nothing back. Oh, how he wanted to make
love to her, but tonight wasn’t the time. He knew that he would before she left
Morgan’s Keep. He would lie with the woman who had forced him to care, to begin
to hope that he might have a real life.

Her
lips parted under his, and he stroked his tongue inside her mouth. She moaned
at the intimate intrusion, and his heart tumbled. So sweet, so loving. She
would be a wonder in bed, and he intended to have her. Soon, very soon. He
kissed her, loosened the belt on her robe, and pushed it aside to give him
access to her. He stroked his hand over her collarbone, down to her breast.

Devlin
rubbed his thumb over the distended nipple, then used the palm of his hand to
repeat the action. He trailed kisses from her mouth, over her jaw and neck,
down to her chest. Gently, he lowered the strap of her nightgown and bared one
breast to his eyes. He lowered his mouth and licked.

Abby
tilted her head back, and her breath grew ragged. He took her fully into his
mouth and suckled until a shudder ripped from her throat. He was so hard, it
was painful. He wanted to take her, take her now, and he would if he didn’t
stop. Reluctantly, Devlin removed his mouth from her breast and adjusted the
strap of her nightgown, covering her flesh from his view.

“What’s
the matter? Why did you stop?” Her eyes were hazy with arousal. He drew the
edges of her robe together and tied the belt. “If I stay a moment longer, I’ll
make love to you, and I don’t think either of us is ready for that.”

He
tried to step around her, but she blocked his path. Abby laid her hand against
his left cheek. “I’m ready, Dev. I don’t think you are.”

Dev
turned his head and gave her a quick kiss on the soft inner skin of her wrist.
“Lock the door and keep it locked.” Once he stepped into the hall, he leaned
against the panel and closed his eyes. No, he wasn’t ready. If truth be told,
he was afraid, fearful to let his passions free. Would he lose control? Would
the demons that drove Victor awaken while he and Abby made love?

He
knew he should force her to go back to England, where she would be safe, but
how could he? She made him feel, she made him care, and he liked it.

He
was coming to life for the first time.

When
he heard the click of the lock on Abby’s bedroom door, he opened his eyes and
headed toward his room. Wait a minute. He stopped in the middle of the hallway.
What about the secret passageway? Protecting Abby for the rest of the night
meant everything to him. He remembered an idea from his childhood and the many
games of hide-and-seek he’d played in the castle’s hidden passages. After a
quick trip downstairs to the kitchen, he placed several empty cans at intervals
in the dark passageway, then settled into a chair with a blanket. If Victor
tried to get to Abby, the cans would alert him, and he’d fight the bastard
until one of them died. He switched off the flashlight and pulled the blanket
around himself.

·
        
* * * *

“You’re
studying me again.” Devlin’s quiet voice wafted over her like a gently breeze.

Abby
watched the waves wash onto the beach where they strolled. The nightmare of last
night had faded with the dawn, and now the diffused light of another early
evening spread over their heads. They had kicked off their shoes to go for a
walk after sharing an intimate dinner, complete with sparkling wine in crystal
glasses, on a soft woolen blanket while they watched the sun set. The sky was
mostly clear, with only a few stray clouds as dusk deepened into night. “I’m
sorry.”

He
stopped and tugged on her hand. A breeze ruffled his dark hair. “Don’t be. But
this time I want you to tell me why.”

Abby
gazed up into his eyes. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, but
where should she begin?

“Well?”
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“How
did you and Otis meet?”

He
smiled. “Is that really what you were thinking?”

His
hair gleamed under the sun’s rays. She wanted to touch the strands and see if
they felt as soft as they looked. “To be honest, my head is filled with
questions.”

Devlin
continued walking down the beach with Abby at his side. She heard an owl hoot
into the encroaching darkness. The sound felt lonely, but for the first time in
a long while, Abby didn’t feel alone.

“We
were in Desert Storm together,” Devlin told her. “One night I was injured in
battle and Otis saved my life.”

That
would surely bind a person to another. Saving a person’s life wasn’t something
to be taken lightly. And yet, there was more to their relationship than just
gratitude. “Why didn’t Otis simply go home after the war? He told me that he
paid for the trouble he got into earlier in his life.”

Dev
twined his fingers through hers and clasped their palms together. A tingle
swept over her skin. “He needed a new beginning.”