Tarnished Angel (36 page)

    Unable to take her eyes off his face, Devina allowed him to lift her to her feet without protest, Her knees were strangely weak, and she swayed slightly, only to feel his hands tighten around her waist. His dark brows furrowed into a frown, and suddenly he was no longer Charles, but the man on the stage, the thief, the villain who had threatened her life.

    "Who are you? You're not Charles!" Devina shook her head, thoroughly confused. "But you're his image, except…"

    "Except for what, Miss Dale? Or should I call you Devina?" Her captor's voice held a sinister note. "Yes, I think I will. All right, Devina, get into the cabin."

    Devina raised her chin in open defiance. "I'm not going into that hovel until you tell me who you are and what you intend to do to me!"

    "Look at me, Devina." Towering over her, her captor grasped her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "I said look at me. Now tell me who you think I am."

    Anger flared inside Devina and she attempted to free herself. The throbbing in her jaw flared once more, and she responded heatedly, "I don't know who you are. I just know who you aren't, and you aren't Charles. You look so much like him that I find myself sometimes… But Charles is gentle, considerate, well bred. You are the antithesis of all he is."

    Her captor's harsh laugh sounded once more. "Thank you, Devina. You've just given me a great compliment."

   "Only a fool would take that as a compliment."

    "And only a fool would refuse to obey my orders. Now do as I said and get into that cabin."

    "Cabin? Is that what you call that place? It's a shack, a dilapidated"

    "I said get inside!"

    "I will not go into that cabin unless"

    But Devina did not get the opportunity to finish her statement as her captor lifted her from the ground. Tossing her over his shoulder, he started toward the cabin as she screamed in protest.

    "Bastard! Put me down! Damn you, put me down!"

    Her protests to no avail, Devina caught a glimpse of a wide fireplace, a crude table and chairs, and rough wooden floors before she was unceremoniously dumped on her back on a broad bunk in one corner of the room. Leaning over her, her captor pinned her against the lumpy surface of the bunk, supporting himself by bracing his hands on either side of her head. He spoke in a very un-Charles-like rasp.

    "Let's get one thing straight, Miss High-and-Mighty Devina Dale. I'm the one who gives the orders here. Your future is in my hands, and what I do with it will depend on your father. Save your questions, because I intend to tell you only one thing: In the next few weeks we're going to find out just how important Harvey Dale's daughter is to him, and just what he's willing to do to get her back."

    Devina's response reflected no sign of the fear that all but incapacitated her. "Bastard. My father will never submit to your demands!"

    The black eyes staring into hers were suddenly cold. "You had better hope he does."

    Suddenly drawing back, her captor turned toward the door. Before Devina could frame a reply, the door had closed behind him, and a lock had been engaged from the outside. She did not have to test the door to know that she was this man's prisoner and that he had meant every word he had said.

    Devina's eyes slowly opened to the
semilight
of the cabin, only to abruptly widen at the sight of the tall, broad-shouldered figure standing over her. Fear and anger battled inside her, and she attempted to sit up. Her movements impeded by her bound hands and the throbbing pain in her chin, she flopped back down on the lumpy cot, her face flaming.

    The tall man made no move toward her, and she tried once more to rise. This time she succeeded, finally managing to stand beside the bunk as she stared into the eyes of the man with Charles's face. Those eyes were hot, burning with an emotion she could not define, and Devina raised her chin against the quaking that was beginning to assume control of her arrogant stance.

    ''What do you intend to do with me?"

    "Put out your hands."

    "What?"

    "I said put out your hands, unless you've gotten attached to those bracelets you're wearing."

    Not waiting for her to comply, her captor grasped her wrists. The coarse rope cut sharply into her tender flesh, and she uttered a gasp of pain that darkened the frown on her captor's face. She attempted to jerk her hands free of his grasp.

    "Stay still if you want me to untie you."

    Realizing she had no recourse, Devina remained silent as her captor's long fingers worked deftly at her bonds. She released a short spontaneous breath as her wrists were freed, then attempted to withdraw her hands, only to have her captor hold them fast, his eyes intent on the raw and bleeding skin. Abruptly, and without a word, he dropped her hands and disappeared through the doorway, returning a few moments later with a small tin. Opening it, he placed it on the table and again took her arm. Devina snatched it back with a frown.

    "What do you think you're doing?"

    Her captor's gaze rose to hers.

    "What do you think I'm doing? Your wrists are raw. If they go unattended, they may become infected, and I have no time for such problems. Give me your hand."

    Her captor's autocratic tone raised the edge of her anger, and Devina kept her hands firmly at her sides. With a small twitch of his lips, her captor grasped her wrist firmly while he applied a cooling ointment to the abraded flesh. She was intensely aware of the strength of his hands and the surprising gentleness of his touch as he smoothed the salve on her skin. She remembered the caress of those strong hands, the callused palms moving warmly against her back, pressing her closer, closer…

    As annoyed with herself for her unsought recollection as she was at the manner in which her captor carelessly dropped her   hand when he was finished, she resisted when he sought to take her other wrist. With a penetrating look, he grasped her forearm firmly, holding it fast as he applied ointment to her other wrist.

    Finished with his ministrations, he coolly dropped her hand and closed the tin. Her skin still tingling from his touch, Devina broke the silence between them with an angry snap. "I hope you don't expect me to thank you."

    The man with Charles's face gave her a short glance. "The thought never occurred to me. Truthfully, I couldn't care less."

    Devina stiffened, her face flaming. "Well, what
do
you care about? Money? Is that why you kidnapped me? For ransom, because my father is wealthy?"

    Even as she asked the questions, Devina knew this was more than an attempt to extort money from a rich man. There were too many other loose ends, the most startling of which was the handsome face staring coldly back into hers.

    "You're not Charles, I know you're not, but who
are
you? Are you his brother, his twin? But you hate my father. Charles doesn't, and Charles isn't devious. I would've seen it in his face, read it in his eyes if he was in league with you."

    "You know Charles so well." Her captor's tone was mocking. Deliberately broadening his smile until it transformed his face in a way that sent a chill down Devina's spine, he stepped closer. His voice dropped to a husky tone that set her heart to racing as it had done so efficiently once before. "You know Charles so well, yet you didn't realize that it wasn't Charles who was holding you in his arms in the garden, kissing you."

    "I… I had no reason to suspect"

    "No reason, Devina? You know Charles so well, and you couldn't sense that it wasn't Charles who was making love to you?"

    Devina's mouth turned dry as her captor loomed closer, as Charles's smile changed in a way that added a familiar menace to its curve. She attempted to step back, only to feel the edge of the bunk block her retreat. Her spontaneous words of defense were halting, but vehement. "I… I did sense a difference! It's just that…"

    Realizing she could not complete her statement without revealing herself too completely, Devina found her voice trailing away. But her captor was quick to pick up her thought.

    "It's just that what, Devina? It's just that you were enjoying    the difference? So Charles is an inadequate lover…" Her captor gave a short laugh. His point made, he stepped back from his intimidating stance, even as Devina's fury surged anew.

    "No, damn you, Charles is
not
an inadequate lover. Quite the contrary, he's a stirring, virile man, thoroughly exciting in every aspect of his lovemaking." Not giving a care to the erroneous impression she was creating, Devina ignored the tightening of his expression as she continued with considerable heat, "
That
was the difference I noticed the lack of feeling when you took me into your arms, the coldness."

    "Devina, you were anything but cold in my arms."

    "I told you, I had no reason to suspect you weren't Charles. I knew what to expect of Charles, and I expected the best was yet to come. Charles isn't devious."

    "No, Charles Carter isn't devious. He's everything you respect in a man, and he's everything I'm not. Isn't that what you said, Devina?"

    Devina returned the gaze of the man staring down at her. The intensity in his eyes shook her deeply. With supreme power of will she managed a short, triumphant laugh. "You've answered one question for me. Charles isn't in on this with you. I knew I couldn't be wrong about him."

    Her captor's cheek ticked revealingly. "I'm no longer interested in discussing Charles Carter."

    Flushing as her captor rudely turned his back and walked away, Devina demanded harshly, "What
are
you interested in? Tell me what this all about,
dammit
!"

    Rigid with anger, Devina felt her flush darken as her captor dismissed her question with a brief shrug of his broad shoulders. When he glanced back toward her, his face was devoid of the livid emotion of a few moments before, and Devina was struck momentarily speechless by the man's bewildering vacillations.

    "Right now I'm interested in eating. Your party was really impressive Devina, but I spent very little time at the buffet. I had other things on my mind."

    "But I want to know"

    Her captor's expression turned abruptly hard once again. "I thought I had made the situation clear to you this morning, Miss Dale, but it's obvious that you didn't quite comprehend what I said. So I'll explain it one more time:
I'm
in control here.
I
ask the questions, and
I
get the answers."

   "Damn you, I want to know who you are! I… I don't even know what to call you."

    The dark brows rose in an expression of feigned surprise. "Oh? I thought you had decided on a name. Bastard, wasn't it?"

    More intimidated by her captor's menace than she dared admit to herself, Devina fought to control her trembling. "Damn you! You
are
a bastard!"

    Her captor's eyes assessed her briefly. "Get hold of yourself, Devina. If you keep trembling like that, you're going to lose what's left of your dignity. And if you're hoping to play on my sympathy, you're wasting your time. All the sympathy has been burned out of me. Just do what you're told and you'll have no problems."

    Coldly dismissing her anger, he turned to the fireplace. "I'm hungry. I'll start a fire so you can cook us something to eat."

    Devina's burst of laughter made him turn back to face her.

    "Me? Cook? That'll be the day."

    "Suit yourself. If you don't cook, you don't eat."

    Devina's response was a low, haughty laugh.

    Devina was no longer laughing. The fragrance of sizzling bacon filled the small cabin, combining with the tantalizing smell wafting from the pot of beans warming over the fire. Devina cursed the loud rumble of her stomach, which she was certain carried only too well in the limited confines of the one-room structure.

    Seated resolutely on the bunk in the corner of the room, Devina glanced quickly toward the table where her captor sat enjoying his evening meal. Seconds later she abruptly averted her face. Oh, the humiliation of it! She was actually salivating!

    Damn him, whoever he was! She had not thought he would actually sit there and allow her to watch him eat three meals in a row without offering her a bite! It was not that he didn't have enough or that he needed her help in cooking the food. He had prepared the rather primitive meals far more efficiently than she could possibly have done. It was all just another excuse to exert his authority ever her. Well, she would not allow him his victory. She was not hungry…
She was not hungry
…

    The low rumble of Devina's stomach sounded once more in contradiction of her mental statement, and Devina felt tears of frustration fill her eyes. She blinked them back with angry determination. Damn! She was starving.

    She had been able to haughtily dismiss breakfast and lunch. The bucket in the corner filled with fresh water had quenched her thirst. But she was so hungry right now, despite her disclaimers, that she could barely control the urge to rush to the table and snatch the plate out of her gluttonous captor's greedy hands.