Devil’s Cove (Tortured Souls) Read Online Free Page A

wished to hear. But from the sound of her mentor’s voice, it wasn’t entirely the case.
    “Oh, that would be fine, indeed,” she said on a sigh. “Is it not so?”
    Brother Anselm laughed and pulled her hand into his. “I would liken him to an archangel. Golden hair kept long and pulled away at the nape of his neck. Quite unconventional. Chiseled jaw, that much is true. But his eyes. From what I could see in this dim light, I believe they must be as dark blue as the fathomless sea upon which he commands his ships.”
    Not what she had been hoping for, but all was not lost. There must be more to the man in order to command a room with only his presence. Perhaps he towered over everyone and wielded an axe or sword. Yes, that would do nicely. “Would you say he’s as big as Goliath?”
    “Quite,” came the answer from an amused baritone at the edge of their table, and Grace froze.
    Good Lord, the pirate was standing right there. Brother Anselm could’ve forewarned her, at the very least. More likely he was enjoying himself. What a jest! She often wondered at his dedication to the cloth, but there were few opportunities for intrigue in their day-to-day lives, so who was she to rob him of a little fun?
    How much of their conversation had the captain heard?
    Reaching for her napkin, Grace wiped delicately at her lips and turned to their unwelcomed guest. “Pardon me. I don’t believe we’ve met.”
    “Allow me the honors,” the man said, and Grace imagined he dipped a proper bow in her direction.
    It was the swishing of his waistcoat that gave him away. She pressed her lips together to hide her smile. She could not see him, so the gesture was wasted on her, though she secretly enjoyed the chivalry of it all. It said something about the man that he found her deserving of the required social graces. Odd, for a pirate, for that’s exactly what she believed him to be. Privateers didn’t elicit such fanciful rumors in a place like Devil’s Cove.
    “Captain Devlin Limmerick, at your service.”
    The deep pitch of his voice was menacing in its own right—enough to send shivers down her spine—and the man had only said “at your service.” She had no doubt he could incite fear in even the burliest of men. He stood quietly, like a cat prepared to pounce, awaiting her response. Tension settled between her shoulders, and she suddenly felt like a juicy little mouse.
    She shook away the ridiculous thought. “I’m Grace, and this is Brother Anselm.”
    “Just Grace?” he asked.
    She nodded. “Just Grace.”
    “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Grace. And you, Brother.” Again, the swish of fabric, a slight breeze on the air. They were shaking hands. She was certain of it. Brother Anselm would speak of it for days, to be sure, having shaken the hand of a pirate.
    “May I be of service to you?” Brother Anselm asked.
    “No,” the pirate said. “However, I hope Miss Grace will consider an offer of employment, room and board included, of course. She comes highly recommended from my cook, Mrs. Abigail Stevens. I’m afraid my servants are not settling well into Devil’s Cove Manor and would rest better if Miss Grace would extricate our”—he cleared his throat—“unwelcome guests.”
    Grace ran her hand along her neck and chest, where a dull pressure pulsed against her breastbone. Live at the mansion? The man was crazy if he believed she would consider it. Her own mother had been carted away to the insane asylum after the disastrous events that took place in that manor fifteen years ago. An entire party of guests and every single servant massacred, left lying in the pool of their own blood. Grace could only imagine the level of unrest that reverberated through the walls. Absolutely not. It might be the death of her.
    “Thank you for the offer, Captain,” she said, holding her chin high. “But I’m afraid there isn’t an offer high enough that would entice me to accept. You’re mad to live in that mansion.”