The Bride of Devil's Acre (31 page)

Jacqueline gasped a moment before her husband’s mouth captured her own. Devil swept in, and she surrendered to him, sliding her hands around his neck and burying her fingers in his hair.

Devil kissed her until there was no breath left that didn’t taste of the two of them together. Only then did he set his wife back on her feet. “Tell me again,” Devil demanded.

“I love you.” Jacqueline smiled. It got easier every time she said it.

Devil’s heart beat hard, and he felt the responsibility of those words settle on his shoulders. It was a weight he was willing to bear. “I don’t think I shall ever tire of hearing you say those words.”

This time, when Devil kissed her, it was with the slow taste of promise.

Epilogue

Marcus, eight months later

Marcus slipped into a pew at the back of the church. He sat on the groom’s side.

Situated in the country several hours from London, the Westmoreland family church was small. Marcus had made the trip in one night. The decision to come had not been an easy one, and he wasn’t sure to which he owed it to more: the brandy or Jacqueline.

Mrs. Jacqueline Radcliffe was happily situated back in London, her husband understandably unwilling to let her make the trip with him. Devil could usually be found somewhere in the vicinity of his wife, the two of them managing Purgatory and running Devil’s Acre. Jacqueline had taken to her new life with a kind of fierce determination that she applied to everything in her life, including Marcus.
 

She’d even managed to convince her father to use his position in the House of Lords to help steer Queen Victoria’s reformation efforts. There was no way to stop them, but Lord Edwards was working to ensure that the effects weren’t most felt by the folks in Devil’s Acre.

The priest offered up a blessing for the couple, drawing Marcus’ attention back to the church.

Philip stood beside his bride, resplendent in his military uniform. His dark hair had been trimmed short, no doubt for the occasion, and no longer brushed the collar of his shirt. He still leaned on his cane, this one cleverly disguised as a walking stick.

Marcus listened as the vows were spoken, and Philip pledged to love, honor, and forsake all others. Each word sliced at Marcus’ heart even as the feeling of inevitability washed over him.

Marcus stood and headed for the door. It wouldn’t do for Philip to know he had come. Granting himself one last look, he turned in time to watch as the couple exchanged rings. Miss O’Brian would have to settle for a simple gold band, the family jewels being kept safe for the future viscountess.
 

Things between him and Philip were not over. Marcus knew that, even if the other man did not. The only difference was, now, the new Mrs. Westmoreland would be accompanying them.
 

God help them all.

Jacqueline

“Can I get you anything, Lady J?”

Jacqueline looked up from the ledger. “A pistol shot to the head?”

John smiled. “Can’t help you there; the boss would never forgive me.”

“His fault for giving me the books,” Jacqueline grumbled, watching the barkeep as he went back to polishing the stemware.
 

It was early afternoon, and Purgatory remained mostly deserted. Jacqueline was seated at the bar, reviewing the books. Behind her, the soft rise and fall of voices accompanied the stewards as they polished their silver trays and the dealers brushed imaginary dust from their green-felt tables.
 

Jacqueline had been staring at the books for over an hour, and the numbers were starting to blur. Her eyes were tired and her back hurt, the latter contributing to her general state of surliness.
 

“If I remember correctly, you were the one who insisted on being intimately involved in all my business matters.”
 

“This is
not
what I meant when I used the word ‘intimate,’” Jacqueline said, smiling up at her husband.

Devil laughed and took the opportunity to kiss his wife. He had meant it to be quick, but their lips met and familiar heat sparked between them. He would never get enough of this, of her, and of them together. She had come into his life and slipped into his heart. She was what made them more together than they would ever be apart.

When Devil finally lifted his head, it was to see his wife wince and her brow crease with pain. “Your back?”

Jacqueline nodded and then groaned as Devil went to work on the sore muscles of her lower back.
 

“Lean back,” Devil ordered, wrapping one arm around his wife and their unborn child and pulling them against his chest. “You should be home, resting.”

Jacqueline shifted on her stool, silently showing Devil where to concentrate his efforts. “I want to be here with you.”

“I can come with you, leave things to Finn.” Devil found a knot and dug in with his knuckles. His wife moaned, and the sound was erotically similar to the ones she made in bed.
 

Up until recently, they had been enjoying exploring her new body together. But as her time to deliver drew near, Jac had become quieter, her thoughts turning inward and often landing on her mother.
 

Devil knew Jac feared sharing her mother’s fate. Stark terror had filtered across her face when she realized she was pregnant. Devil had done all he could to reassure her, and together with Lord John he had secured the best midwife in London.

Devil refused to admit, to himself or to Jacqueline, that some of his own fear had driven his decision to petition the earl for help. Father and son-in-law were still working on establishing a relationship. So far, a mutual peace had been declared for the sake of the woman they both loved.

“Let me take you home,” Devil said, pressing a kiss to his wife’s head. “I’ll have the tub filled, and you can soak in a hot bath.”

Jacqueline shook her head and slid from the stool. Pressing her hands to her back, she stretched muscles grown tight from sitting. “We don’t have many more nights like tonight.” These were the last nights of just the two of them together, the last few nights before they became a family. Maybe their last few nights together, ever.
 

Devil considered his wife. Not surprising, she had grown more beautiful to him, full and flush with their child. He could practically hear the thoughts, and fears, swirling around in her brain. Perhaps Purgatory was just the distraction Jac needed. “All right, but we’ll make it an early night, and I want you to eat something.”
 

Jac had become a fixture at Purgatory. The members enjoyed her indulgent smile and infectious laugh. Eddington, a regular at Purgatory, liked to call her the Queen of the Damned, and Jac joked that their son would be born a prince.

Devil was certain they were having a girl.
 

He looked forward to having a daughter to spoil, though he was fully prepared for her to give him fits. Just like her mother.
 

Jacqueline rubbed her belly. “I could eat.”

Devil laughed. “Of course you can.” Hand on the small of her back, he guided Jac around the end of the bar and into their office. The space was still much the same but had taken on a second desk and subtle touches that reflected his wife’s personality.
 

Jacqueline sighed as Devil helped her down onto the couch. A fire burned in the hearth, and a light repast had been laid out. Crusty bread, creamy cheeses, and cured meats were accented with salty olives and sweet dates. Her favorites.

Jacqueline looked up at her husband. Devil had wandered back behind his desk. Standing, he shuffled papers and sipped his wine. He’d known she would want to stay and had made sure she would have something to eat.

It was just the sort of little thing that made her fall in love with her husband all over again.

Under her hand, the baby rolled and tried to stretch. “Soon,” she whispered to her son. A mother’s instinct told her it would be soon.
 

“Jac?” Devil stared across the office at his wife, dark brows drawn down over eyes filled with concern.
 

“Come sit with me.” Jacqueline reached out her hand, waiting until Devil linked their fingers together.
 

Devil drew Jac’s back to his chest, reclining the two of them together on the couch. They shared the meal, talking quietly until his wife grew heavy against him. Peering around at her face, Devil confirmed that she’d fallen asleep.

Easing out from behind her, Devil left his wife long enough to call for their carriage. The carriage, and the team of twin black geldings, had been a belated wedding gift from the earl.
 

Gathering his wife in his arms, Devil went out the back, bundling his wife into the carriage and taking them home.
 

Sometime during the dark hours of the night, Jacqueline went into labor. Devil sent for the midwife and Lord Edwards.
 

“Don’t go!” Jacqueline cried, clutching his hand as pain rippled across her abdomen.

“I’m not leaving,” Devil assured her, brushing the hair back from her forehead. Her nightgown was soaked with sweat, and her eyes were bright with fear.
 

“Sir, the business of birthing babies is better left to women,” the midwife said. She stood at the end of the bed, Emme working quietly beside her. His wife’s maid appeared almost as scared as Jac.

“Go wait with Lord John,” he told Emme.

Emme shook her head. “I want to stay.”

They regarded each other, silently, both of them ignoring the midwife’s muttered protests. He’d come to know Emme as more friend to his wife than maid. He understood her desire to stay and the need to believe she was doing
something
, even if such belief was a fallacy.
 

Nodding, Devil climbed up onto the bed beside his wife, taking her into his arms and holding her through the pain.
 

Jac labored through the night, their bedroom growing bright as morning gave way to afternoon. The midwife assured him that a woman’s firstborn child always took the longest.

Jacqueline lost track of time. Darkness turned to light, light to darkness, as her body worked to birth the child she carried. She prayed as the pain reached its peak, her first words to God not for herself.
 

Please, God, don’t take me from them. Do not sentence Devil with the fate of raising our child alone.
 

Behind her, Devil labored with her, his body hard and strong. Jacqueline drew on his strength, used it to carry her through.

Jac screamed.

“Help her!” Devil stared down his wife’s body at the midwife. The woman didn’t so much as look at him, lifting the bed sheet and glancing between Jac’s thighs.

In a mutter that sounded suspiciously like approval, the midwife was shooing him off the bed and out the door. “I really must insist, sir. The time has come for your wife to give birth. You can wait in the hall.”

Devil stared. He’d been dismissed. From his place in the hall, he caught a glimpse of his wife’s face. Her brow was creased in concentration but the fear was gone and she didn’t object as the door closed.

“How much longer?” Devil asked.

Lord John shook his head. “I don’t know.”

The two men waited together in Devil’s study. Dillon had been in, bringing them a light meal and filling their glasses with brandy. Neither man could eat, but the brandy was fine, if failing at calming frayed nerves.

“Jacqueline’s mother never made it this far,” Lord John spoke softly into his glass. He sought to offer what comfort he could. “The complications started early. The physician eventually had to cut Jacqueline from her mother’s womb.”
 

Too late. They’d seen the signs of the eclampsia
too late to do anything for his wife. Saving the baby, saving Jacqueline, had been the only thing Lord John could do. Even then, he’d almost failed. Unwilling to make the decision that would forfeit his wife’s life, Lord John had hesitated. Ann had seen and had begged him to save their child.

“Sir. My lord.”

Devil jumped up as the midwife came in.

“You have a son,” the midwife smiled, “and a daughter. Twins, sir.”

The news barely registered. “My wife?”

“Lady Jacqueline came through just fine, sir.”
 

Devil stumbled under the weight of his relief and was forced to grab the back of his chair. A hand on his shoulder drew his attention. Lord John stood beside him, the man having also risen to hear the news.

“She’s resting comfortably,” the midwife said, “and asking to see you.”

“Go,” Lord John said, giving Devil a gentle push. “Give her my love.”

Devil nodded. Sprinting out of the study, he launched himself up the stairs and down the short hall to their bedroom. The door was already open, Emme stepping out and closing it quietly behind him.

Jac lay on her side in the center of their big bed. The birthing sheets had been taken away, and she wore a fresh nightgown. She appeared tired, but the kind that came from doing something you enjoyed—like riding hard across the fields or making love.

“Are you just going to stand there, or will you come and meet your children?”
 

Jac’s voice was quiet, reiterating the exhaustion Devil saw in her face. When she smiled at him, her face lit with a soft glow.

Devil moved around to the other side of the bed. There, tucked into his wife’s side, were the twins. Two tiny faces, almost identical so as to make it near impossible to tell them apart, were turned toward him. Cat was also there. The feline was curled up at Jac’s feet eyeing the twins curiously.

Gently, so as not to disturb them, Devil crawled onto the bed, stretching out on his side. His body closed the circle started by his wife, the two of them acting as a barrier between their children and the rest of the world.
 

Devil ran a finger down one child’s nose, and then the other, smiling as they scrunched up their faces, their lips pursed in identical expressions. “How will I ever tell them apart?”