Page 51 of The Devil's Torment

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My head rests in Nicholas’s lap, and the autumn sun dries the salt and sand on our skin. His fingers thread through my hair, and the tenderness of it brings a rush of tears to my eyes. I’m aware Nicholas has a brutal side—his family’s reputation is well known in our circles—but since our fates were sealed, he’s shown me nothing but understanding and affection. That’s a start, right? After what I said at Beth’s funeral, he could have made my life a living hell, and there was a part of me that expected him to. Instead, he’s shown me a lighthearted, caring, compassionate side of him I wouldn’t have known existed before we married.

My heart bursts with adoration for this man, but there’s no way I can tell him that the infatuation I once felt is fast becoming something more. Something far deeper and scarier. Of course, I’d love it if one day he declared his undying love for me, for him to admit he made a mistake and should have chosen me all along, but I can’t control what he says, does, or feels. All I can do is be true to myself and hope it’s enough.

“I’ve drawn a blank on every avenue in searching for Elizabeth’s murderer.”

I stiffen. Here we are, lying naked on golden sand, the sun warming our skin, and he’s thinking about my sister. Beth has crossed my thoughts more than once, and I was the one who raised the subject of her yesterday, but for Nicholas to instigate the conversation right after we had sex feels like a kick in the teeth. It’s yet another reminder that it should be Beth lying on this beach with him. Her hair he’s absentmindedly threading through his fingers. Her body he’s kissing, touching, and fucking.

I sit up and bring my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. “I was going to ask, but…” I trail off. The truth is, I didn’t want to ask. Not until we were back in England with this dream trip in the rearview mirror. I didn’t want to keep reminding myself that I shouldn’t be here. That Nicholas wasn’t meant to be mine.

“I’m sorry. I’m not giving up. I’ll never give up until I find out who killed her and make them pay.”

His apology, coming as it does while his cum is still drying on the inside of my thighs, hurts. It fucking hurts, but I don’t want to let him see how much his words have cut me.

Gathering myself, I school my expression, bury the pain inside, and turn my attention to him. “It’s not your fault.”

“It is. I told you I’d find those responsible.” He drags a hand over his face. “No one evades me. No one.”

The bleakness and near defeat in his expression draws my hand to his arm in comfort. “I know you’ll do right by her. I trust you.”

“I fucking will,” he growls. “I swear to you that I’ll never stop searching.”

Although finding Beth’s murderer is something I’ll never give up on either, I internally wince. It doesn’t matter how much time passes; the fact remains that Nicholas was Beth’s before he was mine, and that means I can never be his first choice.

It’s a depressing thought.

“Do you mind if we go back.” My voice sounds overly bright, but he doesn’t appear to notice. “I’m feeling a bit tired. Must be all the sun.”

“Or the sex.” His smile puts a crack in my heart.

“Yeah, that, too.”

By the time we sail back to port, the sun is setting, painting the sky in hues that remind me of a blood orange. When Nicholas suggests going out for dinner, I feign a headache. He kisses my forehead, perfectly appropriate, perfectly controlled. A kiss for his wife. Just not the wife he originally chose.

As I trudge up the stairs to bed, one word reverberates through my mind: Imposter.

ChapterNineteen

NICHOLAS

No one is more shocked than I am by how much I’ve enjoyed my honeymoon. Originally, I brought Victoria here out of a sense of duty—something my entire family is well versed in. Every woman deserves a honeymoon, even if the marriage is an arranged one rather than a true love match, but I hadn’t expected a sense of melancholy to sweep through me at the idea of returning home this morning.

Four days wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. I cannot get my fill of my new bride, which has come as something of a shock. It’s not just sexually she’s got me in a vise, either. I’ve enjoyed spending time with her, showing her around a place I’ve always considered a second home. Turns out the sour, bitter, combative Victoria I thought I knew isn’t her at all. She’s inquisitive, passionate, interesting, and while she isn’t afraid to speak her mind, it doesn’t piss me off nearly as much as I thought it would.

Unfortunately, it’s time to return to the real world. I have back-to-back meetings starting tomorrow and running right through the weekend to catch up on what I’ve missed. My family’s businesses are extensive and diverse, and although we all shoulder our fair share of responsibilities, there are never enough hours in the day.

For the first time in my life, I’m not looking forward to the humdrum of daily life. My various business interests have always grounded me, giving me a focus, a way of drowning out the voices that tell me I’m not fuckingenough. But I have a new focus now, and I’m obsessed.

When the car arrives at nine o’clock to drive us to the private airfield, there’s no sign of Victoria. I left her sleeping when I rose at six this morning, even though the temptation to roll her over and sink into her consumed me, but I could have sworn I heard the shower over an hour ago. I’m about to head upstairs when she appears at the top, suitcase in hand.

“Let me get that.” I take the stairs two at a time and peel her fingers from around the handle.

She gives me a wan smile. “Thanks.”

I frown. “Are you feeling all right?” She does look a little pale, which is entirely my fault. I’ve kept her up far too late every night, and woken her early the next morning, my urges too powerful to ignore. Not once has she turned me down, though, clinging to me as I devour her over and over, our hunger for one another equal.

“I’m fine.”

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