Dancing With the Devil (30 page)

“What job?” she repeated.

He gripped the top of the nearest stall with one hand
and rubbed his face with the other. Given what she knew about him already, nothing else should have been this difficult to tell her, yet the longer it took him to tell her, the worse he felt.

His hands fisted, relaxed, fisted again, and then suddenly the words were spilling out of him faster than he could think them.

“To help my sister steal a soul.”

“Oh my…no. No.”

“That’s why I couldn’t tell you I was leaving. I didn’t want you to know what I was doing, or where I was going.”

She shook her head and shoved out of the stall, leaving Deacon and Kit to chase after her. She ran into the chicken coop and closed the gate behind her. Instantly, the chickens went crazy, flapping and squawking and running in every different direction.

Rhea moved into the hen house, and Deacon followed. The noise was unbearable, but before it even registered in his brain that he could have done it, Kit froze the whole flock with a flick of her hand. The sudden silence caught him off guard.

“Rhea.” He took a tentative step toward her as she lifted eggs from each nest. The urge to grab her, make her stand still, was almost too much. But that was what Rhea did. Taking care of these animals was the only way she knew to think through everything else.

“No matter what happened with Lucille,” he said, “I didn’t think I’d ever make it back here. If I succeeded with her, I knew I could never face you again. And if I failed…”

Her hand paused under a hen frozen in mid-squawk. “What?” she asked.

He gripped the door frame for support as he forced each word from his tongue. “If I failed,” he repeated, “I
had no reason to think I’d ever see the light of another day.”

“You almost didn’t.” Kit suddenly appeared inside the hen house, her eyes dramatically wide.

“Either way,” Deacon went on, “I was never going to see you again.”

“But you’re here,” she murmured. “So does that mean…”

“I failed. Lucille fell in love, and I couldn’t stop her.”

“More like he gave up,” Kit grunted. “But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.”

The shame of what he’d tried to do to his sister continued to gnaw at him. “I knew how you felt, Rhea. I knew what you expected from me, and what you hoped for, and I knew I couldn’t give it to you.”

Rhea’s hand closed around the egg, but didn’t lift it. “Did you want to?”

His throat squeezed tight, and much as it pained him, he couldn’t look away from her. “More than I’ve ever wanted anything else.”

“But then why—?”

“I couldn’t tell you where I was going—” he started.

“Because he was scared,” Kit finished.

“And I couldn’t tell you I wasn’t coming back—”

“Because he was even more scared.”

“You were scared of me?” Rhea released the egg and moved closer, but not too close. “Is that true?”

Damn Kit. The last thing he wanted was Rhea finding out he was scared, but now that it was out there, he couldn’t deny it.

“You were right, Rhea.” He shrugged softly. “I’m a coward.”

Shame splashed across her face until she couldn’t look him in the eye anymore.

“It was easier for me to end it fast,” he said. “I didn’t want you thinking there was any hope for us, and I knew the only way to do that was to make you hate me.”

“Oh, Deacon.” Tears cut a crooked trail down her right cheek, but she didn’t wipe them away. “How could hating you make anything easier?”

Kit cleared her throat. “Perhaps you should meet our father,” she said. “A couple minutes with him and you’d understand—”

“Kit!”

“Just trying to help,” she grumbled.

Deacon’s shoulder lifted in a weary shrug. “The only way you can ever have the life you want is if you are free of me, and of everything you feel for me, good or bad. You said yourself you wouldn’t marry a man you don’t love, and as long as you had any feelings for me, your heart wouldn’t be open to love anyone else.” He dragged his gaze away from her and stared at the ground. “I thought if I hurt you badly enough, you’d have to hate me and that would be enough to break this…thing…between us.”

“And did it?”

Kit snorted, but it took Deacon a long time before he finally shook his head.

“So, what…you came back to finish the job?” she choked. “You came back to hurt me more?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“I came back,” he sighed, “to try to ease the pain you have in your heart.” Satan’s teeth, it sounded stupid now.

“And in his own,” Kit added. “You’ve made him so weak that he feels your pain as if it were his, and in case you hadn’t noticed, he’s got enough pain without having to carry yours as well.”

Rhea looked as though she’d been slapped. Her face blanched, her hand pressed against her chest and she slumped back against the wall.

“You feel the same pain I do?” she whispered.

“Yes.”

It hurt too much to look at her. Humiliation he could deal with, but this…admitting his weakness to her, and knowing full well there was nothing to be done about it, was more than he could take.

He spun around and walked to the far side of the pen. Gripping the rail in both hands, he tucked his head between his forearms and sighed.

“Is there anything else?” Rhea had come out of the hen house and now stood about halfway between it and him.

With a hard exhale, he shoved away from the fence. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Look, Rhea.” He could feel the vein pulsing in his neck. “I didn’t tell you these things because I wanted to protect you.”

“Protect me from what?” she cried. “From the truth?”

“Yes!” He gripped her upper arms between his hands. “You keep insisting that the truth is so great, but what’s so great about it?”

He released her in a rush, shoved his hands through his hair and bent over at the waist. If it was truth she wanted, truth she’d get. And it would be her own fault if it caused her more pain.

“Here’s the truth.” He straightened up and began to pace in front of her, trying his best to ignore Kit, who continued to hover in the narrow doorway. “No amount of pain my father has been able to inflict on me has broken this…thing…I have for you inside.”

“Stop calling it a ‘thing.’ ”

“What else should I call it?” His mouth twisted against each word. “Love? Is this what love feels like? All this frustration and anger…”

Rhea sucked in a sharp gasp.

“I did what I thought was best for you, even when it meant I had to leave.” He jammed his fingers through his hair as he walked. “And even when it hurt more than the whippings.”

A deep frown creased against Kit’s forehead. “Deacon…”

He ignored her and reached for Rhea. “I thought if I came back, I could make you see that I felt this…thing…for you, too. This affection. Then I could make you trust me enough to see past the lie I told you.”

The strain of each word he spoke etched itself across Rhea’s face.

“If I could do that, maybe I could make your heart hurt a little less. But as you’ve pointed out so many times this past week, I can’t make you do anything, can I?”

She slammed her fists against his chest and pounded until he staggered back. “Why didn’t you tell me this at the beginning?”

He sucked in a sharp breath but didn’t try to stop her.

“If you’ll recall,” Kit cut in, sliding down the fence post until she sat in a crouch, “he tried to explain right up front, but you were too busy shooting at him to listen.”

“Kit!” Rhea and Deacon’s voiced blended as one.

Aside from the hammering on his chest, this was the longest he’d ever seen Rhea stand still, and the sudden realization unsettled him. When she spoke, her voice was low, quivering and weary.

“What happens now?”

“Nothing’s changed.” He didn’t dare move closer to her in case she hit him again. “I have to go back.”

“Why?” A low moan started deep in her lungs and by the time it broke loose, she was sitting in a heap with Deacon crouched in front of her.

“I’m the son of Satan,” he said quietly. “I’ll never be anything more than that, just as you’ll never be anything less than who you are.”

“But you didn’t do it,” she mumbled. “You didn’t make my heart hurt less.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.” He tucked her hair back from her face and smiled, pathetic as it was. “And that’s why I have to go back.”

“Honestly,” Kit grumped. “If Father had any idea of how many times you’ve…ugh…apologized to her since you arrived—”

“That’s it!” Rhea fisted her hands in Deacon’s shirt and struggled to stand. “You
are
sorry, aren’t you?”

“More than you’ll ever know.”

“Then stay with me,” she cried, yanking on his shirt until he staggered to his feet beside her.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can! You feel anger and pain and regret—I’ve seen it.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Kit snorted.

“Yes, it does!” Rhea cried. “If he can feel those emotions, he can feel everything else, too.” She spoke to Kit, but kept her eyes focused on Deacon’s. There was a fire inside her, burning with a renewed hope. “The pain you feel isn’t mine—it’s yours! This ‘thing’ inside you is more than just affection, Deacon. It’s love.”

She pressed her hand over his heart and nodded. “It’s inside you, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Very slowly, the clouds in Deacon’s mind cleared. The pain that had wrapped itself so tightly around his heart began to loosen, and this new idea of hope he’d so recently discovered sparked to life.

He had the power now. And it was greater than anything his father had ever given him.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “There is something I can do about it.”

“It’s too late.” Kit’s voice tightened. “He’s coming back with me.”

“But—” When her voice broke over a sob, Rhea tightened her fists around his shirt and shook him as hard as she could. “Listen to me, Deacon. You can do this.”

“It’s pointless to even try.” Kit’s voice wasn’t near as steady as usual, nor was it as calm or even.

Deacon gazed down into Rhea’s beautiful brown eyes and smiled. She still loved him. Despite everything he’d done, despite everything he hadn’t done, she still loved him.

He could only hope she loved him enough.

“I…I…” Rhea watched the emotions float through Deacon’s eyes as he looked down at her. In that moment, she saw everything she needed to see, everything she should have seen all along. He loved her, and despite his twisted ideas of what that meant, he really had tried to protect her. He’d only been doing what he thought was…

Wait. What was happening? Where was he going?

Without touching him, Kit was somehow forcing Deacon to move, and he didn’t seem to be putting up much of a fight.

“Use your powers,” Rhea cried. “Fight back.”

“I’m sorry.” He shook his head slowly, his mouth tipped into a tiny smile. “I have to do this.”

Rhea leapt up, grasping for his shirt again, his jacket or anything she could wrap her fingers around.

“Come back,” she cried. “Stay with me!”

“There’ll be no coming back after this,” Kit said, her
voice tinged with something—regret? Awe? Rhea couldn’t say for sure.

“Rhea.” Deacon’s voice faded into the afternoon air. “I’ll be ba—”

But he was already gone.

C
HAPTER
S
IXTEEN

Six months later

A
re you out of your mind?” Colin came out of his chair like a shot. “It’s the only way.”

“No, it’s not.” Rhea stood on the other side of his desk, her hands fisted at her waist.

“But Ernest and Polly are moving to Houston next week,” he ground out. “You’ll have no one to help you—it’s the perfect time to sell the store and move on with your life.”

“We’re not selling.”

Colin pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets and growled like a wounded dog. “Doesn’t it bother you to hear everyone whispering about you? Aren’t you tired of it?”

“No,” she said. “There’s nothing they can say about me that hasn’t already been said.”

“That’s the point!”

“Colin.” She took her brother’s hands in hers and squeezed them gently. “I know I brought it all on myself, and I’m sorry for that, but only because it’s caused you embarrassment.” She forced a bright smile and nodded. “You just wait. Deacon will come back, and that’ll shut them all up once and for all.”

“For God’s sake,” Colin groaned, “he’s not coming back. When are you going to get that through your head?”

Tears prickled the backs of her eyes until it felt as though they were burning holes in the back of her sockets.

“It’s only been six months,” she said quietly. “He’ll be back.”

“You don’t even know where he went.”

Oh, she knew all right. And it ate at her day and night. She couldn’t keep busy enough to stop thinking about it. In fact, Colin’s animals had never been so well tended.

“It’s different now,” she murmured.

“No, it’s not.” Colin lowered his voice. “He’s still not your husband.”

“Deacon is my husband in every way that matters to me,” she said. “If the world thinks a piece of paper signed by a judge makes him more of a husband, that’s their concern, not mine.”

“Can you even hear yourself?” He crossed his arms and leaned back against his desk. “A year ago, your biggest concern was saving your reputation and the family name. Now you’re as much as throwing them both away.”

“No, I’m not. I’m just not letting the rest of the town decide who I should be or how I should act.” She waved her hands down the front of her and shrugged. “This is who I am.”

Colin exhaled a loud breath and shook his head. The last few months had seen so many changes in him, she almost didn’t recognize him anymore. And they had Donnelda to thank for each one of them.

After a long moment of silence, he pushed away from the desk and looked down at her with eyes full of regret.
“I think you should be prepared for the possibility that he’s not coming back.”

If there was a way to prepare herself for something like that, she couldn’t begin to guess what it might be.