Taste of the Devil (14 page)

The man-of-war that had been chasing her down grounded up onto the reef. The storm did the rest.

Tore her right apart.

The Lion wasn't called Lord of Pirates for nothing.

Mr. Tolliver sighed happily as he recalled the screaming men jumping overboard, swimming madly, trying desperately to reach the shore.

There, another surprise awaited.

Unfortunately for them, King's Bay did not recognize the King's English. The lot were press-ganged into brethren ships.

"Wipe that silly grin off your face, you scalawag; and don't tell me you were dreaming of that shipwreck again." The Lion frowned ironically as he continued to scan the horizon. Their Mr. Tolliver had the proper manners of a British butler, the good black heart of a marauding pirate, and a perfectly dark sense of humor.

"Well, you see, sir, me mum always said a hearty conversion is good for the soul. So I believe those swabbees should be right holy by now."

Lion agreed. "Do you think they'll be thanking me for their newfound religion?"

"I do, sir. Although, the next time you find yourself in King's Bay or Port Rouge for an evening I would suggest you might try sleeping with your back to the wall."

"My back to the wall, hmm?" Lion rubbed his jaw.

"For comfort, if nothing else," Mr. Tolliver explained.

"Aye, I'll keep that in mind, matey," the captain responded dryly. "What do you have to report?"

"Yes, well, sir, Bud Small checked in an hour ago and he hadn't heard anything."

"So there was no news?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then there was news?"

"No, sir."

Lion squinted at the thin man. What the bloody hell...? "Was there news or was there not news?"

"No, sir."

Lion nodded sharply and glanced at the rigging.

"When you hear anything, let me know at–"

"I have heard, sir."

The Lion cautiously viewed his first mate out of the corner of his eye. "You just said there was no news, mate."

"I said there was no news then, sir. There is news now."

The pirate captain took a deep breath. "How can there be news now when there wasn't then? It has only been a few minutes."

"I don't follow you, sir."

"That makes two of us." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. He took another deep breath and tried again.

"You just said you had not received any news."

"From Bud Small, yes. But, I have heard from Saul Tall."

The Lion stared stonily at him. "Are you telling me we have two crew members aboard my ship called Bud Small and Saul Tall?"

"Yes, sir. They are the best of chums actually."

"I'm going to hate myself for asking– but is Bud small and Saul tall?" he deadpanned.

"Well, sir, Bud Small is not as tall as Saul Tall," Mr.

Tolliver answered seriously, "but Saul Tall is fairly tall.

At least compared to Bud Small."

"Aye, of course he is."

"No." The first mate agreed.

The Lion tried not to cross his eyes. "Mr. Tolliver?"

"Yes, sir?"

"WHAT WAS THE BLOODY NEWS?" he thundered.

"Oh that. Well, the message was sent several weeks ago; although there is no way of knowing when it was actually received. There has been no response yet."

The Lion's nostrils flared. He gave one last glance at the sky and barked out, "Weigh anchor; we sail."

"Aye, aye, sir." Mr. Tolliver cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled out, "Heave ho, we sail by moonlight!"

The heretofore sleepy ship came alive instantly.

Bells rang throughout, bare feet and boots slapped across the wooden slats, men jumped out of their hammocks below decks and rushed topside.

The sails unfurled and the ship creaked as it started to pick up speed and head toward open waters.

The sailingmaster and the men sang out back and forth, giddy as only pirates can be when heading out to rollicking adventure and probably death.

(crew):

YO HEAVE HO!

(sailingmaster):

C'mon, lads, ye sail for Nancy whiskey!

YO HEAVE HO!

For no one else will surely miss ye!

YO HEAVE HO!

So kiss the blade and dance a jig You're a pirate now, why give a frig?

You'll dine on thick gold dishes Or you'll be swimmin' with the fishes It's all the same when you–

YO HEAVE HO!

Dance with Lady Marlin Or drink with Miss Stars Jenny sure ain't payin'

For you salty tars!

At least she don't care if your pretty As long as you–

YO HEAVE HO!

There's no better life for the likes of you!

YO HEAVE HO!

Curs and rotters and blackguards all One day you meet you're watery fall You'll reek o' the sea when she gets her fill But who knows how many treasures until–

WE YO HEAVE HO!

Chapter Thirteen

London

Tyler Devon did something he hadn’t done in twenty years.

Sitting behind his desk in his study, he picked up a pen and began to compose a rather unusual ode.

Not that he hadn’t composed hundreds of verses in his head over the years. No matter how hard he tried, he could never seem to stop the flow of words in his mind–

but, never, since that fateful day as a boy when he learned the truth about the nature of treachery and greed, had he felt compelled to preserve his impressions in ink.

It was if something had died in him that day.

Something pure that could never be recovered.

So why was he writing now?

Ginny, he thought. Ginny.

Somehow she was making him feel things he hadn’t felt in years. Remember things he hadn’t remembered in years. The wonder of fresh flowers thriving in the stench of London. Excitement in the possibilities of a new day.

Delighted surprise at the outrageousness of society.

These were the things he experienced through her every day.

She still believed in decency.

Did it even exist?

He gazed out the window remembering the past few weeks.

They had gone riding several times. Not the riding he had in mind. Still, he had enjoyed her company every time. They had laughed over suppers shared in his intimate dining room. They strolled at night in his moonlit gardens.

One evening, he tried to teach her how to dance.

He smiled at the memory. She had rushed the steps and he had the devil of a time getting her to slow down– until he gathered her close in his arms.

Then she kept tripping over his feet.

But he didn’t mind. He knew she was becoming aware of him as a man. She just needed more time to acclimate to him.

He would not rush it. The proper time to strike was all important. The nature of his life had taught him patience.

On two occasions Lord Henry had come to visit, immediately making himself at home. Reggie, apparently, was still under the weather with his ague.

Tyler reluctantly admitted that the fop had a brilliant sense of humor and wit. The dinners the young lord had shared with them had been surprisingly entertaining– as long as he overlooked the heated stares thrown his way every now and again by the peacock.

His mind wandered again back to Ginny.

Tyler picked up the pen and began to write.

He was just putting down the quill when a light knock sounded at the study door. Folding the paper in his hand, he placed it inside his jacket pocket. Over his heart. “Yes?”

The door opened, and Ginny’s head popped around the edge. Tyler smiled warmly at her. “Come to visit?”

She stepped into the room. “Well, actually, I’ve come to say goodnight.”

“At this hour?” He glanced at the Ormolu clock on the mantle. “It’s only gone eight.”

“Yes, I am rather tired this evening. I hope you don’t mind?”

It was not like her to retire so early; the girl usually liked to stay up into the wee hours of the night. “Are you ill, sweet?” he asked with concern.

Ginny furrowed her brow; she hadn’t said anything about being ill. It was clear that Tyler was a bit sharper than Uncle. He was aware of her regular habits. “No, I just want to go to sleep.”

Tyler observed her closely for a moment, his eyes–

like silvery shields– cloaking whatever thoughts dwelled beneath.

“So, I’ll say goodnight then.” Ginny hung onto the doorknob. She wondered how a man’s expression could be so beautiful yet so concealing. Was there true depth to this man; or was he all for play as he seemed?

Her mouth parted with the unspoken question, a hesitation on her lips.

Tyler’s gaze fell to her mouth, then slowly rose to meet her puzzled stare.

Silence covered the room.

Allowing only for the ticking of the Ormolu clock and the strange thudding of Ginny’s heart.

As they continued to stare at each other, both the clock and her heartbeat seemed to get louder and louder. `Who is he? Who is he?’, they yelled at her.

`What is he really thinking?’

She is trying to see me. How wise and how foolish. Long black lashes swept down to conceal the dangerous hunger that blazed through him. “Goodnight, Ginny,” he said quietly.

As soft as that voice was, the underlying tone was never light, Ginny realized. No, even at its lowest pitch, it was somehow... raw.

Everything about him is raw she observed with sudden intuition. She wasn’t sure what to make of this new revelation, so she quickly retreated.

* * *

After his wife had closed the door, Tyler stared pensively at the desk top.

The light had just gone out of his night.

A prolonged exhalation indicated the boredom of another long night settling in. He supposed if he got restless later, he could always go to Frock’s for a bit of wagering. He’d been lax in that department lately– he needed to keep draining his grandfather’s coffers.

Now that he was seemingly going along with the Duke’s plans, he was sure the old goat wouldn’t take him to task for his gambling losses.

Not for awhile, anyway.

A terrible feeling of suffocation enveloped him.

In every area of his life, he was bound by the mechanics of his revenge.

Tyler gripped a crystal paperweight on his desk only to suddenly hurl it across the room. The heavy weight bounced against the oak paneling and thumped onto the carpet.

He was beginning to hate the constant concealment.

He prayed he could put an end to it soon.

* * *

Ginny raced up the stairs to her room.

Everything was working out exactly as she had planned! Tonight she was going to Frock’s as Sir Reggie.

Mr. Swift had been pressuring Henley for another article from a certain ‘fop about town’ and Ginny could not wait to experience Frock’s again! The seeds of an article were already sprouting in her head... ‘Methinks I shall dip twice.’

Earlier, she had dispatched a note to Lord Henry, telling him when to meet her. They had prearranged an assignation point in the alley at the end of the block; her cousin had already told her he would wait for her in his coach on the nights they were to meet.

During the few visits Lord Henry had made, she hadn’t had the opportunity to discuss Mabel’s problem.

She hoped tonight, between the two of them, they could come up with a solution. She was also looking forward to an evening of illicit fun. Too bad Tyler couldn’t join them, he was so amusing when he–

What was she saying?!

She shook her head at her own idiocy as she entered her room. Of course, it wasn’t such a strange thought in and of itself. Tyler had been a complete angel these past few weeks. He had lavished her with attention, seemingly at her beck and call the entire time they were together. He had hardly left her side.

Mabel had been wrong.

It was just as she had predicted; the man was clay in her hands. Actually, his lordship was very docile.

Once he got over his peculiar penchant for hugging and cuddling, Lord Devon was very accommodating.

Sometimes, lately though, when that smoky gaze riveted on her, she got a funny, fluttery feeling inside.

Ginny remembered the way he had looked at her when he had said goodnight earlier. Those opalescent eyes burned right into her– even from across the room.

Oft times, there seemed to be something deeply hidden behind them. Something powerful.

Ginny paused in the act of putting on her breeches, one leg in, the other out.

Surely, she must be imagining it. She had to be!

He was so complaisant. Like when they dined tonight, for instance. She had purposely focused on his firm mouth, hoping she could cause that little dimple at its edge to appear.

Funny, but the reaction she had received was quite different. Unnerving, almost. He ran his finger back and forth over his bottom lip as he stonily returned her look from beneath lowered lids. As if he were challenging her in some way. It made her slightly uncomfortable.

Yet, often his mouth did curve beguilingly when she looked at him a certain way. Tyler had a wonderful smile. Rich and tantalizing, it could change into a wealth of mysteries.

And those masculine lips! However would they taste–

“Are ye losin’ ye senses, girl? Wot are ye standing in the middle of the room half-dressed fer?” Mabel wheezed as she carried in a stack of fresh sheets.

“Staring inta the heavens with one leg hangin’ free ta boot!”

Not a little chagrinned to find Mabel was right, Ginny shook off her wayward ruminations and fastened the breeches around her waist. She continued getting dressed in the disguise as she spoke with the other woman.

“Mabel, go peek over the stair railing and let me know when Lord Devon goes into the library.”

“Wot makes ye think he’ll go inta the library?”

“I’ve noticed this past week he’s made it a habit to get a book to bring up to his room before retiring. He must read in bed before he goes to sleep.”

“It’s not as if the poor bloke has got anything better ta do,” Mabel muttered.

“What was that?”

“I said he don’t strike me as a man wot keeps ta habit.”

“Mabel, you do not have a clue to Tyler Devon.