Chapter 21
Almost before Eden could fully comprehend what she was about to do, the day arrived when the repairs to the Gai Mer were finished, and the frigate was launched back into the bay. Fresh stores were laid in, and Nate announced he would be sailing on the early-morning tide of the following day. Jane was properly saddened, more than Devlin could know, for not only would she be parted for several long weeks from her betrothed, but also from her only child. The reality was almost more than she could bear.
“Must you go so soon?”
“Now, Janie, the sooner I leave, the sooner I’ll be back, love. And the sooner we’ll be wed. Surely you can see the sense of that.”
“But anything could happen. To you. To me.” To Eden. This last thought remained unspoken, because Devlin was standing close by, but her fellow conspirators understood it nonetheless.
“Nay,” Nate told her. “ ’Twill be smooth sailin’ all the way, and I’ll be back almost afore ye know I’ve gone.” He gave her a wink and added for Devlin’s benefit, “B’sides, ye’ll have Dev and all yer fine friends to look out for ye. And dependable help at the warehouse, as well.”
The remaining crewmen, those who still did not wish to apply for pardon, had agreed, with the promise of a hefty bonus, to stay on in Jane’s employ until Nate’s return. They were a loyal lot and had given their solemn oath, and Nate was assured that they would not go back on it, even without Devlin present to monitor them.
Jane sniffed tearfully. “Well then, in honor of our last night together, I’ve some excellent brandy I’ve been saving for just such a special occasion. Let me fetch it, and we’ll all share a toast.”
It was all part of their scheme. In the kitchen, Jane would pour their drinks. Into Devlin’s, she would add a prescribed amount of sleeping powder. Within a short time, he would fall into a deep sleep, and when next he awakened, he would be aboard the Gai Mer, bound and gagged and far out at sea.
But in her haste and nervousness, Jane failed to stir the potion well enough. Devlin took only one sip and spied the undissolved powder at the bottom of his goblet. His brow furrowed, and he turned accusing eyes on all three of them.
“Ho! What’s this? Could it be I’m being duped by those I trust most? Is that why, in the past two days, you have all ceased nagging me to go to New Providence?”
“Whatever are you yapping about now?” Eden demanded, praying that her face was not flaming with guilt. “Devlin, you are making absolutely no sense.”
He held out his cup to each of them in turn. “Then explain, if you can, what is at the bottom of my drink. Methinks you all planned to drug me—did you not?”
Jane took up the defense. “Devlin Kane, you are being ridiculous! I’ve never heard such rot in my life! That”—she pointed to his goblet—“is nothing more than sediment from the bottom of the cask. Not that I meant to serve it to you, but in my hurry, I must have become careless in the pouring. An error which I shall rectify straightaway.”
In one smooth motion, she snatched the cup from his unseen hand and started again for the kitchen, muttering for all to hear. “I’ve never been so insulted! Why, to be accused of such a thing, right in my own home! And by someone I considered a friend!”
“Dev, ye should be properly ashamed o’ yerself!” Nate claimed, shaking his head. “Aye, ye should.”
Devlin wasn’t so sure about that. Turning on his heel, he stomped out of the room. Over his shoulder he said, “Tell Jane to forget pouring more brandy for me. I’m not certain the next serving would be any better than the last. Nor am I sure I trust any of you further than I could throw you.”
Once he’d gone, Eden slumped into a chair. ‘Tarnation! What do we do now?” she wailed.
“For a beginning, you can watch your tongue, young lady,” her mother admonished, stepping back into the room.
She, too, fell into a seat on the divan, leaving the cushion next to her for Nate. “ ’Tis all my fault for getting into such a rush about it,” she admitted. “But ’tis too late to change that. Rather, we must concentrate on finding another means to outmaneuver him.”
“I could try slipping into his room while he sleeps and bashing him senseless,” Nate offered.
“How well do you imagine that would work, with that dratted noisy falcon to alert him the instant you opened the door?” Eden said.
“Aye,” Nate agreed with a resigned sigh. “I’d forgotten about Zeus.”
“Well, we must find some means of lulling the man into lowering his guard,” Jane said.
The glimmer of a notion teased the back of Eden’s brain, growing brighter with every passing moment. “I think I have an idea which might work. ’Tis a bit precarious, but it does have some merit.” On a deep breath, before she lost her courage, she blurted, “I propose that I should seduce him. Only up to a point, you understand.”
“What!” Two voices blended in exclamation.
“Well, can either of you suggest anything better?” she challenged. “The man is practically obsessed with bedding me, and after his extended abstinence he is certainly primed for seduction.”
“So much so that a ewe will not be safe near him soon,” Nate put in succinctly.
Eden grimaced. “How graciously stated. Not that I appreciate the comparison. Still and all, if I were to entice him, I believe he would snap at the bait like a starving shark.”
“An apt analogy, daughter, and one to keep foremost in your mind. Properly provoked, he could be every bit as dangerous.”
Eden nodded. “True, but is it not also a proper assumption that, once beguiled, his thinking will be muddled, his suspicions at bay? Would it not then be easier to persuade him to share a drink with me, simply to ease my fears of what he imagines will transpire soon afterward? But, in reality, I shall be sipping very little of the wine, while he will be consuming a greater quantity. Before the seduction can be accomplished, he’ll be flat on his face, snoring the curtains from their rods.”
“ ’Tis a gamble, but it could do the trick,” Nate concurred. “Certainly, he’ll take great care about what he eats and drinks in this house for many a day to come, but once overwhelmed with lust, he’s bound to be less cautious.” He turned to Jane. “Think ye ’tis worth a try?”
“I don’t know,” she answered, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. “There’s so much at stake, and too much that could go wrong. The slightest slip, and Eden could easily lose her virtue. ’Tis not a thing to take lightly, or to put in jeopardy without just cause.”
“Mama, this is a just cause,” Eden proclaimed. “The man I love is about to throw his future away, and mine with it. I will do anything to prevent that, and if the price is my chastity, then the cost is well worth the paying.”
“And what if you forfeit your, innocence for naught?” her mother counseled gravely. “Your life could lie in ruin.”
“Mama, I thought we’d agreed that the choice would be mine, if and when the time came. Besides, I think we are putting the cart before the horse. If all goes well, I will come away as pure as I begin. However, if the worst should happen, I shall bear the consequences without regret, for I’d rather know one night of passion with Devlin, than a thousand with anyone else. Just as I have changed from the prudish old maid I once was, so have my values and my ideals. I want to know the glory of lying with the man I love, if only once in my life. I’ll gladly go to my grave a fallen woman, than die never having taken this chance at a future together with him.”
The trap was set once more, awaiting only the moment to spring it. Much to Devlin’s confusion, Nate sailed the next morning as intended. What he did not know was that his quartermaster took the Gai Mer only a short distance down the coast, with plans to return again that evening under cover of darkness. Meanwhile, though perplexed, Devlin still had not relinquished his suspicions, refusing to eat his meals with the Winters women that day, or to drink anything they offered him. It was going to be tricky to dupe him now; everything depended on Eden’s untried powers of seduction and the whims of fate. .
All was ready. Devlin had retired to his room for the night not ten minutes ago. In her own room, attired in her most becoming nightdress, with tampered wine at hand, Eden whispered a quick prayer and put her scheme into action. Very deliberately, she set about creating as much noise as she could, all the while making the sounds appear normal. First she clomped about the room in her shoes, slamming bureau drawers and wardrobe doors. At length, she flopped heavily onto the bed, making it squeak in protest. Then she removed the hard-heeled shoes and dropped them, one at a time, onto the hardwood floor.
All this she was certain Devlin was hearing through the connecting wall. How could he fail to, when he’d told her he’d heard her restless turnings many a night before, when she’d been trying her utmost to be quiet? With that in mind, Eden bounced about on the bed. Then, with a loud sigh, she got up, went to the window, and slammed it shut. A few minutes later, she threw the window open again, smiling at the loud squawk the frame emitted. Only she and her mother knew how laboriously they had worked earlier in the day, soaking the wood with wet towels to make it swell.
She walked to the rocker, which she had intentionally positioned directly opposite the head of Devlin’s bed, with only the thin wall separating them. The rocker, too, had been treated to a good dousing, and as Eden put it into motion, it protested with a chorus of groans and creaks. Back and forth, over and over again, she rocked, until she was tempted to put her own hands to her ears for respite. She could only guess, and pray, that the sound was equally irritating on Devlin’s side.
She was beginning to give up hope when there came a pounding against the wall near her head. Three sharp raps. Smiling to herself, Eden answered with two taps of her own. She ceased rocking, mentally allotted him three minutes of blessed silence, then rose and went again to her wardrobe. With calculated clumsiness, she rumbled about, finally retrieving a pair of mules from the bottom shelf. These she fitted onto her feet, and the next sound was that of flopping heels clip-clopping repeatedly over bare floorboards, as Eden began to pace. Every now and again she would stop long enough to rattle bottles and jars on the top of her dressing table, or to drop something on the floor, or to clang the side of her silver goblet against the crystal wine decanter on her nightstand.
She continued in this manner for a quarter of an hour, then finally settled herself once again in the rocking chair. Loud creaks sounded in tandem with her clicking heels, and, to add insult to injury, Eden began to softly hum off-key—all the while trying to listen for sounds from Devlin’s side of the wall.
Just when she was beginning to think nothing would disturb him sufficiently, she heard his bedstead creak, followed by muted sounds which she could not interpret. Then she heard his bedroom door open and shut. She prayed he did not intend to leave the house. Finally her pleas were granted, and he knocked softly on her door.
She was halfway to answering the summons when she remembered the wine. Backtracking quickly, she gave the decanter a brisk shake to blend the potion well, and poured a generous amount into her goblet. With drink in hand, she went to the door.
Cracking it open just enough to allow him an adequate view of her in the fetching nightdress and her flowing tresses, she peered at him. By the light of her lamp, which now shone on him, she noted that he’d taken the time to yank on his breeches, but nothing else, and the sight of his bare chest threatened to give her an instant attack of the vapors, as if she were not already nervous enough. “Yes?” she questioned weakly.
He frowned back, his shaggy hair handsomely rumpled. For a moment he said nothing, merely staring down at her. Little did she know that the same lamplight that enabled her to see him so well was also shining through her white batiste gown, very clearly silhouetting her curvaceous bare body. His voice was husky as he finally replied, “Is something wrong?”
She pretended ignorance. “Why do you ask?”
He countered with an exasperated look. “Why?” he echoed in disbelief. “Because you are making enough racket in there to wake the dead!”
On a negligent shrug, she offered, “I’m just restless for some reason. I can’t seem to light in one spot for more than a minute.”
“I’ve noticed.”
She elaborated—very innocently, of course. “I seem to have a bad case of the fidgets. First I’m too hot, and there doesn’t seem to be enough air in the room. Then there is too much. Even my skin seems extraordinarily sensitive this evening.”
“Are you running a fever?” he queried, apparently concerned. “Do you hurt anywhere? Should I fetch your mother or the doctor?”
She waved a slender hand at him, dismissing the idea. “I’m not ill. I suppose my nerves are simply on edge.”
“Have you tried drinking some warm milk?”
“Nay, but I did pour myself a dram of wine, in the hope it would help relax me enough to sleep.” She lifted the goblet for his perusal.
It was filled almost to the rim. “A dram?” he mocked, his brow rising. “Duchess, that is definitely more than a dram, and quite sufficient to set you back on your heels.”
She considered this. “I suppose so,” she agreed lightly. “And ’tis my second glass.”
At this, the other blond brow rose to meet the first, his eyes lighting speculatively. “Why don’t I come in and sit with you for a while?” he proposed. “You really shouldn’t be imbibing so freely on your own. You could have an accident, mayhap fall and hit your head. And no one would know you were hurt.”
“You wish to join me?” she asked, seeming to weigh his suggestion. Then she shook her head. “I think not, Devlin. But if you want to share my wine, you may.”
She offered the chalice to him, but he pushed it gently back. “Nay, sweetling, I do not want your wine. I only meant that I might keep you company while you drink it.”
“Aye, no doubt with the intent of taking advantage of me when I’ve consumed enough to cloud my judgment, you scoundrel!” She glared up at him while with one hand she flipped a length of burnished hair over her shoulder. Then she made to close the door on him. “Go back to bed, Captain Kane.”
His sly smile was that of a fox trying to convince a hen that he meant no harm. “Gladly, if that bed be yours.”
“When roosters lay eggs,” she retorted sweetly, reaching out to give him a little shove, allowing her fingers to caress his bare chest in the same movement. Her eyes went wide and slightly unfocused.
Devlin drew a sharp breath. “Let me in, Eden,” he coaxed softly, convincingly.
“Nay.” Her hand dropped slowly to her side. She swayed slightly toward him, her lips still parted, before she caught herself and took an unsteady step back. “Go, Devlin. Please. While I still have the strength to resist your charms.”
Her words rocked him. In that moment of hesitation, Eden gently closed her door on him. She was shaking, whether more from this mad gamble she was taking or with desire for him, she was not sure. She sensed him , still standing in the hall outside her door. Then she heard the quiet tread of his departing footsteps.
Taking a deep breath, hoping she was not over-playing her hand, Eden once more opened her door. He stood in the shadows, ready to enter his own room. There he halted, waiting for her to speak.
Small white teeth gnawed at her lower lip, her indecision evident, and quite endearing. When finally she spoke, her voice was quivering and wistful. “Is it awfully sinful for me to want you so, Devlin?”
Within the space of one heartbeat and the next, he was beside her, his arms gathering her to him as he ushered them both inside her room and closed the door behind them. Then his lips were devouring hers, giving her no chance to demur. His hands were in her hair, at her waist, stroking the length of her back, moving eagerly as if to touch every part of her at once. At last, when her world was spinning recklessly, he allowed her a breath of air.
“God, Eden, have you any idea what you do to me?” he groaned.
“If ’tis anything like what you do to me, ’tis indeed dangerous,” she answered on a wobbly sigh.
His mouth lowered toward hers again as he pulled her nearer still, curving her soft body into the hard contours of his. “Wait!” she protested mildly, pushing at his shoulder.
As he drew back slightly, she looked down at the goblet trapped between them, tilted precariously in her trembling hand. “My cup runneth over,” she quipped with a giggle.
His gaze followed hers, and he gave a rumbling laugh. “So it seems,” he agreed, reaching out to relieve her of the vessel. He glanced about for a place to set it down, but none was near enough to suit. Without another thought but ridding himself of the encumbrance as speedily as possible, Devlin brought the cup to his lips—and as Eden watched in breathless jubilation, he drained the brew in four swift gulps, then carelessly let the empty goblet fall to the floor.
“That,” he murmured, his arms banding about her waist to gather her near again, “takes care of that problem. Now, you tempting little witch, we’ll take care of another. One that’s been tormenting me since the day I met you.”
“Me as well,” she admitted daringly, rising to her toes to present her lips to his. “Oh, Devlin. Make me yours. Ease this ache I have for you.”
Her words, so bold and provocative, were more potent than any ancient aphrodisiac could have been, making his body leap in immediate response. Yet the part of his brain which was still functioning past his lust warned him to go slowly, reminding him that no matter how much she professed to want him, she was yet an innocent, and must be tenderly introduced to the powerful hunger now clawing at him. With effort, he gentled his caresses, his kisses, savoring the feel and the taste of her, relishing every moan of desire that tore from her throat. He spent endless minutes holding her, whispering to her, inviting her inquisitive touch. Only when she was quivering so intensely in his embrace; that her legs began to fail her did he sweep her into his arms and carry her to the bed.
As he lowered her to the mattress, her arms clung about his neck, reluctant to release him. Passion-glazed eyes stared into his, large and liquid, like sparkling turquoise pools, and he felt himself drowning in her tremulous gaze. “Oh, sweetling! When you look at me that way, I would grant you almost anything.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to request yet again that he apply for amnesty, but she bit the words back, knowing that to do so would immediately cool his ardor. Even as shaken as she was, her desires nearly overwhelming her, some inner voice warned her not to ask it. Rather, she implored huskily, “Hold me. Love me.” Before the wondrous longing once more swept her beyond the point of reasoning, she realized that the sleeping potion did not yet seem to be affecting him. She pondered vaguely whether it would render him unconscious in time to save her virtue—or if she even wanted it to. Then she was once again caught up in the enchantment of his sweet, persistent persuasion, arching into him with wanton delight as he joined her on the bed.
His hands were everywhere, setting her body aflame. Taunting. Teasing. Arousing. And all the while, his mouth was making sumptuous love to hers. She did not know exactly when he had removed her gown and his breeches; had not the time nor the patience to fathom how he had managed the feat when his hands and lips seemed never to leave her. She only knew that his flesh was now searing hers with a heat that threatened to set her ablaze.
Just holding her, rubbing his bare body along hers, burying his face in her sweet, soft flesh, was heaven to Devlin. The pebbled tips of her breasts probed his furred chest, burrowing into the fleecy nest as if to melt themselves into him, and he knew if he died that very instant, he would perish a happy man. Her hair tangled about him, stroking him with its fragrant length, beckoning him to bury his face in its silken strands. Everywhere he touched, her skin was like warm satin. Her body was flawlessly formed, sleek and firm where God had intended it to be, yet incredibly soft and pliant in all the proper places.
She was perfection—and in a few short minutes, she would be his. Completely. The mere thought of it, of possessing her totally, his body claiming hers at last, seemed to make his head spin. Fuzzily, he tried to recall if craving any other woman had ever made him quite so dizzy with desire.
Eden was afloat on a sea of strange and magical sensations of her own, all directly related to Devlin and the fascinating feelings he was awakening within her. Of a sudden, her body seemed to have acquired a thousand places which were now exquisitely attuned to his touch. Her nipples were uncommonly sensitive, supremely ticklish and tingling as his chest hair caressed them teasingly. Wherever it rasped over her bare flesh—her throat, her shoulders, her breasts, her stomach—the shadow of bristles on his usually clean-shaven face seemed to evoke an erotic quickening. Even the coarse hair of his legs as they grazed across her more tender limbs was curiously titillating.
At every point at which their clutching, passion-misted bodies met, soft against hard, rough against smooth, the differences between them formed a marvelous contrast, yet at the same time were wonderfully complementary. Except, perhaps for one. She did not need to see it to know that the hot, hard protrusion pressing against her thigh was his engorged manhood. She’d inadvertently observed it twice before, and felt it through her skirts numerous times. Still, feeling it against her bare leg, with nothing covering either of them, was quite a different matter, and almost as alarming as it was exciting.
Even with his mouth now suckling at her breast, sending a quiver of fiery desire to her loins, fear darted through her. In preparation for what might occur this night, Eden’s mother had reluctantly described the mating process, but even with Jane’s explanations, Eden could not see how her body would ever accommodate Devlin’s organ. Surely, it would rend her asunder! To what, precisely, had she committed or condemned herself?
Oblivious of her fears, Devlin continued to stroke Eden’s trembling body. His fingers trailed upward along the silken skin of her inner thighs until they found the sheltering nest of curls at the delta and delved through them in search of that most treasured pearl of passion.
Suddenly Eden was lost in a shower of sensual pleasure. Stars seemed to dance in her head in time to the wild beat of her heart and the throbbing between her legs, where Devlin was so deftly caressing her. His thumb continued to fondle that special place that had her writhing beneath him, while his fingers slid lower, searching, probing. One eased inside to stroke the warm, moist passage hidden there. Then two fingers stretched up inside her, readying her for what was to come.
As he levered himself over her, she was panting, her breath coming in short, harsh gasps. No longer was she afraid. Her mind had no place for fear now, or for anything beyond gratifying this intense longing.
He was murmuring to her, meaningless phrases her brain was too befuddled to interpret, as he positioned her quaking legs about his waist. His shaft pushed into her where his fingers had gone before. He paused briefly, his own breathing labored now as he strove to control his passion, to allow her body sufficient time to accustom itself to him, lest he hurt her more than he must. Then, with his mouth over hers to muffle any cries she might make, he thrust himself full within her tight, wet sheath, piercing the thin obstruction in his path.
For all her previous fears, Eden felt little more than a twinge of discomfort as Devlin shoved past the barrier that proved her virginity. There was a brief burning sensation, an incredible fullness as her inner chamber stretched to accommodate him. Again he had paused, and a moment later it was she who lifted her hips upward in a wordless gesture of need.
He chuckled softly, lifting his mouth from hers to gaze into her flushed face. “Your wish is my command, duchess,” he assured her with a roguish grin, even as his hips began the age-old rhythm.
His thrusts were long and deep, once more igniting her passions to delirious heights. Soon she was writhing beneath him, mindlessly matching his every movement with her own. Together they climbed ever onward, upward, toward the blazing heavens, their ecstasy building until Eden thought they would surely be burned alive in the fierce inferno that enveloped them. Then the sun seemed to shatter, spewing forth a fountain of dazzling rays, showering her and Devlin with golden brilliance. On gilded wings of rapture, they soared—and when their radiant flight was done, they glided gently down to earth once more.
When next she was aware of her surroundings, she lay with her head gently pillowed on Devlin’s broad shoulder. His hand tenderly stroked her head, brushing the damp curls from her face. “Sleep, my beauty,” he whispered drowsily, “and dream sweet visions of glories yet unshared between us. Splendors yet to come.”
Past a stifled yawn, he added teasingly, “In the morn, when my head has ceased its peculiar spinning, you and I must inspect your chicken pen, sweetling—for certainly the rooster will now be laying eggs.”
Eden was still considering an appropriately clever retort when Devlin began to snore sonorously. At long last, the sleeping draught had taken its toll.