Devil's Own

Fraser leaped for her like a starving man spotting a heel of bread.



“So eager you are.” She slipped from under his grasp, darting to the window. She stole a peek through the glass, but the ship had sailed past, and though Fraser’s house fronted the sea, the view didn’t encompass the harbor.



She prayed Aidan was out there. She’d brought this on herself, and regretted it deeply. Why hadn’t she waited for him? He’d have helped her find a way clear of her problems without having to marry Fraser.



“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were watching for someone.” He approached her from behind, spinning her roughly to face him. “But it’s time to attend to me.”



She sputtered, struggling to formulate yet another excuse. Where was Aidan? In her mind, she urged him to come faster. She was running out of ruses, and didn’t know how much longer she could put Fraser off. As it was, her skin crawled and her stomach lurched to be in such close contact. “No … I …”



“Remember, Elspeth. Will you come to me willingly?” He nodded to his leather satchel, lying open on the floor, revealing the dull metal cuffs. “Or must I make you?”



“I am willing, of course, sir.” She held her chin high, as though naught were amiss. “But I find”—once more she slid from his clutches—“you move much too quickly.”



He raked an impatient hand through his hair, leaving him looking like an aging madman. “What’s the delay?”



“No delay.” She watched as his eyes narrowed in suspicion, and quickly added, “It’s simply that a woman likes her man … to take his time about it.” She swallowed hard, feeling revulsion at her own words.



“Take my time?” He snatched her back, his fingers curling painfully into her arms. “You’ve made me wait long enough.”



He dove in to kiss her, but she tipped her chin at the last moment, and his mouth landed on her jaw. Undaunted, he ravaged her neck instead, then, kissing lower, he brought a hand to her breast, cupping her roughly.



He lifted his head to tug at her bodice, and soon discovered the laces were tightly knotted. He pawed and fumbled, demanding, “What have you done? You wretched girl.”



She tried to duck away, but this time he wouldn’t let her go. Panic consumed her. Never had it dawned on her how weak she really was. He was too strong—she couldn’t get away.



Taking both hands to her bodice, he tugged hard, and the front of it began to rip apart. She used the opportunity to wriggle free, and ran to the hearth.



He stalked after her. “You postpone the inevitable, girl.”



Her heart was exploding in her chest. She couldn’t dash about all night—he’d eventually catch her. And what would happen then?



No, Aidan would come. She knew it. She just needed to keep her wits about her until then. Fight until then.



“Inevitable perhaps.” She hopped behind a sofa, putting it between them, and nodded to the window at his back. She forced a coy smile, and it felt like a rictus on her face. “But must we proceed before an open window?”



She could tell by his shifting expression that this mollified him. But there was only so much more stalling she could do before she’d be unable to stop him. He was a man, and just too strong.



“Then I shall take you on the settee,” he said.



She pulled her hands from its upholstered back as though they’d been burned. She was light-headed, now, her breath coming in frantic pants.



How would an epic heroine act? What would a heroine do? Calm. Her thoughts had grown hysterical, and she forced her mind to calm. Surely, there was a way to overcome. Surely there was a story like this one, a tale of weak triumphing over strong. Like David and Goliath. Or …



Her eyes went bright, flicking from settee to side table. And the fat candlestick burning there.



Like David and Goliath. Or Odysseus and Polyphemus. She looked back at the candle, her mind spinning furiously. Odysseus had blinded the giant Cyclops with a flaming stick. She swallowed hard, flexing her hands. She was no Greek hero, but the candle burned brightly, with a thick puddle of hot wax beneath the wick.



Fraser edged around the couch, closing in. But this time, instead of dashing away, she stood her ground.



He jumped for her, and she braced her legs against the back of the sofa, leaning and snatching the candlestick. Molten wax splashed on her thumb, and it burned her, focused her.



She swung for his face. The flame shrank but it didn’t go out, making a whip-whip sound like a candle in the wind.



She connected, stabbing him in the eye, and he screamed. Hunching into himself, he staggered backward, clutching his face in his hands.



She sprang back, shocked by the contact. Terrified he’d recover, she flung away the candle and grabbed the bellows. She dove for him, swinging it with both hands, slamming the back of his head, a hollow wooden blow that knocked him to the floor.



She stood over his limp body, breathing hard, her heart kicking furiously against her chest. She had overcome him.



There was a loud commotion in the hallway, and her eyes flew to the door. She still gripped the bellows in both hands, as though poised for battle. She heard a man’s step, flying up the stairs, and then there was pounding at the door.



“Beth, Beth! Are you in there?”



Aidan.



She raced to unbolt the lock, and Aidan burst into the room. He stood there, sword extended, looking ready to storm the gates of hell. In a split second, his eyes went from her to Fraser’s limp body and back again, a broad smile splitting his face. “I told them naught can slip by my Beth.”



Relief flooded her, crumpling her legs, and he caught her, snatching her in his arms. He pulled back to kiss her hard, and then clutched her even closer, running his hands along her body, as though to reassure himself that she was safe.



He was there, and she was safe, and suddenly she trembled so violently, feeling cold, like all the blood had drained from her body. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, clinging to his chest. “What took you so long?”



He laughed and tilted her chin up to face him. “Me? Could you not have waited for me? Just an hour, Beth?”



It seemed an easy thing, now, to have waited for Aidan. But she’d been so distraught by the scene at her farm, so frightened.



“I’m sorry. I … I didn’t know what to do. My father had me so confused.” Her foolishness had almost ruined everything. She should’ve trusted that Aidan could take care of things. She should’ve stood up to her father. “I thought if I didn’t marry him, he might come after you.”



“You’re only allowed to marry one man, and that’s me.” He shot a disdainful look at Fraser lying in a heap on the floor. “And besides, you thought I couldn’t stand up to that?”



“He has all the dock men in his pocket, and so much wealth, and, well …” She slumped against him. “I just always make such a mess of things.”



“Mess? I don’t know about any mess.” He cupped her chin, sweeping his thumb along her cheek. “I will grant you one thing. You appear to have made a mess of me.”



He leaned down for a kiss. It was slow and gentle, spreading warmth in a gentle pulse through her body. With Aidan holding her, no longer was she shaking and cold. She felt instinctively that everything would work out—the farm, her father, all would be sorted to rights. She wrapped her hand around the strong column of his neck, feeling how safe, how right it was to have her pirate rogue by her side.



Her muscles seized. She pulled away on a gasp, remembering. “But what of your pirate with the black pearl? I met him—he was docked here. Did you see him, get him?”



He gave a rueful shrug. “It was you or him, Beth. I chose you.”



She pushed away, not believing her ears. “But you’ve always dreamed of besting him, of having your revenge.”



He grabbed her, pulling her close with a light thump against his chest. “Don’t you see how happy you’ve made me? No, Captain Will shall live to see another day, and I’ve made my peace with it. You see, I had a wedding to stop.” He kissed her gently on the forehead, and with a wink, added, “And now I’ve one to attend.”



He glanced toward the door, but none of the servants were brave enough to show their faces. With a squeeze he let her go. “I hear there’s a minister about. We need to fetch him. There’s only going to be one marriage today and it’ll be yours and mine.”



She grabbed his arm to stop him, and he paused, looking down at her, his brow raised in question.



“I have a wedding gift for you first.” She rustled through her skirts, then proffered her open hand, where a luminous black pearl lay nestled in her palm.



He gave her a puzzled look, then touched it with a tentative fingertip. “I don’t understand. Is it … ?”



“Yes,” she said proudly, pursing her lips so as not to smile too widely. “I pried it from his ear.”



“You did no such thing!” He laughed and shook his head. “Truly? You just … took it? How?”



“I was forced to kiss him, but it was not,” she interjected quickly, seeing the rage cloud his face, “not so very long a kiss. And it was in front of Fraser.”



“Mm-hm.” He nodded, seeming unsure what to make of it.



“It was an old thing, you see. And ill made. It slid easily from his ear.”



Awe replaced the anger in his eyes. “You clever girl.”



She gave a shy shrug, even though his words made her proud beyond reckoning. She held the pearl up to the window to study it. It was shiny and irregularly shaped, with a greenish cast in the light. “He seems a superstitious sort. He kept rubbing it, which led me to think … I believe he thought this held off evil spirits. A talisman of sorts.”



Aidan laughed hard then, alternately clutching her close and pushing apart to admire the pearl. The noise roused Fraser, who was beginning to stir and moan on the floor.



Aidan wrapped his broad hand around hers, closing it in a fist around the pearl. He nodded to the merchant. “We need to tie up that one.”