Devin hurried back to the castle.
This time, she found Rocky in the master’s chamber. She stared at him as she entered, completely taken by surprise. Rocky was in the big claw-foot tub.
Maybe she shouldn’t have been surprised; it was supposed to be their honeymoon and he did love the tub.
But…
“Hey!” she said.
“Hey,” he told her. He gave her a come-hither grin. “Join me.”
She just stared at him for a moment. Normally, the invitation would start something unbelievably sweet and sensual rising within her.
And not that it didn’t…
Soap suds sluiced down the bronzed expanse of his chest. His hair was damp. He looked ruggedly handsome.
And clean, of course.
“Rocky, Brendan was nearly murdered today.”
“Yes. And I believe I’m on my way to solving the problem.”
“What?”
“I took a little excursion on my own.”
“Oh?”
“This place is incredibly historic, you know. They still have original torture implements down in the dungeon. Apparently, the inhabitants of Karney were not known for being blood thirsty, and they did make many compromises—claiming to be for the Church of England when necessary. But, they were also careful—watching out for spies among their own after the Battle of the Boyne!”
Devin shook her head. “Rocky, I love you so much. And I’m into history, too. But—”
He held the edge of the tub, turning to look at her very seriously. “Devin, you know that I believe that someone is doing this through machinery. And now I’m even more convinced that I’m right. I saw Siobhan tonight. She kept looking at the door in the old chapel that’s now part of the pub. It leads to the crypts—and there’s a door that leads downward from the great hall—closed and ‘locked’ with one of those velvet ropes over it. There’s also a dumbwaiter in the dressing room next to us. Someone could have easily come here—brought something up here—the night that Collum died. I managed to crawl into the dumbwaiter—or whatever the medieval lords would have called it—down to the great hall. From there, I slipped past the velvet rope and the supposedly locked door down a flight of stone stairs to the crypt—torture chamber first, crypt when you head to the south away from the great hall and beneath the pub. There’s dust in most of it—and areas swept clean. A bunch of dirt and spider webs, too, thus the bath,” he added dryly. “I’ve also been in touch with Jackson Crow back in the main office; they’re going to do searches on Michael and Aidan and find out if they might have slipped over here for a few hours on the night Collum died.”
Devin stared at him for a moment in wonder and smiled slowly. She dropped her bag on the floor and quickly doffed her jacket, kicked off her shoes, and drew her sweater over her head.
Rocky looked at her with questioning brows arched high.
“You’re so good,” she told him.
“Ah, lass!” he said, nicely mimicking the accent they’d been hearing since their arrival. “Ya’ have some faith in me, y’do!”
She stripped down all the way and crawled into the tub with him. It was a big tub, though still a little awkward. She managed, however, to finagle herself around so that she lay halfway atop him and could set her hands on his shoulders and meet his eyes before she kissed him, a kiss as long and wet and steamy as the water around them.
“You do have faith,” he whispered, his eyes bright as they met hers after.
“Indeed,” she said, laughing herself. She lay nearly atop him and clearly felt the rise of his erection against her thighs.
He drew her closer, pressing the length of their bodies tight.
“Faith well-warranted!” he vowed.
It was tricky—not an easy accomplishment, but they laughed as she maneuvered herself to completely straddle him, and there, in the great old tub, in the midst of soap bubbles, steam, and the delicious wetness, they made love.
Devin collapsed against him and he held her tight, then after a moment said, “My lord, I would suffer any torture for a repeat, but my knees are all but broken!”
She laughed and finagled her length off of him and out of the tub, grinning as her push against him pressed his knees harder against the tub.
“Sorry! So sorry!” she said.
“Ach! I’ll show you sorry!” he promised.
In a minute, he was up and out, too. She shrieked softly as he reached for her, still soaking wet. She made a beeline for the bed where he met her, and they crashed atop, surrounded by covers and pillows and the down comforter. There it was easy to make love again, kissing the dampness from one another’s bodies, sleek and slippery and still burning with the heat both of the water and that which came from within.
Finally, they lay spent and exhausted in one another’s arms, entangled in the sheets and the bedding.
After a while, Rocky said, “I wonder if there are ghosts that haunt these chambers; so many have died here. It would be natural.”