Taken by the Pirate Billionaire (11 page)

“I’m not sure, but apparently Darren and Anne weren’t just having casual sex.”

She giggled. “Well, casual sex wasn’t exactly fashionable back then, was it?”

Devon looked up at her. “He asked her to marry him.”

Chapter Fourteen

Renee sat on the bed, a look of astonishment on her face. “But... no, they didn’t marry. Anne married a butcher and had lots of babies. That’s where we gained the Stoddard name. I just don’t understand.”

“I’m not sure I do either. She wrote that she accepted his proposal and that he gave her the ruby brooch as an engagement gift.”

“
Darren
gave her the brooch?”

“Yes.” Devon glanced at the journal. “They were going to elope together. But the day they were supposed to leave Darren never showed up.”

Renee didn’t say anything, but her lips thinned.

“There’s more,” he went on, feeling like a complete ass for what his ancestor had done. “The brooch disappeared from her vanity table shortly before they were to be married. She never saw it, or Darren again.”

She reared back, as if he’d thrown the diary at her.

“I’m sorry, Renee.” Devon set the diary down and took her hand. “I wish I knew what he did with it. I’d give it to you without hesitation. It’s yours and it belongs with your family.”

She pulled her hand free. “It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t exist, right?”

Her sharp words had unease sliding through him.

“I’m sorry, Devon. Look, I’m pretty tired. Maybe we should call it a night.”

He frowned, not pleased with the turn of events, and yet unable to blame her one bit. Especially after what he’d just read.

“Sure. I’ll leave.” He stood up and grabbed his jacket, giving her plenty of chances to say something or protest. She was strangely silent, her body rigid with tension.

When it was clear that she’d closed a mental door between them, Devon gave up and left her.
 

She needed time, and he would be enough of a gentleman to give it to her.

Renee watched his car pull away and then dropped the curtain back into place.

Damn, she shouldn’t have taken it out on him. The poor guy had come over to help her tonight, and she’d damn near kicked him out. Actually, there was no ‘near’ about it. She did kick him out.

Walking back to her bedroom, she glanced at the diary before sinking down onto the bed.

Maybe she’d gotten too caught up in the idea that Devon was an old soul. That he’d tapped into Darren’s memories. With those kinds of romantic notions in her head it was no wonder she was feeling so disappointed.

Darren Murray had been a ruthless man. He’d ruined Anne’s reputation, stolen back the ruby brooch he’d given her, and left her to fend for herself. Broken-hearted and alone.

Maybe it shouldn’t have bothered her so much. After all, it had happened centuries ago. But the fact was, she already had feelings for Devon. History was all but repeating itself. Anne had been in love with a powerful Murray man who’d crushed her dreams, and if Renee kept seeing Devon she’d be going down the same path of certain disappointment.

Ted came bounding into her room and leapt up onto the bed beside her. He gave her a quizzical look.

“He left, sugar pie. I totally wigged out on him.” Like big time. Her heart pinched. “I’ll call him in the morning and apologize.” She scratched behind his ears and he whimpered. “I have a lot to think about right now.”

Devon sat in front of a crackling fire in his study. He nursed a sifter of brandy as he stared into the flames. It was after midnight, but he couldn’t sleep. There were so many unanswered questions floating around in his head.

Christ, what a mess.
 

How was it that he’d seduced the descendent of his ancestor’s lover? The more he thought about it, the less sense it seemed to make. What were the odds? When she’d shown up on his porch he hadn’t realized their connection, and it seemed she hadn’t fully understood it either.

Unsettled, he lifted the sifter to his lips and let the brandy soothe his thoughts.

Maybe he was losing his mind to consider it, but he was starting to wonder if Renee might be right. Fuck, maybe he was channeling a ghost. He just felt as if he had always known Renee.

“No, that’s complete bullshit,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head.
 

There was a perfectly logical explanation. There always was. And it would come to him sooner or later. He tipped back the rest of the brandy, closed his eyes, and let the fire and liquor lull his overactive mind.

He awoke in the chair some time later. The fire had gone out so the room was dark and cold. He rose from the chair and left the study, pausing briefly at the bottom of the stairs. Then, with a calm certainty, he ascended the stairway and made his way to the attic.

The incessant ringing of her phone was what woke her. She hadn’t slept very well, tossing and turning all night long. Worrying about what was going to happen to her grandparents’ home and her growing feelings for Devon.

Since the caller hadn’t taken the hint when she’d ignored the first few phone calls, she reached over and grabbed her cell.

“Hello?”

“Good morning.” His voice was low and sexy like always. “It’s Devon.”

“No kidding.” She yawned and rolled over onto her back. “What time is it?”

“Seven-thirty.” 

“Ugh.” She groaned and then remembered the way they’d parted last. “Hey, I’m sorry about the way I kicked you out the other night.”

“It’s fine, Renee.”
 

His gentle words only made her feel worse.
 

“No, I was a bitch.”

“And I understand why.”

“You’re too easy on me.”

“I can go harder.”

Even over the phone, she sensed the curve of his lips as he smiled. A smile she’d already she’d gotten used to.

“Oh, I bet you can.”

He laughed now. “I have some news.”

“What kind? Good I hope?”

“Excellent. I figured out why you look so familiar.”

She bolted upright as the drowsiness vanished. “I knew it. The ghost of Darren came to you in a dream, didn’t he?”

“You’re a sucker for the paranormal, aren’t you? But no, I had no ghostly visitations. It’s even better. Can you come over?”

“Now? I haven’t showered or eaten—”

“You can shower with me and I’ll cook breakfast. Kurt is outside your apartment with a car.”

Shower with him. The idea slid heat through her, and she almost got lost in that image, until his words registered. She blinked in astonishment. “Outside my apartment now?”

“Yes.”

“I
can
drive you know. My car works fine.”

“I know.” He gave a husky laugh. “But I wanted you here right away.”

“Why? Is it that exciting?”

“I think so. Also, I miss you.”
 

His bluntness surprised her.
 

“I missed not having you in my bed last night. Waking up beside you. That’s twice now.”

His words warmed her and she tightened her grip on the phone. “Okay. I’ll throw on some clothes and go meet Kurt. But this had better be good for calling me so early.”

“It is.”

Renee hung up the phone and got dressed. Five minutes later she was leaving her apartment building and climbing into the back of Devon’s luxurious, black, tinted
‐
windowed, car.

Her curiosity was aroused more than ever as Kurt drove her to Devon’s estate. At least this would give her the chance to apologize for her behavior last night. The last thing she wanted to do was turn on Devon. It was ridiculous to blame him for his ancestor’s choices.

She closed her eyes, relaxing against the buttery leather of the seats. A person could get used to this chauffer thing. Not to mention it saved her on gas, seeing as he lived a good half an hour away.

When they arrived Renee said a quick goodbye to Kurt and hurried inside. Devon must have watched her arrival, because he was waiting for her in the foyer.

“All right, now what’s this big—” 

He pulled her against him, crushing his mouth down onto hers. Her knees almost gave out as his tongue stroked into her mouth, exploring deeper and deeper with each hungry plunge. He pulled back, brushing soft kisses against her mouth before letting her go and leaving her breathless.
 

He leaned down and touched his nose against hers. “You’ll love what I’m going to show you.”

Trying to maintain her ability to stand, she drew in a shaky breath. “What is it? I’m getting more curious by the minute.”

“Follow me.” Devon took her hand and led her up the staircase.

Renee hurried to keep up with him, wondering if this all was just a ploy to get her back into his bedroom. He should know better, it wasn’t like she’d resisted in the first place. But he bypassed his room and continued down the hall.

They reached another short flight of stairs that led to a small door. An attic.

Renee shivered, pushing aside the creepy sensation that wanted to take over. It wasn’t that she was afraid of attics. It was just ones that were in houses over a hundred years old that made her a little nervous.

“I had lighting put in ten years ago.” He glanced back. “So it’s not as frightening as it looks.”

She flashed him a relieved smile. It was amazing how well he could read her.

Devon opened the door and hunched down to climb in. Renee took a deep breath before following suit.

By the time she was inside Devon had the lights on and the room, with its high ceiling, was filled with a soft glow.

As she glanced around, she saw there were dozens of boxes stacked everywhere, plastic storage bins, and objects covered in sheets.

Devon strode to the far end of the room and then brought back a rectangular object that was wrapped in fabric.

“Here we are,” he murmured as he began to unravel the fabric.

Renee couldn’t even let herself blink as a wooden edge appeared first, then the splashes of color on a canvas.

A painting.

Devon glanced at her and their gazes locked, before he turned and finished unwrapping it.

Renee’s chest was tight as she stared down at the portrait of a woman.

“It’s her.” She hovered a finger over the name that was written at the top of the portrait, dismay sweeping through her. “It’s Anne Stoddard.”

Chapter Fifteen

“Yes.”

The woman could have been her twin—only the period dress separated them. Her hair was the same, long and black, but twisted atop her head. The same pale blue eyes, small nose and curved mouth. She wore a blue gown, and a smile that could only be for her lover. The resemblance was shocking.

“I’d seen the painting a few times when I was a kid,” Devon said. “I remember thinking she was the most beautiful woman ever.”

Renee turned to look at him, her heart pounding a little harder now. “Why would he keep a painting of her? What do you think it means?”

Devon shrugged, not taking his eyes off the portrait. “Maybe he stole it as a souvenir. It could have been the era equivalent to keeping a woman’s panties after sex.”

Renee grimaced. “Nice. Except this probably cost a lot more than a pair of underwear.”

“Undoubtedly. Don’t you think it’s crazy how much you look like her? I realize you’re related, but this is uncanny. When I saw you that night at the party I must’ve subconsciously remembered the portrait.” He turned to face her, his gaze studying her as intently as he had the painting a moment ago. “And I wanted you like I’ve never wanted another woman.”

She swallowed hard. “Devon, I...” 

“The painting is yours.” 

Shock ripped through her. “You can’t mean that.”
 

Even still, her glance drifted back to the painting—an antique in itself. The frame was thick and beautifully carved. But the oil portrait on the canvas made it priceless.

“I mean it, and you will accept it. It’s truly the least I can do to make up for the wrongs done to your ancestor.”

“It was centuries ago,” she murmured weakly.

“Maybe, but you built up hope that this brooch would be found. And although I couldn’t begin to tell you where that item may be, the painting I can give you.” The last words he spoke while handing her the painting.

When she made to protest, he gave a small shake of his head. “This is not up for negotiation. Come, let’s go back downstairs and I’ll make breakfast.”

Devon turned off the lights, and they made their way back through the small doorway, pausing just long enough to lock up.

As they neared Devon’s room, Renee grabbed his shirt and tugged him back.

“Thank you for the painting.” She set it on top of a small table in the hallway. “You have no idea how much that touches me.”