Wolf Island (4 page)

She
had little experience there, although she was no virgin. He walked toward her,
slowly. Her pulse quickened. The closer he came, the harder her pulse beat.

As
he moved toward her, his gaze never left her face. Unable to meet his eyes a
moment longer, she stared directly at the center of his chest. Muscles shifted
beneath his blue shirt. A hint of dark chest hair curled through the opening at
his throat, inviting her to touch.

Within
seconds, he stood barely an inch away. His scent grew more powerful, nearly
overwhelming her, the warmth from him a gentle caress of her body. He raised
his hand and laid his fingers over the pulse in her neck. Her heart accelerated
to a jackhammer beat.

The
heat from his hand infused her skin. Hunger and yearning flowed from him into
her bones. Inexorably, he lifted her chin until she looked deeply into his
eyes.

The
moment her eyes met his, she experienced a sensation of spinning down a deep
emerald chasm of which there was no end. Clear green eyes with the iris circled
in black mesmerized her. His breath, with the faint tinge of coffee, warmed her
lips. Her blood heated and raced while her bones slowly melted.

“Staying
here more than one night is a lousy idea.” His husky voice did strange things
to her insides. Concern flickered in his eyes.

What
did a man like Devlin have to be worried about? Did his anxiety have something
to do with Miranda’s disappearance?

She
wanted -- oh, how she wanted -- more from Devlin. But how could she?
He could be connected to Alice Howard’s death somehow.

He
rubbed his thumb in a lazy circle against the jumping pulse in her neck. Her
breasts ached to be touched in just such a way. How would his mouth feel on
hers?

She
took a step away to put some much needed distance between them, but he moved closer.
Instinctively, Abby laid a hand on his chest. His heart beat steadily beneath
her palm, warming her, making her skin tingle. Firm muscles flexed while
strength emanated from him, surrounding her in a drugging haze.

Lord
help her, she wanted to lean into him, rest her head in the middle of his
chest, and let the sensual drumbeat flow into her.

What
was she thinking? Her attitude toward him was beginning to soften, and she
couldn’t allow that to happen. “What worries you so much, Devlin? Why don’t you
want me here?”

A
spark of some indefinable emotion burned briefly in his eyes. “Something that
would curdle your blood if you ever came face to face with it.”

His
chilling words made uneasiness curl through her stomach. “What do you mean?”

He
dropped his hand from her neck, breaking the tenuous connection between them.
Her palm tingled with the warmth from his body, and cool air brushed over her
neck where he’d laid his hand.

“Never
mind. You’re leaving tomorrow.” His offhand manner belied the note of regret in
his words.

“But
you can’t just make a statement like that and then leave me hanging.”
Exasperation rang in her voice. The man was being deliberately obtuse.

He
gazed at her for a moment, and the corners of his mouth turned up in a slight
smile. “You’re a curious cat, aren’t you?”

“I’m
a teacher. It’s my nature to be curious. Why won’t you answer my question?”

A
clock on the mantel in her room chimed the hour in light, musical notes. “I’ve
answered all the questions I intend to for one day.”

Chapter Three

The
scent of food permeated the air in the dining room and made Abby’s mouth water.
Devlin sat at the head of the table and looked at her. His hands rested on the
arms of the big chair, the tips of his fingers moving slowly back and forth, reminding
her of how he had caressed her skin earlier.

She
tried not to think about what had happened up in her room, but the vivid
details of how he had stroked her neck, the bloom of sensual heat that had
formed between them, stayed fixed in her mind. A flush warmed her cheeks, and
his mouth curved slightly as if he read her thoughts.

She
shifted her gaze to Otis, who sat across the table from her. She was no snob,
but it seemed a bit unusual for Otis to be sharing dinner with his employer.
There must be more to their relationship than just employer and employee.
Curiosity overcame her usual decorum. “How did you come to live at the castle,
Otis?”

Otis
looked at her. “Mr. Dev and me go way back.” He reached for a piece of
cornbread, dipped one corner of the bread into his bowl, and took a big bite.

“Really.
How so?”

He
looked at Devlin, then back at her. Dev shifted in his seat and stared at his
food with a frown creasing his brow. Why did their conversation make him
uncomfortable?

Otis
swallowed and rested his spoon on the rim of his bowl. “Trouble be like poison
ivy sometimes. If they lucky, people barely brush up against it and hardly get
a rash. Me, I broke out good. Top of my head to the soles of my feet. Nobody
else would take me in except Mr. Dev.”

Interesting.
Abby sipped her iced tea and threw a surreptitious glance at Devlin, who glared
at Otis out of the corner of his eyes. “Why?”

Otis
pursed his lips and rubbed a hand over his chin, contemplating her question.
Then he raised his head and looked at her. “Back in N’awlins, when I was a
teenager, I was a real bad ass. Always gettin’ into trouble. My mama worked two
jobs to take care of me when my daddy walked away. I started out shoplifting
things so Mama would have something nice to wear. I told her I saved my money
and bought the stuff, but she found out I stole it. She told me to stop, but I
wanted more for her and for me. Then I found out I could make money selling
drugs, until one day a kid in my neighborhood turned up dead from an overdose
of drugs I sold him.”

Abby
set her glass down on the table. “I’m sorry.”

“Ain’t
nothin’ for you to be sorry about. I caused it, and I have to live with that
for the rest of my life.”

Oh, the poor man.
She couldn’t imagine how Otis must feel, being
responsible for the death of a child. She sucked in a ragged breath. But Otis’s
explanation still didn’t answer her question. Why did Devlin allow Otis to live
there? How and where did they meet?

What
did it matter? She couldn’t afford to let him or Otis get to her. Miranda was
still missing, but she couldn’t help but feel curious.

Abby
swallowed a spoonful of gumbo. The flavor was exquisite, a mixture of spices
and just a touch of fire. She looked at Otis and smiled. “This is delicious.
Where’d you learn to cook like this?”

Otis
grabbed another hunk of cornbread from the plate and rested it beside his bowl.
“Baton Rouge.”

“Did
you work in a restaurant?”

“I
learned from my mama. She was the best cook in our parish.”

“How
did you find your way here?”

Had
Otis gone to jail for his share of the responsibility in the death of that boy?
Was he in league with Devlin? Did they both have something to do with Miranda’s
disappearance?

“Stop
grilling the poor man.” Devlin’s quiet but firm voice let her know he meant it.

Otis
threw him an amused look and pushed back from the table. “I’ll get dessert.”

When
dinner was over, Otis left the dining room, leaving Abby alone with Devlin. At
the touch of Devlin’s warm hand on her arm, she looked up at him. His eyes
appeared a darker green, more compelling and unfathomable.

“Come.
I’ll take you to your room.”

His
deep, inviting command brought more heat to her face and tightened the ball of
nerves in her stomach. She reached up and played nervously with a button on her
blouse.

As
they walked up the stairs, Devlin loomed beside her like a gorgeous giant. She
inhaled his alluring, spicy scent in spite of herself.

I must stop this fascination I have with him.
Miranda is still missing.

The
attraction building between them posed a threat to her goal of finding Miranda.
She’d always taken care of her sister, and she wasn’t going to stop now.

Abby
directed her attention to the painting of the woman holding the chimes and away
from her sensuous thoughts. She looked up at him. “Who is the woman in this
picture?”

Devlin
kept his gaze pinned to the portrait. He seemed to drink in the image like a
little boy seeing someone he cared about, after a long absence. “My mother.”

“You
must look like your father.”

A
muscle worked in his jaw. His eyes, now filled with anger, slid to hers. “I
guess so.” Control edged his voice as if he were holding back a dam of
emotions. “Have you ever been married?”

“No.”
Not even close. She turned her attention back to the painting and away from her
concerned thoughts about Devlin. She couldn’t afford to consider his feelings
too closely; her focus needed to stay on finding Miranda. “Why is she holding
chimes?”

“A
young woman made them by hand and sold them from the gift shop in the village.”

Why
did he continuously evade her questions? Abby looked at the portrait. “She
looks so sad. Do you know why?” Abby closed her eyes for a moment and groaned
inwardly at her rudeness.

Devlin
drew his gaze away from the portrait and looked down at his feet. A frown
furrowed his brow. “It doesn’t matter now.” His tight, clipped voice admonished
her further.

“I’m
sorry. That was really rude of me. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He
gave her a small smile. “Forget it.” He enclosed her hand in his as if it were
the most natural thing in the world.

Devlin
entwined their fingers and pressed their palms together. Heat raced up Abby’s
arm and across her chest. Her breasts felt heavy and warm, while sexual tension
crackled between them. Just a couple of steps and she could be in his arms.
What was she thinking?

She
tried to pull her hand free. He held on with a firm but gentle pressure. Why
was he holding her hand? Why the change in attitude? Was it his intention to
seduce her? Her heart pounded in an erratic dance. The pulse shimmied through
her veins. How could she be attracted to a man who might have been involved in
her sister’s disappearance?

Whatever
his motives, she didn’t trust his actions. But why not play along? She might
uncover some of his secrets and find her sister in the process. Thankfully,
they’d reached the top of the stairs. Hoping to go ahead alone to her room,
Abby tried once again to remove her hand from Devlin’s hold. He tugged lightly
on her fingers and kept walking. “You seem anxious to be rid of me.” His quiet
tone warmed her, even as his thumb caressed the skin of her inner wrist.

She
knew he felt her pulse jumping, but there was nothing she could do about it.
“No, it’s been a long day, that’s all.”

In
a moment, they stood in front of her bedroom door. Slowly, he pulled her toward
him until his aura surrounded her in a sensual ambience. He stroked the back of
his hand over the hollow at the base of her throat, following the movement with
his eyes.

Desire
swept through her blood and pooled in her stomach. Desire that she shouldn’t
feel, considering the circumstances; longing that had nothing to do with reason
and everything to do with the man standing in front of her. He lifted his gaze
and locked eyes with her. Once again, she felt her senses spin out of control,
and a soft, white cloud settled over her brain.

Gradually,
he lowered his head, his eyes never leaving hers until his lashes swept down,
covering his verdant gaze. He laid a warm kiss with just a hint of tongue at
the base of her throat.

When
he lifted his head, cool air brushed over the spot he had kissed, making her
feel bereft. He watched her for a moment, his gaze resting on her mouth. “Sleep
well, Abigail.” His velvety words hung in the air as he turned and strode down
the hallway.

She
couldn’t move, at least not until her fluttering heart slid down from her
throat into her chest and the strength eased back into her wobbly legs. She
heaved a calming breath, wiped her sweaty palms on her thighs, and watched
Devlin until he disappeared around the corner.

Instinctively,
she raised a hand to her throat and touched the spot that he’d caressed. When
his lips had settled on her skin, she’d never wanted to be kissed, really
kissed with plenty of lips and tongue, more in her life.

She
rubbed her palm between her breasts and sighed. What was he up to? What kind of
game was he playing? Should she play along?

She
shook her head to clear her mind of the sensual fog Devlin had created, and
glanced at her watch. The night was just beginning, and she had work to do.

Hours
later, Abby paused in the murky darkness of Devlin’s office and shone her
flashlight around the room.

His
desk, a slab of granite on a large maple pedestal, sat in front of two wide
windows flanked on either side by bookcases. A dark brown leather sofa occupied
space in front of a white marble fireplace.