Devlin said, glaring through the mirror at Victor. “Can you believe it?” His first mate and valet raised a single eyebrow. “That’s what has you in a foul temper this morning?” “Yes, dammit.” He turned and reached for his dagger, sheathing it on his calf holster. “I risked my bloody neck for her. Ungrateful, little—” “Spare me!” Victor’s hand shot up, bringing an abrupt halt to Devlin’s rant. “We both know why we saved her, and it wasn’t chivalry. You suffered a mere scratch for your efforts. Tell me what’s really worked you up in a fine lather.” Devlin bristled under his friend’s observation. It was the goddamned truth, but still, he hadn’t appreciated the tone of reproof in the straitlaced woman’s declaration. She’d worked him up in a fine lather, all right. I’m a virgin. She ought to remind her body of the fact—she hadn’t reacted like a virgin when she trembled in his embrace. Devlin’s jaw tightened and he reached for his coat, jabbing one arm into a sleeve, and then the other.
What do You think about Devil’s Cove (Tortured Souls)?
