Devil’s Cove (Tortured Souls) (36 page)

After much debate, Grace concluded her best friend hadn’t delivered the flutes of poisoned champagne out of spite; rather a master deceiver had played her. Josephine … Satan’s daughter … lady about town … and medicine woman. It had taken all morning for Grace to piece the clues together, but she’d finally done it. Josephine had healed Emma’s father with her ‘special tonic,’ and Emma nearly betrayed Grace by poisoning Devlin. A single sip of the champagne and the price of the black magic would’ve been paid. What if she hadn’t been blessed with a vision? She shuddered at the thought and wanted to scream at the mindless wreckage of Josephine’s wrath. Her best friend was too young to die and had possessed a truly kind heart.

Brother Anselm handed her a handkerchief, and she mopped her face dry.

“What is the final tally, my dear?”

“Twelve perished, and seventeen sustained injuries in the mayhem while fleeing. Devlin shares my anguish over their deaths.”

“The burden of their deaths is not yours or Devlin’s to bear,” Brother Anselm said. “That lies squarely on Josephine’s shoulders. Mere humans cannot anticipate such treachery or unbridled evil. And if I recall, Devlin took extra precautions to train his staff on evacuation in the event of a disaster. Imagine what might’ve happened had he not cared for his guests’ safety.”

Grace sighed and rubbed her forehead, careful to avoid the cuts and bruises she bore as evidence of Josephine’s destruction. It would be months, perhaps years, before she would be able to block out the memory of the carnage.

“I’m thankful more than half of the guests made it to safety before the dome shattered. Unbelievable, really, as it could’ve been much worse. To think you might’ve been among them, Brother.” She clasped his hand and leaned forward to kiss it. “God forgive me, but I’m so grateful it wasn’t you. You are more of a father to me than Charles Mitchell ever was, and I love you dearly.”

He squeezed her hand. “Don’t think on it further. Devlin saved my life. I’m here, and you will not get rid of me anytime soon.” His thumb brushed against her hand rhythmically, and he cleared his throat. “Emma wouldn’t want you mired in guilt. The best thing you both can do is honor her memory by moving forward with love in your hearts.”

Grace nodded and dabbed at her wet cheeks.

“I hope you’ll allow me to do the honors of blessing your union with Devlin. Although I confess I had my doubts about the man in the beginning, he has proven himself worthy over the past month. I’m happy for you, my dear. It’s a great comfort knowing I leave you in good hands.”

“Of course you’ll marry us,” she said. “After we’ve had a chance to process our grief.”

They sat in peaceful silence for a moment, until the door flew open and a welcome gush of cool air rolled into the room.

“Grace, Brother,” Maribeth cried, throwing her arms around Grace’s neck for a hug before sitting on her lap.

Grace held her close, rubbing her silken hair and inhaling her sweet scent. The child always smelled of lemons. She was impossibly small, probably from lack of proper nutrients while growing up, defying her age of eleven. So young to be exposed to so much tragedy. Thank God Maribeth had already retired to her bedroom when the events of the prior evening had unfolded. But when the girl gazed into Grace’s eyes with a tentative grin, she knew everything would be fine.

“You’re both well,” Maribeth said. “I’ve been longing to see you, but Abigail wouldn’t hear of it until you’d finished your breakfast. Even Devlin wouldn’t budge on the matter.”

“No, I would not,” Devlin said from behind Grace’s chair. His hands wrapped over her shoulders, and he squeezed. “You both look as though you could sleep for days. Are you well?”

Brother Anselm’s cough renewed with vigor in that moment, and Grace worried her bottom lip as phlegm rumbled forcefully in his chest. His chest cold seemed to be worsening. She scooted Maribeth off of her lap and stood to place her hand against the brother’s forehead. He was warm but not burning with high fever.

“It’s time for you to get more sleep,” she said, ensuring the covers reached all the way to his chin. “Ring for me if you need anything. I’ll try to rest as well.”

 She ushered Maribeth out of the bedroom and sent her off with instructions for Cook to bake Brother Anselm’s favorite lemon bars and to send up fresh tea in a few hours. They exited the bedroom, and she closed the door behind them. Devlin wrapped his arms around her waist, leaning his chin on her shoulder.

“He’s stronger than you think,” he said. “Don’t worry too much. I’m confident he’ll recover in a few days.”

Resting her head back on his muscular chest, she clung to his words and took solace in his embrace. “Thank you for saving him.”

He kissed her cheek. “Don’t thank me. I know how much he means to you. It pains me that I couldn’t save them all. Come, let’s get you to bed before you faint from exhaustion.”

Grace threaded her arm through his. She was bone weary, and even the effort to walk the length of the main corridor felt beyond her capabilities. Sensing her exhaustion, Devlin wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted her gently, cradling her to his chest. He kissed her forehead, and she burrowed her face in the crook of his neck.

His measured steps soothed her tattered nerves, but she fought the urge to succumb to sleep. While she’d seen to Brother Anselm’s care, Devlin had been holed up in the parlor with Constable Daniels, who had arrived at the crack of dawn.

“You can’t protect me from the truth forever,” she said, tapping her finger on his chest. “What did the constable want?”

Devlin snorted and kissed her head. “Believe it or not, he wasn’t here to inquire about last night’s events.”

She lifted her head and gazed at him, searching his eyes. “Why
was
he here?”

“My mother suffered an accident on her way home, though she’ll likely live,” he said with little emotion. He paused at her bedchamber door, and then a satisfied grin curved up the corners of his lips. “Karma’s a real bitch.”

“Devlin—” she scolded, but only half-heartedly. The woman had dug her own grave, deep and wide, with a black spade.

Devlin chuckled and pushed through the entrance to her bedroom, kicking the door closed with his foot. “Allow me one day to gloat, at the very least. I believe I’ve earned it.”

She sighed and traced her finger along the scar on his jawline, reminded of all he’d endured. “You certainly have. Gloat all you wish.”

He set her on her feet next to the bed and turned her away from him. She glanced over her shoulder, drinking in the sight of his determined jaw and set lips as he worked the buttons on her dress free. He did, in fact, love her. Why else would he put all of her needs before his own?

She pulled the front of her gown down and shimmied out of it. “But once the constable was here, surely he inquired about last night’s events?”

“Yes, of course, but you needn’t be alarmed.” Devlin strode to her armoire and selected a simple cotton nightgown. “He interviewed several guests to verify the events of last evening. They all provided strikingly similar accounts. I believe he’s recovered from the initial shock of the tales, including both the gatekeeper and your restored sight.”

A moment later, she divested the rest of her undergarments and accepted her nightgown from Devlin’s outstretched hand. “Is that all? Shouldn’t there be more? Twelve people died.”

He pulled the garment down her body, and her head poked through the top.

“It was a freak accident,” Devlin countered. He cocked his head to one side. “However, he did say we’re not to leave England while he completes his investigation.”

“That’s logical,” she agreed.

“Quite so,” he murmured, wrapping her arms around his neck and lifting her once again in his arms. “Let’s get you to bed, my sweet. Tomorrow will be soon enough for me to interrogate you about the disturbing matter of ancient dark magic and Rosalie’s soul. Don’t think I’ve forgotten. You should’ve confided in me,” he whispered, nuzzling his cheek against her hair. “No more secrets between us.”

“No more secrets.” She kissed his neck. “Do you promise you’ll stay with me tonight? I want you to hold me.”

“Tonight, and forever.”

Over the course of the following three days, Grace nursed Brother Anselm back to health, until he was finally well enough to walk to his quarters in the chapel with Devlin’s assistance. Maribeth skipped ahead of them, kicking stones along the gravel path and enjoying the crisp air.

“It feels good to be home again,” Brother Anselm said when they arrived at last and he crumpled onto his favorite chair by the fire.

Grace shared a sly glance with Devlin and grinned. Since when had Brother Anselm started to think of the chapel within Devil’s Cove Manor as home? The notion warmed her heart and gave her hope that her mentor would agree to stay on full-time. Who else would conduct Sunday mass? Though preferring the path of a monk, Brother Anselm had been ordained as a young man and could easily serve as their priest should he wish it.

Maribeth plopped into the chair opposite Brother Anselm and placed a board of draughts on the table between them. “Shall we play a game, Brother? You were the victor last time, and I deserve another chance to win.”

“Very well,” he said with a grin. “But you’ll have to beat me outright. I won’t lose just to spare your feelings.”

As the two set up the board and bantered back and forth, Devlin wrapped his arms around Grace from behind and rested his chin on her shoulder. “I told you he’d be fine. The old man has a will of iron. I’m glad to see him settled back in his quarters.”

She glanced back to place a kiss on his cheek. “So you did. I’m glad to have the whole harrowing experience behind us so our lives can get back to normal.”

“Speaking of which,” Devlin said, taking her hand and pulling her in the direction of the exit. “I have a surprise for you.”

She lifted her eyebrows and slowed her steps. “What kind of a surprise?”

His eyes lit up with laughter. “You’ll see soon enough.”

With a backward glance at Brother Anselm, she hesitated and bit her bottom lip. “I’m not sure we should leave them alone yet.”

The monk lifted his head and waved her away. “We’ll be fine for a while on our own, won’t we, Maribeth?”

“Yes,” the girl said, giggling. “It’s a wonderful surprise. Believe me, you don’t want to dally here anymore.”

Grace narrowed her gaze on Devlin, but he only shrugged and continued to pull her outside, leading her on an unfamiliar path away from the mansion and chapel. She drank in their surroundings, still growing accustomed to seeing everything with such clarity. The grounds of the mansion were breathtaking, and without the threat of Josephine hovering over the estate, Grace could enjoy all of its beauty with unabashed pleasure.

“Where are you taking me?” she finally asked, her curiosity abounding.

He lifted a finger as they rounded a bend, and said, “Wait for it.”

Slightly ahead stood a massive structure with two horses grazing in front of it. As her gaze fell upon a giant black stallion, she knew it must be Zeus. Goodness, but the beast was magnificent. A pure white mare whinnied and stepped away when the stallion sidled too close to her side.

Pressure built in Grace’s chest, and she glanced at Devlin with hope burgeoning in her heart. “Is the mare my surprise?”

He nodded with a broad smile and nudged her forward. “Do you wish to ride her now?”

Turning back, she threw her arms around his neck and laughed as he pulled her into a fierce embrace, whirling her around.

“Oh, yes,” she said, breathless. Striding to the mare’s side, Grace petted the silky white coat and cooed. “Such a pretty girl, you are.” She motioned for Devlin to join her and asked, “Does she have a name?”

“I hope you don’t mind,” he said, running his hand over the pristine mane, “but I named her the moment I laid eyes on her.” A devilish grin split across his face. “Say hello to Aphrodite.”

A trill of laughter bubbled out of Grace’s chest. “Well, it’s no wonder Zeus can’t stay away from her. She’s the goddess of love.”

“As are you,” Devlin whispered, hauling Grace into his embrace.

He leaned down and kissed her thoroughly, only stopping when her belly fluttered and her breathing quickened to a pant. His eyes bore into hers, suddenly serious and intense. “Love wasn’t in the cards for me, or so I thought. You breathed life into my heart again and rescued my soul.”

She caressed his cheek and smiled when he nuzzled her palm. “A soul worth saving.”

Aphrodite bumped her nose against Grace’s back, and she swung around, laughing. “Come, my love. I believe my horse is in need of exercise.”

Devlin walked backward in the direction of the stable and crooked his finger. “Follow me. I have another surprise.”

She trotted after him, and he turned to run into the stable, rounding the first corner before she even made it to the massive doors marking the entrance. When she stepped over the threshold, he stood, waiting with a stack of clothing in one hand and a pair of leather riding boots in the other.

“Are those riding pants?” she asked with a squeal of delight.

He grinned and nodded. “Made especially for you, madam, along with a shirt, vest, and jacket. I wager you’ll be more comfortable riding astride this way. Do you like them?”

“No,” she said, striding to stand before him. His lips turned down, and she grinned. “I love them!” Taking the bundle of clothes from his hold, she skipped to one of the open stalls and closed the door behind her. She peeked over the edge and winked. “Go saddle the horses while I change.”

He sauntered in her direction with a wicked smile tugging on his lips. “The stable lads can saddle the horses. I’d rather help you.”

Lifting the latch to the stable door, he slipped inside and stalked toward her.

Heat flared in her cheeks, and she gripped the clothing tightly to her chest as she stumbled backward. “Shhhh … You can’t help me undress out here. What will everyone think?”

“I don’t give a damn what they think,” he said, and with two long strides he was upon her.