Bedeviled Read online

  Her teeth chattered from the frigid air all around them, and she shivered. Her gown was sodden from the raindrops, and she couldn’t seem to get warm. Mr. Lancaster continued pounding on the door, shouting out for help. But it seemed that no one heard him.

  A moment later, he removed his coat and drew it over her shoulders. “I am sorry this happened, Miss Hawkins.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.” She clung to his coat, and the warmth of his body lingered within the wool. “Thank you for lending me this.”

  In the dim light, his face had grown somber. “Someone is trying to harm you. But I can’t think why.”

  Jane shook her head. “I’ve no idea. I wasn’t even supposed to be here. Or at least…that’s what I thought.”

  She had honestly believed that Marjorie had brought her along as a companion. Despite her initial misgivings, her friend had convinced her that it would be an exciting journey and a chance to meet new people. Now, she was beginning to wonder if Marjorie had known anything about this, or whether it had been her father’s suggestion.

  “Do you think someone believes you are taking his or her inheritance?” Mr. Lancaster prompted.

  “I highly doubt it. Even if I am mentioned in his will, it can’t be more than a pittance. I’m not even related to Lord Banfield.” She shrugged, drawing the edges of his coat closer. “But you may be right. Perhaps someone is afraid.”

  “Your father may have been related to the earl,” he said. “You may find out who he was.”

  All her life she had imagined stories, but in the end, she didn’t truly want to know. “It doesn’t matter. He left us behind and never looked back.”

  She leaned back against the wall, only to step away when she found it frigid. “How are we going to get out of here, Mr. Lancaster?”

  “I can try to pick the lock. Or if we hear voices, we can pound on the door until someone lets us out.”

  Her teeth began chattering, and she said, “At least there’s little chance of us dying down here. The only problem is the scandal.”

  “There won’t be one,” he reassured her. “When we hear someone approaching, I will hide myself behind the shelves of wine. You will go on without me. Keep the door unlatched, and I’ll wait until you are gone before I leave.”

  It relieved her to hear of it. “Thank you for that. I doubt that either one of us would want to be forced into marriage.”

  “You’re a beautiful woman, Miss Hawkins, and I would not find it a hardship. But the truth is, I am the fourth son of a viscount. I have nothing but a small property of my own, and it’s in disrepair. My only hope to save it is to wed an heiress who doesn’t mind marrying a man with nothing.”

  His confession eased her mind, and she pulled up an empty crate, sitting down upon it. “Is that why you came to Castle Keyvnor? Are you in search of a bride?”

  “I am,” he agreed. He pulled up a crate of his own. “It sounds rather mercenary, but I am in need of a wealthy one.”

  “I c-can understand that.” Her teeth still wouldn’t stop chattering, despite the warmth of his coat.

  “Are you all right, Miss Hawkins?” His voice held kindness, and he drew his crate beside hers.

  “Just fr-freezing,” she admitted. “But your coat makes it bearable. I got wet from the rain, and I can’t s-stop shivering.”

  He fell silent a moment and regarded her. In the dim candlelight, his expression turned thoughtful. “Would you consider me a friend, Miss Hawkins?”

  She didn’t know what to make of that question. “I hardly know you.”

  “Yes, but would you agree with me when I say I have no intention of harming you?”

  “Of course.” To the contrary, he had done everything possible to ensure that she was safe and protected.

  “Good.” With that, he drew his arms around her. “Then trust that this means nothing.”

  With his arms around her, he cocooned her in his body heat. Logically, she understood that he was trying to prevent her from being cold. But never before had she been in a man’s embrace. She could have pulled away—and he would have allowed this—but the comfort of his touch was undeniable.

  Jane rested her hands against his chest and accepted the warmth. It should have embarrassed her, but instead, she wanted to draw closer. The scent of his skin and the hard planes of his body made her fully aware of this man. Never before had she felt such a need to touch someone. His hand idly stroked her shoulder, and she gave in to her instincts, resting her cheek against his heartbeat. His arms relaxed against her, offering heat, and yet giving her the freedom to do as she chose.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, wanting to remain in his arms. “I was colder than I realized.” Against her cheek, she felt his rapid heartbeat, and his arms tensed.

  “You looked miserable,” he admitted. “I thought it might help.”

  It had, more than he knew. But instead of warming only her body, he had also awakened a frozen part of her spirit. She had never embraced a man before, and now that she knew the sensation, she felt as if the ice had cracked apart, melting at the heat of his skin.

  “Better?” he asked, as he started to pull back.

  No, stay, she wanted to tell him. But it wasn’t right at all to remain in his arms. With great reluctance, she let him draw away, but she kept her eyes locked upon him.

  “What is it?” he asked quietly.

  Jane let out a slight breath of air and mustered a chagrined smile. “That was the first time I was ever in a man’s arms, except for my adopted father’s.” She crossed her arms beneath his coat. “It was nice.”

  He stiffened at her compliment, as if he didn’t know quite how to respond. Then he admitted, “I’ve done many things in my life of which I am not proud. Many would not call me nice.”

  It sounded as if he were trying to dissuade her from thinking he was a good man, which was strange. “I would not call you wicked.”

  “Some used to call me the Devil of Lancaster,” he confessed. With a wry grin, he added, “Do not ask me to tell you why.”

  But his warning only made her smile. Devil or not, he had proved himself to be trustworthy.

  “I am glad that you were locked in here with me, Mr. Lancaster,” she told him. “I think I would be crying right now, if you weren’t here.”

  He reached out and touched her chin, gently caressing it with his thumb. “I’m glad you’re not alone.” A spiral of warmth slid over her skin, down to her womb. Deep inside, she felt a yearning, as if he were touching her intimately. Her breasts tightened against her chemise and corset, and she couldn’t tear her gaze from him.

  She didn’t understand the feelings coursing through her, nor could she bring herself to pull away. Instead, she covered his hand with her own.

  “Don’t look at me like that, Miss Hawkins,” he said softly. His voice was deep, but instead of warning her away, it attracted her. “You are a temptation I don’t want to refuse.”

  He held her transfixed, and he framed her face with his hands. The sensation of his warm palms against her cheeks only magnified her yearning. She closed her eyes, feeling the rhythm of her own heartbeat against his breathing. In this darkness, she felt the boundaries slipping away until there was only the warmth of a man’s touch upon her skin.

  “Tell me not to kiss you,” he said quietly. She couldn’t bring herself to speak, for she wanted him to. She wanted to know what it was like to feel a man’s mouth upon hers.

  He leaned toward her, giving her every opportunity to escape. But she didn’t move at all. When his mouth brushed against hers, she felt heat blazing over her skin. Without knowing why, she put her arms around him, pulling him closer.

  The kiss transformed, and he deepened it, bringing her against him. “This wasn’t my intention,” he muttered, even as he kissed her harder. No longer did she feel cold, and the shudders that rippled across her body had nothing to do with the frigid air. Desire flooded through her, and he threaded his hands through her hair as he held her
mouth captive.

  She couldn’t grasp a rational thought, but her breasts ached beneath her gown, rising against the damp fabric. Her breath caught in her lungs, and when she opened to him, he slid his tongue within her mouth.

  Dear God. She felt the invasion as surely as if he had claimed her body. Between her legs, she felt a swollen heat, the craving for a more intimate act.

  And somewhere, deep inside, she realized that this was how her mother had been seduced. She had listened to the yearning of her body instead of her rational mind.

  Jane knew if she didn’t pull away, she would fall beneath this man’s spell, allowing him any liberty he wished. She broke free of the kiss, feeling ashamed of the way she had offered herself to him. This never should have happened.

  For a moment, there was only silence stretching between them. She didn’t know what to say, and neither did he. They were saved from further conversation when there came the sound of a key turning in the lock.

  “Go,” she whispered to Mr. Lancaster, handing him his coat. He ducked behind a shelf of wine bottles, hiding himself from view, and the door opened.

  “What’s all this?” the housekeeper demanded. She frowned at Jane as if it were her fault that she was locked inside. “Why are you here?”

  “I came in search of Lady Banfield,” she explained, “and someone locked me inside.”

  The matron glared at her. “What nonsense. You were trying to steal wine for yourself. Admit it.”

  Stealing wine? The woman’s accusation infuriated her, and Jane stood. “I am telling you the truth, and you’ve no right to insinuate that I would be here for any other reason.” Without a word, she moved past the housekeeper, walking up the stairs that led up to the wooden door. Belatedly she froze, realizing that she had left Mrs. Bray alone where Devon might be discovered. From behind her, she heard the housekeeper take a bottle from one of the wine racks and follow her. Dear God, she hoped Mrs. Bray had not seen him. She waited for the woman to return to the stairs and slipped behind her to ensure the door was left open a crack for Devon.

  When she stepped outside, the rain had stopped. Hazy sunlight filtered through the clouds, and droplets of water glistened upon the grass.

  As she returned to the house, her face burned with embarrassment when she thought of kissing Devon Lancaster. But she could lay no blame at his feet. She had invited the kiss, and it had shattered her to the core.

  He had been open with her from the beginning. He could never marry a woman like herself, and he needed an heiress to restore his estate. But now she was left with an even greater fear—that if she didn’t shut down her instinctive feelings, she would end up seduced and left alone.

  Exactly like her mother.

  Chapter 3

  Later that evening

  Devon waited through supper, but there was no sign of Miss Hawkins. He had hoped to see her again after their captivity in the wine cellar, but she had not come down.

  As for himself, he had been glad that no one had discovered them together. He had escaped the wine cellar several minutes after she’d left with the housekeeper, and it did not seem that anyone was aware that they were locked inside together.

  Lady Marjorie joined him at the table, along with her sisters. When he asked her where Jane was, the young woman shrugged. “Jane took a tray in her room.”

  In other words, she was avoiding him. Devon reached for his glass, remembering the stolen moment in the wine cellar. Though he didn’t know what had possessed him to kiss her, never had he imagined such a response. Her lips were soft, inviting him to take more. And when he’d given in to his urges, kissing her hard, he’d been stunned by her open response. This was a woman of hidden passion, one whose innocence veiled her innermost needs.

  He had kissed many women, and there was no secret about his reputation in London. They called him the Devil of Lancaster instead of Devon. He had accepted many women into his bed, none of them a virgin, but never had any woman affected him the way this one did.

  Her innocent sighs and the way she’d clung to him had pushed him past the edge of control. He’d wanted to pull her onto his lap, to kiss her until she was breathless, loosening the ties of her gown until he could taste her bare skin.

  It was possibly a stroke of good luck that she had not come to dinner, for he likely would have been staring at her during the entire meal. Yet, he knew better than to court this woman. Jane might receive a small inheritance from the late earl, but it was unlikely there would be much of anything.

  Devon wished he were in a position to marry a woman of his choosing. But he had tenants who were relying upon him to marry well. He had no right to disregard their needs or the needs of the estate.

  He ought to turn his attentions to the new Lord Banfield’s daughters. Lady Marjorie and Lady Tamsyn were both beautiful young women, along with their sisters, Morgan, Gwyn, and Rose. All of the young women would have handsome dowries and would be suitable.

  And yet, none captivated him in the way Jane Hawkins did. She might seem like a quiet young woman, hardly more than a shy wallflower. But there was far more to her than anyone knew.

  “We will play cards later,” Lady Marjorie was saying. “If you want to see Jane, I’ll see to it that she comes.”

  “Does she like whist?” he asked.

  “Jane is quite a good card player. I’ll warn you now—you should never wager against her. She might seem to be no one of consequence, but she could easily win every last coin before you realize it.”

  There was great irony in a vicar’s daughter beating everyone at cards, but it didn’t surprise him. Miss Hawkins struck him as a woman of intelligence, despite her quiet demeanor.

  “Are we playing for stakes, then?” He had little to wager, but if Miss Hawkins was coming to play, he intended to partner with her, if at all possible.

  “Why not?” Lady Marjorie answered. “Or we might play for the fun of it.” She leaned closer and sent him a conspiratorial smile. “Are you thinking of getting better acquainted with her?”

  He knew exactly what she was implying but didn’t know how to answer that. “We have spoken on a few occasions. I would consider her a friend.”

  Lady Marjorie sighed. “Jane deserves a happy ending to her life. She’s had so many hardships, but I adore her.”

  He finished his meal and excused himself from the table while the ladies departed. His thoughts were heavy as he walked along the hallway, for he did like Jane Hawkins. If she were an heiress, he would have pursued her without question. It bothered him to recognize that money would affect his decisions so strongly. As the youngest son, he had no means of creating his own fortune—at least, not yet.

  He had come to Castle Keyvnor in search of a bride...but instead, he’d come to realize that what he truly needed was a purpose. He had property of his own and would it not be better to build a fortune to go with it? Then he would be free to pursue whatever woman he wished.

  He started to join the others, when the frigid gust of air surrounded his shoulders once more.

  Enough of the ghost, already. He had other plans in mind. But this time, when he turned around, he caught a glimpse of a man dressed in Tudor attire with a ruff around his neck. He had reddish hair, a beard, and blue eyes. The ghost carried a lute under one arm and pointed down the hallway.

  Devon blinked, only to find that the man had vanished. It was possible that he’d imagined all of it. And yet, the details of the ghost were vivid within his mind.

  He questioned whether or not to obey the ghost’s directions. Why should he care whether or not the man wanted him to go down the hall?

  And yet, Jane had not come to dinner. Someone had locked her in the wine cellar earlier, and she might still be in danger.

  He saw no alternative but to follow.

  After she had finished the dinner on her tray, Jane changed back into the dark blue serge long-sleeved gown. The white gown was still damp from the rain, and the very sight of it reminded her of being locke
d in the wine cellar with Devon Lancaster.

  She was still angry at herself for letting him kiss her. It had been an impulse and one that would not happen again. He had been very clear that he needed to wed an heiress—and she was not at all wealthy. It might be best to wear this gown and remind him of that fact. If nothing else, it would help her to keep him at a distance.

  Marjorie had asked her to join in a game of cards, and Jane decided it was just the distraction she needed. She left her room and closed the door behind her, walking toward the stairs.

  From below, she heard the sounds of conversation. And there was a high-pitched noise coming from outside. At first, she ignored it, but for a moment, it almost sounded like a woman screaming.

  The hair on the back of her neck rose up. It could be the ghost of Lady Banfield. Her mind considered the idea, then discarded it. She truly didn’t believe in spirits, despite what she’d heard at breakfast. But worse was the idea that another young woman might be in trouble. A man had locked her into the wine cellar. Why not someone else?

  Jane walked toward an open window and peered outside. The noise definitely seemed to be coming from one of the castle turrets. She decided it was best to go and investigate, though she needed to find someone to accompany her. Devon Lancaster would go along if she asked, but she didn’t want him to feel obligated. There might be a footman who could watch over her. Or better, she could tell someone what she had heard.

  Jane hurried down the stairs and along the hallway, moving in the direction of the turret. When she drew closer, the wailing grew louder. The woman sounded as if she were in a great deal of anguish, and the screams mingled with sobs.

  This was more than tales of a ghost. The crying was quite clear, and someone was inside the turret.

  Jane hesitated a moment, wondering if she dared to go closer. But how could she stand aside and pretend as if nothing was happening? Whoever was up there clearly needed help.