Redemption

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Redemption

Morgan Leshay

www.lbfboks.com

Redemption Copyright © 2005 by Morgan Leshay. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Disclaimer While inspired by actual events, this novel is a work of fiction. Edited by: Michelle Jackson Cover artwork by: Tina Adams LIC in Progress LBF Books Imprint of Lachesis Publishing

FIRST PRINTING

Dedication To Tian... ...the angel.

Redemption Morgan Leshay

Chapter One A fleeting glimpse–-something white and billowy–- caught the edge of his vision. Devlin Montaign, Viscount Syndale, squinted into the darkness that cloaked the far wall of the rectory, then jerked upright. He shook his head, uncertain whether he sought to clear his thoughts or his vision. Unless both his eyesight and his mind were deceiving him, he had most definitely seen a ghost. There was no such thing as ghosts, and such imaginings were simply nonsense, he thought scornfully. He strained to hear, listening carefully for any sound; any hint of movement but other than the occasional hiss or pop from the fire, the chamber remained silent. The sound of his breathing seemed to magnify in the deafening silence and a chill chased its way up his spine. The urge to shiver grew nigh unbearable with each second that passed. Rising cautiously from the stiff, wooden chair, making as little sound as possible, he crept stealthily forward toward the rows of bookshelves along the opposite wall. Quietly, he made his way into the part of the room from which the flickering light of the fire could not manage to banish the shadows, where the iridescent apparition had disappeared. Someone or something had been in this chamber, he was sure of it. The thing that disconcerted him, however, was the realization that whoever–or whatever–had been in the chamber was there no longer and they had left the quarters by some exit other than the door through which he had entered. His gaze sought out every shadow, searching the darkest corners of the room. So intent was he on examining them, he stumbled against the divan that blocked his path to the shelves. Hidden in the darkness that clung to this side of the chamber, the divan faced the fire, as if perhaps one might rest 6

Redemption there upon it and read by the light of the fire. A soft, lingering hint of roses teased his senses as he passed it, and his brow furrowed. There was no one about to use the divan but for Mr. Grigory the overseer and a few retainers, and he thought they were not the type to make frequent use of such a luxurious item. Neither would those few be partial to scenting themselves with the delicate fragrance of roses. The suspicion grew that all was not as it seemed here. He wondered how long it had been since the Duke had personally visited the property, for obviously there was more going on here than met the eye. His glance swept back toward the desk and the door, making certain that whoever had been in the room was not, even now, circling around to come at him from behind. There was no one else in the chamber. No sound greeted his ears. No movement caught his careful eye other than the occasional twist or dip of the flame atop the candle that sat resting in the holder on the edge of the desk. Mr. Grigory bade him wait here, and Devlin had lighted only the single candle on the desk to cast the gloom from the room whilst he waited. The chamber, for the most part, remained cloaked in darkness. His attention returned to the shelves and he continued his search, for something–anything–that would reveal the spectral visitor’s escape route. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary about the construction of the centuries old shelving, he ran his hands carefully along the edges of each shelf slowly, carefully, looking for something. Just what he was seeking, he wasn’t sure. He’d thought perhaps there might be a catch or latch that he might slip to reveal a secret door or passage behind the bookcase. Finding nothing, he turned his head to peer about the room once more. Was it possible he had simply imagined it? ‘Twas nothing, he decided, though his fingers continued their inspection of the shelving in front of him. ‘Twas merely a figment of my imagination, brought on by fatigue or lassitude, he rationalized. Yet the nagging certainty that something or someone had definitely been in this chamber but a few moments ago continued to plague him. Unless that something or someone 7

Morgan LeShay was of the celestial type, it could not have simply slipped away through the walls. But there was no entrance or exit to or from the room other than the door through which he himself had entered. Devlin had almost convinced himself that he’d simply been in a half-state of sleep, some vague and distant point between sleeping and wakefulness, when his fingers found an indentation in the otherwise smooth surface of the wood. It was somewhat hidden, a shallow groove on the underside of one of the boards. He leaned close to the shelving, pressing his fingertips into the indentation he had discovered. A tiny waft of air caressed his cheek and his excitement and trepidation grew apace with each other. He moved his fingers back and forth within the short groove. Click! The sound was barely perceptible, yet to him it was as loud as the report of a dueling pistol on a deathly cold and quiet dawn. He stood back away from the shelving, not at all certain what to expect. At first nothing happened. Then he reached out and pushed, and the entire section of shelving moved inward. The soft whir of well-oiled bearings was the only sound as the bookcase slid inward to reveal a long, dark corridor that appeared to stretch endlessly into blackness. He gave a quick, furtive glance both left and right, but saw no windows and strangely, smelled no dust. Apparently the corridor was used frequently, though only high walls of stone and pitch-blackness greeted him. His nose twitched, and his hackles rose as the faintly acrid scent of a recently doused taper tickled his nose. Someone had been in the passage. The otherworldly visitor? The sudden need to discover the identity of whoever the wraithlike visitor was and what they thought to accomplish by roaming this secret passage within the walls of the monastery plagued him. He wondered idly if Mr. Grigory was aware of the fact that someone was hiding within this passage. Indeed, he wondered if the good man even knew of the passage’s existence. Devlin stared into the unlit murkiness of the passageway beyond the door he had discovered, wondering just what he should make of it. Secret entrances and exits, and even secret 8

Redemption chambers in a monastery were definitely not unheard of, but this one unquestionably bore investigating. Especially since his goal was to acquire this particular monastery as the new permanent location of Syndale Hall...is home. It puzzled him that he’d been a visitor here many times over the past few years, and not once had he considered that there might be more to the monastery than that which he could see. Something was afoot here, and he wondered what it was. “She is called St. Valentine’s Angel, you know.” The voice came from behind him. The hair at his nape stood on end. Devlin spun about, prepared to defend himself. It was the cleric, Mr. Grigory. Sensing he had nothing to fear from the man, he allowed himself to relax...for the moment. The man appeared nonplused by Devlin’s skittishness or the fact that the hidden portal now stood open behind him. He simply motioned Devlin to join him at the desk in the center of the chamber. Then he took up the taper from the corner of the desk and moved about the room, lighting several more of the tallow candles, which hung in dark cast-iron brackets at intervals along the walls. Finally, he seated himself behind the thick, mahogany desk, placing several long sheets of paper upon the smooth surface of the desktop. His thoughts centered upon discovering the identity of the apparition, Devlin had all but forgotten the transaction he’d come to complete. He’d spent many months and much coin in his quest to purchase the monastery and suddenly all thoughts fled his mind, save that of the mystery he had stumbled upon within its walls. Obeying the cleric’s summons, though making a mental note to explore every nook and cranny of the dark, mysterious corridor as soon as his business was complete, Devlin took the single chair in front of the desk and glanced back toward the bookcase. Soon he would uncover the mystery. Excitement rushed through him, and he was unable to resist another glimpse toward the secret door through which the supernatural appearing vision had escaped. He was about to question the man’s knowledge regarding the existence of the passage when understanding of Mr. Grigory’s earlier words dawned in his beleaguered mind at last. 9

Morgan LeShay He had said, ‘she’. That meant the ethereal being he had caught a slight impression of earlier was female, did it not? If it was a she, then it had to be human and not a spirit as he had surmised. “Then she is real?” Devlin asked, settling himself more comfortably in the chair. His enthusiasm for the topic hidden behind a bland look of cool disinterest, he waited patiently, despite the fire of determination burning within him to know all and know it now. Mr. Grigory smiled softly, peering at him in such a way that he felt suddenly decidedly uneasy. ‘Twas as if the cleric could see within his mind, indeed, into his deepest, most secret thoughts and he did not like even the possibility of it. He looked away, breaking the contact of their gazes. Finally, the man nodded slightly in answer. “Perhaps,” he said, drawing the word out as if hesitant to speak at all. Devlin leaned forward in his seat, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Perhaps? What do you mean, perhaps? She is either real or...No, what am I saying? Of course she is real.” He sat back, eyeing the man skeptically. “Isn’t she?” Devlin’s uncertainty irritated him. He hadn’t believed in ghosts since the tender age of eight, and he had absolutely no intention of reviving that long forgotten belief at this late date. If the 'angel’ of which Mr. Grigory spoke was not flesh and bone human female, what was she? Who was she? Furthermore, why would she be here, hiding away behind unseen doors in a former monastery? ‘Twas no spirit he had seen, Devlin decided. That he would even consider the possibility it might have been some incorporeal entity was sheer absurdity. The cleric studied him closely for a moment then began to speak, his tone rich with dramatic resonance. “In the past five years, several have sought sanctuary within the walls of this monastery from the weather or various elements as they passed through the area. A few of those travelers swear to have seen a floating vision in white, a wraithlike spirit who spoke to them concerning matters dear to the heart.” The good man’s dramatic bend reminded Devlin of the times during his childhood that he and several young boys had gathered outdoors around a fire, each of them trying their damnedest to frighten the wits out of the others. Fighting back 10

Redemption a chuckle, he hid his reaction behind a fierce scowl. “You’re saying this ‘angel’ advises people about love? What nonsense!” He snorted in disbelief, and the cleric’s brows rose, though his expression of seriousness did not change. He refused to continue the tale until Devlin bade him carry through with it, ridiculous though it were. “’Tis said the vision is female, breathtakingly lovely and awe-inspiring. A true lady, no less, sent as messenger from the patron saint of lovers, St. Valentine himself.” Devlin scoffed at the tale again, for no true lady would hide herself away in this place. ‘Twas completely illogical. A true lady would seek a husband, as befitted her station were she of marriageable age, and if she were even half as lovely as the man before him sought to portray her, she would do so with little or no trouble at all. If she were past marriageable age, she would live with relatives who would support her. Someone would know if one of their relations had taken up haunting the local monastery. Someone somewhere knew who she was, and sooner or later, they would come looking for her–if she were real. “That says nothing as to whether she is real or not, Mr. Grigory. A fact of which, I am certain, you are aware,” he said. Devlin’s irritation with the man grew along with his discovery of the cleric’s obvious ability to talk around a subject and his own unexpected need to uncover the mystery behind St. Valentine’s Angel, whom he had decided was definitely a real female. His logical mind could accept nothing else. That he might be interested in tracking down a ghost was so completely preposterous, he sought to divert the direction of his thoughts. His plans to convert the monastery into his home should be uppermost in his mind. Anything else would simply delay his progress and he had a yearning to see the work completed by the end of summer. Mr. Grigory leaned back in his chair, drawing Devlin’s attention once more. “As I said, young Master Syndale, perhaps.” Judging from the rapidly fading luster in the elder’s eyes, the loss of enthusiasm in his voice, the man apparently forgot the matter as easily as he had addressed it mere seconds ago. 11

Morgan LeShay Devlin wanted to ask more, but the cleric began to speak of other matters, matters that should have been far more important to him at this moment. He realized, with some annoyance, that those concerns now came second in consequence to the mystery he yearned to solve. “We’d best get to the business that brought you here. Everything is in order. The necessary coin has changed hands. I have seen to it that everything is prepared as you requested. However, before I am free to take my leave, there is one other matter...a thing about which I must inform you...” The man looked uncertain, upset even, by the news he must impart. Devlin noted the deep crease of the frown that marred his brow and could not help but wonder what outrageous addendum had been added to his purchase price. He sighed and prompted the man to continue. “Do go on, Mr. Grigory. What is it now?” Theodric Grigory studied the young Viscount, uncertain if carrying out his duties would indeed be in the best interests of all concerned, no matter how many times he had been assured they were. He had tried to explain to his charge that this was not a thing to be done on a whim. More than one life would be affected by the outcome of this transaction that had started out so simple but had evolved to major proportions–but the decision had been firmly reiterated. He had no choice in the matter now but to see it out. Still, he worried. Suppose something went awry? Perchance the young rakehell showed himself to be completely uncouth and unreformable? What then would he do? He sighed, for ‘twas not his place to worry over the matter, though he knew he would continue to do so. No matter, he thought. He would fight with his personal dilemma alone, for there was truly naught he could do. He was merely a servant, a hireling with no voice in what was to be done, only the carrying out of it. His thoughts turned to the gentle lady he sought to protect. He thought of her serene smile, her dancing eyes, her joyful, innocent spirit and he could not help but worry how she might fare with this rogue who sat before him now. Such was her naiveté, her genuine belief that there was good within everyone– it distressed him. He cleared his throat, trying to ease the 12

Redemption tightness there from emotions that seemed to swell in him. “My pardon, Lord Syndale, but it is my duty to inform you that in purchasing the monastery there is one final codicil, one last stipulation to the purchase. You must...that is to say...” He broke off, clearing his throat once more. “My lord, I ask you to consider...for our lady’s sake...” He halted again, unable to continue, at a loss for the words he needed to form a plea to this knave before him for a promise of gentle manners where she was concerned. Devlin became most attentive to the man’s words. Our lady? What lady? Indeed, of whose lady was the cleric speaking? As far back as he could remember, none but a handful of attendants had lived here within the monastery. The Duke’s wife and daughter had both long since passed on, and at no time that he had stayed here had the Duke been in attendance. “You speak of her, the one you call St. Valentine’s Angel?” The cleric nodded and Devlin peered askance at him. “What has this woman–which you have yet to clearly state whether or not she is indeed a real flesh and blood woman or some phantasmagoric prank you’ve created to bemuse unwary travelers–to do with my acquisition of the monastery?” “Indeed, how could it possibly concern her?” he wondered. Was he to escort her to her long-lost family perhaps? Or worse, would he be forced to see to her care? He considered those possibilities and decided either could be done, were it necessary. His desire for the monastery superseded any slight chore he might have to perform in the getting of it. Theodric leaned back in his seat once more and sighed. ‘Twas a puzzle to him how he might convince Lord Syndale, who was affectionately known by his peers as Lord Syn, to be Kind-hearted and lenient where the lady was concerned. It escaped him what words would be best to sway the plundering scoundrel who peered at him now, awaiting an answer to his question. He placed the tips of his fingers of each hand together before him, forming a peak, which he studied intently as he spoke. “Allow me to attempt an explanation, Lord Syndale. Our lady is very...delicate and very innocent. She has been sheltered much of her life and knows nothing of the proclivities and mischief many of us have known...” he trailed off, still perplexed 13

Morgan LeShay as to how he might get his message across without offending. “And I have known many. Is that what you are trying to say?” Theodric nodded. “Yes, my lord, but not in the way you think.” Devlin could not believe the man’s audacity. What had his lifestyle to do with any of this? Come the morning, Mr. Grigory and the other attendants would be leaving. He scowled. “You fret overmuch, Mr. Grigory, for come the morning the lady you waste such deep concern over will be well away from any dark taint my presence might blot upon her. She departs as you do.” Theodric shook his head, a deep sadness welling within him. Though he greatly wished it otherwise, she would not. ‘Twas this fact that had plagued him all along, for he knew he would miss her sorely. They all would but him most especially since he had been her guardian these past years. To leave her would be like leaving a part of himself behind. Though he tried to hide the intensely sorrowful thoughts leaving her aroused, he felt certain Lord Syndale could see his grief in the small, trembling half smile he offered. “Not our lady, my lord. ‘Tis the final stipulation I sought to speak of though I see now that I quite botched the telling of it. In order to finalize the transfer of the properties, Lord Syndale, you must agree to...” “I must agree to see to the lady’s welfare? Or must I seek out some distant relative and see her delivered safely into their keeping? Which is it?” Devlin asked, interrupting the man, certain he knew the lay of the codicil. Theodric stared at him for a moment in silence, and then shook his head. “I wish ‘twere so simple a matter, my lord, but unfortunately it is not. In order to finalize the transaction, you must agree to a marriage between yourself and the lady of whom I have spoken.” It took but an instant for the words to sink in. Staring at the man, aghast, Devlin left his seat. He could feel the deathly cold grip of a trap closing about him and it was all he could do to stay in the same room with the man and not commit mayhem. His temper soared. “Marriage? Marriage! Dear addled Mr. Grigory, I think not!” 14

Redemption He’d been willing to see the lady to family who could take care of her. He’d even thought he would not mind overmuch providing the necessary coin to see to her welfare, should that have been the thing asked of him. But marriage? Nay, he would never marry. He leaned over the desk behind which the cleric sat, glaring his fury at the man. “You have yet to convince me that the bit of white I think I saw pass through yon wall into the corridor beyond earlier is anything more than a figment of my much wearied imagination. How you can sit there and casually announce that in order to claim the properties my monies have fairly purchased, I must also consent to wed her...it...whatever, is beyond me!” He stomped to the door, fully intending to leave, then paused and spun about, piercing the man with the fire of his gaze. “Are the rest of this parish’s members as twitted as you?” Theodric left his seat and came around the desk. “My Lord Syndale, you must understand that our lady is...” he began in an attempt to placate the young lord’s sudden temper but that one crossed the room in a flash of fury to stand toe-to-toe with him, his hazel eyes spangled and sparkling ominously with bright gold shards of color. “I must do nothing of the sort, my good man, and I demand that you leave off with this nonsense immediately!” He’d had enough of this whole preposterous situation, the monastery be damned! Had they planned this, him and his precious lady, St. Valentine’s Angel? He had to admit ‘twould have been a fabulously orchestrated manipulation were it any other young lord eager to have a place to call his own, but not him. He well knew his own reputation. Throughout London and farther he was known as the dastardly, black-hearted seducer of innocents, debaucher of Society’s elite, for no decent young lady of a marriageable age was safe from his almost legendary powers of seductive persuasion. Dubbed the charmingly cold Lord Syn, ‘twas said he thought nothing of stealing a lady’s virtue and leaving her to face her disgrace alone. In recent years, it had become nothing more than a game to him. Charm her, woo her, take her and move on to the next lovely. However, he was well aware that no one would 15

Morgan LeShay even jokingly consider him fit material for marriage. It was also considered highly doubtful that, should he ever take a wife, he would remain faithful to her for very long. At least that was the general consensus among various high-ranking members of Society, and he felt no compulsion whatsoever to correct them. He’d sampled many a maid and many a young widow over the past few years, and not one of them ever made him yearn to give up his bachelorhood. Neither did this cleric’s cleverly laid scheme. Long had he played this game and won. He would not allow himself to be captured now. Theodric shook his head regretfully. A slight frown wrinkled his otherwise smooth forehead, and he sighed. “Perhaps ‘tis best you meet our lady, my lord,” he suggested. Devlin simply stared at him, trying to assimilate all that had occurred in the last few minutes. Intrigued, despite his anger and incredulity at the audacious announcement the man had made, his thoughts spun. Was it possible there was truly a delicate lady living here in the monastery? Unbelievable. But unable to resist his own fascination with the vision he had seen and finding it somewhat humorous to toss the cleric’s own word back at him, he smiled slowly. He nodded. “Perhaps….”

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Chapter Two “I must do nothing of the sort, my dear man, and I demand that you leave off with this nonsense immediately!” Tian made her way through the unlit corridor to her chamber, feeling along the walls in the darkness for the torch brackets, while those words reverberated madly within her head. Having barely regained control of herself after her near discovery in the rectory, she had been standing near the open door when Lord Syndale’s furious explosion set her to shaking again, her thoughts a chaotic whirl. She’d been lying on the divan, engrossed in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, when she heard his voice outside the rectory. She’d leapt to her feet, spurred into frantic action. She’d hurriedly doused the tapers, raced to the bookcase and slid the catch, opening the door the tiniest bit, just enough for her to slide through as he entered. Hugging the shadows, she’d held her breath, praying he would not see her wedged in the small opening. Barely daring to breathe, she waited as he relit the taper on Theodric’s desk and sat down, closing his eyes. He leaned his head back against the carved wood back, apparently exhausted. She eased slowly through the opening, fearing her lightest breath–her slightest movement–might draw his attention to her, and an end to her secret. Finally, she slipped out the barely opened door, pushed it closed and snatched the skirt of her gown through at the same time. Inside the passage, she’d leaned heavily against the wall, only daring to draw a full breath now that she was safely hidden in the pitch dark of the corridor. Her heartbeat thudded furiously within her chest and she realized with a sinking feeling she hadn’t had time to catch up a taper to light the way back to her chamber. Had he seen her? She’d barely had an instant to form the 17

Morgan LeShay question in her mind before the portal slid wide. Forcing herself to stand utterly still in the darkness, she’d waited. Did he mean to follow her inside the passageway? And if he did, would he notice her there in the still and silent darkness? Hearing Theodric’s voice, she’d slowly released her pent up breath, knowing the man would not come into the corridor now. She’d finally regained some semblance of control of herself and started toward her chamber, which was located off the far end of the corridor, when Lord Syndale’s outburst brought her to a sudden halt. Though Theodric had warned her repeatedly that he would likely balk at the stipulation, she hadn’t really considered that he might vehemently protest marriage. Now, she searched her mind desperately seeking an answer to this new dilemma. How could she sway his decision enough that he would agree to at least consider a union with her? His near violent refusal had scattered her thoughts and she could not see any solution. Theodric stepped into the passageway carrying a lit taper, and Tian turned to await his approach. She knew what he would say, but still she continued to ponder various ways in which she might change Lord Syndale’s mind on the matter. “He refused. Quite adamantly, I might add.” He shook his head. “I am dreadfully sorry, my child, but I did warn you such might be the case.” She nodded, still deep in thought. “Theodric, perhaps we should simply tell him who I am...” He frowned. “Nay, ‘tis best we wait, Tian. Should he discover your identity before we convince him the two of you should wed...” He shook his head again, and Tian chuckled low. “We would never know if he accepted me for Valholen or my inheritance, right?” “Indeed, Lady.” Theodric grinned at her wit, then peered at her intently in the darkness, one brow arched, and she had to fight back a sudden urge to giggle. The shadows cast by the lone candle’s flame gave him such an eerie appearance. She knew from past experience how she appeared, should some unsuspecting person stumble upon them in the corridor. The startling white of her gown lent a brightness, a luminescence to the garment in the weak light and 18

Redemption her face and limbs were cast into shadow, resembling dissembled parts when the flame danced upon its wick. Indeed, in the past, several had sworn to having seen a ghost or angel within the established halls and passageways inside the monastery. Here in the hidden corridor, the effect was doubled, for no exterior light found its way through the thick stone of the walls. “However,” Theodric continued, “as he has yet to accept you at all, I’ve given our dilemma a bit of thought and have finally formulated a plan–though I am most hesitant to divulge it. I fear that even such brilliant a scheme as it may be might not sway the headstrong young man I sent off to the kitchens.” He sighed. “A plan?” Her spirits restored, his idea giving her new reason to hope, she urged him to reveal whatever plan he’d conceived. “Theo, do tell. Though I wouldn’t want to call it a scheme. That sounds so...I don’t know...wrong, somehow.” She chewed doubtfully at her lower lip. His brows rose. “Well, considering his reputation and his strong resistance to the idea of marriage, it may be the only way we can convince him to at least consider your stipulation.” Theodric chuckled. “He is not certain you are real.” Tian smiled. “Yes, I heard as much. Perhaps he thinks the monastery is haunted?” She chuckled at the absurdity of the notion, but Theodric nodded, peering at her most intently. “Perhaps he does,” he said, “and that may well be to our advantage. Do you recall the time old Haliburton discovered you in the rectory? And Lord Grainger just last year? Remember the tale we devised to secure your secrecy here?” She nodded absently in acknowledgment, her thoughts centered once again on the problem of convincing Lord Syndale he really wouldn’t mind being her husband. After a moment of silence, his words finally presented themselves clearly in her mind and her eyes widened. “Theodric, are you suggesting I play the angel?” He shrugged and then nodded. The weak candlelight in the otherwise pitch-black passageway turned his mischievous smile into a distorted, evil-looking grin. “There would be no play to it my child, for you were born with the soul of an angel. I 19

Morgan LeShay have my doubts about your young man, however. I think his soul yet cries out for redemption...though he may not be aware of it.” Tian frowned and shook her head. “If his soul needs redeeming, I am not the one he should look to. Rumors or no, we both know I am no angel. Just think of all the questionable acts I have committed in my quest to help him attain the monastery while gaining my own freedom in the bargain.” There were several to consider, more than she’d ever dared to think she might commit. What was it about this man that made her determined to succeed, by hook or crook, no matter the cost? Surely her attraction to him did not warrant that she totally forget her integrity? Theodric chuckled. “Perhaps ‘tis not so much his soul that needs reclaiming but the light of his heart. Consider for a moment his reputation and you’ll see right off that as St. Valentine’s Angel you’d be more than an appropriate match for him. Then consider that St. Valentine’s Angel is rumored to be the most treasured assistant of our patron saint of lovers...” She frowned. “I don’t understand, Theodric.” He sighed and took her arm, leading her forward down the passage, and then into another. “’Tis my thought, Lady Tian, that the easiest way to win your young man is by appearing to lose. We’ll simply give him everything he wants–or rather, let him keep that which he is not wont to part with.” She hesitated, still frowning and he shook his head. “Come, Tian, we’ll discuss it in the parlor, child. And other things as well–more personal matters.” He paused. “Are you absolutely certain you wish to continue with this?” This time she did not hesitate in the least. “Indeed, Theodric. Tell me what I must do.”

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Chapter Three To say that he was stunned would not do justice to the shock of emotions writhing within Devlin when he saw her– really saw her–for the first time. She appeared to float nearer to him, moving soundlessly across the bare floor of the corridor. She didn’t glow as he had first thought. That was but a trick of the candle’s flame reflecting off the unblemished white material of her gown. It flowed about her like moonlight, sweeping about, undulating with every move she made. He noticed that her long, honey-gold hair did the same, flowing ethereally about her, unbound. Candlelight diffused the neat, even edges with a soft radiance, giving it a life of its own. Yet even with those things bombarding his senses, it was her face, carved in perfect exquisiteness, which caused Devlin to temporarily forget how to form a single word. His eyes widened, his gaze taking in every precious nuance, the very essence of her. Her complexion was like flawless cream. Her deep sapphire eyes were a sparkling well of mystery and promise which glittered brilliantly in the light of the candle’s flame, and were fringed by the longest lashes he’d ever seen. Her tiny nose was an elegantly carved treasure, curved slightly upward at the tip. Her lips, a luscious pale pink in hue, glistened invitingly in the muted glow of the candle’s light. Her chin was small and softly rounded, highlighted by high cheekbones and a slight blush. His palm ached to caress the gentle contours of her jaw, yet his tongue still refused to function for the formation of even the simplest of greetings. She smiled, a gentle, fragile smile. In the face of her perfection, he felt himself shrink inside. He felt low. Debased. ‘Heavenly’ was the only word he could think to describe her. Nay, there were a host of others, he thought, but 21

Morgan LeShay all were equally pious. Were it not for the voice inside his head, demanding quite rudely that he get a hold of himself and realize that angels did not descend their lofty heights to live within the drafty, hidden corridors of deserted monasteries, he would have done the unthinkable. He would have dropped to his knees before her, totally awed and humbled by her divine countenance. “Welcome to Valholen, Lord Syndale.” Her voice was sweeter than the sweetest melody from an angel’s harp. It played along his insides, wreaking havoc on his sense of reason, warming him, somehow reaching the ice that had surrounded his cold, black heart for so long. Good heavens, man! Get a hold on yourself before you do something you’ll really regret, like make a total and complete ass of... Devlin quickly cut off the voice in his head; half fearing she could hear it. Could not angels see within your very soul? The mere thought made him cringe, for he knew his soul was dark. Black. Poisoned by the worst of sins. The urge to know her fully, completely, filled him. He didn’t even know by what name he should call her. “Lady...?” “I am called Tian, my lord.” She held out her hand to him. Almost reluctantly, Devlin reached out to grasp her delicate fingers in his much larger, much rougher hand, near convinced that when they met, his fingers would simply pass through hers. His earlier thoughts, that perhaps she and Mr. Grigory had connived to catch a husband for her, fled in the light of the pure innocence of her. She did not appear capable of such a contrivance. “I am honored, my lady,” he said, realizing with some embarrassment that his voice had actually quivered when he spoke. He cleared his throat. Her touch, when it came, was soft, delicate. Devlin could almost have sworn it to be ephemeral. She leaned close and his heightened senses detected the softest scent of warm roses. “Lady...” Devlin jerked his hand away from her and looked at Mr. Grigory, disturbed to realize he’d forgotten the man’s presence altogether. 22

Redemption Mr. Grigory ignored Devlin’s inquiring frown of confusion except to smile, an I-told-you-so kind of smile, and addressed the floating, evanescent goddess of purity before him once more. “Lady, I have informed Lord Syndale of the absolute necessity of a marriage between the two of you, that with Valholen comes...” Her gaze moved from Mr. Grigory to Devlin again and she nodded. Her clear sapphire gaze held his, though she spoke first to Mr. Grigory, then to him. “Lord Syndale objected. Yes, Theodric. I did not expect otherwise.” She paused for a brief moment, for which Devlin was thankful. It allowed her words time to present themselves with a bit of clarity in his otherwise befuddled mind. Then she said, “I was told that you have been most adamant in your quest to procure the monastery, Lord Syndale.” Devlin nodded, still quite dazed by her presence. She glanced briefly at Mr. Grigory, and then began to speak once more, her tone melodic. Such was the sweetness of it; it created a riotous havoc within Devlin’s very soul. “Then I am afraid this is the final requirement, my lord. As for the bedding, Theodric and I have seen to certain measures that would negate the necessity of our actually consummating the marriage. You need not concern yourself that you would be forced to perform such an undesirable duty, if that is what holds you back.” Devlin almost choked. Bed her? It seemed nigh onto sinful for him to even think of such a thing in conjunction with the seemingly perfect being before him. His mind could not conceive of using her so. She would carry the taint upon her purity forevermore. And even if she would not, Devlin knew he would never feel worthy of the right to worship her body with his own. Besides, he thought, one could easily imagine that she might slip right through their fingers from a mere touch, much less an impassioned embrace. “However, my lord,” she continued, “I must inform you that there is no other way, no matter how that fact might chagrin you. I am sorry, but the only way to obtain the monastery is 23

Morgan LeShay through a legal, holy sanctioned marriage between myself and you.” He noticed a new, peachy-pink brightness on her otherwise flawlessly creamy skin, and fought back his surprise. She blushed? Aye, she was indeed blushing! Perhaps she was flesh and blood female after all. The thought warmed him. It dawned on him that the nature of their discussion was hardly an appropriate one for young ladies of her age, especially with gentlemen present. Of course she would blush, you dolt, he thought, and fought to find the words to turn the conversation elsewhere, thus easing both their plights. She spoke before he could think of something less flustering to say. “I will be of little concern to you, my lord, for ‘tis my lot to remain a specter within these secret halls until such a time as my circumstances change. I’ll not chain you with the public burden of having a wife you did not choose to have.” A chilly draft chose that particular instant to wend its way through the dim and dusky corridor, gently molding the flowing white robe she wore to her deliciously contoured body. Though he had near choked before at the thought of her slipping through his sinfully passionate embrace, he now burned with a sudden, consuming urge to press her sleekly built body against his, skin-to-skin. A bit disconcerted by the swift and forceful reaction of his body to his thoughts, Devlin shifted, hoping to hide his aroused state, and cleared his throat awkwardly. “My pardon, lady, but I am sure you will understand when I say I must be allowed to think upon the matter.” After a moment’s silent pause, Tian nodded, turned, and walked away. The light breeze caused by her movement induced the flame atop the slender taper to dart about upon the wick, creating eerie shadows within the dark corridor. She hovered but an instant in his vision before disappearing totally into the oblivion of darkness beyond him. Devlin frowned, his mind working to figure out how she had accomplished such a complete and convincing appearance of disappearing. He could find no solution and started forward in the direction she had gone. Then he remembered Mr. Grigory’s presence, and turned instead to step out of the 24

Redemption corridor and back through the secret door behind the bookcase, his body and mind in turmoil. He felt both dazed and perturbed. The lady was magnificently available and acutely inviolable. She appeared both heavenly enchantress and hellish seductress at one and the same moment in time, the embodiment of every man’s dreams, and he could have her if he would only speak the word. His every thought rebelled against it. His body clamored excitedly for it, but his heart...is heart remained cold. He pictured her in his mind and was unequivocally certain no man alive could take his own measure and prove himself worthy of her–himself, least of all. Yet, it was to him that she’d offered herself. It disturbed him now to realize that, while he knew he could never accept that which she offered–in the manner she had offered it–he was tempted. “You have until dawn, my lord,” Mr. Grigory said from behind him. Devlin turned and stared at the man in amazement. “Dawn? The entirety of my future rests upon whatever decision I make in regard to this, and you give me but the precious few hours left until dawn to make it? Have you lost your mind?” “But of course you have!” He threw his hands upward and stomped to the chair in front of the rector’s desk, and then dropping heavily into it, he squeezed his eyes tightly shut for an instant before he opened them again and nodded. “Or perhaps I have, since I have not yet simply dismissed the matter entirely out of hand. None of this makes sense. ‘Tis sheer madness!” He frowned darkly, his gaze refusing to focus upon anything in particular, as he fought to assemble the actions and words of the past few minutes into some logical order. Theodric frowned. “I am most distressed to hear that you feel that way, my lord. Did not our lady Tian please you in any way?” Devlin laughed, a short, derisive sound. “Not please? Of a certainty you are not blind, my good man, and I never professed to be.” His frown became a dark scowl. Just how close were the lady and Mr. Grigory? What measures had they ‘seen to’? What measures had they ‘put into place’ to insure that he need not consummate their marriage, 25

Morgan LeShay should he consent to such a farce? That thought and the other equally irritating ones that followed caused him to growl out his words. “The lady is sheer and utter perfection, as well you know!” Theodric Grigory studied the perplexed frown upon the young man’s face for a long moment. Finally he spoke. “Sheer perfection, indeed. And ‘tis that which distresses you most, is it not?” Devlin did not deign to answer. Mr. Grigory removed the several sheaves of parchment from the desktop that he’d brought in earlier. “As I said, my lord, you have until dawn. Until that time, your companions await you in the East Wing.”

26

Chapter Four “You can still change your mind, you know.” Tian turned her head, glanced up at Theodric, and smiled. “Nay, Theodric, I cannot, for I do not wish to.” Indeed, she did not want to call a halt now, not when she was ever closer to attaining her goal. Having seen Lord Syndale up close, she only wanted him more. Never would she forget how he had looked, standing there with Theodric, his awe and wonder at the sight of her written plainly on his face. She felt a bit guilty for her part in causing that particular reaction, but thought she must have felt much the same as he. The sheer maleness of him had nigh overcome her senses. He was taller than she’d first thought, and so big! Not excessively large, but broad and firm and...her breath caught from the mere thought of him. His presence had dominated the room. Should she see him every minute of every day for the rest of her life, she thought, ‘twould still not be enough. He was simply divine, and the possibility that he might soon be her husband thrilled her to no end. ‘Twas all she could do to keep from dancing gleefully about the parlor in reaction to her pending good fortune. And his eyes...She sighed. ‘Twould take the very word of an angel to convince her she could not see heaven within those delightfully electrifying green orbs, for gazing into them, she’d felt blissfully, vitally alive. She wrapped her arms about Theodric’s neck, hugging him tight in her happiness. Tears misted her eyes and she blinked them away. “Thank you so much, Theo. I could not have done this without you.” He returned her embrace, uncurled her limbs from around his neck, and held her slender fingers in his hands, his concerned gaze searching her eyes. He still very much worried she might 27

Morgan LeShay later regret the decision she had made concerning Lord Syndale and Valholen. “’Tis not yet done, my lady,” he said. “Are you certain you would not prefer that I go to him now and simply give him the title to the property? We could reach Winterhaven by nightfall tomorrow, do we leave with the dawn.” Tian plucked at the fine damask fabric of the sofa, worried her bottom lip with her teeth. She lifted her troubled gaze to his. “Theo, is there anything in your life you would change, should you somehow be afforded the chance to go back and do it again?” He studied her pensively. “Why do you ask?” She beseeched him with her gaze, imploring, desperately hoping he could somehow understand her motivations. “I cannot come back to this point in my life ever again, Theo, and I feel that this might be my only chance at true happiness.” She glanced away, and then back again. A tiny, wry grin lifted the corner of her lips. “Though I much fear it might reveal itself to be my biggest mistake as well, I also feel...” She paused and closed her eyes. She greatly wanted him to understand what was in her heart, but knew she could not make him see something that even she could not understand. “I also feel that should I choose another path over this one, Theo, that would prove to be my mistake. I fear I might never again find the contentment I believe I will have here–with Lord Syndale.” She frowned, distracted by her own confusion with the matter, her own longings and uncertainty. “Do you see my dilemma?” Instead of answering, he asked, “You do realize that did you but let it be known who and where you are, there would be many clamoring to you, vying for your hand, do you not? You could have your pick of eligible young men, Tian. Do not be hasty in this decision, I beg of you.” Her smile was rueful yet again. “Vying for my inheritance, you mean...and my title.” She lay her head back against the sofa, her thoughts racing ahead to possible future moments of bliss with her soon to be new husband, until his words came back to haunt her fantasies. “Marriage? Dear, addled man, I think not!” 28

Redemption She frowned. Lord Syndale did not want to marry her. Nor any woman, for that matter. “Do you think he will do it, Theodric? Wed me, I mean?” Theodric arched a brow. Had she ever really doubted Lord Syndale would eventually agree to marry her? He thought not. “Of course, my dear. He wants the monastery very much,” he teased. Her gaze flew to meet his, and he could see by her fallen expression that her hopes had plummeted. “You think that alone will sway him?” Theodric laughed at her obvious disappointment in that thought. “Nay, Tian. ‘Twill be naught but your loveliness that changes his mind, if anything.” She looked away and a light blush spread across her cheeks. “I am still not so sure about the other. Are you certain ‘twas wise to give him the choice of whether or not to consummate the marriage? To allow him to keep me hidden away here when ‘twas my intention to at last be free of these secret chambers?” Theodric took up the volume she had been reading from earlier and flipped idly through the pages while considering her questions. Had it been wise? He was not certain there had been any wisdom in it, yet he’d felt ‘twas the only way to assure her a chance at that which she so obviously yearned for. Lord Syndale was considered quite a scoundrel and he had very little doubt that the man greatly desired Tian, though his uncertainty about her reality troubled him. Theodric held back a laugh. Obviously, Tian’s angelic appearance had been quite unsettling to the young man, which was precisely his intention. ‘Twould hopefully temper Lord Syndale’s desire a bit, though he knew it would not go away. Well he knew the result Tian’s unusual beauty brought, and its effect on the Viscount would be no different. If any of his decisions were wise, he thought, taking away the choice of whether or not Lord Syndale would be intimate with his new bride was it. ‘Twas a stroke of brilliance. The world might believe the little ruse he’d told Tian about, but Lord Syndale would ever be conscious of the fact that he had not touched his lady–not even once. Theodric chuckled at his own ingenuity, for he surmised ‘twould cause the randy young rakehell to think of little else. 29

Morgan LeShay As to Tian’s remaining hidden...’Twas the only way he knew Tian could be certain her young man chose her for herself and not the monastery or her title and inheritance, should he perchance learn of it–to give Lord Syndale the option of continuing as if he were not married at all. Were Devlin an honorable man, ‘twould not be long ‘ere he crowed the news of his nuptials to all and sundry. Should he prove to be the despicable rake his reputation claimed, should he truly abhor the thought of marriage and all it entailed...Tian might well remain here at Valholen forever...caught in a trap of her own making. Theodric studied his young charge. He knew she had not yet considered those points, but soon she would and he wanted her to have some method of knowing the true direction of her young man’s intentions. He leaned close and patted her hand gently. “Only time will reveal the lay of it, child. Only time.” Her anxious visage revealed her worry over what decision Lord Syndale would make, and there was naught Theodric could say to ease her mind on the matter. Indeed, ‘twas likely already decided. Lord Syndale’s unquestionable dislike of the matrimonial state should have given her the answer already, were she not so loathe to accept it. “You do realize he may yet refuse to wed, do you not?” A quick nod gave her affirmation, but Theodric could see she little favored the idea. He watched her closely as he spoke, to better judge her understanding of his words. “Tian, there is a distinct, indeed, highly likely possibility that this stipulation of marriage, this one thing, will put an end to Lord Syndale’s eager pursuit of the monastery. He’s been very decisive and very resolute about not wanting to marry,” he cautioned. “I know.” Her gaze dropped, hiding her reaction though her whisper sounded oddly pained. Her fingers twisted in the fabric of her gown, and her brow knit. “There is naught for you to concern yourself over, Theo, for ‘tis doubtful he’ll go through with it.” “Aye, but should he decide to go through with it, Tian, you are prepared to follow through with the terms we discussed earlier, are you not?” 30

Redemption She sighed, nodding. “Of course, Theo. I would not think to do otherwise.” Theodric shifted in his seat, a bit disgruntled, for he wished there were some way he could force her understanding of his meaning, without having to practically spell it out for her. “Tian, my child, I know you would never think to do other than what you agreed but I fear you might not realize the full scope of the terms you stipulated. For you.” She frowned, her confusion evident in her troubled gaze, and Theodric looked upward in silent supplication for help from a higher source. “I know you are wont to see the good in everyone, Tian, and there is nothing wrong with that. But, I caution you, do not turn a blind eye to that which is not so good.” “Theo, what is it you are trying to say?” “I am saying the terms we offered were basically to allow him to continue as he has in the past–until such a time as he decides he does not mind admitting to his new status as a married man.” He waited a moment for his words to sink in, to penetrate her otherwise troubled thoughts, and then continued. “That being the case, I would warn you not to expect much from him. He is a bachelor, which means he is used to thinking of only himself, providing for and seeing to only his own needs. Are you prepared for this?” She laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “Theodric, you are forgetting Lord Syndale’s status. I am certain he is more accustomed to having others see to his needs than seeing to them himself.” His brow rose at her condescending tone. “Perhaps. But do not forget your own connection to the aristocracy, my dear. Do not be harsh toward him for enjoying that which you could have enjoyed, but denied yourself. Your young man has other needs as well, to which his reputation well attests. Are you aware that he has a mistress in London?” Her look of disdain turned to a crestfallen one. “Nay, I was not aware of that.” She rose from the settee and paced about the room. “Theodric, it appears you are saying Lord Syndale might choose to simply forget about me, even if he does marry me. Is 31

Morgan LeShay this what you seek to caution me about?” “I am saying that it is a possibility you must consider. Remember you agreed not to chain him with the public burden of having a wife he did not want. You’ve promised to remain hidden here, not necessarily his wife in truth, but definitely in secret. He is thus relieved of the need to behave in any more ‘circumspect’ a manner than he has in the past. Knowing this, think about the inevitable. When the time comes that he finally decides to announce you as his wife...” She did. She did not like the thought. “I would then be forced to bear the brunt of public ridicule,” she finished for him. “Theodric, please. That is not the life I had envisioned for myself, and I cannot believe that Lord Syndale would be so coldhearted. Surely he would not behave so cruelly.” Theodric sighed. “’Tis quite possible, my dear. Well I know the nature of these young rogues. No sense of honor, no sense of morality. They simply do as they please and hang the consequences, never thinking of those hearts they break in the process. ‘Tis just this sort of thing I tried to warn you about before...” Tian worried the material of her gown with her fingers, bunching the fabric within her hand and releasing it, again and again, in her agitation. Uncertainty tore at her. Had she made the wrong decision? ‘Twas not at all the sort of thing she had conjured in her thoughts, this picture Theodric painted, and she could not believe the things he’d said in regards to Lord Syndale might be true. She shook her head. “I have made my choice, Theodric, and I will stand by it. I do not see Lord Syndale as being so dishonorable, but should he prove to be such a...” She drew in a steadying breath. “Should he prove himself to be the wretched villain you have portrayed, I will do what I feel I must do at that time.” Tian pondered the things Theodric had said, much surprised by the distress she felt when her thoughts turned to the mistress he’d mentioned. What did the woman look like? What was her appeal? She fretted over it, but took heart that the woman’s allure was obviously not overly strong, for clearly she had yet to win a promise of marriage from her lover. Just as quickly, her ease dissipated. ‘Twas clear, now more 32

Redemption than ever, that Lord Syndale had no need for a wife. He’d already acquired all that he wanted. All but Valholen.

33

Chapter Five Devlin sat in the chair he’d dropped into long after Mr. Grigory had departed, his thoughts distracted and chaotic. The tapers burned low in their stands and the fire died down to a slow smolder. He noticed none of it, not even the chill that crept in, permeating the room with its nippy edge. The mere concept of binding himself for life to the mysterious lady he’d spoken to earlier was wholly inconceivable to his confused mind. Her appearance was one of such...purity, such innocence–while he could only be described as directly the opposite. Why she would consider him a choice husband, his being a man steeped in the corruption of a wicked life much of his own making, was beyond him. He wanted her, yet winced at the mere thought of performing any one of even his less consequential seduction techniques on her, feeling that if he touched her–even once–she would be fallen from grace forevermore. His dilemma, however, stemmed from the insane desire he felt for her despite this. How did one seduce an angel? Indeed, could one perpetrate such an act? He thought not. Otherwise he would simply turn his thoughts to seduction and forget the idea of marriage altogether. He would simply seduce the lady and have done with it as his body clamored for him to do. Her guileless appearance held him back, made him feel she deserved more. Yet, he felt completely inept in his ability to give her that which she deserved. He realized that to her, his life would likely appear wholly debased. Did she but know of his past, she would condemn him out of hand, leaving him without a hope for redemption. Considering his present lifestyle, ‘twas clear neither she nor Mr. Grigory knew aught about him. Over a span of years, he’d made a name for himself by being quite adept at seducing any 34

Redemption woman he so desired. The idea of marriage had never entered his mind, except as a trap to be wary of as he pursued his less than acceptable endeavors. It irritated him beyond tolerance that he would consider it even now. Marriage had always held little merit as far as he was concerned, no matter whom the other party might be. ‘Twas his own cynicism, in regards to the institution of marriage that kept him from entering the holy state. Too many times vows made were simply ignored in favor of a lusty tryst with someone who offered a moment’s passion, an instant’s respite from the boredom of a somewhat less than exciting life. He’d yet to find a woman who would deny herself the fleeting moment of pleasure and uphold her vows instead. Firsthand, he had learned marriage vows brought with them no assurances of fidelity. Of the women on whom he’d built his reputation, far more than he cared to admit had been married. Now, he’d been presented with the availability of a woman whose beauty and comportment went against everything he could have ever imagined possible. She appeared as some mysterious angel, the only woman he’d ever felt unworthy to gaze upon, even from a distance. She humbled him and ignited his passions in one and the same instant. Nay, he would not marry her, he decided. That he’d even considered a match between the two of them was ludicrous. He would offer another five thousand pounds for the monastery, but he would not marry the lady to get it. ‘Twould be his final concession, and he’d not give a single farthing more. “Where the hell are you, Dev?” Gunther, Lord Edlington, called from outside the rectory. Devlin sat up abruptly, remembering at just this moment that he’d forgotten his friends, who were waiting for him below. “In here,” he called. Spurred by a sudden reluctance to have the lady meet up with his far less scrupulous friends, Devlin hurried to meet Gunther at the door. Stepping outside the chamber, he closed the door firmly behind him and headed downstairs, wishing he’d thought to turn the key in the lock as well. He scoffed silently in recognition of his intentions. He 35

Morgan LeShay would not bind himself to the lady, but he didn’t want anyone else to know of her existence here until he’d made his own decision unalterable. “My apologies, Gunther. My dealings with Mr. Grigory took a bit longer than I had anticipated.” “A hell of a lot longer,” Gunther complained. He shivered, shook his arms briskly and frowned. “Be damned, Syn, why did you ever think you wanted to live in this frigid pile of rocks?” Devlin flinched, hoping the lady was well out of earshot. “Mind your language, Gun, and let’s get below to the fire.” Ignoring his friend’s look of surprise at his admonition to mind his language–a concept foreign to the both of them under normal circumstances–Devlin bounded down the stairs, urging him along. A fire roared in the hearth in the main room, trying with all its might to extinguish the cold from the air, but too little avail. Devlin strode toward it, more intent upon staring deeply into the twisting orange and red flames while still trying to dissect the events of the past hours than warming himself. “So, you’ve retrieved our host, have you? What happened Syn? Lose yourself within the many corridors and secret chambers here?” Devlin jerked about so suddenly he almost stumbled over Jerrin, or Lord Putney, who was right behind him. “Secret chambers?” he demanded, his mood suddenly foul. If Jerrin had perchance come upon the lady, he’d... A grin lighted Jerrin’s boyish visage and Devlin’s blood ran cold. He could see a flicker of barely concealed eagerness in the lad’s eyes, and he liked it not. “Then there are secret chambers here? Hell’s teeth, men, what an adventure ‘twill be to discover them all, eh, Syn?” “No one shall be roaming about my home with such a purpose in mind, Putney,” Devlin growled. “Is that clear?” By God, he’d string up the first one he caught snooping about! Jerrin’s eager smile diminished and a cautious look of curiosity entered his gaze. “Of course not, old man,” he said, nodding slightly in deference to Devlin’s barely concealed order. He spun about. “Gads, ‘tis freezing in here! I’ll wager you won’t last a single winter here, Syn.” 36

Redemption Devlin laughed. “A glutton for punishment, are you, Putney? Seems you should have learned your lesson from the last five wagers in which you cast odds upon against me. I never lose.” From the curious looks his companions had been casting in his direction, Devlin realized his manner this evening appeared quite odd. The idea vexed him because he knew she was the cause of his strange behavior. Damn and blast! It annoyed him that he’d altered his normal demeanor on the grounds that she might hear or see him. He scowled, crossing to pick up a worn volume from the table nearest the fire. “It is beyond me why I allowed myself to take you two up on this latest wager, though, damned if it isn’t. You are right. This pile of rocks, as you called it, Gun, is heathenish cold, is it not?” He glanced up from his somewhat distracted perusal of the leather bound manuscript to peer casually about the chamber, wondering what other hidden chambers lay behind the thick inner walls of the monastery. Was it possible that even now she was somewhere nearby, watching him, hearing all that he had to say? His eyes narrowed as he scanned the room carefully with his gaze, looking for some sign of another such hidden portal as the one he’d discovered in the rectory. Seeing nothing that led him to believe there might be a door leading from this room, he allowed himself to relax a bit, determined to assume his usual, casual manner with his companions. He had no desire whatsoever for his friends to decide he was indeed acting peculiar this evening and become caught up in the excitement of determining the reason behind his sudden strangeness. ‘Twould certainly come to no good, he thought. His thoughts drifted to the wildly insane wager, upon which he’d taken up the gauntlet, and he shook his head. Had his friends’ one inkling of what winning would require of him, they would be rolling about the cold stone floor in uncontrollable laughter, delighted at having so confounded him. He was glad they knew nothing of the lady or her outrageous terms, for did either of them so much as look upon the mysterious St. Valentine’s Angel, he greatly feared what his own reaction might be. He had no yearning to make her his 37

Morgan LeShay wife, but he was damned if he wanted either of these two bungling fops to have her either. Time crawled until finally, the hour grew late. Devlin’s need to see the lady again filled him like some living thing–an enchantment he could not hope to escape, though he had fought it these few hours. Unable to bear even a single moment more without seeking her out, if for nothing more than to look upon her once more, he faked a yawn and rose, bidding his companions good night, and then waited patiently for them to settle in their chambers before climbing the stairs to the rectory. With no hesitancy at all this time, he turned the key in the lock, crossed to the bookcase, slid his fingers over the catch, and pushed against the shelving. “I am here, my lord,” she called softly, and he turned. She sat upon the divan, holding a book in one hand–the other she held pressed against her chest as if she’d been frightened and sought to steady the frantic beating of her heart. Mr. Grigory was nowhere to be seen. They were alone. Devlin felt decidedly uneasy about being alone with her, for his desire and his uncertainty about whether or not she was real warred against each other. He yearned to touch her once more, to ascertain, once and for all, that she was whole. He wanted to pull her close against his body, which heated to burning from a single thought of her. Yet, his doubt plagued him with questions. Was she sublime? Was she real or was she indeed a divine creation? His body desperately wanted to believe she was quite human, but his mind had little wont to experience the sure and sudden destruction he knew he would suffer did he err and attempt to seduce an angel. “You should be abed, lady,” he said, amazed to hear the breathiness of his own voice. He drew in air, deep and calming. Damn! His voice became so unsteady when he was near her that he wished he’d not spoken at all. She shook her head. “Nay, my lord. We have much to discuss.” She had been waiting for him? He stared at her, feeling an equal mixture of both curiosity and accusation. Had she been watching him from some chamber he knew naught about after 38

Redemption all? “How did you know I would return?” he demanded. Her only answer was a soft, knowing smile before she took up the taper from its holder and stood. “You have made your decision, my lord? Does your desire for Valholen still hold in that you are willing to accept me as your bride to have it?” Devlin did not answer. Instead, he stepped toward her cautiously, half fearing she would disappear and just as terrified she would not, for then he would be forced, albeit of his own volition, to rein in his desire for her. He reached out, his fingers closing over her linen–covered arm. He felt much placated to find her firm and whole beneath his touch, yet fought a groan for ‘twas all he could do to restrain himself from pulling her close against him. He breathed in the scent of her, thinking surely no earthly creature had a right to appear so utterly perfect. At this moment, he wanted nothing more than to kiss her senseless. Slowly, watching her face carefully as he did so, he pulled her closer. Would she balk did he attempt to steal a kiss from those perfectly shaped pink lips of hers that glistened so invitingly before his fervent gaze? He sighed, thinking that of a certainty she would. She chuckled low, and the seductive resonance of the sound in such direct contradiction to her angelic appearance dragged a ragged groan from his throat an instant before his lips touched hers, further igniting his desire for her. For a moment, he wondered whether he was the seducer or the seduced. He was ‘Lord Syn’, Master of Seduction, yet he was the one responding to her every tug on the strings of his desire, he was the one forgetting all the reasons he should definitely resist her allure. Especially the reason concerning the nature of her creation...Was she divine angel of innocence or diabolical seductress? A feeling of tenderness possessed him, an unexpected need to treasure each moment he spent in her company, each look, each touch. Shaken, he drew away and released her, taking care to put a good distance between the two of them. He bit back a curse. Heaven forbid he should act dishonorably with her only to learn ‘twould cost him his immortal soul. 39

Morgan LeShay “See, my lord? I am indeed quite real.” Her husky voice and slow, tremulous smile brought every one of his senses roaring immediately and fully back to attention, alert to her every breath. She crossed her arms in front of her middle, rubbing lightly at them. Devlin removed his cloak and stepped near once more to drape it about her shoulders. “You’re cold,” he observed. She didn’t answer, but simply snuggled deeper into the garment, her gratefulness for its warmth obvious in her contented sigh. She was quite an image wearing his cloak, he thought. The black garment covering the startling whiteness of her gown made her appear less the ‘untouchable heavenly creature’ and much more delectably earthy. Devlin smiled at the comparison until the same likening, but a moment later, brought his brows slicing sharply downward in a fierce scowl. It was almost as if ‘twere an omen, he thought, that somehow his dark presence in her life might cause her brilliant purity to be marred. “Have you decided you value your freedom more than possession of Valholen, Lord Syn?” she asked, distracting him from his somber thoughts. He cringed at her use of his shortened title. Lord Devlin Montaign, Viscount Syndale was his actual title but his wicked reputation had earned him the moniker of Lord ‘Syn’. It bothered him now to know the nickname more than appropriately described his lifestyle. Nay, it disturbed him that she might realize its appropriateness, and that upset him all the more. He considered her words for a moment, knowing she watched him carefully. He wondered how she felt about it all, how the repercussions of his decision would affect her. Had she no care that she would be bound to a man of his reputation? Or perhaps her situation was so dire she was being forced to choose a husband to redeem some sin of the flesh she had committed that was not yet readily apparent. That would definitely explain her eagerness to not consummate the marriage despite the way she had spoken it earlier, as if she was willing to forego the duty to spare him being forced to perform an undesirable task. He studied her closely, his heart and mind refusing to believe her capable of contriving such a scheme of her own will. 40

Redemption Nay, he decided. She was not carrying. So why this seemingly urgent need for a husband? There must surely be another she would prefer to have as her husband, he thought. The thought sent a rush of fury pounding through him, the reason for which he could not explain. He would not think of it. It did not matter. He knew he must refuse her, for he held no love of the institution of marriage and had no intention of ever being bound by it. Yet, thoughts of what rights being her lawful husband would grant him–the sure knowledge that he could hold her close, touch her at his leisure–sent eagerness pouring through him. Images of her beneath him, her eyes dark with passion, tortured him. ‘Twas absurd, the way she affected him, he thought. She had no right to influence his emotions, and he’d be damned if he’d let her opinion or her passions sway him in this matter. “I will wed you,” he said at last, but quickly. Too quickly. Too late, he realized he’d spoken the answer he’d not meant to give. And, for some reason he could not yet fathom, he hesitated to call back the words. She nodded. “If you will follow me, Mr. Grigory is waiting for us beyond the first set of brackets.” She looked at him then, a wry smile twisting her winsome lips. “He knew you would choose Valholen.” Devlin followed her, although he was uncertain whether he had chosen the monastery, or the very delectable angel held within its walls.

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Chapter Six The glare of sunlight, pouring through the high arched windows in his chamber, woke Devlin from sound sleep. The gleam reflected off a thick, new blanket of snow that had fallen in the night, creating a frozen winter wonderland outside the solid stone walls of the monastery, making it appear doubly bright. Squinting against the glare, he turned his head, slowly inspecting the sparse chamber where he had spent the night, anxiously searching for the angelic vision that had haunted his dreams. Had he really gone through with it? He groaned in misery, for he could vaguely remember standing before the priest, quoting promises he’d never thought to speak. He also remembered asking the cleric, Mr. Grigory, to stay at the monastery, as he had need of several servants here, until his own staff could arrive from London. The most clear of his memories from the night before, however, was that of the lady’s shy smile when the priest had pronounced the deed done. They were married. Unless he had dreamed the whole of it? Had she blushed when Devlin was invited to seal the oath with a kiss? He could not remember, though he knew he’d very much wanted to touch his lips to hers, to re-discover the taste of her. He hoped he had soon retired here to this chamber, alone, but he was not at all certain he had, for ‘twas here that his dreams and reality merged. He knew not which was which. He rolled onto his side, rubbed his hands across his eyes, and searched the room once more. Beside the bed he’d slept in was a single table with naught upon it but a taper in its holder, half-gone. A chair sat near the now cold fire; its age evident in the wear upon once fine fabric. His clothes from the day before lay across one arm of the chair. The floor was bare, and the 42

Redemption windows were not covered. He turned slightly to view the door behind him, securely closed and locked. There was no evidence here to prove that sometime in the night he had blithely given up his bachelor status, no memory other than his dreams of holding an angel within his arms, loving her through the night. He hadn’t done it after all, he thought, much relieved. It had been a dream, nothing more. Hell’s teeth, the woman would have to be insane to have gone through with it anyway. What woman would ever put her trust in him? None, he was sure of it. At this point in his life, Devlin sincerely doubted that he could ever find a woman who, knowing of his past, could believe he would remain faithful. Last night had most definitely been a dream, he decided. That was the only logical, acceptable explanation. A very vivid dream by all accounts, but a dream nonetheless. He sat up on the edge of the bed and reached for his clothes, uncomfortable with the heavy weight of disappointment that settled upon him like a damp, woolen mantle. ‘Twas illogical that he should be disappointed to discover he hadn’t betrayed his bachelorhood after all, and he liked it not. “Good morn, my lord.” With a start, Devlin dove from the bed, ready to fight. He stood, naked as the day he was born, staring in amazement at the startled, brightly flushed face of his wife. “Hell’s teeth, you are real,” he said, his voice laced with astonishment. In the cold light of day, she was more beautiful than he had dreamed her to be. He stared at her, benumbed, for though he now knew that he hadn’t dreamed part of last night’s events–her presence alone in his room proving without a doubt the two of them had wed–he perceived with a keen sense of doom the enormity of what he had done in relation to his lifestyle. Her lips turned upward a bit hesitantly, a dark blush now staining her creamy cheeks to a rosy hue. She kept her gaze downcast. “I believe we established that yester eve, milord.” Her presence, alone with him in this chamber, forced him to realize the speaking of the vows had actually occurred. This realization, coming so soon after he had rationalized that he’d 43

Morgan LeShay dreamed the ceremony, caused him to stifle the regretful moan rising inside him. How could he have done it? How could he have given up his whole way of life so easily, by promising himself to her, to have gained naught from it? The monastery could have been bought, he was sure of it. But he would not be able to purchase his freedom from this bondage he’d wrought. Nay, not and retain any whit of his honor. She pushed a bundle toward him. “Theodric bade me bring you these. ‘Tis the marriage documents and...and the other necessities.” She held the objects out to him but averted her gaze, refusing to look at him any more than she had to. Devlin noted the dark blush staining her cheeks once more, her downcast gaze, but he could not discern the cause of it any more than he understood the significance of the parcel she continued to hold out to him. He stared, uncomprehendingly, at the assortment she offered for several silent seconds before it finally dawned on him just what the objects were. Beneath a sheaf of rolled parchment, she held a wadded clump of linen. It was a bed sheet, he finally noticed when she hurriedly pushed the bundle into his hands, and of which a portion had been liberally stained with what he assumed was chicken’s blood. ‘Twas a ruse; one with which he was well familiar. After all, he’d been the one responsible for more maidens than he cared to remember at this moment, needing an alternate method of proving their questionable innocence to their grooms. He had the decency to feel ashamed. “My apologies, lady...” he began, but then broke off. Damn, but he couldn’t remember her given name, and he couldn’t bring himself to call her Lady Syndale. Not yet. “Tian,” she whispered. “’Tis Tian,” she said again, glancing toward, and then swiftly away from him. Apparently, she was not comfortable with what she saw. Finally, she simply gazed at the floor. Devlin frowned, his ego feeling the prick of her refusal to look at him. ‘Twas not the usual reaction of a woman who ventured into his chambers. In an effort to show her a bit of his usual charming nature, he grinned and bowed deeply from the waist. “Of course. My apologies, Tian,” he said. Only then did 44

Redemption he remember his nakedness. For the first time since he was a green lad, untried and with his first willing miss, Devlin felt himself blush, from the roots of his dark hair to the tips of his toes. Tossing the bundle she’d handed him to the floor, he grabbed the coverlet from the bed and hastily wrapped it around himself. He looked up in time to see her reach for the door. “I’ll trust you to keep everything safe, my lord,” she mumbled hastily and turned the key in the lock. Devlin struggled with his unexpected embarrassment and with trying to pull the coverlet more securely about him, hurrying to her side all the while. Damned, but he didn’t like the things she made him feel! Were it any other female, he would have chuckled at her maidenly modesty and proceeded to delight her with his skill. Yet, this one...this one had him blushing like a child. He caught the door, closing it even as she pulled it open. “Wait! Where are you going? Have you eaten already?” She nodded, but kept her gaze securely fastened to the floor, still refusing to look at him. “Early this morn, my lord.” Devlin scowled, glancing to the window where he could see the sun burned high. “Tis late?” She nodded again, and then looked up at him finally, her clear sapphire eyes sparkling with some unknown merriment in the morning light. Immediately, he reacted to the warmth in her gaze, feeling that she’d somehow captured his thoughts, forcing him to think of only her for as long as their gazes held. He looked away, breaking the hold, and reached down to re-adjust the sheet he’d hastily draped around his nakedness. “Indeed, my lord. Your friends were up hours ago. They have been waiting for you,” she said. He studied the open honesty of her gaze, feeling a twist in the region of his gut. He hoped she hadn’t spoken with his friends, for if she had, what then would he say to them? How could he explain his neglect to mention the immediacy of his upcoming nuptials when they were in residence the entire time? Recalling his own reaction when first he’d seen her, he thought it might have been fun to have watched from a distance if she had approached his companions, for his lady-wife had certainly astonished him with her heavenly appearance. He didn’t 45

Morgan LeShay think either of the young lords who had accompanied him here to Valholen would react any differently to her. From what he had seen of her so far, no other could come close to the sheer perfection she exuded–without even trying. “You have spoken to them?” His reluctance for her to do so must have been discernable in his tone, because the change in her was mercurial. A sadness came over her, from the now resigned slump of her posture to the dimness that replaced the warm sparkle in her eyes, which had glimmered so brightly but a moment before. ‘Twas like a palpable dearth of gladness from her spirit and it disturbed him. She shook her head, setting her tawny tresses aflutter, stirring the soft scent of warm roses that was the essence of her. “Of course not, my lord. I am but a vapor among the breezes, a bright and glittering light few have seen, and less still have touched. I am St. Valentine’s Angel, Lord Syndale, and as such, remain an elusive prisoner within the secret halls of the monastery I am bound to.” It was the first time Devlin had seen any hint of unhappiness in her, and he liked it not. He disliked her words even more. Worse still, he detested the realization that her distress touched him in any way. Mr. Grigory had said she had been protected from the ugliness of the world, and of that he had no doubt. No one, he thought, could be subjected to the vagaries of society and retain the unsullied innocence and purity, which seemed to be the very heart, the very essence of his lady-wife. She had most assuredly been protected from life’s many evils, and of that fact, Devlin found he was glad. But it seemed awfully unfair for her to have been deprived of knowing its beauties as well. He removed his hand from where he’d been holding the door and rested it instead on her shoulder, gently caressing her, wishing he could ease her plight. What held her prisoner to the dark chambers and corridors of the manse? Of a certainty, he had never seen her here before, yet she seemed well familiar with the place. A niggling awareness that he should recall something pricked him, but he could not bring 46

Redemption to mind what it was. He sighed. “I must apologize again, it seems, for I never meant that you should not have spoken with them. ‘Tis only that...” He sought the words to explain his hesitance, but none were forthcoming. He was much relieved to know she hadn’t spoken to his companions. Now he wouldn’t have to explain why he’d not apprized them of the situation. Neither would he have to say he’d married his wife because ‘twas the only way he could attain the monastery. Not that he was entirely certain that had been his reason for doing the deed anyway, but he preferred not to examine his motives too closely, as of yet. But he could tell her none of this, for ‘twas bound to hurt her in some way. She gazed deeply into his eyes and he could almost swear he felt her turmoil as if ‘twere his own. “You are prepared to announce our marriage?” she asked, her voice a calm whisper of hope that pierced straight to the core of him. He groaned and would not meet her eyes. ‘Twas the one thing he least wanted to do at this moment, though he doubted she would understand his reasoning. She touched him. She reached out and laid her palm against his cheek in the softest of caresses, a gentle smile curving her lips, and he could not deny the urge to pull her close. She held back, and he did not force her into his embrace, but could not make himself release her entirely either. “I understand, my lord,” she said, though he knew she could not possibly. “’Tis not easy for one to change their entire way of life overnight, and I’d not rush you in this.” That she would attempt to ease his dissension, letting his desires supercede her own, touched him in a way he could not quite explain. Indeed, every minute that he passed in her company she touched him in some inexplicable way, making him yearn for a minute more. She was an enigma, a mystery to solve, and a soothing balm to the ache in his dark, bleak soul. “Thank you,” he said, for he could think of naught else he could say that would be appropriately appreciative of her gesture. 47

Morgan LeShay She nodded and opened the door. ‘Twas then he realized she had entered the room by some method other than the door, for he distinctly remembered watching her turn the key in the lock moments before when she started to leave. But she’d already fled the room before he could remark on the fact, gone without another word.

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Chapter Seven Devlin cursed the snow, not for the first time today, for it kept his erstwhile companions at Valholen, his household staff in London, and it kept him from seeking out his lady. In truth, he could not understand the urgent desire he felt for wanting to seek her out, but thoughts of her were ever uppermost in his mind. Again, he thought she must have cast some enchantment over him, and was decidedly uneasy with the idea. However, since he’d asked Lord Edlington and Lord Putney to accompany him here, albeit that he’d only asked them so he’d be allowed to gloat about his winning the wager against his obtaining the monastery, he felt he should at least endeavor to entertain them some small bit. He dearly would have preferred it, however, if ‘twould have been Merrick he had invited in their stead. That one, he thought, would have sought out his own entertainment, leaving Devlin free to come and go as he pleased. Of all his friends, Merrick, Lord Jennings, was the one who knew him best, for they had been the closest over the past years. Like brothers, he often thought, though they could just as easily have been deadly enemies–as well they might have become, were Merrick actually here. The mere thought of Merrick anywhere near his wife caused a reaction he’d as soon not analyze at the moment. He was well aware of Merrick’s character. His favored pastime was that of careless disregard for the rules, whatever they might be–including those surrounding the sanctity of the union which bound a man and his wife together for eternity. Even as Devlin himself had been, prior to his sudden marriage, Merrick was much the rakehell. In fact, Merrick’s friends, though few, had taken great delight in dubbing him exactly that–the Rakehell. And Devlin 49

Morgan LeShay had long counted himself among the worthy number of Merrick’s small circle of friends. Yet, he had no doubt that were Merrick here, were he aware of Tian’s presence in the monastery, that friendship would feel the strain of his possessiveness. Indeed, he knew from past experience that his lady would present the greatest challenge to Merrick’s prowess as a scoundrel seducer of innocents, and Devlin would be forced to kill him, for Merrick would delight in the highly exciting competition winning Tian would offer him. And she would offer the challenge without even being aware of it. Her purity would draw him, her artless truth would hold his interest, and her body would determine the matter. He thought of the many dawns he’d stood upon the field of honor with Merrick at his side, his loyal second. He would have chosen none other, for Lord Jennings was quite adept with a firearm, second only to Devlin’s own prowess. But when he thought of Tian... Though it displeased him immensely, he was suddenly, acutely aware that he would duel to the death even his best, most loyal friends, should they be foolish enough to touch his wife. Hell, he’d be tempted to kill them did they even look at her. His newfound possessiveness was shocking in its intensity. Tian was his, yet he feared for that fact to become public knowledge. Nay, what he feared was that once others knew of her existence, they would be drawn to her, much as he himself had been. He greatly preferred to keep her here at Valholen, all to himself. She would remain his very precious, most fervently guarded secret, he decided. For now. <><><> Around mid-afternoon, Lord Putney decided to brave the snow and cold to travel on to the warmth of his London townhouse, a bachelor residence near Hyde Park. There he’d be closer to the young maidens he’d made it his personal goal to debauch than he would be holed up here in the ‘House of Syn’, as he and Gunther had jokingly dubbed the monastery. He’d mumbled on and off about heiresses and ghosts, and Devlin had neither the heart nor the desire to try and detain him. That left only himself and Lord Edlington, and a handful of servants whom, Devlin now clearly recalled, his wife had 50

Redemption convinced him to retain at Valholen on the night of their marriage. When Lord Edlington followed him to the rectory a bit later, he heartily wished he could dump that one into the snow “What oddity have you discovered that sends you scurrying back to this miserable parlor, Syn?” he asked just as Devlin was about to turn the key in the lock and go inside. Devlin slipped the key into his pocket, leaving the door locked. “Thought I’d left some documents behind in here last night,” he said. Scowling fiercely at being interrupted, he muttered something about nosy friends and hurried back down the stairs. “I’m half a mind to follow Putney’s lead and hie myself back to London as well. ‘Tis definitely a mite warmer there and I need to see that things are well in order at Montaign.” Gunther eyed him curiously. “Methinks you are hiding something, my friend, and if I didn’t know better, I would vow ‘twas a woman,” he remarked casually as they entered the hall. Devlin stiffened. “Why would you think that? Of a certainty, no female would yearn to be here in this cold place.” Gunther studied him for a moment before he crossed the room to stand near the fire. “You’re right, of course. Must be all those tales Putney told last night and this morn whilst you slept, of ghosts and angels swarming the monastery’s halls.” Devlin’s interest was peaked. “Tales of this monastery? What tales?” Gunther nodded and grinned. “Indeed. I’ve heard this is the favored haunting ground of the infamous St. Valentine’s Angel. I can’t believe you haven’t heard of it before.” “Believe it,” he said. “So tell me about my newly acquired ghost, or ah..., ‘angel’ as it might be.” Warming to the subject now that his host’s interest was assured, he said, “Last winter when my father passed through this area, he rested here for the night. He said…” Devlin’s insides twisted. Had Gunther’s father discovered his wife almost a year ago? “He said?” “He said an angel visited with him here, that she met him in the rectory and that if it hadn’t been for her most sage advise, he and my mother would still be estranged.” Devlin scoffed, remembering Theodric Grigory 51

Morgan LeShay mentioning something about an angel who counseled their occasional visitor on matters of the heart, and hoping to put an end to the subject, he said, “A ghost at Valholen? Nonsense.” Gunther shook his head, quite determined in his tale. “No ghost, but an angel, to hear Father tell it. He swears to this day on Grandmother’s grave that he saw an angel here, a real angel. Purity and glowing light and all that.” He peered at Devlin for a moment, letting his words sink in, then said, “Tell me, Dev, do you think my father would ever grovel at anyone’s feet? Ever?” Devlin snorted. ‘Twas utterly inconceivable that such an event might ever occur in his lifetime. “Your father? Why, I vow he’d meet St. Peter himself with his back ramrod straight and his head cocked in that haughty manner he is so fond of.” Gunther’s gaze all but pierced him, and he nodded. “Exactly, my friend. Father would never grovel–not at anyone’s feet. Nevertheless, he said he would have at hers, had she not commanded him otherwise. Said she just naturally drew that type of reaction from him.” Devlin began to sweat despite the icy chill of the place, for he knew without a doubt, from Gunther’s words, the Earl had definitely met up with his wife here in the monastery a year ago. Just how many people already knew of Tian’s existence here? Blast it all! What was she doing here in the first place, with no family to watch out for her, take care of her? How many of the men she had encountered in Valholen’s corridors knew her for what she was–no pious angel, as she first appeared to be, but a real flesh and blood female? The possibility that any one of them might know upset him to no end. “I wouldn’t put too much credence in such nonsense were I you, Gun. Not that I am calling your father a liar, you understand. It’s just that I have been here many times, and I can assure you that I’ve never encountered any ‘ghost’. And there is no angel which roams Valholen’s halls.” Of course he’d never found the secret passages during any of his previous visits either, Devlin thought, but what he’d said was truth. The lady was real. Gunther dropped heavily into a chair near the hearth and sighed, the frown of confusion on his face attesting to the uncertainty of his thoughts. “I thought as much myself at first, 52

Redemption but Father was truly convinced he’d met an angel within these walls, and I am inclined to wonder why he would be so certain, were it naught but his imagination.” Devlin peered at his friend. “Perhaps he was in his cups at the time,” he suggested. Gunther stood once more and began to pace the floor in front of the fire. “’Twas my thought as well, but Father swears this lady was such a vision to behold he’d not have forgotten a single detail, even if he had been totally foxed. He also swears to this day that he hadn’t drank a drop of spirits.” He shrugged. “I don’t know, Dev. Perhaps he saw someone, perhaps not. Still, the tale certainly makes my hair stand on end…” Devlin felt an icy chill chase itself up the length of his spine. Perhaps he should tell Gunther of his wife’s existence and put an end to the rumors. He considered the idea for all of one minute before dismissing it. “Well you can rest easy, my friend, for I have encountered no phantom or apparition here. I’m sure there is some logical explanation for what your father saw, or thinks he saw, but I assure you no angel or ghost haunts these halls.”

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Chapter Eight Tian put away her sewing and stood, stretching to ease the stiffness in her lower back. She’d spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon trying to finish the tapestry she planned to hang in the main hall, skipping dinner altogether, and now she was hungry. Leaving the parlor that adjoined to her chambers, she headed through the passageways to the kitchens, hoping Maureen had saved her something from dinner. Midge met her at the doorway, hurrying her to the table. “I wondered when you’d get around to feedin’ yourself, milady,” she scolded. Tian shushed her. “Midge, they might hear you!” “Oh posh,” she said, waving Tian’s caution away. “So what if they do? But they won’t. The gentleman and his friends went out ages ago to have a look around. Now sit yourself down here, and let’s see what Missus Maureen left for you.” Tian did as she was told, pulled out a chair and seated herself at the table. It wasn’t near so fine as the one in the dining hall, but Tian preferred this one because here, she didn’t feel the need to watch her every move lest she drop something and scar the table’s perfect surface. “I hope she left a double portion, whatever it is, Midge. I’m starved!” Midge shook her head. “Looks like there weren’t much left after all, milady. Those men sure have healthy appetites! But see here. There’s baked chicken, rice and greens. A bit of steamed carrots, too. Not much, but it’ll have to do.” She wrinkled her nose, obviously displeased by the small amount of food Maureen had set aside for their mistress. Tian smiled at her fussiness. “’Twill do quite splendidly, Midge. Thank you.” Midge pushed a sable curl that had escaped her cap back into place and sniffed. “I’ll see about getting you some bread to 54

Redemption go with that, milady. You just go ahead and get started.” She came back an instant later with two fluffy biscuits and a tumbler of milk, told Tian to call if she needed anything more, and went to see to the preparations she’d begun for the evening meal. Tian had already eaten a fair portion of the food on her plate and was thankful for the drink to wash it down. She finished her meal a bit more slowly now that the worst of her hunger was appeased, and then left the kitchens. She decided to head back to her private parlor and her sewing, but just as she stepped into the main corridor, she heard voices. Lord Syndale and his companions had returned. Just the sound of her husband’s voice sent spirals of heat dancing through her. She halted, listening while he said his farewells to the third member of their party, and then the voices faded. She started again to her chambers, thinking she’d not get the tapestry completed by dallying here in the passages, hungry for even the sound of his voice. Though her intentions were to continue on, she slid the catch to the door of a small antechamber hidden off the main hall instead, and slipped quietly inside. Just one look, she promised herself, and then she’d go back to her sewing. Tiptoeing across the short distance, she leaned close to the wrought-iron grating. The two men had just entered the hall from the direction of the stairway to the rectory and she wondered if perhaps her husband had been searching for her. Had he needed her? She made a mental note to wait for him in the rectory later, just in case. My, he is simply breathtaking, she thought, admiring him from the secret place she’d stood in when first she ever saw him. She spared a glance for Lord Edlington, but that one’s attractiveness paled in significance beside her husband. While Lord Edlington was lean and well built, her husband was strong of limb and solid muscle. Well she knew this from this morning’s revealing. Dark and dangerous, she thought, and not for the first time. Flaming tongues of excitement licked through her, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be held close to his sleek, thickly muscled body she’d viewed in all it’s naked splendor but this morning. 55

Morgan LeShay The heated tingling she’d begun to recognize each time she thought of him filled her and she groaned low. Would the two of them ever have a wedding night? Truly, she had no idea. There was much left unsaid between them, much yet to be revealed, though she earnestly hoped the future would bring them happiness together. She feared her new husband might never come to terms with his ended bachelorhood and never claim her as his wife. Well she realized the possibility that she might not ever be truly free from the innermost parts of the monastery. Lord Syndale had made it quite clear he viewed marriage as the utmost folly. Would she be forever doomed to hide herself away within the secret chambers? She could only hope not. Having spent the past five years hidden within these walls with only Theodric, Maureen, Midge and Charles to see to her well-being, she’d been overcome by the possibilities Lord Syndale’s desire for the monastery had opened up. Now she was glad only Theodric knew of her true circumstance–the real reason she’d stayed out of sight when anyone happened to stop by, either hoping to escape the weather, or to stay for the night. Knowing her husband’s distaste for their situation, she felt ‘twas for the best that he not know all there was to know about her–at least until she could be assured of his loyalty. She only hoped she had time to discover the lay of that loyalty before...no, she would not think of him now. In the outer room, Gunther stopped dead in his tracks where he had been pacing near the fire. Devlin was hard pressed to hide his own reaction to the slow chill that swept through him at hearing the haunting sound. “What the hell was that, Syn?” Gunther demanded, searching ever corner of the room with his now anxious gaze. Devlin finally relaxed, realizing exactly where–or rather ‘who’ the sound had come from. ‘Twas Tian. “Perhaps ‘twas the ghost, Gun,” he teased. Gunther paled visibly. Devlin tossed his head back and howled with laughter. “Be damned, Syn, this no laughing matter, you jackal!” Gunther returned, scowling darkly now. Devlin frowned. His wife was close. If they could hear 56

Redemption her, then she most definitely could hear the two of them. “Mind your language, Gun,” he said without thinking how odd the admonishment would seem to Gunther when the two of them were supposedly the only occupants of the monastery. He thought only of Tian, and of how he felt she was too innocent, too pure of heart to be corrupted by Gun’s foul language. Gunther scowled at him in earnest now. “Something is definitely awry here, Syn. Mind my language? Your French is doubly worse than mine most times, yet you have more than once scolded me since we’ve been here. I am now quite convinced the place is cursed at the very least, for you are becoming quite insane!” Devlin rubbed his hands across his face, and then raked back his unfashionably long hair with his fingers. Gunther was right. He was becoming either insane or he was enchanted, and neither prospect sat well with him. He nodded. “Tomorrow, we ride for London, weather permitting.”

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Chapter Nine It was long past the midnight hour when he sought her out. He could not understand his need to be near her, but something about her definitely called to his soul. He’d made sure Gunther was sleeping soundly before making his way to the rectory and now carefully locked the door behind him. He turned and halted abruptly, catching sight of the fascinating vision that awaited him. She slept. She was lying on the divan in the corner near the fire, the pages of a book folded across her middle. It had obviously fallen there when she drifted off to sleep. He wanted to lift it from her, and place his hand where the book had been, to touch the softness of her. But he knew such thoughts were to tread upon dangerous ground, for though she was his wife, he had no desire to dishonor her innocence with his lustful cravings. Her hair was unbound and spilled down off the couch to pool on the floor beside her, appearing molten amber in the firelight. She lay with one of her arms extended and a single curl lay against the pale skin in the bend of it. Devlin’s breathing refused to return to a normal pace. He simply stood there, watching her dream, wanting to wake her yet awed by the serenity of her in peaceful repose. The flowing white of her gown now lay pressed against her, molded to her body and drifting down off the edge of the divan. She shivered and he moved closer, bent down to touch her shoulder and shook her slightly. The sight of her slow wakening, of her slender body stretching and unfurling sent a fire of craving through him. Images of what he might find beneath her flowing garments near brought him low, and he cursed himself for having such damning thoughts. “Good evening, my lord,” she said, her voice breathy and 58

Redemption heavily laced with sleep. She rose to a sitting position on the couch and he crossed to the fire, still disgusted by his less than pure thoughts, hoping to put enough distance between the two of them that he could refrain from disgracing them both. “Why aren’t you in bed?” “You needed me,” she said by way of explanation. Her words brought his gaze snapping to hers. He needed her? Nay, he needed no one, a wife least of all. He’d made certain of that fact. If he could not do a thing alone, he did not do it at all. He’d lived by that code for too many years to change it all now–especially for a woman. No, he reaffirmed within his own mind, he most definitely did not need her. But when he would have said as much to her, he found he hadn’t the heart to upset her by correcting her misassumption. Instead, he took up the taper she’d obviously used to light the corridor and lit it again within the slowly dying fire. “Come, I’ll see you to your chamber.” He thought she might refuse him and was pleasantly baffled when she nodded and stood to follow him through the secret exit behind the bookcase instead. He paid special attention to her directions as she guided him to her chamber, determined that should she ever disappear within these corridors, he would still be able to find her. Her chamber was located on the floor above his own and was much more comfortably appointed than his. It was somewhat of a shock to him to see the elegantly carved, yet stoutly made bed, the highly polished armoire and several richly gleaming chests and tables within the large room she had made her own. In the far corner closest to the fire, he noted a dressing table upon which rested a silver handled brush, and farther over, a copper tub. His lusts burned once more as thoughts of her seated within its depths, her red-gold hair curling about her breasts above the water tormented his imagination. Though he was keenly aware that he had every right to take her to the bed, lower her thereupon and make love to her until neither of them could move, he felt ashamed of his lustful thoughts concerning her. She is my wife, for Christ’s sake! He thought. Nothing could be shameful about making love to one’s wife! 59

Morgan LeShay Indeed, the voice inside his head jeered, but love has naught to do with your motives, “Lord ‘Syn’”. Devlin could not deny it. He cleared his throat, pushing those disturbing thoughts far from his mind, for none of the things he’d imagined doing to her and with her seemed proper for a man and his wife. Especially not a wife of such pure spirit as Tian seemed to possess. “Your chambers, my lady,” he said, and swept a low bow before her door. She smiled angelically, and Devlin stifled the groan he felt rising within him. It brought to mind the sound he’d heard earlier today, and a slight worry for her filled him. “We…that is… ‘I’ heard you today when Lord Edlington and I were in the hall. Is aught amiss with you? You weren’t...aren’t in pain, are you?” Tian laughed. “Nay, my lord. At least, not as you mean. ‘Twas only a brief discomfort.” He didn’t understand her meaning though he felt a squeeze of emotion within his chest and an unexplainable yearning to remove all her sufferings. The sound of her laughter danced upon his awareness along with the unusual tenderness she wrought inside him, and he looked away, avoiding the intensity of her gaze. “I am sorry to hear of your malady, my lady.” She shook her head and sat upon the edge of her bed, tucking her feet beneath her. “Nay, do not be sorry. ‘Twas nothing, really. Now, let us speak of why you sought me out...” Devlin watched her movements, transfixed. Damn. How could she possibly manage to look so untouchably innocent and so sinfully desirable in the same instant? Even her feet, so tiny and delicately created, stirred his lusts. “There was no reason, lady, other than to tell you I leave for London on the morrow.” She nodded, and then lay over onto her side on the thick downy coverlet and sighed. “I shall await your return, my lord. You will take care?” His gaze roamed the length of her, lying there so at ease with him, a man, in her chambers. He narrowed his eyes, studying her. Such exquisite beauty, he thought. So convincing an act of guilelessness. Was it an act? How many men had she entertained her in her chambers? Or could it possibly be real? How could it be real? Here she was with him, giving no thought whatsoever to 60

Redemption the things he could demand of her now that the two of them were...alone. Surely she either knew plainly what she was about, or she had no idea of the dangers of being alone with him. That he was her husband made little difference to him. He certainly didn’t feel like a husband. Nay, ‘twas more like a man on the rack, tortured and aching. What was she that she could make him feel the things he was feeling? What was she doing here? Why was she alone, but for Mr. Grigory? Where was her family? Indeed, who was her family, and why did she hide herself away within the monastery? So many questions, he thought. The last of them, he asked her. “Why do you hide in the secret halls here?” “I fear I cannot roam the main hall at will, my lord.” “Why not?” Devlin demanded. He could think of no logical reason for her confinement, especially when he would prefer to keep her close. “’Tis your home, is it not? You may make free use of the place.” She lowered her gaze, and shook her head. “I cannot, my lord. I beg you simply remember...Lord Edlington is within the hall even now. Were you prepared to accept me as your wife in truth...how, pray tell, would you explain my presence and our marriage to him?” Her words served to twist the dagger of anger in his gut. If Gunther even once gazed upon her exquisiteness, Devlin thought he might take extreme offense; such was the depths of his response. The emotion–one of possessive jealousy–both frustrated and frightened him, for he had never felt the like of it before. “Unless...Are you prepared to present me now, Lord Syndale? As your legal and rightful wife?” She watched him carefully, he knew, but he could not prevent the scowl that descended upon his brow. She was his wife, aye. Though there was naught he wished to do to change the fact, he was not yet ready to present her to the slavering pack of wolves that posed as gentlemen within the ton. She was the only perfect treasure he had ever discovered, and he didn’t want to risk losing her to someone seeking to steal her away. “I thought not,” she said. A slight frown now marred her brow, and her disturbance nettled him. What worry now plagued her, he wondered? The 61

Morgan LeShay urge to slam his fist against his palm in utter frustration was strong and he barely managed to resist it. He found it quite bizarre, this effect she had on him, and he liked it not. Steeped in the wicked ways of the rogue, with no one to answer to but himself, he did not like the notion that she might find some displeasure with him. More than that, it infuriated him to discover he cared what she thought of him. He had to get away from here, he concluded, to escape this enchantment she was casting over him. And if he was destined to ever feel the prick of her slightest worry, perhaps ‘twould be best if he never returned. His scowl and his mood darkened. Her voice broke the tense silence that had fallen. “My lord,” she said, speaking quietly though the room was silent. “I am quite aware that the notion of your being subdued by our exchanging of the vows has yet to settle peaceably within you. As I promised, I will see to it that Valholen becomes a warm and hopefully cheerful residence in which you can feel proud to entertain your friends and acquaintances. But I will not retreat from my silent sanctuary until such a time as I may emerge as your wife.” “You are my wife, lady,” he almost growled in frustration. “In word, aye. In deed and truth? Nay. I keep my promises, my lord. I have said that I would not pressure you to make this thing between us a real marriage until you are comfortable with it, and I will not. However, circumstance forces me to remain here in secret, a dream, a vision if you will, until that time.” “Why? Are you in some danger?” She arched a tawny, golden brow. “And if I were, my lord?” He studied her in silence for a moment, and then turned and stepped through the doorway. He quit the room, barely catching the words she whispered. “’Tis not such a bad thing, needing someone, my lord.”

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Chapter Ten London was far from exciting. Devlin had been in the city near to a se’ennight when he realized that not one of his old haunts held any interest for him. Neither did the flirtatious debutantes he’d been too eager to corrupt before he’d left for Valholen. The crowd here at Gulley’s Tavern even failed to amuse him. Leaning back against the rough timbers of the wall near the only window on this floor, he glared into his ale, ignoring those around him. It had taken mere days for him to realize the only haunt he was interested in was St. Valentine’s Angel–and she was not in London. Faith, but that realization was unsettling, he thought. Lady Tian was but a woman and no woman had ever snared his thoughts in such a manner as she. It should have been impossible for her to do so as well, especially considering the short amount of time the two of them had spent in each other’s company. Devlin slammed his tankard down upon the table, annoyed that she had chained him to her in less than two days. Body, mind, and.... No, not soul. Not heart, either, for no woman would ever hold his heart. There was none to hold. Yet, thoughts of his lady had plagued him night and day since he’d left Valholen. Every waking moment he spent in wondering how she was passing the time while he was away. Time and again he considered the possibility of his never returning to claim her, of continuing with his life as he had in the past, caring for none but himself–being responsible for only his own welfare. Then came the bleakness, the absurd sense of loneliness that the idea inevitably brought. No matter how he looked at the situation he now found 63

Morgan LeShay himself in, he discovered he was ever eager to return to her gracious presence, though the matter of their marriage tormented him. After spending these past years staunchly avoiding the matrimonial trap, he couldn’t quite understand how he’d managed to fall into it so easily. Most of his time in days past he’d spent playing the role of a rogue–taking what he wanted and damned the consequences. Too many young innocents had fallen under his seductive spell for him to count. However, not one of those he had delighted in introducing to the secret wonders and sinful delights of carnality had managed to touch him as Tian had. Though he touched her not, Tian had managed quite an extraordinary feat, for she alone could rightfully claim his name as her own. Indeed, Tian had accomplished that which no other woman could, though many had tried. With a mere smile, she ensnared him. With her gentle touch, she soothed his objections, and with her enchanting voice, she had called to him, led him right into the ceremony he had avoided for so long. He muttered a dark curse under his breath, for he might as well have carved his oath to her in stone, such had been the sincerity in his tone on that fateful night. He’d promised himself to her, vowed so many things that he’d formerly sworn he would never declare to any woman. He all but came unstrung each time he thought of it. Now she was his wife, bound to him forever by his own words, and he didn’t know what to do. How could he bring her into society with all and sundry knowing–some personally–of his dastardly reputation? Would he be able to protect her innocence when most all of those young debutantes and confident widows would delight in regaling her with tales from his wicked past? Furthermore, could he stand by and watch while every male in London looked at her, spoke to her, stood near to her? Devlin didn’t think he could, although he fully realized that he could not continue to keep her hidden away at Valholen. He also knew he did not have much more time to spend alone with her before someone learned of the change in his status. Though he knew an end to his secret was inevitable, he was loath to hasten its departure. Devlin scowled, lifted his mug and drained the last of the ale from it in one long swallow. Disgusted, he 64

Redemption slammed the mug onto the tabletop and quit the establishment. <><><> Several hours later, the urge to smash something or someone riding him hard, he slammed through the front entrance of the Crimson Dagger, violent of mood and foul of temper. “If you’re looking for a fight, you got here just in time, my friend.” Devlin scowled at his friend, Lord Jennings, who had risen from his seat near the back of the crowded room when he entered. “Damn good thing. I’ve an urge to bloody someone’s face. You volunteering, Jennings?” he called back. Merrick chuckled. “Whoa, ho! Sounds like you got big problems.” Devlin glared. “I could have sworn I just heard over at Gulley’s that you were recently found in a compromising position with Lady Blythesdale a few days ago.” Without waiting for his friend’s confirmation, he shook his head. “Sounds like you have trouble aplenty of your own.” Merrick grinned. “A mere misunderstanding, my friend. The lady lost her handkerchief and I simply helped her to retrieve it.” Devlin cocked a brow, peering at him. “Indeed. Found it amongst her delicates, did you? On her person at that!” Merrick laughed at that and clapped him on the back, leading him toward a table in the rear of the alehouse. “At least I found it, my friend. Looks like you lost something.” Devlin groaned. “Don’t remind me, I beg you. It sounds so virginish, losing one’s freedom.” Merrick’s brow shot up. “You know me better than that, Syn. My freedom is intact. Gads, man, I’m not so foolish as to get caught dallying with the debutantes. So, how is the flavor of the month?” Devlin slid onto the bench and propped his elbows heavily on the table, his hands covering his face. “Caitlianna? I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen her in weeks.” Merrick’s brows dropped. “You haven’t seen her? What the hell has happened to you, Syn?” he asked. Devlin sat back and looked his friend straight in the eye, glaring. “Obviously, I foreswore myself, you ass. What else?” 65

Morgan LeShay Merrick snickered derisively. “I wish I could believe you, friend, but I don’t. How long have you been drinking? Long enough to get ripped, I think.” “No, I am not inebriated, despite my having swilled half the ale in London tonight. Unfortunately, I am as straight as an arrow.” He shrugged. “More the pity.” Merrick studied him pensively for several seconds. “You’re serious.” Devlin nodded. “As consumption, my friend.” Now his friend was staring at him in open-mouthed shock. “Why?” Devlin shrugged. “Valholen. Well, to begin with…’twas part of it. Hell, don’t ask me why, Jennings! I can’t even explain it to myself.” Merrick’s brows shot upward again. “The monastery? You gave up your whole way of life....Bloody hell, Syn! Valholen Monastery hasn’t changed in, what? Three hundred years? According to local legend, anyway. I’ll vow there hasn’t been a stone turned since old Henry sent those monks packing, and you gave up your freedom for that?” Devlin scowled and looked away. “And the ghosts as well. Don’t forget the ghosts. Or the angels...” Merrick peered at him. “Ghosts and angels, eh? You are drunk. Either you’re so smashed you don’t know what you are saying or there is something you are not telling me.” Devlin’s brow rose. He sighed. “You’re right, Jennings. I’m drunk, talking out of my head. Forget it and get me something strong to drink, so I can forget as well.” “Oh, no. You are not changing the subject now. Something is definitely off kilter here, and you’re going to tell me what. I have a feeling this one is unlike any other ‘something’ in your past, and I’m simply not dropping it until you reveal every detail. Now talk, or I’ll take you outside and bloody your face, as you so kindly offered to do for me earlier. You mentioned you’ve ‘foresworn yourself’. Care to explain what the bloody hell you meant by that?” Devlin growled. “I’m married, you ass! Understand now? I bloody well foreswore my bachelorhood and every single instant of freedom and sanity that entails!” Merrick’s jaw dropped. After a moment’s stunned silence, 66

Redemption he shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. His brows rose. “So...you’re saying you slipped off and married some girl. Married her in secret even. Indeed, without telling a soul, right?” Devlin nodded. Merrick was speechless. When he finally found his voice, he sputtered… “Why? Who is she? A countess? Widow or debutante? Have I met her? Well of course I haven’t,” he corrected. “If I had, she’d be warming my bed instead of yours.” The mere thought of another man gazing upon Tian’s sweet countenance...hearing the gentle music of her voice...set up a slow-burning anger within Devlin. To consider that one might be foolish enough to touch her, actually touch her, near sent him over the brink of fury. It amazed him, the depths and strength of his emotions where she was concerned. Bewildered and infuriated him. To think of what she represented to him–everything that was good and right–disturbed him tremendously because he, in comparison, fell far short of that which he felt she deserved. “You’ve never laid eyes on her, Jennings, and I’ve a mind to keep it that way as long as I can. Unless you’re partial to having your vitals removed while you yet breathe?” An irritating gleam lit Merrick’s eyes. “Ah, I begin to understand. That good, is she?” he teased. The question further annoyed Devlin. He had no idea of his wife’s abilities in bed, because he’d not touched her, nor did he plan to. A slow, sinister smile curved Devlin’s lips. “You’ll never know, will you?” Merrick grinned and called to the barkeep. “Bring us two bottles of the strongest drink you have, my good man! My friend here is celebrating!” It didn’t escape Devlin’s notice that his friend had neglected to answer. Nor did he plan to answer Merrick’s other questions. He did not know the answers. He knew absolutely nothing about his wife–not where she came from or even who she really was. He knew she’d been part and parcel with Valholen, that she called herself Tian, and that she was now his wife–in all but the physical sense, though his whole being clamored to change even that fact when she was near. That was all. 67

Morgan LeShay The realization that he’d been so enchanted by her that he’d bound himself to her without asking a single question rankled immensely. He hadn’t even bothered to look at the marriage documents. He couldn’t have told a soul her maiden name had they asked. It didn’t say much for him. In fact, it was a very far cry from what he would normally have done, and it went against everything he’d thought he stood for. He’d discovered that she was indeed flesh and blood female, and hadn’t bothered to learn more. He scowled again, his mood having lightened not the least. When the giggly blond serving wench perched herself upon his knee, his mood darkened even more for all that he once would have said and done, he no longer could, or even wished to say or do. But what of Merrick? Merrick was much like him. Would the fact of his marriage mean nothing to Lord Jennings? Would Merrick try to seduce his wife, despite their friendship, were he given the chance? Devlin’s heart was the blackest of black, his intentions what he preferred to call ‘honorably dishonorable’, and he’d taken pride in that fact. Yet now, with Tian, he could find no excuse within his own mind that would atone for his past behavior. He felt unworthy of her uprightness, her seeming perfection only pointing out to him his own glaring faults. It frustrated him to no end to discover that she made him yearn to be able to go back in his life and change all that he had been. Why? He could find no acceptable answer. And she thought he needed her. That also irked him beyond tolerance. Needing someone made one vulnerable, and he was determined never to be that. Of a certainty, his lady was pleasing to look upon, her voice bent tender upon his ear, and her touch, of a truth, was more delicate than what he imagined the brush of an angel’s wing would feel. But he did not need her. “And you are not at this very moment changed by her mere existence, are you, Sir Fool?” the voice in his head asked. He sighed. Whether he needed her or nay, she was now his wife and dependent upon him–and he was not one to shirk his responsibilities. Even as he had been faithful to his bachelorhood, so, too, would he be faithful to his marriage. 68

Redemption In all ways but one.

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Chapter Eleven ‘Twas the noise that startled her out of her reverie. With a gasp, Tian fled the kitchens through the secret door beyond the pantry, terrified she would not get herself hidden in her chambers before the visitors she heard approaching entered the hall. She hurried through the corridors from the kitchens to the chambers above the entry and pressed close to the grate to determine who the unexpected guests were. How long would Devlin remain in London? Tian wondered, a bit afraid knowing that she was alone here but for Theodric and the handful of servants Devlin had kept. Though she could not claim to miss his presence, since he had not spent enough time in her company for that, she did yearn for his return. She spent her days weaving fantasies, dreams she hoped to bring to reality, for they were plans of a bright future with her new husband. Her nights she spent fighting away the plaguing fear that he might never return. The thought that there was every possibility he would decide to remain in London indefinitely filled her with a sudden, cold fear. She waited with baited breath, hearing the sounds of the visitor’s approaching. The sounds grew louder with each passing second, yet she could not move from her post for fear of not knowing who the visitor might be. Could it be Devlin returning? The sounds grew louder, and finally, the door opened. Tian nigh collapsed onto the bare floor in relief. ‘Twas Devlin. He’d come back for her. Too many nights she’d lain awake these weeks he’d been away, pondering if there was aught here at Valholen that he would like to return to. ‘Twas a struggle she’d faced each day he’d been away, to put such plaguing thoughts behind her and continue with the work she had started. Fortunately, her determination to please him would prevail, and she was able to face Theodric and the others each morning 70

Redemption with a smile. She’d spent her days putting the monastery to order, with the help of Theodric and the others, and now, she was quite pleased with the results. The tapestry she’d been sewing the day before he left now hung in a place of honor in the main hall. Several smaller tapestries from her trousseau graced other walls within the monastery, and she’d even found time to have the rushes replaced. The whole of the place smelled better at least. Yet, she’d wondered if he would notice. That he did notice was obvious. He stopped suddenly, and looked about, as if seeing the place for the first time. A smile curved her lips, only to be replaced by a frown a moment later when he turned and ordered the thirty odd servants who had entered with him to stay away from the rectory on the third floor. She held her breath. He’d ordered them away from the rectory because of her, she knew, but what did it mean? Perhaps ‘twas his intention to go on about his life as he had done in the past, to never reveal the fact that he’d wed her, that she was his wife. The thought cut at her heart as none other could, for she did not think she could long continue to hide away here in the monastery, turning a blind eye to his adulteries. Yet, she had as much as promised him she would. Left to her own devices, troublesome thoughts that she preferred not to consider began to prick her. Would he turn her away now, before he knew the whole truth of her? ‘Twas the one thing that cast a gloomy shadow upon her thoughts of happiness. What did he plan to do? Perhaps he would wait until he knew all there was to know about her, keeping her locked away all the while, then abandon her in his anger, disgusted with what he would find. Perhaps he had even now guessed the whole of it. Was it her destiny to be forever confined to the hidden areas of his home? Nay, she would not, for surely he would someday relent, would decry his former way of life, and settle into his role as Viscount Syndale. That he might continue to prefer his bachelor status to her was depressing, to say the least. He was even now mounting the stairs to the rectory, and she knew she must go to him. 71

Morgan LeShay Devlin rushed up the stairs to the rectory and hurriedly turned the key in the lock before going to the bookcase. He slipped the catch and rushed through the secret doorway, impatient to see her again. She was not waiting for him in the torch-lit corridor, nor was she in her chambers. Fear gripped him. Surely she had not flown? Nay, and surely no harm could have befallen her, for certainly in his absence Mr. Grigory would have.... He remembered suddenly that he’d not seen Theodric on his return. His fear turned to something much darker, much more urgent. He broke into a run back through the corridor in search of Mr. Grigory. He would know where Tian was, unless...he couldn’t bear to think it. Had some roaming band of miscreants found the place and taken Tian? “Tian!” he shouted her name the same instant she tumbled into his arms. He caught her close and closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath. He inhaled the warm, soft scent of roses that emanated from her, savoring the feel of her in his arms and the sure knowledge that she was safe from harm. “Welcome home, my lord,” she puffed, out of breath from her frantic flight to the rectory. “But please, lower your voice before you have someone rushing up those stairs to discover what you are shouting about. Or do you voice your warnings to your servants for naught?” He didn’t speak, couldn’t speak, such was his pleasure at being with her once more. She was so warm and welcoming, filled his arms so perfectly. She pulled away the tiniest bit, and he looked at her, thankful she had left the torches alight in the brackets along the corridor walls. Finding his voice at last, he said, “I thought you were gone.” She smiled and shook her head, tousling her tawny locks. “Never, my lord. I’ll always be here for you.” Her voice sounded so sincere. Devlin felt a prick of inadequacy, for he knew he was wholly undeserving of her loyalty. He who had never accounted to anyone for his actions aside of his father, should not expect truth in her promise to always be there for him when he returned, yet he knew that he did. Were it anyone other than Tian, he would not, but he could not conceive of his angelic wife as being capable of speaking a 72

Redemption lie. She continued to look at him, with no sign of distrust showing in her clear gaze, though that was what he had thought to expect, after leaving her with none to see to her wellbeing. It filled him with wonder how she could look upon him with naught but fondness when he knew all too well the transgressions that marked him. The weeks he’d been away served to fuel the ache within him to be with her. Now, to have her be so acquiescent within his arms, he could not resist the temptation she unknowingly offered. He leaned near, then nearer still when she did not try to pull away, and touched his lips gently to hers. She stood still and silent within his embrace, but he could feel the change in her breathing, could feel the jolt in the tempo of her heartbeat as she rested fully against him. She was not unaffected by his nearness. A part of him wanted to grin in triumph, but triumph was not quite what he felt. It was more a sense of relief he felt now. Relief that she would accept his kiss, that she apparently enjoyed it. With others, he had been certain of his skill, certain they would enjoy his kisses, his caresses, indeed, that they would return the caress with fervor. He’d thought solely of pleasing himself. With Tian, he found that his utmost need was to see that she found pleasure. Devlin pressed his lips against hers, exerting the tiniest bit of pressure, and then raised his head a bit to brush his lips softly across hers. He watched her, awaiting her reaction. Her eyes were shining with the effects of his kisses, and he groaned low, realizing that she would not deny him, did he ask for more, yet knowing he was not worthy to have that which she would give. Not yet. He pulled away. “Lady, have a care with being so inviting, lest you should find yourself performing the very act you sought to avoid,” he said. He clearly recalled how she and Mr. Grigory had assured him there was no need to actually consummate their marriage. The ruse had been at Tian’s discretion, had it not? Yet, here she was, accepting his embrace. She chuckled low. “I was not inviting you to ravish me, Lord Syndale, but I felt no intent of harm in your embrace,” she 73

Morgan LeShay answered, her voice breathy and a bit husky. Devlin knew he was capable of far more than ravishment. The more he held her, touched her, the more he wanted to. He carefully set her from him, out of harm’s way. “You have been busy whilst I was away, lady. Wherever did you find the furniture and the tapestries?” She led him back toward the rectory, a smile lighting her features. “The tapestries are mine, my lord, from my trousseau. What better place to hang them than in my husband’s hall?” Devlin nodded. “They are lovely. Did you create them yourself?” She nodded. “I did, my lord.” He thought as much. Only Tian would have been capable of creating such beauty. “They are very lovely. Thank you for allowing them to grace my home. Our home,” he amended, then turned away from her to light a fire in the hearth. He made short work of bringing the wood to a blaze then turned to find her perched upon the arm of the lounger he’d found her sleeping so innocently upon before he left. She laughed then, a tinkling sound of merriment the likes of which Devlin had never heard her make before. The sound danced a joyous dance within him. The feeling surprised him and he studied her with awe. Perhaps she was no angel after all, but an enchantress instead, for surely she had bewitched him. Tian chuckled at his expression of awe, and Devlin felt the impact of the throaty sound in his gut. She twisted him about her with sweetness, her innocence, and his cravings found no fulfillment. He sought to turn the moment to something less threatening to his vitals. “You heard my order that all should stay clear of the third floor until I speak it otherwise, so you must know I brought with me servants from London. My question is how did you know, sweet Tian, for you were not in the hall when I arrived.” “I was in the chamber above, my lord. ‘Tis what took me so long to get here to this wing.” Devlin’s gaze narrowed. “More secret chambers. Were you spying on me, lady?” She shook her head. “I was looking out for myself, my lord. With you away and there being naught here to protect me 74

Redemption save Theodric and few others, I felt it prudent to discover whom I might find myself hiding from within Valholen’s walls. I had no notion of when or even if you would return.” Devlin winced, and peered askance at her. Had she worried that he might not return for her? He felt the cad, for though he had considered exactly that, it would be a dastardly thing to do. He chose to ignore, rather than address it. Neither did he choose to speak of the fact that he had left her here so vulnerable, with naught but a handful of servants to watch over her. What had he been thinking to cause him to affect such negligence in his duty to her as her husband? The matter now weighed heavily upon his conscience, though he made no mention of it. He smiled. “So you are wise as well as beautiful, are you?” he teased. He was both surprised and pleased by her forethought. He noted the light blush on her cheeks, brought on by his praise, and lifted his hand to caress her there. “Your blush only makes you more so.” She did not move away or shrink from his touch, and Devlin was strongly tempted to pull her closer into a much more intimate embrace, but forced himself to move to the fire instead. Devlin stepped as close to her as he dared. Lifting her soft hand with his own, he turned it palm upward, noting the reddened surface. She watched him as he kissed each workroughened patch of red before gazing into her eyes once more. He couldn’t explain the desire he felt to pamper her, but it was there, inside him. If he could have ordered down a cloud from heaven for her to sleep upon, he thought he would have done so. She pulled her hand from his grasp and stepped away from him. “How long will it take for you to realize that I am real, my lord? There is no need for you to feel so stricken in my presence. You have held me closely enough for proof that I am merely flesh and bone female. Please, my lord, cease to treat me otherwise.” The censure in her tone made him wince. What she said was truth and her insinuation that he’d treated her as above mere mortals was true as well, insofar as his emotions were concerned. The urge to beg her forgiveness for so upsetting her was strong 75

Morgan LeShay even now, but he arched a brow and grinned instead. “Indeed, lady, you are quite a woman. But even your hands need not toil as you have done whilst I was away. The servants can see to that now. I have also brought a young lady to act as your lady’s maid. She was highly recommended, but should you find her not to your liking, you’ve only to tell me, and I shall find another to take her place.” Tian’s eyes widened. “Nay, milord, I need no lady’s maid. I have seen to myself these past years, and feel quite comfortable in continuing to do so.” Devlin frowned. “It is my duty to provide for your care.” She looked away from him to stare into the flames, which leapt and danced within the hearth, teasing the logs upon which they fed. “’Tis not a question of whether or not you can provide for me, my lord. ‘Tis one of my remaining hidden. I do not mind seeing to myself, Lord Syndale.” Devlin peered at her in silence and then shook his head, a wry grin twisting his lips. “The girl, Renna, shall attend you. And as my wife, you, Lady Syndale, are expressly forbidden to deny my wish on the matter.” When it seemed she would argue, Devlin made a ‘tsking’ sound. “No contrariness, my dear. Were you an angel, perhaps I would concede, but as a real woman, as my wife, you are to obey my commands.” Tian stared at him, momentarily taken aback. Then she laughed, quite amused to discover his sense of humor. “Was that ‘real’ enough for you, lady?” he asked. She chuckled. “’Tis a start, Lord Syndale. Indeed, ‘tis a start.”

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Chapter Twelve “Wait here,” Devlin instructed the young girl. She nodded, halting just outside the door to the rectory. Devlin turned the key in the lock, stepped inside, closing the door swiftly behind him. Hurrying to open the door behind the bookcase, he slipped through as soon as it began its inward swing and strode down the corridor toward Tian’s chambers. With the coming of evening, the torches were lit in the brackets along the walls, but still the halls held a chill and he didn’t want Tian walking bout in them any more than she had to. Halting just outside her chamber door, he rapped upon the oaken portal. “’Tis open, my lord,” she called. Devlin was once again struck by her easiness of manner with him. He pushed the door open and stepped inside the candlelit room, admiring the fineness of the appointments once more. Where had they come from? Obviously, she had at one time known wealth, for these pieces were more costly than all but the most wealthy could afford. She sat before her dressing table, a bright smile of welcome on her lips as she looked up at him, pulling a silver-handled brush through her hair. The golden length of it sparkled in the firelight from a recent cleansing and Devlin fought the urge to go to her, to run his fingers through the silken mass. “Lady, I have brought the girl, Renna, as promised. She waits outside the rectory.” “Of course, my lord,” she murmured, rising to follow him back to the rectory. “Where are your slippers, Tian? ‘Tis a might drafty in the passages tonight, and I wouldn’t want you to catch a chill.” Tian raised the hem of the flowing white robe she wore 77

Morgan LeShay just enough to allow the toe of her buttery-soft kid slippers to peak from beneath it. Devlin snapped his fingers. “So that’s how you manage to make no sound when you traverse the halls!” Tian grinned. “You didn’t think I floated along, did you, my lord?” she teased, and he flushed, for that had indeed been what he’d first thought. He chuckled. “For shame, lady. You knew all along the appearance you give to us poor, frightened rogues within the darkened halls,” he chided, and she smiled. “Are you also aware that the candlelight upon your white attire causes a certain glowing effect?” She nodded, a light blush now coloring her cheeks. “Indeed, my lord,” she confessed. “You’d be surprised how effective it is in repelling prowlers.” Devlin guffawed, deep and long. “For truth, lady, you are no more angel than I!” He laughed again, but Tian became subdued, studying him. She nodded. “Indeed my lord. ‘Tis the truth of it,” she said, and walked out of the room, leaving him to stare after her in bemused silence. Tian left her chambers, walking ahead of Devlin to the rectory, going over their conversation in her mind. Did he still truly think her some celestial being, far beneath his manly regard? Of a truth, she could not accept that, for too many times had he touched her, held her close, and even today did he kiss her so tenderly. His desire was evident, and her own was a new and thrilling thing. She wanted to know him, as a woman knows her man. But where did she fit into his life? Either he meant to keep her here, hidden from all but himself and those he personally approved to be near her, or he meant to treat her as his wife. If the former was the way of it, she could understand why he had warned the servants away from the rectory. Even if it did confirm her suspicions that she would be forever confined to the secret chambers deep within the hall, his actions then would make sense. Were the latter to be the way of it, his kisses and his wanting to provide for her were logical. If that were his 78

Redemption intention, why then would he caution the servants away from her? Either way she had to admit it was the not knowing that made her so uneasy. She entered the rectory only seconds before him. Devlin walked past her to the door, to bring Renna inside, but paused before he opened the door and turned back to her. Her hands were curled into tight fists, clasped tightly in the fine fabric of her gown. “Tian, if you are so very uneasy about this...” he began, ready to relent. He did not like seeing her upset, as she obviously was at the thought of having someone else know she was here. She shook her head. “Nay, my lord. ‘Tis my hope that soon you will come to know your worth and then I shall have need of a lady’s maid.” The shakiness of her voice belied her calm assurances, and Devlin hesitated. She smiled. “Come, my lord, she is but a girl.” Devlin finally nodded and opened the door, allowing the girl to enter before closing and locking the door once more. Should aught go awry, he wanted none to know of his lady’s presence other than this one girl. “Mistress Renna, this is my wife, Lady Syndale.” The girl gasped and fell to her knees upon the floor. “Saints be praised, ‘tis the Winterbourne heiress! We thought you dead, my lady!” At the same instant, a pounding on the rectory door jerked Devlin’s attention from the near prostrate maid to the portal. “My lord, ye have visitors, ye do! And ye’d best to get yourself down here quick. This one says he’s a duke!” Devlin turned to look at Tian, who now wore a strange expression of reluctance. “Are you sure?” he questioned, referring to their earlier conversation about her allowing Renna to attend her. He wasn’t so certain he should leave the girl with her now, for obviously that one suffered from delusions. The Winterbourne heiress? Tian nodded and took the girl by the hand, helping her to her feet. “I am certain, my lord.” “Come, Renna, there is much to do,” she said, then led the 79

Morgan LeShay girl through the secret door. “My lord, are ye coming down here, or should I send him away?” Haverston bellowed. Devlin unlocked the rectory door and stepped out, locking it quickly behind him once more before making his way to the hall. He wondered why a duke would venture here to Valholen so late in the evening. In his mind, he recounted his dalliances over the past few months and finally decided none had been with a daughter of or relation to a duke. He felt quite safe when he entered the hall, but ground to a halt when he caught full view of his visitor. He bowed low. “Your Grace, what a pleasant surprise! Welcome to Syndale Hall, Valholen of late.” The Duke of Winterbourne eyed him carefully, acknowledging his greeting with the slightest of nods. “Greetings, Lord Syn. Where is my granddaughter?” Devlin frowned, noting the coldness in the older man’s voice and paused to phrase his words carefully. “Granddaughter, Your Grace? I must apologize, for I was under the impression that your ‘daughter’s’ name was Arrielle. I know of no ‘granddaughter’, sir.” It was no secret that the Duke’s only daughter had died some six years past. Most were aware that the Duke sorely grieved the fact that he and his daughter had been estranged at the time of her death. Some said the Duke let his grief so infect him that he sometimes imagined his daughter yet lived. The Duke scoffed. “Of course my daughter’s name was Arrielle, you knave! ‘Tis her daughter, Arrianna, of whom I speak. Few know of her existence, yet I am certain many know of the fortune she stands to inherit upon her marriage,” he said, his thin lips twisting wryly. Devlin knew of it. Though the Duke had disowned his only child for choosing to run away and live in sin with the man he had refused to allow her to wed, some claimed the Duke did indeed have a grandchild living in some distant place, whom he had made sole heir to his vast fortune–all that which was not part of the ducal entail. Winterbourne. Devlin felt his heart begin to pound at an alarming rate. Apprehension gripped him. Was that not the name the girl, 80

Redemption Renna, had called Tian but moments ago? Nay, it was not possible that Tian was the Duke of Winterbourne’s grandchild. Otherwise, the man would know, in fact would be the one who insisted upon the codicil that he marry Tian to gain Valholen. It could not be. Through a growing frustration, Devlin tried to make sense of what was happening. So many things about his wife did not add up. There were so many things he did not yet know about her. Could she in fact be the Duke’s granddaughter? What in the hell was going on? The Duke eyed him arrogantly, his back stiff and straight, his chin elevated to a haughty angle. “How is it you have come to know my Arrianna, Viscount Syndale, and to twist her mind that she would be here with you?” Devlin continued to watch the man carefully, his mind whirling with the implications of the Duke’s words. If Arrianna was Tian, and Tian was the duke’s granddaughter, she was heiress to Winterbourne’s grand fortune, and the Marchioness of Addersley. As her husband, he stood to gain control of a great portion of wealth through the marriage–and the title of Marquess, as well! Nay, he thought, disgusted by the mere prospect, for others would surely think him a fortune hunter. He stood to gain a staggering portion. He felt despicable, as if he’d somehow deceived or cheated the Duke and Tian. Although, he had not. If anyone had been deceived, it was he. “Your pardon for my ignorance, Your Grace, but who the hell is Arrianna? Your granddaughter? And if so, why would I keep the woman here as my mistress right beneath my wife’s nose?” The duke’s darkly scowling visage changed a bit, and Devlin would almost have sworn the older man was fighting back a smile, if his frown hadn’t grown significantly more ominous. “You fool! The Marchioness of Addersley is none other than Tian Arrianna Winterbourne Lindsay. She is my granddaughter, and if you have mistreated her, Lord Syn, I shall kill you.” Devlin glowered at him not missing the emphasis he’d put on “Syn”. Damned if he wasn’t the innocent one this time, and he’d not pretend otherwise! 81

Morgan LeShay “Your Grace, as far as I know, my wife’s name is Tian. Nothing more, just Tian. I have absolutely no knowledge of her lineage, either now or when we wed. Indeed, I know nothing of it at this very moment. So like you, Your Grace, I am going merely on suspicion that my wife is this granddaughter of whom you speak,” he said, scowling darkly all the while. Damned and blast! The last thing he’d wanted to admit to was having taken a wife he knew absolutely nothing about. Now he’d further shown the depths of insanity Tian’s spell of enchantment had brought him to by revealing that he had wed himself to an heiress–a bloody Marchioness!–and had known absolutely nothing about it! How had she gained such control over him? The duke chuckled, his gaze on something beyond Devlin. “Playing angel of mercy, eh, Tian?” he said. “Mr. Grigory felt it best for my safety, Grandfather,” Tian all but whispered from behind him. He turned to his wife to demand an explanation. What he saw astounded him. Gone was the flowing white gown she’d worn when he left her a few minutes ago, and her honeyed hair no longer fell in loose cascading waves to her hips, but was instead pulled neatly up into a very stylish and fetching coiffure. She was dressed in pure white, but this gown was cut in the latest style. The bodice scooped low, revealing the creamy tops of her breasts, and the skirt fell from just under her bosom to the floor. His confusion and frustration reaching the limits of his tolerance, he fairly growled his words at her. “Tian? What is going on here? Where in the bloody everlasting hell did you get that dress?” She smiled tremulously and would have gone to his side, but the duke stepped forward, claiming her full attention once more. “The good man was right. It was best for your safety. But tell me, my sweet, how did this deplorable scamp succeed where others have not?” He lifted a silvery brow, casting a glare in Devlin’s direction. Tian shrugged then went to her grandfather, stepping easily into his embrace. “He sought to have Valholen, and there was no other way, Your Grace,” she said against the older man’s 82

Redemption shoulder. Devlin noted the odd look the duke cast his granddaughter when she stepped back to gaze pleadingly up at him. “Please, Grandfather. Lord Syndale is my husband. I should try to explain...” The duke looked shattered by her announcement, but he nodded, though he still did not release her. “I heard as much. It pains me to know that now I have found you, at last, I have lost you again as well. What say you, Syn? Have you indeed wed yourself to my granddaughter, and taken her to you?” Devlin remembered the linen he had carefully placed in his trunk before he’d left for London, smeared with chicken’s blood. So easy it would be to end all his trouble, to ease all his doubts by simply letting the Duke know their marriage had never been consummated. So easy it would be to say the words. A few weeks ago, he would have done so without a qualm. Today, the thought of never seeing her again was a torment he alone knew. Bloody hell, he thought. What is one more lie? He nodded. “Tian is my wife, Your Grace.”

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Chapter Thirteen Much later, Devlin escorted his lady wife up the stairs toward his chambers in the West Wing. She made no protest when he opened the door to his room and pulled her inside, but once the door closed and was firmly locked, she asked, “Why did you bring me here?” “Your grandfather might have been a mite suspicious had I led you back to the rectory to haunt the corridors there, do you not think?” he asked, his mood foul. He crossed the room to stand at the window, glaring down at the night. He had been duped, by heaven, and he liked it not. “You are angry.” Devlin tilted his head back, staring upward as if in silent supplication to the higher powers. “Angry? Angry! Why would I be angry?” He spun about to face her, feeling the fury rise with each word he spoke. “I discover nigh onto a month into my married state that my wife is none other that the infamous Winterbourne heiress–the missing Marchioness of Addersley, and...! Do you realize most people do not even believe you are real? No one in my acquaintance believes your mother ever had a child. They all thought the duke had simply grieved himself into insanity when his daughter died, and invented a granddaughter. I am your husband, yet a servant knew more about you than I!” His gaze narrowed. “I didn’t even know your name, for Christ’s sake! Were you ever planning to tell me?” Tian’s brow furled. “I am called Tian, my lord. I told you this. As for my being my grandfather’s granddaughter,” she shrugged. “I had no guarantee he would come forward to claim me, once he discovered my whereabouts. Five years had passed since last I saw him, and he had long since disowned us all. Why would I raise false hopes by telling you my lineage, a lineage that I was not certain would be made known? Although I knew my 84

Redemption grandfather was fond of me, I could not be certain he would claim me.” Devlin noted the faraway look in her eyes, the tired set of her shoulders, and the weariness in her voice, but chose to ignore her obvious distress such was his vexation. “Your mother could have prevented the scandal that forced your grandfather to disown her. ‘Tis common knowledge that the Duke created a fabrication, hoping all would believe that your mother was simply away with family, hoping she would forget her infatuation with her penniless lover and come home. Why did she not, for surely she knew what result her tryst would bring?” “Aye, my lord,” she said. “Mother had run off with my father and shortly thereafter, I was conceived. Grandfather knew naught of this. After two years passed, Grandfather realized mother had no intention of returning to him. It was about the same time when he also realized that no one believed his story that mother was having an extended visit with her aunt in Scotland. He felt he had no other recourse but to do that which he did. He disowned her. Everyone knew of mother’s disgrace despite the tale he’d concocted to prevent it, and he could not bear the shame of it. Yet, truly there was no disgrace, for Mother and Father were wed the very day she left Winterhaven with Father–but Grandfather refused to accept ‘the penniless American’ as his daughter’s husband.” Her voice broke, and she turned away, crossing to the bed. She sat carefully upon its edge, placing her hands in her lap. She kept her gaze on the floor and began to speak once more. “My father was so very angry, and mother…Mother was devastated. She loved my father very much and could not understand why Grandfather could not accept him as her mate.” “How old are you?” Devlin demanded suddenly. She looked up at him, the sheen of unshed tears making her eyes shine. “In the twelfth month, I will be ten and nine, my lord. Only a few weeks away.” “You would have been just an infant when your grandfather disowned your mother. I remember hearing tales of it.” Tian shook her head at the sad memories. “Grandfather did not even know of my existence when he disowned mother. 85

Morgan LeShay But when he learned of it, he seemed...happy. I was only ten and four, and I grew to love him very much.” She smiled tremulously. “He called me his angel.” She shrugged. “I thought all would be well, but when Father returned from America after burying his own father, Grandfather still refused to see him as part of the family....” She closed her eyes, unable to complete the sentence from the emotions swirling in her. Devlin noticed the sadness, the wistfulness in her words and felt a deep regret for all that could have been for her. Now, however, she had the vast Winterbourne fortune at her disposal. Her grandfather had made certain that she would be well provided for, yet she was now his wife. Did she regret that decision? “Damn and blast, Tian, do you realize that it will now look as if I married you for your inheritance–for a damned title? Who will believe that I, Viscount Syndale, wed you without a clue as to your parentage?” The fact of her status both astounded and irritated him. Had she known of her inheritance when she wed him? She had to have known. But, would her Grandfather now take that from her, as he had her mother? His gaze traveled over her and he thought of how she must have looked five years ago. “You would have been introduced for your first Season the following year, had your grandfather accepted your father, would you not? I suppose I must be grateful that you missed your coming out. I’d never have managed to get myself wed to you otherwise.” Her eyes flashed. “You mean you would not have sought me out, my lord? Even knowing of my status as an heiress? Surely that would not have been a deterrent.” He thought he detected a bit of annoyance in her voice, but could not fathom the reason for it. He laughed scornfully. Oh, he would have sought her out, all right. Just not in a manner appropriate for a young lady with a man such as himself. “Do not think light of me, for my soul is the blackest of black. There is no sin I have not committed and I freely admit this. However, I would not have been interested in you at all were your inheritance the only draw. I never intended to marry. Your 86

Redemption fortunes would not have caught me.” She studied him momentarily, as if weighing his words with all that she knew him to be. “You are not as debased as you would have me think, my lord. There is goodness in everyone. It simply takes longer to show in some than it does others.” Devlin’s mood blackened, for this was a subject that set ill with him. He shook his head. “I am irredeemable, lady, and would warn you to lay little faith in me. You will be disappointed do you do otherwise.” “Is that what you truly believe, my lord? That I will be disappointed in you?” Devlin nodded. “Aye. There is naught to recommend me.” She yawned and stood. “May I seek my own bed now, my lord? I was not prepared for Grandfather’s appearance, and the meeting has drained me, I fear.” Devlin snorted. “Were you not? I’d say you put together a proper appearance very nicely, and rather surprisingly at that. Where did you get the gown, Tian?” Trying unsuccessfully to stifle another yawn, she explained, “’Twas my mother’s.” “And Renna? The girl? How is it that she knew who you were?” Sensing that she would get no sleep until his mind was eased of some of the myriad questions plaguing him, she sat upon the bed once more, then out of exhaustion more than any boldness on her part, she lay back, staring up at the high arched ceiling. “Renna’s mother was my mother’s personal maid for the short time we were at Winterhaven. When Father had to be away, he’d insisted Mother should try and see her own father again. So Mother, seeking to heal the breach between her Grandfather and herself, moved us to Winterhaven to pass the time whilst Father was away. No one ever knew we were there. I was ten and four. Renna was but six, and spent much of her time with me.” She shrugged, then stretched and rolled onto her side to face him. “Later that year when Father returned, Grandfather still refused to accept him as part of the family, thus forcing Mother to leave Winterhaven again. She would not stay where Father 87

Morgan LeShay was not welcome. Renna and her mother came with us. After Mother died, Father let them go back to London, having no way to support us all.” Devlin could not tear his gaze from the tempting sight of her lying there upon his bed, so innocently enticing, so trusting. He was tempted to tell her she had to stay here, in his room, until her grandfather left Valholen. He could excuse himself by claiming it to be merely a precaution they should take, in case her grandfather should discover she kept separate chambers, he thought. But he quickly decided against it. Even with the shock of the past hours still warring within his head, he knew she would not be safe from his arduous lusts, were she to spend the night with him, so close at hand. “Why did he come for you now, Tian? It’s been several years since your grandfather shocked society once again by announcing that he was leaving the largest portion of his wealth to a granddaughter that no one had ever seen, or known about. Why would he wait so long to come for you?” Tian looked away from his seeking gaze, staring instead into the low burning fire. “He did not know where to find me. After Father’s return, we left Winterhaven–during the most dreadful cold part of winter. Mother took ill. We barely reached Father’s village before we lost her. Father was grief-stricken. He’d lost Mother and feared that Grandfather would take me from him as well, should he discover our whereabouts. So he arranged for the two of us to stay here at Valholen in secret. For the next year, Grandfather searched for us, but to no avail. Mr. Grigory and the others saw to it that the Duke never knew we were safely hidden right beneath his nose–in one of his own holdings. Until a few months ago, until you...you came, showing an interest in purchasing Valholen, Grandfather thought Father had taken me and fled the Continent.” Devlin still was not appeased. He wanted all the answers. There was much more he yearned to know, many questions still unanswered, but looking at her now, he could see that she fought to hold her eyes open. She was too exhausted for him to press her now. He sighed. “Come, lady. I will see you to your chambers.” <><><> Tian led him through several secret corridors and doorways 88

Redemption from his own chambers to hers, revealing how she had come to his room that first morning unnoticed by his guests, and Devlin noted each turn and entrance. More than once on the way to her chambers, Tian’s footsteps faltered and he could not help but notice her weariness. The meeting with her Grandfather had obviously been more of a strain on her than he’d realized, and he had continued to drill her with questions. She must be utterly exhausted. He led her inside the room and waited while she settled herself tiredly on the edge of her bed. He knelt to remove her slippers, firmly holding onto her ankle when she tried to draw her foot away from him. “Tian, you are tired. I but meant to remove your slippers and then leave you to disrobe in privacy. I am only trying to help you so that you may rest, nothing more,” he promised. She looked ready to fall asleep sitting up and he felt an absolute cad for keeping her awake when she was so weary. Finally, she relented, allowing him to remove her slippers, sighed with pleasure when he massaged her instep. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, enjoying his tender ministrations, and he watched the play of emotions on her face, drinking in the soft sighs of pleasure she made. Her brow suddenly furrowed and she opened her eyes, casting an apologetic look at him. “I’m sorry, my lord, but I fear I must further impose upon your kindness. I sent Renna off to bed earlier, and...Could you help me unfasten the gown as well? ‘Tis not so easy to remove as the others, and as you can likely guess, I much prefer the flowing garments to these.” She smiled tremulously, attempting to ease the sudden awkwardness of the moment, he guessed, but far from feeling soothed, Devlin froze at her feet, tense and burning with an unexpected excitement. He studied her for a long moment, not moving at all but for the now rapid rise and fall of his chest. She’d asked him to help her remove her gown. Her words played over and over in his mind, mixing with images of her, naked and willing, yielding in his arms. Could he do it? Could he trust himself to unfasten the garment, and not strip it from her and devour her as he ached to 89

Morgan LeShay do, not take her to the bed and make sweet, passionate love to her? God help him, he wasn’t sure. The only thing he was sure of at this moment was that her innocent request had set up an aching need in his loins that would not be easily assuaged. Be damned, celibacy was not for him! He swallowed hard, attempting to gain some control over his suddenly raging lusts. He’d unfastened countless garments on countless different women without a thought, but thoughts of undressing this one, his very own wife, made him tremble. Her innocence did not deserve to be sullied by the likes of him. His emotions were most shallow. ‘Twas not love that motivated him. Indeed, he doubted he could even recognize such an emotion; it seemed so foreign to him. He was driven solely by his lusts, and he would not see her touched by such a base emotion. Even from him. Tian tensed and waited, hardly daring to breathe, stunned by the sudden understanding of just what she had asked of him. Her tiredness fled on swift wings, intense awareness took its place, and she could not unlock her gaze from his. She hadn’t even considered the implication her words might have when she’d spoken them. Indeed, she’d not meant to imply willingness to...to anything he may have in mind, though she would admit to a curiosity. Now she wished she could call the words back, for he continued to kneel before her, a pained expression on his face, his hands clenched tightly about her ankles. She thought for a brief instant those same hands might have trembled. When he continued to watch her, not moving or speaking, just looking at her with some new light burning in the depths of his eyes, her body seemed to become a different creature, tingling with awareness of the warmth of him. So close, she thought. A sense of anticipation filled her, along with a yearning to feel her husband’s strong hands upon her. The feelings seemed to grow and clamor, making her feel warm and tingly in places she’d never dreamed could tingle. She looked away, embarrassed by her unexpected, unfamiliar reaction. She should have simply waited for him to retire to his own chamber and undressed herself as best she could, as she had done every night for the past five years, she 90

Redemption thought. ‘Twould have been infinitely preferable to sitting here, waiting with baited breath, wondering, yearning, yet knowing he would not touch her. Finally, he rose and grasped her now trembling hands in his, pulling her slowly to her feet. “Lean toward me,” he directed, his voice a hoarse whisper in the silence of the room. Tian leaned closer, slightly against him. The feel of her breasts pressed close against him set up a slow burn within her. Her breathing quickened, then caught when he reached around her, his practiced fingers nimbly unfastening the myriad buttons down the back of her gown. “There you are, all undone,” he said, moving quickly away from her. The garment fell, pooled at her feet on the floor...but he was the one who came undone.

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Chapter Fourteen Devlin sucked in his breath, feeling as if he’d fallen off a cliff and had no way to break his fall. “By the heavens, you are beautiful, Tian,” he breathed at last. Her skin was creamy smooth and flawless above the thin material of her chemise. His hungered gaze devoured her, following some imaginary line from the slim column of her neck to the valley between her supple breasts. His loins tightened and he struggled to keep his hands at his sides, to keep from reaching out to her. He couldn’t stop his body’s reaction to her even if he had tried. He continued his inspection of her, swept his gaze upward to her face once more. Her eyes were shining with desire, the one emotion he recognized always. The sure knowledge that she desired him sent his senses reeling. He ached to pull that near diaphanous shift from her, push her back upon the bed and make love to her. More than anything, he wanted to pleasure her as she would certainly pleasure him. Instead, he bent to retrieve the fallen gown, holding it up between them with a shaking hand. “Sleep well, lady,” he whispered, his voice harsh with the force of his desire. She nodded, taking the proffered gown from his outstretched hand and pulling it close. Then she leaned forward and placed a soft, sweet kiss upon his lips. “Aye, sleep well, my lord,” she whispered. Devlin spun about on his heel and quit the room before he made a grave mistake and ravished his wife. Until he could prove to himself that he was worthy of having her, he vowed, he would leave her chaste. <><><> Tian groaned. Having seen the pure yearning in his eyes, she was almost certain he would take her in his arms, carry her to the bed 92

Redemption and make love to her. She’d seen the battle in his eyes as well, and wondered what demons so plagued him that he would not allow himself to touch her, though she desired for him to do so. After hurriedly completing her disrobing, she now lay curled upon her side in her bed, snuggled beneath the thick coverlet, yearning to feel the practiced touch of her husband’s hands upon her body. Was it sinful to want him? She thought not. She was rather inclined to think if more wives desired their mates, there would be far fewer mistresses. But what could she do if he wanted her not? She sighed and turned to watch the flames licking at the oaken logs within the hearth. Perhaps he saw her to be too innocent, too un-worldly. Perhaps he preferred those ‘kept’, more experienced women to one who would give her last just to please him. Nay, she decided. She didn’t want to think that was it, but there was definitely something, some reason he held himself away from her. She simply had to uncover what that reason was. Her feminine desire had been piqued and she decided she would not rest until she had discovered just what his demons were and helped him to defeat them. Of a certainty, she wanted her husband–and she meant to have him before too much more time elapsed. <><><> In his own chambers, Devlin stood before the hearth, his hands squeezed into tight fists. He wanted her. She was his wife, and there was nothing preventing him from taking her–nothing but himself. How long could he fight his raging desires when Tian appeared so willing to accept him in her bed whenever he would have her? He had promised himself that he would not take her until he was worthy to do so, and yet, touching her all but rendered the vow and his control completely void. He slammed his fist against the wall, cursing the proclivities of his past. How could he introduce his wife into his bed when there had been so many there before her, and he would be her first? The actions he’d taken in his past made him feel in need of cleansing, yet he did not know how to affect the ablution of his soul that would allow him to go to her. 93

Morgan LeShay Rubbing absently at his now scratched and bleeding knuckles, caused from smashing his fist into the stone of the wall, he moved to the bed. He made short work of removing his clothes, thinking all the while of disrobing his wife but a few moments ago. Did she sleep? Was she perhaps lying there in the darkness of her chamber, yearning for him as badly as he ached to have her? The certain knowledge that his assumption was most likely wrong sent him stalking to the window, snorting with disgust at his cravings. What man in his right mind would deny himself the pleasures of his wife’s body? None, you fool, he thought, yet he could not yet make the decision that would take him to her. He could not love her as he felt she deserved, when there was no love in him. Not yet. He went back to the bed and dropped upon it with a disgruntled huff. Punching at his pillow in irritation, he cursed beneath his breath, for ‘twas sure to be a long night, even if there were but a few hours left of it.

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Chapter Fifteen The next morning, having gotten very little sleep the night before, Devlin made his way to the hall in a bear of a mood. The couple of hours he did sleep had been wrought with torturous dreams of his wife in various positions beneath him, above him, always near, yet always leaving him wanting. In his present mood, he felt capable of taking on the king’s own army and coming out the victor. He’d dressed in a rush, hurried to escort Renna to his wife’s chambers, only to discover she was already up and about somewhere within the monastery. Barking an order for Renna to be sure she rose before her mistress from now on, he’d left the poor girl there in Tian’s chambers and stomped to the kitchens, but he’d not seen his wife anywhere in the corridors. Was she watching him even now from some hidden grating or slit in the walls? Her continued confinement was beginning to wear on him and he was determined to do something about it. Today. Today would see the last of her spectral ways, for he’d had enough of wanting her near yet never being sure of just where to find her. “Good morning, Syndale,” the Duke of Winterbourne greeted Devlin, and then sat at the long table to sample several of the dishes Maureen had prepared for their morning meal. The man was fair gleeful to see the excellent fare, and wasted no time filling his plate from the bounty. Devlin snorted at his obvious good cheer. Scowling in the duke’s direction, he bit out a surly “Your Grace”, before helping himself to a slice of pork. The duke peered at him. “It looks as though this morning is not agreeable to you, Syndale. Have you perhaps quarreled with my granddaughter?” Devlin tossed the bone from the sliced pork onto his plate 95

Morgan LeShay and glared darkly at the man. “Methinks you’d do better to leave off the subject, Your Grace,” he dared, not caring at this moment how he might take the comment. Duncan Winterbourne cocked a brow, and staring quite solemnly at Devlin, said, “Mind your tongue, scamp. You may well have gotten yourself wed to my granddaughter, but I am still your better, young man.” Devlin snorted. “Indeed. Then perhaps you’d do better than I at locating your granddaughter in this place, Your Grace. ‘Tis riddled with secret chambers and passageways and I find that when I would have her by my side, she has all but disappeared.” Duncan Winterbourne roared with laughter. “So, your surly mood is naught of an argument, but merely because my granddaughter has yet to put in an appearance at your side?” Devlin simply continued to glower at him, not deigning to answer. What passed or did not pass between Tian and himself was none of the duke’s business. But soon, the man frowned over his new grandson-in-law’s petulant sullenness. “It’s been five long years since I last saw my granddaughter, Syndale. I had no notion if that blackguard of a father of hers had spirited her off to the colonies or even whether or not she was alive. There is much I have missed in her life; much I would make up for.” Devlin tensed, but said nothing and finally, the duke continued. “I’d like to take Tian back to London with me.” Devlin was a bit surprised to hear the duke admit there was aught he should atone for, but his candor was of little value to Devlin. His black mood only grew darker. The duke’s plainly spoken request only added to his turmoil. There were simply too many unanswered questions. Questions he meant to have an answer to, and soon. Besides, he had no yearning to present Tian in London, for ‘twas not his desire to spend his mornings upon the dueling field. He would take her to London when he was good and damned ready and there wasn’t a thing His Grace could do about it until then. “Lady Syndale and I are in the midst of plans for making a home from this godforsaken pile of rocks, Your Grace, and I find I cannot spare the time to gallivant off to London so that 96

Redemption you may atone for past deeds. ‘Tis horridly cold out, Your Grace. Perhaps you have also forgotten the season? Would you not agree ‘tis a mite frigid to be dragging a tender female about? Make your peace here, before you take your leave.” The Duke glowered. “Mind your tongue and your manners, young man! I have not forgotten that winter is full upon us, but I also know my Tian. The Marchioness is made of sterner stuff than you obviously give her credit for. She will not perish from an outing to Winterhaven, Lord Syndale.” Devlin’s ire was roused further. Though the duke could not know his reasoning, Devlin knew that, in his present mood, he could not trust himself not to kill someone over some slight thing concerning his wife. A crowded London ballroom he knew would provide many a debauching English lord for his target. He leaned forward in his chair, determined to make sure the duke did not miss the meaning of his words. “Tian is mine, Your Grace. She is my wife, and I’ll be bloody thrice damned if I’m going to take her to London for all those simpering fops to ogle!” “My lord, if it would not overset you, I would enjoy a visit with my grandfather,” Tian said from somewhere neither her grandfather nor Devlin could see. Devlin slumped back into his chair, closed his eyes and sighed. He had known, somehow, that she was near. Watching. Listening. And so she had been...she was in the secret alcove above the hall. Though she was not ‘with them’ physically, Devlin knew she could hear their every word–had heard every word. “I suppose you would feel able to give up your ghostly role, do we travel to Winterhaven, my lady? For that is what I would require of you,” Devlin said, already resigned to the trip he knew he would make to her grandfather’s estate. He could almost feel the warmth of her smile, though he could see her not at all. “Indeed, my lord, I could–do you wish it. I have sorely missed Winterhaven, Grandfather. Thank you for thinking of me,” she said. Devlin sensed the instant she left the hidden alcove, and 97

Morgan LeShay stood. “Please excuse me, Your Grace. I must have a few words with an angel.” The Duke looked perplexed, but Devlin refused to explain. He simply grinned and walked away without giving the man time to comment. Tian met him in the corridor, the flame of the thin taper she carried wafting eerily in the breeze created by her rush through the hallway. She drew to a halt, a mere hand’s breadth away from him, a pleading hopefulness forcing the words from her. “May we go, my lord? I beg a few days only, and then we shall return to set Valholen aright.” Devlin studied her but a brief instant before he smiled and nodded his assent. He lifted his hand, a look of wonder in his eyes as he caressed her cheek, letting the spill of her soft tresses cover the back of his hand. “How could I deny you anything, lady?” he asked, a bit of wonderment in his tone. “You are the embodiment of purity and the spirit of all that is good. You could have the world at your feet and still all would strive to make it perfect for you.” Tian peered at him from beyond the flame of the candle, the questions within her burning brighter than the fire. “Is that what you think you must do, my lord? Place me upon some unreachable pedestal whilst you run off to slay dragons and win gold for my favor?” His look became quizzical and she knew he didn’t understand her meaning. He frowned. “Is there a dragon you would have me slay, lady? You’ve but to speak it, and I will hasten to do your bidding.” Tian shook her head, befuddled by all that he was, amazed at what he thought to make of her. Her bafflement must surely have been plain on her face, she thought, yet she said, “I am but a woman, my lord. I am nothing so pious that you should seek to place me above mere mortals whilst you fight alone to perfect your honor for me.” When he continued to stare questioningly at her, still not comprehending, she stepped closer and tilted her face to better see him in the dimness of the unlit corridor. She laid her hand casually upon his chest, her slender fingers caressing him through the fabric of his shirt. 98

Redemption “There are no dragons to slay, my lord. You need only to love me,” she said.

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Chapter Sixteen Devlin sighed. “Aye, and therein lies the rub, sweet Tian. How can one–as wicked as I–find the capability to love someone when there is no love inside me?” Tian could see that his own perplexity with the subject rose to torment him and sought to ease his plight somewhat. “Devlin, there is goodness within you. I see it each time I look into your eyes, feel it each time your gaze rests upon me.” He shook his head ‘nay’, and she sighed. “I am here for you, my lord. Together we can defeat these demons that plague you and soon you will see the rightness within yourself.” She lowered her eyes for a moment, until the prick of tears she felt there eased, and then she looked at him again. “I have faith in you, my lord,” she whispered. Devlin leaned forward and placed a soft, brotherly kiss upon her brow. “I hope you do not regret the faith you have placed in me, my lady. Perhaps this trip to London shall reveal to you the error of your belief.” She smiled, her eyes glistening with barely suppressed tears and the glint of hopefulness. “Then you will take me to Winterhaven?” Devlin chuckled, her happiness spurring his own. “Indeed, my lady. Have I not said so?” She laughed tearfully, and wrapped her arms about him, hugging him close. “Thank you, Devlin,” she said, and he felt a bit more of the ice–ice that was his heart–melt. He grew serious once more. “We go to Winterhaven, Tian, but only if you go as my wife.” It was now her turn to search his gaze inquisitively, seeking some hidden meaning. He hastened to explain. “That means no more hiding in the tower chambers and no more strolling about here in the darkness and secretiveness of these corridors.” 100

Redemption Her smile near lighted the passage. “I’d be delighted, Lord Syndale, to be your wife.” Devlin felt the fist of panic slam him in the gut, but she didn’t press the matter. Instead, she said, “I suppose we’d best inform the servants of my existence.” He nodded. “Aye, we had best. We’ll also inform them that the Duke is your grandfather. I want no more secrets here. But Tian, you are not going to Winterhaven as the Duke’s granddaughter.” When she would have protested, he held up his hand to silence her ere she spoke. “Nay, Tian. I am glad, for your sake, that you and your grandfather are reunited at last, and that you have made your peace with each other. I know Duncan is eager to present you to the world. But, do we venture out from Valholen, my lady, we go as man and wife.” She chuckled. “Yes, my lord. I understand now that you intend to brutally stake your claim to me, even if ‘tis merely a ruse.” Devlin arched a brow. Then a chill swept through him. Perhaps she and Mr. Grigory had duped him after all. Perhaps the marriage documents were no documents at all, but merely the title and deed to the monastery. “A ruse, my lady? Shall I retrieve the documents from my strongbox?” She shook her head, setting her amber tresses to molten once more. “Nay, my lord Syn.” She grinned. “Well I know of what the papers attest. We are bound forevermore in an oath that only God may set aside. However, ‘twas the other that I referred to, the fact that the marriage was one on parchment only, for, of a certainty, we have yet to create a physical bond between us.” She made to step around him then, but Devlin caught her to him, pulling her close in his embrace, his gaze searching hers. It amazed him, the ease in which she brought their lack of shared passions into their conversation. The result of her innocently spoken reminder was an inflaming of his senses. He near shook with the force of it. “My lady I would caution you, do not test the bounds of my control, for they are far more limited than you may be aware. There are reasons why I have not laid claim to that which is mine in the physical sense. First, because ‘twas my thought that 101

Morgan LeShay you wanted naught of it. Second, because I find I cannot bring myself to do the deed as yet, though my desire is strong. But this I vow...should any man be foolish enough to lay a hand upon you, he will not live beyond the day. You are mine, Tian, and as long as I draw breath, no other shall have you.” Tian nodded. “I have marked your words well, my lord, and will heed your caution. May I go now to my chamber to prepare for our journey, my lord? Do I dally much longer, I shall never have time to get everything packed.” Her look was now one of cautious, guarded impatience and Devlin felt a wretch for being the cause of her hesitation. He expelled his breath slowly and released her, nodding. “I shall inform your grandfather and the servants of our impending departure, my lady. You have a bit of time before we leave.” She turned to go, but halted, looking at him uncertainly once more. “Shall I ready your things as well, my lord?” Devlin shook his head. “Nay, Sawyer will see to it.” Sometime later, when Tian appeared at the top of the stairway that led to the rectory, Devlin’s breath caught and he marveled at the perfect radiance of her. She had chosen her favored white as color for her attire once more, but this time, the traveling outfit she had chosen was tastefully trimmed in the deepest of blues. Her coat was of a deep sapphire, making the color of her eyes appear almost black. She smiled, her eyes sparkling with happiness, and the overwhelming pleasure of knowing she was his, and his alone, filled him. He was amazed at the deep sense of pride that knowledge created in him. It pleased him to no end to go forth at that moment, take her hand in his and announce her as his wife. They stood before her grandfather, and Devlin peered askance at her. He preferred to announce that she was the Duke’s granddaughter and be done with it, but he did not want her to be upset by the scandalous rumors he knew would be dredged up by such an announcement. She placed her hand in his, looped her fingers between his, and gave a slight nod. Devlin smiled and gave her fingers a light squeeze, admiring her strength of character in the face of adversity. He turned back to the servants who had gathered in the main parlor. 102

Redemption “I’d like to present to you the Marchioness of Addersley, granddaughter to His Grace, the Duke of Winterbourne,” he said, making no effort whatsoever to hide the trill of pride in his voice. Shocked murmurs rippled about the room, and Devlin smiled. He lifted Tian’s hand and waited for the whispers to subside. Then he bowed low over her hand, and said, “My wife.” He pressed a kiss to her knuckles, near bursting with pride at being able to say the words...at last. Tian smiled brightly, her pleasure obvious over the way he’d phrased her relationship with the Duke. She surprised him when she wrapped her arms about his neck, and hugged him close. “Thank you,” she whispered. Devlin awkwardly cleared his throat, much disturbed by her nearness and the sudden urge he felt to kiss her. Before he could give in to those urges, she stepped back, gesturing for him to begin the introductions. He led her forward, to each of the servants in turn. He introduced them, and stated their positions in the household. Tian more than proved her lineage. She nodded gracefully to each of them, and took the time to comment on some aspect of each of their duties that she had thus far seen well done. <><><> Finally, the introductions were over, and they were free to depart. Devlin took her hand, put it on his arm, and then lead the way to the carriages awaiting them outside. Once on the road, Tian’s excitement could not be contained. “Thank you so much for agreeing to allow me a visit to Winterhaven, my lord. You cannot know how much it means to me.” Devlin was beginning to guess. With each mile, his wife became more animated, talking excitedly about the last time she had seen this or that particular area or landmark and amazed at how much it had changed. His dourness and irritation grew apace with her joy. Had she truly been so unhappy at Valholen? So neglected? He’d thought her quite content until this moment. Nay, it was before in the hall that he had first realized she might be dissatisfied with 103

Morgan LeShay her life, as it were, in the old monastery. He remembered the wistfulness in her voice when she had remarked on how she would enjoy a trip to her grandfather’s estate, and it bothered him to think she might be unhappy. “What ails you, my lord?” she asked finally. Devlin frowned, noting the genuine look of concern etched upon her lovely face. Would that she could be as concerned about the needs of his body and see those desires well and truly met, he thought sourly. “‘Tis nothing. I but weary of the trip,” he said, revealing none of his true turmoil. The change in her was visible and instantaneous, as if someone had literally poured disappointment over her from a bucket. She looked away, staring out at the landscape, her joy with the trip appearing to be utterly ruined. “I am sorry to be such a bother, my lord. If it please you, I shall not beg another visit,” she said. Devlin shook his head in wonderment at the direction of her thoughts. “How is it that you always think to place the blame for my surly mood on yourself, sweet? Perhaps I should have said that the trip would be infinitely more passable could I hold you close. And if not that, then if I were riding my horse rather than suffer in these close quarters, having you so near, yet being unable to touch you as is my wont to do.” Her slow smile lit the sparkle in her eyes; giving him cause to ponder what new direction her thoughts now took. “I would be delighted to warm myself against you, my lord. ‘Tis freezing in here!” Devlin laughed. “Minx. ‘Tis your own comfort you look to and see a way to placate the glowering dragon in your contrivance as well. But, I will not deny either of us our pleasure. Come, my sweet,” he said, and grinned. He slid his arm around behind her and around her slim waist to pull her close. She nestled her head against his shoulder, and smiled up at him. He gazed at her, bemused, wondering what man could ever discover the true bend of a woman’s mind. He thought her quite settled and comfortable with their current arrangement, then she shifted to lean against the side of the carriage and hauled the skirts of her traveling gown upward, and he could not hide his shock. She chuckled and tucked her tiny, slippered feet between 104

Redemption his thighs before scooting round again, getting as close to him as she possibly could in her new position. He peered askance at her, fighting hard to ignore the inferno of fire that now burned within him from the innocent brushing of her ankle against his groin. She wrinkled her slender nose in a gesture of annoyance, and explained, “They were cold.” Devlin hesitated not a second before reaching out to lift her and deposit her squarely into his lap. He rearranged her until her feet were nestled against his side and she could lie comfortably against his chest, though he doubted the sanity of his actions all the while. “Is that better, my sweet?” he asked when she was settled again. Tian looked into his eyes, very much aware of the desire eddying in their depths. Her pulse sped and her body warmed with an inner heat that had nothing and everything to do with their closeness. Did he feel the change in her? She felt her cheeks flush hotly at the thought, and shifted in embarrassment. He groaned, a tortured sound, and her gaze flew up to meet his once more. “Did I hurt you?” she asked innocently. When he didn’t immediately answer her, she sat up, her intention to sit at his side instead of in his lap. She had hurt him, she thought, determined to move. But he caught her close, holding her still within his embrace. “‘Tis definitely warmer this way, my lord, but I would not wish to cause you discomfort,” she offered meekly. Indeed, she fairly flamed from the sensations flowing riotously through her, but did not wish to leave the deliciously pleasant comfort she found in his arms. “Nay, you did not hurt me, my lady,” he gasped out. “But do cease your movements, for they play havoc with my intentions.” She peered at him, understanding neither his words of explanation, nor why his voice had suddenly gone all raspy. “Your intentions, my lord?” He leaned his head back against the padded back of the carriage seat and haltingly released his breath. “Aye, lady, my intentions. I gladly offer you whatever warmth my body might 105

Morgan LeShay provide, but your movements bring to mind other pleasures I would much prefer to take and I do not think this carriage an appropriate place for the sharing of those.” Her mouth formed an ‘oh’, though no sound issued forth. She settled against him then, making as little movement as possible. Devlin cursed in silence, for his new torment was one very much of his own making. He wanted her. Nay, he ached for her. He could only hope the trip to Winterhaven would not take overlong, because he could not long continue to hold her so close without giving in to his baser nature.

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Chapter Seventeen Winterhaven was just that–a warm, cozy haven nestled within the blustery cold of winter. Though the snow had melted days ago, the temperature had not warmed enough to keep the icy wind from feeling frigid when it found its way beneath Tian’s cloak. She struggled to keep the garment closed tightly about her, but it continued to fly open in the icy breeze as she made her way inside the manse. Soon after their arrival, after a quick apology and explanation that he needed to take care of some important personal matters, her grandfather took himself off to his study, though he promised to join them for the evening meal. Devlin looked on in silence as Tian went about the manor house, re-familiarizing herself with each object. He’d been inside some of London’s finest homes. Luxury was not something he had never seen, but the opulence here in this place was beyond all that he had yet experienced and he felt oddly out of place in the midst of it. Not that anything was garishly displayed. Nay, everything at Winterhaven was tastefully elegant, grandly understated but most of all, richly accented. Much like Tian’s chambers at Valholen, he thought. Finally, his wife ceased her re-acquaintance ritual and joined him in the library, a sigh of contentment upon her lips. “‘Tis heavenly to be here again, my lord. I sincerely thought I might never see it again,” she said, taking his hand in hers. “I am pleased to have made you happy, my lady.” She leaned against the back of the rose damask covered sofa and ran her fingertips idly over its surface, her gaze resting softly on him. “I find I am in dire need of refreshing, however. Do you think ‘twould be all right if we slipped upstairs for a time?” 107

Morgan LeShay Devlin nodded distractedly, only half hearing her, so engrossed was he in his own musings. The divan he had found Tian sleeping upon in the rectory, the one he remembered thinking oddly out of place in the old monastery, bore a striking resemblance to the sofa here in the Duke’s library. He knew that the duke had somehow seen to it that the divan get to the monastery. Had the crafty old goat known where his granddaughter was all along? He thought to question his wife on the matter, but she gave him no chance to speak. She walked to the door, pulling him along with her. “Thank you, Devlin. I’d much prefer that you help me out of this gown rather than having to call for Renna anyway. And you do give the most delightful foot rubs.” Devlin’s gaze swung sharply to lock with hers. “Help you out of your gown? Nay, Tian, I cannot...” She pouted. “But you already agreed, my lord, and I really would appreciate a rest. That ride was more tiring than I remembered. And though I will not press you for the massage, I would not be chagrined were you to offer.” A tiny frown drew her finely arched brows downward. “I am unused to this footwear after so much time at Valholen.” She lifted the hem of her traveling gown so that he could see that she was standing on her toes to relieve the pressure on her heels caused by her shoes. He commiserated with her agony, but her words had seared him. Even though he followed her toward the stairs, he could feel his brow beading with perspiration. Expelling the tightly held breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding, he nodded. “Very well, lady. Lead the way.” He would attempt to continue to play the gentleman, he decided, but should another incident like the night of her disrobing at Valholen occur, he didn’t think he could see her and not ravish her. Especially after that long, excruciatingly challenging ride here to Winterhaven he’d just suffered through. <><><> Renna met them at the top of the stairway, much to Devlin’s intense relief. She helped Tian to undress behind a screen, brought her one of the billowy ‘angel’ gowns that she preferred to wear at Valholen. Re-dressed and comfortable, she 108

Redemption swept about the room in her bare feet, sinking her toes into the deliciously warm carpet that stretched beneath the bed and outward into the center of the room. He chose to sit in the chair near the fire while she changed out of her traveling attire and she came to him there, her pleasure evident in her every move. “‘Tis wonderful, is it not, my lord?” she beamed. He studied her exuberant expression with dismay. ‘Twas clear she much preferred the opulence here to the much more rustic accommodations at Valholen. “Indeed, lady,” he said, hoping his disheartenment did not reveal itself in his voice. Though he attempted to appear relaxed, she evidently noticed his constriction because she stepped around behind his chair and began to massage his shoulders. He could feel his muscles bunch beneath her gentle touch, but she did not cease her tender ministrations. “My lord, allow me to attempt to take your pain away,” she said, her fingers working a strange magic upon him. He reached up and grasped her hand, and pulled her around in front of the chair once more, facing him. She stood silent, waiting expectantly. “How easily you transform, my lady,” he whispered. “From an exquisitely beautiful aristocrat to a ravishingly attractive angel.” She smiled sweetly. “Transform? Nay, my lord. As always, I am Tian. The attire I choose is but placed upon me. I am ever the same.” Devlin eyed her curiously, searching out some deeper meaning in her words. “Methinks I prefer the angel, lady.” Tian laughed. “The devil preferring an angel?” She lifted her hand, allowing her fingertips to trace across his cheek. “Perhaps the angel has the soul of the aristocrat, or the aristocrat the soul of an angel?” Devlin caught the spirit of her teasing, and chuckled. “It matters not, lady, for you are perfect either way. Come here, my angel. I find I’ve a need to ascertain once again that you are real.” He pulled her onto his lap and felt her draw in a quick breath. Leaning against him, she looped her arm about his neck and rested her other hand casually against his chest. 109

Morgan LeShay “My lord, I fear you shall find that I am far from perfect, no matter how upright I strive to be. My hope at this moment however is that you’ll not think me too forward for relenting to my desire,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. That said, she leaned close and touched her lips to his, brushing them softly back and forth against his before pressing closer, eager for the knowledge of what he could teach her. She heard him groan, low and deep, an instant before his arms came up around her to pull her closer still. He took control of the kiss, slanting his lips against hers, teasing her with quick, tiny kisses, and cajoling her lips to part for him. When she opened to him, he slid his tongue within her mouth, tasting her, tempting her. Intrigued, and more than a little aroused, Tian touched her tongue to his, joining him in the stirring play. Devlin felt his control slipping away. He was beyond thought. His wife, ever eager to allow him his pleasure, answered his kisses passion for passion. He adjusted his position in the chair and hers in his lap, moving her to a more accommodating angle. Sweet Jesus, but she had to be pure heaven in his arms! He stroked his fingers upward along her back, then down to her hips and back up again. Occasionally, they found themselves enmeshed within her golden, honeyed tresses. He would not break the kiss for fear of moving his lips onto a more knavish path, but continued to build her pleasure with his lips. He allowed his hand to cup the soft, gentle swell of her bottom. His manhood pulsed and strained, pressing against her softness, leaving him yearning, aching to know all of her. She moaned softly against his mouth, and Devlin shuddered, knowing she would voice no word to halt his passionate sport if he chose to continue the wild love play she had instigated. Somewhere in the swirling eddy of his hot, blistering passion the knowledge that he must be the one to call a halt to the interlude found its way through to his brain. He knew he must cease before he became lost, and all his vows were for naught, but his body demanded he ignore the warning in his mind, ignore honor and see his passions met. He pulled away, his breathing harsh and erratic. “Lady, do 110

Redemption we continue, I fear I shall lose what bit of sanity and control I have left and ravish you in truth. I beg of you, take yourself yonder to the fire whilst I find what tender control I might.” Tian nodded and rose to stand shakily on weakened knees before him. A moment’s pause to gain her balance, and then she moved away to stand at his side, trailing her fingers up and down his arm in a gentle caress. His fierce grip upon the arm of the chair made his shirt strain taut across the muscles of his arm. “Ah, but ‘twas most deliciously nice, were it not, my fine lord?” she asked, and chuckled low in her throat. Devlin almost dragged her over the arm of the chair and back into his lap, set to devour her and to hell with his vows. But to do that, he knew, would be to take her in unworthiness, and she deserved so much more than that. A few moments of silence other than the rasps of their breath passed, then Devlin said, “Tian, which chamber am I to use here at Winterhaven whilst you renew your acquaintance with your grandfather? Considering what just passed between us, I think it best I go there now. Of a certainty, if I stay here, you will get little rest, lady.” His voice was still husky from the searing desire she had so easily stoked within him, which yet consumed him with its flame. “‘Tis here, my lord,” she murmured, still a bit breathless. He waited, but she did not volunteer more. “And where is your chamber, my sweet?” She grinned. “‘Tis here, my lord.” Devlin groaned in despair, letting his head fall back against the high back of the armchair. There was no way, in the name of all that was holy, that he could spend the night in the same chamber with her and not touch her. He could not. The mere thought, that he might be forced to spend an entire fortnight in such close quarters with her, was absolutely beyond comprehension to his overwrought senses. “I cannot.” “‘Tis quite proper, I assure you, my lord. We are wed, after all,” she said. He raised his head, letting his gaze take in all of her at once. Her ripe body was outlined by the firelight glowing through the material of the billowy white gown she wore, and Devlin knew he was lost. His raging hunger clawed at his vitals and he fought to control it. 111

Morgan LeShay “Tian, I cannot stay in this chamber with you and continue to keep my...my baser urges in check.” His voice was hoarse, vibrating with raw need. She went to him, knelt in the floor before him, her eyes searching his. “My lord, none but you have set these constraints. I am your wife, and willingly offer you whatever pleasure you might find with my body.” He squeezed his eyes tightly closed, shutting out the appealing vision of her. He shook his head, but offered no explanation for his rejection of her. The silence that now filled the room grew taut, fraught with tension. She placed her hands upon his and he still made no effort to soothe her hurt, other than to caress her knuckles with his thumb. Tian wanted to scream out her frustration. “My lord, I do not understand. What are these demons you fight? If you would but tell me what dragon you struggle to slay, my lord, we might join together in the battle and conquer him once and for all.” Her plea, it seemed at first, failed to move him. Then he opened his eyes to gaze at her, as if contemplating the seriousness of her promise. After a long moment, he shook his head again. “Nay. ‘Tis my battle alone, my demons to conquer.” She lowered her gaze, fighting the pain of his rejection as well as her own awakened passions. She stood to leave him alone, that he might gather his control, though she could not see that he had lost it at all. He had called a halt to their lovemaking after all, so he had obviously retained some measure of control. Instead of walking away, she leaned forward and placed a soft kiss against his brow. “I am here for you, my lord,” she said quietly. “Please, seek your comfort with me ‘ere you decide to press yourself upon another, I beg you, for that would be the one betrayal I could not forgive.” He said no word, so she turned away, calling softly over her shoulder, “I await your pleasure, my lord.”

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Chapter Eighteen Dinner at Winterhaven was a cozy, familial affair, with herself and Devlin seated near Tian’s grandfather, who occupied his usual place at the end of the long mahogany table. The last course had been served, and the dishes cleared when the Duke leaned toward Tian and took her hand in his, giving it a light pat. “Ah, my child, I have sorely missed the pleasure of feminine company at my table,” he said, a beaming smile on his face. “Alas,” he continued with a sigh, “there is much of your life I have missed, albeit from my own foolishness. There were times during these past years, my girl, that I thought I might never see you again. ‘Twas near as if my own life had ended.” Tian looked away, uncertain what she should say. The memory of those first weeks and months after her mother passed on still upset her. She’d felt so alone, so scared, and there had been no one for her to turn to in her time of grief. Many times, her parents had reminded her that if something should happen to the both of them, she was to seek out the protection of her grandfather. Tian had been unable to bring herself to come to him. The knowledge that he had turned away his own child, her mother, for choosing to follow her heart refused to let her. Yet, it had always been her mother’s most fervent wish that she might, someday, know her grandfather. Truly, it had been her father’s wish as well, for neither of them wanted to deny their daughter her right to know her family–even if the Duke had proven, in the past, to be an unforgiving, unbending man. The summer she and her mother had spent here at Winterhaven had been at her father’s urging, she now recalled, and she wondered briefly if her grandfather would believe her should she tell him now. Probably not, she decided. 113

Morgan LeShay A tear pricked Tian’s vision as she recalled that even when her mother lay dying, she had reminded her daughter of their family in London. She’d wasted precious, final breaths to reassure her daughter that the duke would never turn her away, should she need him. Tian, much like her mother, refused to seek him out, even after her father, too, passed on. Her loyalty to her mother’s memory would not let her forget that the Duke had refused to accept her father. Therefore, she had not accepted her grandfather. She glanced at Devlin, who sat silent now, watching her. Somehow, he had made her reassess things, for were it not for him, she would not be here even now. She could not bring herself to look at her grandfather just now, for the pain had returned, welling raw and new. The first year she spent in secret, behind Valholen’s thick walls, she had spent with her father. It was very hard at first because he sorely grieved for her mother. After several months passed, he’d seemed to awaken from a long, lonely sleep and had taken a special delight in knowing that Arrielle had left him a daughter to remind him of her. It was then that her father had taught her to play chess, she remembered, and smiled. “Grandfather, do you by chance still have the chessboard you and Mother used to play at?” she asked. “I would dearly love to hone my skills, if ‘tis possible,” she said, thrilling now to the thought of a rousing game of strategy. Devlin chuckled. “Tian, my sweet, surely your pure mind is not bent upon stratagems. Tell me you are not thinking to challenge His Grace to a game of chess?” Tian wanted to chuckle, as well, but she would not give herself away just yet. Most men, she was well aware, believed chess a game suited only to males, the superior species where strategy was concerned. She would let him hold with this belief for a short time more, she decided. Giving him a look of utter guilelessness, she said, “Indeed, my lord. I am. However, I shall endeavor to allow Grandfather to win. Mother often warned me that her father was a sore loser.” Devlin, surprised by her words, roared with laughter. He wondered if she really thought to best the old man, and wouldn’t 114

Redemption be a bit surprised to learn that indeed she did. The duke, too, guffawed with enjoyment in his granddaughter’s witticism and clapped Devlin on the back. “You hear that, Syndale? She thinks to let me win! Ha! What say you, Granddaughter? Two of three?” Tian turned to her husband once more. “Do you mind overmuch, my lord? I vow it’s been an age since I last played, and I’ve a yearning to test Grandfather’s skills. It has been quite a while since I had a worthy opponent to match skills against.” He grinned and waved her query away. “Of course I don’t mind, my sweet. In fact, I am so intrigued by the thought of seeing your grandfather trounce you in the match, that I shall stay and watch, and endeavor to learn a few tricks from his mastery.” “Of course, of course!” the Duke urged, and then turned to bellow, “Helga! Bring the lady some tea and have Chester move the chessboard into the Green Salon!” He chortled once more, and arched a brow at his granddaughter. “By the way, you should know your mother never won a match against me.” A slow smile curved Tian’s lips, and she nodded. “Aye, she told me this. Well she knew to let you win.” <><><> A brace of hours had passed since Devlin joined Tian and her grandfather in the Green Salon. He was pleasantly surprised to learn that his lady-wife could indeed follow the necessary stratagems in the game. What amused him to no ends, however, was the discovery that she had truly let the Duke win both matches they had played so far. They began their third and final match, and Devlin wondered if his lovely wife was as adept at strategically playing people as she was at playing the chess pieces, for of a certainty she had played her grandfather well this night. When the last game was set to begin, he arched a brow and said, “I applaud your skill, my lady. Tell me, where did you learn to play so well?” Tian grinned. “My father taught me to play the game, my lord. ‘Tis not so difficult when you understand what each piece is capable of.” Her comment made him frown. Had his earlier thoughts 115