RomantiConn | Devilfish Signed Paperback

Can Declan's love anchor Elliot in the maelstrom of discovering his true nature?

Somewhere, out in the vast expanse of the Pacific, something tugs at Elliot. He feels its call in his blood and his bones, an insistent, inexorable siren's song tied to the moon, the tides, and the giant octopus from his childhood nightmares. 

When the safe life Elliot's built on land shatters a second time, Declan is there to pick up the pieces again. Declan offers his ship, his crew, and his body to protect Elliot while they uncover Elliot's connection to strange creatures in the ocean's depths, even as doing so reignites their feelings for each other.  

Embark on a high seas voyage where Victorian propriety dissolves into a tidal rush of passion and mystery.

At the sound of breaking glass, Elliot Bishop closed the book he was reading. He hadn’t put the latch on the front door for the night because he often received late messengers from one of his warehouses. Besides, burglary was uncommon in uptown Port Townsend, unlike the petty thievery and debauchery that occurred every day and all night downtown. He listened hard. It had been blustery all day; if someone had left a window open somewhere, perhaps the wind had simply blown something over. 

The floorboards outside his study creaked, and Elliot set his book aside and got up. Grabbing a poker from the fireplace, he crept to the half-closed door to the study. He pressed against the wall behind the door and waited. The door slowly opened further, and Elliot tightened his grip on the iron shaft. 

The shadowy figure moved into the room and Elliot rushed from behind the door, poker lifted in both hands to smash down on the intruder’s head. A gloved hand stretched up and caught it before it made impact. Elliot kept hold of the poker in his left hand and drove his right fist into the intruder’s side. The man twisted under Elliot’s arm, tearing the poker from him and tossing it onto the carpet behind him. 

The only sources of light in the room were the fire and the small oil lamp Elliot had been reading by, so it was too dark to see the intruder clearly. Elliot blocked the man’s left hook but flinched at a right jab into his ribs. They fought for a few furious minutes until the man hooked his leg behind Elliot’s and jerked his feet out from under him. He fell on top of Elliot and drove the breath from Elliot’s chest. 

Elliot scrabbled a hand on the floor, feeling for the poker, a chair leg, anything to smash into the man’s head. And then the man chuckled next to his ear, a sound he’d know anywhere. He froze so that he didn’t arc up against the now-familiar weight pressing down on him.

“Declan? What the hell are you doing here?”

Declan chuckled again, his breath raising the fine hairs on Elliot’s neck. “You’re a little rusty, aren’t you? Gotten a little soft with all your fine living?”

Enough of this. Elliot hooked his leg around Declan’s, pushed his left hand into Declan’s shoulder, and leveraged his right elbow to flip them over, pinning Declan beneath him. 

Declan grunted. “Not that rusty after all, eh?” His breath smelled like whiskey, and Elliot couldn’t stop a shiver of pleasure at being this close to Declan after all these years. 

Declan tapped him on the shoulder twice. “Let me up, you big oaf.” 

Elliot got up before he could do anything he’d regret, like crush his lips to Declan’s or bury his face in the man’s neck. He reached a hand down to pull Declan up, then took a few steps back toward the fire and the armchair he’d been sitting in. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” he repeated. 

Declan’s eyes roamed around the room and caught sight of the half-empty tumbler on the table near Elliot’s chair. 

“Well, I was looking for a glass of quality whiskey.” He headed straight for the sideboard, pulled his gloves off, and poured himself three fingers from the decanter. He saluted Elliot with the glass and took a long swallow.

“Ah,” Declan sighed. Elliot shivered again, remembering the last time he’d heard Declan make sounds of pleasure like that. Declan winked at Elliot. “Much better than the swill they serve at the Delmonico.” A soft smile lifted his full lips and crinkled his green eyes. “It’s good to see you again, man,” he said. The firelight gleamed on his disheveled hair, turning it chestnut and gold.

Before Elliot could respond, he heard another noise outside the study and tensed. It was only Celeste, hovering tentatively in the doorway, clutching a pale blue dressing gown around her.

“Elliot?”

Declan’s head turned at the sound of her voice, tracking her movements as Elliot held his arm out and drew her into the room. Celeste tucked her hand under his elbow and looked curiously from Elliot to Declan. 

Elliot sighed internally. It would have been easier if she’d stayed upstairs in the guest wing while he dealt with Declan, but he couldn’t very well refuse to introduce her now. 

“Celeste, allow me to introduce Mr. Declan Fitzgerald. Declan, this is Celeste Brady, my fiancée.”

Declan glanced at Elliot, a startled look on his face. “Your fiancée?” Then Declan stepped forward and bent over Celeste’s outstretched hand.

“Captain Fitzgerald,” he corrected. “But please call me Declan. After all, we’re about to be family. I’m Elliot’s brother.”

“Stepbrother.” Elliot’s turn to correct Declan. “Declan’s father married my mother when I was an infant.” He flushed at Declan’s knowing glance. Why did he feel the need to clarify that they weren’t blood relations?

“Wait…Captain?” he asked, turning to Declan. “Your father let you get your master’s certificate?”

Declan still held Celeste’s hand and bent over it, brushing his lips across her fingers. Ignoring Elliot, he said, “It’s an honor to meet you—Celeste, was it? I can’t imagine what my stepbrother did to convince any woman to marry him, much less a woman as beautiful as you.”

Celeste blushed prettily and pulled her hand from Declan’s—reluctantly, it seemed to Elliot—and dropped a small curtsy. “The honor is mine, Captain. It’s a shame you missed our dinner party this evening.”

Declan picked up his glass and leaned against the sideboard as Elliot tugged Celeste an appropriate distance from him. “And when is the happy event to take place?” he asked, eyes flicking between Elliot and Celeste over the rim of his glass as he sipped from it.

“Tuesday,” Celeste answered, before Elliot could. “I do hope you’re staying for a few days, Captain, and will stand up for Elliot at the wedding. I hope we get to know each other, as well. Elliot hardly talks about his family.” 

Declan gave Celeste the full, slightly crooked smile that Elliot had seen charm every woman he came across, ladies and parlormaids alike. He lifted his half-empty whiskey glass to them and drained it.

“It would be my pleasure to get to know you, my dear. You must tell me how you managed to entice my brother into matrimony.” He glanced sideways at Elliot. “Not a state I’d ever expected him to embrace.” 

Elliot squelched a flash of irritation. Of all the times for Declan to stroll back into his life. Elliot had spent the last five years building a safe, comfortable life and in only a few days, he’d be married. Why now, after all these years? 

As if on cue, Declan bowed slightly to Celeste and said, “My apologies for getting you out of bed at such a late hour, my dear. Your intended and I have some family business to discuss. You surely have a hundred things to do before your big day. Please don’t let us keep you up any longer.”

Celeste looked at Elliot as if deciding whether she wanted to insist on staying. He smiled and gently steered her toward the door. “It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with, darling. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He kissed her on the cheek, and she smiled back at him. “I was just checking to see if I left my reading glasses down here.” Elliot found them on the corner of his desk and handed them over. Celeste drifted out of the room with a last curious glance at Declan. 

Declan sat down in Elliot’s chair near the fireplace and stretched his long legs out with a sigh. When he closed his eyes and turned his face to the fire, Elliot gave in and let his eyes travel the length of Declan’s body. His black coat was tailored to fit his broad shoulders, and his white lawn shirt gleamed crisply in the firelight. His vest was black too, or maybe dark blue. Silk, Elliot thought, with leaves and vines embroidered in silver thread. Black trousers hugged his hips and strong thighs, ending over a pair of short black boots, recently shined. 

“Captain, eh?” Elliot asked. “Looks like you’ve done well for yourself.”

Declan shrugged. “Thought it was time to start dressing the part.” He winked at Elliot. “Couldn’t very well show up at my brother’s wedding dressed like a common seaman, now could I?”

Elliot didn’t point out that Elliot hadn’t known where to send news of his engagement to Declan. Then Declan ran his fingers through his hair, brushing it out of his face and tugging it free of the leather thong that held the unfashionably long strands at the nape of his neck. His thick, glossy hair fell nearly to his shoulders, and Elliot snorted. It was reassuring that Declan seemed to be the same near-pirate as ever underneath his fine clothes. 

He crossed to sit in the other chair in front of the fire. “Why are you here, Declan?” he asked quietly. 

Declan sighed and looked directly at Elliot, his green eyes boring into him. “Father’s missing. I need your help to find him.”

“I’m sure he’s fine. You know half the time his voyages take longer than he expects.”

Declan shook his head. “This is different. We were supposed to meet at the usual place in Friday Harbor. I waited there for a week, but he never made it. The lighthouse keeper at Cape Flattery hasn’t gotten any messages from him, and neither have any of the usual message drops. I’ve spent the last several months sailing up and down from San Francisco to Nootka Sound, and no one’s seen or heard from him.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s missing. Maybe he’s just laying low, or looking for other buyers to avoid paying duties on his most recent cargo.” 

“If that were it, he’d have found some way to leave a message for me.”

Elliot shrugged. “Well, what do you want from me?”

Declan looked at him like he’d suddenly sprouted tentacles. “I want you to help me find him. He’s the closest thing you have to a father, and he’s missing. Not to mention he’s your primary source of those fancy goods you sell in your fancy uptown shops.” Declan paused and took another sip of whiskey. 

“I think he was close to finding out what happened to your mother when she disappeared. If only for that reason, I thought you’d want to come with me.”

Elliot ignored the cold shiver that came over him every time he thought about his mother and her disappearance. “He always thinks he’s close to finding out what happened to her. And yet he’s never found any real answers. What makes this time any different?”