The Devil's Daughter by Laura Drewry Page B

they were done, she felt. . .well, she wasn’t quite sure what to call it, but it made her want to hold her head up higher.
    Strange.
    “She cooks, tends the wash, and keeps the place tidy.”
    Deacon didn’t look the least bit convinced. “
This
Lucille?” He waved his gloves in her direction. “I don’t think I’d risk eating anything out of her kitchen. You’ve never been much good at that sort of thing, have you, sister?”
    She started to fire an answer back, but Jed stopped her. The fury in his voice was nothing compared to that in his eyes.
    “You’ll mind what you say in front of my wife.”
    Lucy’s shock was matched only by Deacon’s.
    “Lucille doesn’t mind.” Deacon snorted, straightening in his seat. “She knows she has no talent--”
    “That’s enough.” Jed’s tone left little room for interpretation.
    “It’s okay, Jed.” Lucy slipped her hand under his elbow, trying to tug him back a little, but Jed was immovable. In fact, his entire body seemed to harden before her eyes.
    The air between the men crackled with anger and something else only men could project. Jed stood rod straight beside Lucy, but Deacon remained in his chair, his ugly sneer fueling the tension.
    “I’m sure Lucille appreciates your protection, Jedidiah,” he said. “But I don’t think chivalry is what she needs.”
    “No?” Jed crossed his arms over his chest. “Well that’s funny, because I don’t think she needed to be left at an auction. I might not have much to offer her right now, but at least I care for her.”
    He cared for her. Lucy fought to swallow. He cared for her. That was good.
    No, it wasn’t. It’d mean. . .
    Yes, it was!
    It was what she needed. It was a starting point.
    Flames danced in Deacon’s eyes – a sight Jed no doubt believed to be a reflection of the fire crackling nearby, but Lucy knew better.
    The ferret poked its nose out of the hat, but Deacon’s gentle touch settled it back down.
    “It was her choice to be there,” he said.
    “Doesn’t make it right what you did to her.”
    Deacon rolled his eyes and gave a very ungentlemanly snort. “Regardless, Jedidiah, surely you don’t think
this
is the kind of life Lucille is used to.”
    The vein in Jed’s temple began to throb. His jaw muscle clenched, then released. Then clenched again.
    “If you had taken proper care of her,” Jed’s voice was steely cold, “she wouldn’t have felt the need to sell herself off in a wife auction. And then maybe she could still be walking around in her fancy silk dress instead of working her hide off out here with me.”
    Deacon tipped his head slightly, his eyes glowing with anger. As only Deacon could, he shut down his fury and shifted his attack.
    “You misunderstand me, Jedidiah.” Deacon’s grin was anything but friendly. “I believe Lucille is finally living the kind of life she deserves.”
    “Mind your tongue.” Jed’s arms dropped to his sides, his hands fisted against his thighs, his voice a low growl. “You’ll show Lucy the respect she deserves, especially when you come – uninvited – to our home.”
    Berta inhaled sharply, but Deacon eyed Jed’s fists and simply smirked.
    “If you mean to strike me, Jedidiah,” he said quietly, “I would advise against it.”
    “Of course not,” Lucy interceded, then turned to Jed. “Deacon’s right.”
    “No, he’s not.” Jed wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close.
    A tiny shot of warmth burst inside Lucy’s heart – is that what pride felt like? Surely not. Pride was for humans who didn’t know better. She’d learned long ago that she had nothing to be proud of, and it was a lesson Deacon reminded her of every chance he got.
    Deacon studied Jed for a long moment before he eased back. “My apologies,” he lied. “I meant no disrespect.”
    Jed nodded slightly, but held his stance. “So long as we understand each other.”
    “Perfectly.” He turned to Lucy, the flames still licking the