Wolf Island (8 page)

Abby
tipped her face up to him. “In case of what?”

“In
case -- in case you need me.” Devlin heard the sound of desperation in his
statement and hated himself for it. Wasn’t that what he really wanted, for her
to need him? No woman ever had. Why should she?

Abby’s
gaze softened; the firelight sparkled in her eyes, caressed her face. “How
close? Are you saying I’m not safe in this room, or even inside the castle?”

Her
controlled but weary tone made him want to wrap her in his arms once again.
Safety was an illusion on Wolf Island. One day soon, he hoped that everyone
living here would be safe. Forever. “You’re safe as long as you’re with me.” He
hoped his statement held depth and authority, even though he didn’t feel very
authoritative at the moment. He’d spent as much time as possible with her since
her arrival at Morgan’s Keep. He knew his presence wouldn’t stop that monster
from breaching the castle walls, but at least if Victor confronted them, she
would have a better chance of surviving if he were by her side.

She
studied her hands briefly before lifting her gaze. “I can’t be with you
constantly over the next several hours unless we --”

Her
mouth fell open, and she stared at him with disbelief blanketing her face.

Devlin
couldn’t help but smile at her reaction. However, he felt relief as well.
Thankfully, the shock over the news of finding the rabbit had begun to wear
off. “Don’t worry; I’m not suggesting you stay in my bedroom, but in a guest
room adjacent to mine. Why don’t you pack your things, and I’ll move them in
there.”

She
closed her mouth and pursed her lips. He could almost see the gears spinning in
her clever brain. “I’d rather stay in this room.” Abby gestured toward the
nightstand. “There’s a telephone, which I won’t hesitate to use if I hear any
more strange noises.”

“I
won’t take no for an answer on this, Abby.”

She
paused and tapped the tip of her index finger against her lower lip. “In the
morning, I’ll make a couple of calls and see if a room has come available in
town. I think I remember seeing a B&B very close to the sheriff’s office.
I’ll be perfectly safe, and it will put me closer to the locals so I can ask
questions about Miranda.”

“Forget
it!” He wasn’t letting her out of his sight. There was no telling what kind of
trouble she might get into out there on her own. If that monster knew she had
moved into town, he might -- No, Devlin couldn’t bear the thought of
something happening to Abby and him not being there to stop it.

Abby
inclined her head. “That sounds suspiciously like an order, and it’s not very
attractive.”

He
stepped close to her chair, leaned over, and rested a hand on the arm. With one
finger, he brushed a strand of hair from her eyes and then trailed the tip over
her cheek. “That sure wasn’t the case earlier.”

Her
skin flushed, and she licked her lips nervously. He lowered his gaze to her
mouth and contemplated kissing her. “You caught me by surprise.” God, he loved
her prim tone. “I was uneasy because of the storm. I’m not sure what my
reactions might have been had it been a clear night. Thank you for not trying
to force things further.”

Frustration
at Abby thinking he would ever do such a thing repulsed him down to the marrow
in his bones. He yanked his hands away, stood straight, and squared his
shoulders. “I’ve never forced my attentions on a woman.” His words grated
through clenched teeth. “I don’t have a problem with the word ‘no.’”

Her
face brightened with surprise at his reaction. “I didn’t mean it like that. I
just --”

Devlin
held up a hand, stopping her words. “Forget it.” He raised a brow and looked at
her. “Would you like some help packing?”

·
        
* * * *

Devlin
rubbed a weary hand over his face and glanced at the clock. A quarter ’til two.
He needed to get some sleep, but after finding the rabbit ... He’d known
as soon as he’d seen it, that bastard put it there. He’d walked right into the
castle within a few feet of Abby!

Devlin
raked a hand through his hair and closed his eyes. How could he sleep now? What
if Victor came back? Devlin’s room was next door to Abby’s, but still ...
Maybe he should leave the doors open so he could hear her plea for help in case
she called him. The walls inside the castle were thick, after all. The thought
of that monster so much as touching one hair on her head sent fear ripping
through his body.

The
bastard was getting into the castle somehow. After finding the gull, Devlin had
checked all the doors and windows, and all had been locked. There were secret
passages throughout the castle, but none led outside. He’d grown up playing in
those passages and knew them by heart.

Devlin
swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his jeans. If he was
going to have any hope at all of getting to sleep, he needed to check on Abby
and make sure she was all right. Guilt settled in the pit of his stomach over
what he was about to do.

He
zipped his jeans, put on a pair of sneakers, and grabbed a flashlight. Once
dressed, he reached behind the high, carved headboard on his bed and pressed a
button fixed to the wall. A door beside the bed swung open, revealing a dark
passage. He shone the flashlight into the passageway and grimaced when he saw a
large black spider skitter away from the light. Cobwebs hung in tatters from
the ceiling and walls. The air smelled musty, and dust motes danced in the
flashlight’s beam. He hadn’t been through the passage since he was a little boy
playing hide-and-seek.

He
stepped into the darkness with only the flashlight to guide him. In a few
moments he came to the end of the passageway, stopped, and listened. The quiet
murmur of the storm outside filled the air. Devlin directed the light near the
top left side of the door. As quietly as possible, he reached up and lifted a
latch. The door swung open.

He
waited a bit, then stepped into Abby’s room. He shouldn’t be doing this, but he
had to make sure she was all right. Lightning glimmered, filling the room
briefly with light. Abby lay in bed on her stomach, her arms hugging a pillow.
He couldn’t see her face clearly because she had it shoved into the pillow.
She’d kicked off the covers, and her gown bunched around her waist. The sight
of her sweet fanny and toned thighs made his groin tighten.

He
remembered how it had felt to touch her, hold her, kiss her. With vivid clarity
he recalled the feel of her ripe breast in his hand. What was the matter with
him? She lay there innocently asleep while he watched her like a voyeur, but
seeing her unharmed soothed his worry.

First
thing in the morning, he would put her on the ferry and send her back to
England, away from the danger stalking this island ... and away from him.
Devlin slipped back into the dark passage and closed the door.

Abby
awakened with a start. The storm still raged outside her window, but she felt
certain the wind and rain had not disturbed her sleep. She switched on the
bedside lamp.

Scrape. Creak.

Her
gaze darted about the room into every shadowed corner, trying desperately to
find the source of the noise. Everything seemed to be in order, but she
couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had been there, watching her.

A
chill raced over her skin at the thought. Instinctively, she pulled her
nightgown down over her legs. She listened to the rain for a moment and smiled
at her fanciful thoughts. After hearing about the rabbit, her imagination had
undoubtedly worked overtime. Snuggling beneath the covers, she decided to leave
the light burning.

Just
in case.

·
        
* * * *

Devlin
stepped out of the shower just as his cell phone rang. He grabbed a towel,
wrapped it around his waist, and walked into his bedroom. Snatching the phone
from the bedside table, he pushed the answer button. “Hello.”

“Hey.”

Devlin
heard the familiar voice of his brother crackling over the phone line. “It’s
about damn time you called.” He’d been worried and couldn’t keep the edge of
irritation out of his voice. “How are you feeling?”

“Not
bad ... considering my shoulder hurts like a bitch and the nurses won’t
give me a moment’s peace.”

Devlin
smiled as relief washed over him. If his brother could gripe about having to
stay put for more than one day, he was well on the way to recovery. “Quit
whining. You’re safe. That’s the only thing that matters.”

“You
matter, too, brother.”

Devlin
rubbed a towel over his dripping hair while the warmth of his brother’s words
settled like a balm on his soul. “Have you told ... her?” He couldn’t
bring himself to say the word
mother
.

“No.
She and dad are in Europe.”

Dev
and J.D. hadn’t met until after they were grown because their mother wouldn’t
have let him near J.D. when they were kids. Devlin had initiated the first
contact. Later, they’d discovered their mutual love of rock climbing.

One
afternoon, a piton had slipped from the cliff face they were climbing, and
Devlin had pulled J.D. up to safety. They’d been tight ever since. Having
someone he could call brother meant everything to him because he felt so
isolated and alone. Knowing J.D. took away a lot of that loneliness.

Devlin
plopped down on the edge of his bed and told J.D. about the two grim calling
cards he’d found the evening before.

“Sounds
like his fixation has switched from me and Miranda to you. Be careful. He
almost killed me.”

That
knowledge scared Devlin down to his soul. Someone else cared what happened to
him. J.D.’s caring provided a kind of link with the mother they shared. His
friendship eased some of the hurt Devlin had suffered over her rejection of
him. If something happened to J.D., he didn’t think he would ever get over it.

“Miranda
and the doc just walked in. Gotta go.”

A
dial tone buzzed in Devlin’s ear.

“What
do you mean, it isn’t running?” Devlin growled into the phone a few minutes
later.

“Sorry,
Dev.” The ferryboat captain’s voice shouted on the other end of the line. The
connection crackled with static from the storm. “The rain’s slacked off, but
the tide’s a bitch this morning. We’ve got warnings all over the island. No
watercraft. Too risky.”

Devlin
huffed out a breath of frustration. That meant Abby couldn’t leave today, so he
would have to keep her close. Real close. “Yeah. I understand. What about
tomorrow?”

“Updated
report says this weather will be moving out later tonight.”

Devlin
heard someone yell in the background. “What’s going on? You need some help down
there?”

“No.
A couple of boats need to be secured.”

“Right.
If you need help, let me know.”

“Will
do, Dev. Thanks.”

Devlin
hung up and slumped back in his chair. He should never have let Abby set one
foot inside the castle. He should have put her on his boat that day and taken
her back to the mainland himself. If he had, she would be safely on her way to
England and away from danger, where she belonged. Instead, he’d given in to
that wide-eyed innocent look of hers and been lured into allowing her to stay.

A
fire licked at thick pine logs in the fireplace and chased away the chill in
the air, but did little for the bitter rush of fear through his blood. After
he’d found the macabre package outside the kitchen and then the rabbit in the
library, the stakes had risen considerably.

The
monster had been inside the castle.

Devlin
looked out one of the office windows. Dim, watery light sifted like an ivory
mist through the glass pane, but an overhead light cast a golden glow over the
room, dispelling the gloom.

His
stomach growled, and he checked the time. Half past seven. Jake and the
policewoman from the mainland would be here soon to discuss a strategy for
capturing the bastard.

Coffee.
He needed coffee. Devlin rose from his desk and headed for the kitchen.

Moroccan
music, heavy with the click of castanets and the high-pitched lilt of horns,
drifted down the hallway and throbbed through the kitchen door. A corner of
Devlin’s mouth curled upward. He knew Otis sometimes listened to music while he
cooked, but his choice generally ran toward something with a Cajun rhythm.

Devlin
shifted closer to the door, laid his hand against the wood, and pushed. He
peeked into the kitchen. To his surprise and delight, he saw Abby standing in
the middle of the room, eyes closed, facing the door. She held her hands over
her head with her arms slightly curved. Her fingers and thumbs snapped together
as if she held small cymbals.

She’d
kicked off a pair of brown leather loafers, and her sock-covered feet slid over
the gray-tiled floor to the rich beat of the music. She wore a pair of brown
corduroy slacks that molded to her sweet hips, and a long-sleeved beige shirt
outlined the shape of her breasts.