Twisted Tale of Stormy Gale (4 page)

How could he know? How could he possibly know?
My lungs burned and my head spun as I tried to regain some control.
Easy, slow, long breaths
.

Okay. So he knew who I was. Maybe Bacon had somehow slipped up in conversation? That had to be it, how else could he know? No one else in the world knew.

“Molly?” The duke’s voice penetrated my fog.

“Don’t call me that,” I responded dully. My breathing had become more regular, and rather than embracing the panic, I had retreated into a numb shell of denial. I was totally adrift, clueless and hating every second of it.

“I know you’re confused right now. But I need you to look at me. Do you truly not remember me?” His voice was gentle, so gentle.

I lifted my gaze to meet his, and looked at him hard. Surely I would remember such a handsome face.
Such warm chocolate eyes, such lovely dimp—

Blood rushed to my ears as my brain finally located the file, locked away, deep, deep down in the dungeons of my past. In my mind’s eye, I saw a much younger, almost gangly version of the man in front of me.

I’d met him when I had just turned thirteen, not long before Gilly had taken us. He had been a teenager then, and his face hadn’t grown into those large, soulful eyes yet. His gait had been awkward, like that of a colt not used to its legs. A loaf of bread under an arm, a kind smile ever present, he would come and give us street kids a coin and food. He would tell us a funny story and talk with us like we mattered. And although he looked sad upon leaving, he never treated us with anything but dignity and respect, never eyed us with pity or disgust.

On the rare occasion that I allowed myself to hope and dream during such a hopeless time, I invariably hoped and dreamed of marrying a man like him. So when he asked me my name, I’d told him the truth. And in that other life, my name was Molly.

“Master Dev?” I asked in shock, startled to feel the warm splash of genuine tears against my shoulder.

“Yes Moll, it’s me.”

“How…” For once in my life, words escaped me. How had he known it was me after all these years? I’d been just a child. There were so many questions. I didn’t even know where to begin.

He sank down on the side of the bed, the last remnants of anger leaving his face. God, how could I have forgotten that face? I had adored that face. It was one of the few in my childhood that, upon seeing me, would alight with a smile rather than twist into a snarl of fury. He held his hand out to me now, one of the few hands that had ever reached out to me in kindness rather than to administer pain.

Exhaustion, despair, relief and fear coalesced and, falling forward, I pressed my head against his big, warm shoulder and began to sob in earnest.

Chapter Four

I don’t know how long we sat there, but the afternoon light was fading by the time I stirred against him. I lifted my face to his and tried to figure out what the hell to do. How do you continue to lie to someone who has shown you such kindness? Yet my allegiance had always been,
had
to be with Gilly, and I promised him that I would never tell. There were so many questions I needed answered, too. How had Devlin found me, or even known it was me when he did? More importantly, why had he even been looking?

He stared back at me, lifting a hand to my hair and tucking it behind my ear. Leaning close, he pulled my face to his and said, “I missed you, little one.” Then he laid the softest of kisses on my lips.

It was as though a dam had burst within me at that touch. I grabbed the back of his head with my free hand and brushed my lips against his, nipping at his lower lip. His response, a delicious moan, told me everything I needed to know. With my heart in my throat, I said, “I need you, Dev. No more questions, no more lies. I’m so very raw right now. I just need to not think. What do you say to a truce? Just until morning.”

“Truce,” he replied, giving me a wicked grin that I needed so very much at that moment.

He traced my lips with his finger, and I bit it gently. I struggled to move closer to him, but the jangle of the chain stopped me short.

“Wait. Why all this?” I gestured to the creepy stuff all over the room. It was just to satisfy my curiosity by that point. Now that I knew who he was, I knew for certain he would never hurt me, or anyone else, for that matter.

Dev chuckled, although for some reason it sounded a bit forced. “This room was here when I moved in. The gentleman that lived here before me had odd collections of things in every room of the house. I just hadn’t gotten around to emptying this room out yet. When I…took you, I thought it would be the perfect spot to put a little scare into you. That, and it’s the only room with shackles.” He gave the offending chains a rattle. “Now, to address that issue.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the key.

He unlocked my wrist first, then slid down to unlock my ankle. I felt the chain fall away, then the heat of his breath, the brush of his lips. I squirmed in delight as he kissed and nibbled on my ankles, moving his way up my calf. His fingers traced a devilish path on the soft skin on the back of my knee as his mouth continued its journey to my thigh, bunching my skirt higher as he went. I forgot to breathe as he pressed his lips against each of my hips in turn.

He stood then and reached his hand out to me, pulling me up to stand in front of him. Spearing his hands through my hair, he urged me onto my tiptoes and bent low to kiss my forehead, my cheek, the tip of my nose, each corner of my lips, then finally my mouth. Gentle kisses this time, filled with longing and tenderness. I moved closer, until our bodies were flush, my hips cradling his thighs, his hard length pressing against my stomach.

“I want you so much right now,” he whispered into my mouth.

I moaned in response and pulled him tighter to me.

His hands left my hair and slid slowly down the sides of my neck, brushing my bare shoulders, slowly sliding my formfitting blouse further down my arms. He watched in the dim light, mesmerized, as my breasts came into view. Finally they spilled forward, aching for his touch. He continued to push the shirt downward, catching the waistband of my skirt as he went, pulling it down too until both garments lay in a puddle at my feet. He straightened, nuzzling my breast for just a moment as he paused, and looked at me.

“Wherever did you get that diaphanous undergarment?” he asked, his voice like gravel.

I glanced down at my barely there, sheer black lace, string bikini panties, the likes of which he had certainly never seen.

“France,” I told him.

“Je l’aime.”

He liked it.

With one finger, he traced the string. He was almost reverent in his concentration. His face was intense and focused, so in the moment. Just watching him was making me crazy. Part of me wanted to shout, “Hurry up!” while the other part just waited, suspended in a sensual haze.

He gripped my hips for a second, then shifted his hands lower and around to cup my ass. A rush of warmth spread between my legs as he squeezed. I bit my lip, and still he stared.

“God, you are so beautiful.”

“You too, Dev. You too,” I whispered back. And I meant it.

Suddenly desperate to feel his skin against mine, I hastily pushed off his waistcoat and reached for the buttons of his shirt to undress him. I could feel his heart pounding underneath my hands and it thrilled me. When his shirt lay open, I rubbed my cheek against his chest, back and forth, then lower, pressing soft, sucking kisses to his tense abdomen. He trembled.

I unbuttoned his pants, then pushed them down over muscular thighs until he was naked. He was a large man in every sense, and I felt a trickle of unrest as I eyed what he had brought to the party.
Holy giant schlong, Batman!
I started to think about the limitations of the female anatomy at that point and wondered if maybe Dev needed to find himself a heartier lass, but was distracted as he seized that moment to kiss me senseless once again.

Filing my concern in the “cross that bridge when we came to it” part of my brain, I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck and fell back against the bed, pulling him with me. The weight of him was luscious. I felt warm and safe beneath him. He pulled his mouth from mine and pinched my earlobe between his teeth and released. He roamed downward, pressing his lips to my jaw, then to the pulse that leaped in my neck. One big, firm hand closed over my breast and I whimpered with satisfaction as he tugged and teased. I couldn’t get close enough, and arched my hips against his, grinding against him.

He looked down at me and said through gritted teeth, “It’d be better if you didn’t do that.”

I grinned and, grasping his magnificent, juicy bottom in both hands, swiveled my hips again in a slow circle. He issued a muffled curse and lowered his mouth to my chest, flicking my nipple with his tongue, then drawing it into his hot mouth. It was my turn to curse as my hips pulsed against his of their own accord. He turned his attention to my other breast as one hand snaked down my side, over my ribs, trailing my hip. He half rolled off me to his side, splayed his open palm over the cloth of my panties and squeezed. I let out a squeak and he smiled. He grabbed the cloth and gave a sharp tug, breaking the strings with a snap. A moment later his hand covered my already moist heat and a finger slid down my core. “Oh God, Dev, please, just…” I was too far gone to care that I was begging.

“Just what, love?” he whispered as he flexed his long finger deep inside me.

I reached for him then, wrapping my own fingers around his swollen sex, and held him tight, stroking up, then down. He groaned, pulling my hand away, then rolled back to cover me.

“Next time,” he muttered under his breath, and spread my legs with his knee.

Both of us held our breath as he probed with his thick, hard length and found his mark. Flexing his hips, he stared into my eyes as he pressed, inch by exquisite inch, into my waiting heat. His arms shook with the effort of holding back as my body stretched to receive him. Finally he was buried, seated deep inside me, and it felt so right.

I tried to savor the sensation, tried to stay still as my body clenched around him in gentle waves. Soon it became too much, and I began to bounce my hips against his, pulling at his backside with my hands. Eyes blazing, jaw clenched, with his dark mop of curls, he looked like some sort of avenging angel come to life. He took my wrists in his hands and held them down against the bed over my head, pulling back and sliding deep as he did.

I moaned as he pulled away again, only to gasp when he came back, filling me once more. He worked his hips long and slow, despite my attempts to urge him faster. He was relentless, and my body was like a wire about to snap. I started to shake as the pressure began to build, heat suffusing my whole body, skin tingling.

“Yes, that’s it, love. Come on,” he said, his voice an urgent whisper as he thrust faster and deeper.

He bent his head low and sucked my nipple into his mouth, giving a long pull as he plunged forward. Then I was flying. I let out a yelp as my body imploded in hard, smashing waves, clenching tight over him again and again. As tremors still racked my body, Devlin stiffened above me and shouted, quaking and straining, pinning me hard against the bed as he came.

“I love you, I love you,” he whispered into my hair.

It was some time later before I realized that my entire body had gone numb from his weight and I let out a muffled squeak. He rolled heavily off me, leaving one arm wrapped around my waist. His hand stroked my stomach almost absently as we lay. Neither of us spoke for a long time. I was deep in thought about the irony of fate, my predicament, my feelings for Dev, my loyalties to Gilly and more. I lay quiet, not wanting to disturb Dev from his undoubtedly equally philosophical thoughts. He began to snore. I stared at him, flabbergasted. I was absolutely torn up inside and he was off in dreamland. How could a person have such an emotionally crazy night, all these questions unanswered, all these feelings unresolved, and just conk out?

With no plan beyond getting the TTMs back in my possession, I extricated myself from under Devlin’s arm with painstaking care. Rising, I gathered my clothes as stealthily as possible, although the effort was wasted as his snoring had picked up steam and taken on epic proportions by that point.

Once dressed—except for my torn undies—I rifled through his clothes and found my TTM and goggles in his waistcoat pockets. I tiptoed over to my carpetbag and, to my immense relief, found the mercury pin in its hidey-hole. Good start. I put everything in my bag and turned back to Devlin.

Despite my intentions, staring at his gorgeous, naked body sprawled on the bed, his sweet face soft in sleep, I just couldn’t bring myself to slap the shackles on him. But I couldn’t allow him out of the room until I checked the house and located the second TTM either. I went back and pulled the door key from his pocket and moved out of the room, locking the door behind me.

I went through the house methodically, opening each door, giving a cursory look and then moving on. My hope was to narrow it down from the twenty-plus rooms to the few most likely locations, making the search a little more manageable.

Turned out, it was far easier than I’d expected. About eight rooms into my recon, I opened a door and hit pay dirt. Devlin’s workshop. It was a huge room, perhaps a ballroom in a former life, with remarkably high ceilings. Clearly it was where he spent most of his time.

I stood in the doorway for a moment, my eyes flickering from one thing to the next in amazement. The place looked like Rube Goldberg’s childhood playroom. Dozens of odd-looking contraptions, ranging from the simple to the extremely complex, stood on every available service. The centerpiece of the room, however, was a large, pod-shaped flying machine hung by thick ropes from the high ceiling. It resembled a modern-day blimp, but the material looked more like parchment or worn leather. It reminded me of a giant, prehistoric moth that had been stripped of its wings.

I spared the dirigible only a fleeting glance and walked forward, picking my way through the maze of creations, focused on one thing. A giant replica of the TTM. Not exactly right, but close enough that I knew exactly what it was. There was no way that had been made in the weeks since he’d won the mechanism from Bacon. No, this thing was elaborate, like it had been years in the making. The implications had me floored. Either Devlin, by some impossible stroke of luck, had created something very similar to Gilly’s invention on his own.
Or,
as crazy as it was, he had seen the TTM before and was attempting to recreate it himself.

When I finally reached the display, I stood in front of the device, dwarfed by its size. The intersecting gears were precision, and looked to be made of real silver. The numbers were painstakingly hand painted and decorated with gold leaf. While it was beautiful, it appeared to be in the midst of repairs. A couple of empty spots, a few missing hands; I could only guess that since he had the actual item in his possession, he was retooling this one now for accuracy. Walking around to the back side of it, I confirmed my suspicion. A fresh hole had been bored into it, still sharp-edged, not yet buffed down, mimicking the empty hole that would house a mercury pin.

I stepped back, bumping into a long worktable. Glancing down, I puzzled at the contents. It was covered in drawings, notes and literally dozens of miniature TTM replicas. As I picked them up, one at a time, turning them this way and that, I realized with dread, he was close, terrifyingly close to figuring it all out. One pin away, really.
Who has he shown these to? Does he have other engineers, inventors working with him?
This could be far more serious than I had even suspected.

As I searched gadgets, I found Bacon’s easily. It was clutched in a vise, surrounded by tools as if had been worked on. I released it from the grips, and slipped it into the carpetbag with mine. There was no point in taking the rest of them. He had the knowledge to recreate the mechanics of it. I could only hope that no one else knew and that he had no inkling of what was in the pin that drove it.

I began to look through the myriad of papers on the worktable. The top ones were drawings of my alternate perception goggles. He had worked fast, creating maybe a half-dozen sketches already, with measurements and various specs jotted all over the pages. I took those and shoved them into my bag as well. Even if the TTM could be recreated, it would be difficult to locate an open wormhole without the APGs. And without the sketches, it would be nearly impossible to make the goggles from memory. Whether any of this would stop him, I couldn’t know, but it would at least slow down his progress.

As I continued to shuffle through his papers for anything else of any import, my eye fell upon something that stopped me in my tracks. Dropping all but the sheet in my hand, I was stunned to see the face of my beloved Gilly staring up at me. Tears instantly pooled in my eyes, a sob clogging my throat. I ran my fingertips over his sweet face. God, I missed him.
Why is this here?
I looked harder and realized that he was young in this picture, at least relatively speaking. This was not Gilly at age seventy-six, right before cancer ripped him from our lives. It was Gilly in his sixties, the way he looked when he first found us.