Free Devil’s Cove (Tortured Souls) by R.C. Matthews

the hell with it.
She was still a child, and he hated to tamp down her curiosity and naturally vibrant nature, so he tossed her a boon.
    “
After
breakfast I plan to … ” He paused, catching himself before uttering the word
show
. A smug smile crept across his lips. “Introduce Grace to several new rooms. Would you like to join us?”
    The girl’s green eyes lit up, and she nodded, only to bite down on her bottom lip. She glanced at Grace, and he understood her frustration. Maribeth had forgotten to speak her wishes for Grace’s benefit.
    “Yes, I want to join you both,” Maribeth said, “but can we begin with the parlor in the east wing?”
    Devlin nodded. “I think we can manage that.”
    • • •
    Breakfast was an interesting affair, as Grace insisted upon fixing her own plate. Devlin stared in fascination while she chose scrambled eggs, grilled tomatoes, and toast, arranging them in sections on her plate.
    “It’s my sense of smell,” she said, taking her seat.
    Devlin looked up. “Pardon me?”
    She sighed and laid her napkin on her lap. “I rely on my sense of smell to select the food.”
    How could she possibly know where his mind had wandered?
    “You were quiet,” she said with a smirk. “People who are staring at me in rapt fascination are quiet.”
    “My apologies,” he replied.
    “Don’t be sorry.” She sipped her tea and then scooped a bite of eggs onto her fork. “I would be curious, too, if our roles were reversed.”
    Would he manage to temper his frustration that well if he were in her shoes? A part of him wished to ask her when and how she’d lost her sight. But that would be incredibly rude. Yet she had opened the door to some questions.
    “May I ask, then, how you know where to arrange the food and how much is enough or too much?”
    “You may,” she said, resting her fork and knife on the edge of the plate. “Take this plate, for example. It is larger than the full length of my hand; the larger the plate, the more food I may pile on it.” She grinned and leaned toward him. “You have rather large plates. I shall become fat in your employ.”
    He laughed, enchanted by her sense of humor. Her form was perfect in every way, so he didn’t believe for one second that she would indulge in too much food. His hand slid across the table, but he caught himself before laying it over hers. What was this draw he felt toward her? He did not chase after virgins, ever, and had no intention of starting now.
    He yanked his hand back and took a bite of his eggs. “You’re forced to employ all of your senses to survive. I must admit, it is fascinating to watch you, but I’ll endeavor not to stare too much. I might scare you away, otherwise, and I cannot have that.”
    “It takes more than a bit of staring to scare me,” she said, pressing her lips together as if suppressing a smile.
    It was ungallant of him, but he couldn’t resist. “You mean something like slithering noises, perhaps.”
    “You’re a scoundrel.” She screwed her lips into a disapproving pucker, though he could tell she was teasing him. Still, the reminder of their encounter the evening before rankled.
    “So I’ve been told,” he bit out.
    Her face fell, and he almost regretted the thoughtless comment. Did she regret her words from the night before? Not that it mattered. He didn’t give two whits what others thought of him. Except, for some inexplicable reason, her disapproval of his character cut deep. Perhaps ’twas because she reminded him of the little girl he’d rescued when he was still a lad. That young maiden had regarded him with sublime hero worship, a stark contrast to what he’d become. A dark, gaping hole had replaced his heart a long time ago.
    He shifted in his seat and lifted his fork. It was futile to linger on such musings.
    “So how does one go about exorcising spirits from one’s home?” he asked with genuine interest.
    Grace gulped a mouthful of tea. “It depends.”
    “On