Brother Devil POD Print
All his life, Michel Deveraux has been bested by his brother Luc, especially where women are concerned. Suppressed and jealous, he was easy prey for a vengeful ex-girlfriend who married him to punish Luc for jilting her. When Michel finds himself a widower at the age of twenty-eight, the shock of his newfound freedom send him into sexual overdrive and excesses his brother would have envied.
The women of Orleans parish may have called Luc a devil and Michel an angel but now the angel is falling fast—and he’s enjoying his downward flight to the limit.
Sensuality rating: 3
Cover Art by Bev Haynes
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It was a perfect day for a funeral.
As if to make up for the lack of tears being shed, the rain had started at six am that morning, drowning the day before it began. On this Day of our Lord, November Eleven,
Clarice Duncan Deveraux, wayward wife of Michel, was being laid to rest in the family mausoleum in the churchyard of Holy Savior Catholic Church in Bayou Chaveau, Louisiana, and with one exception there wasn't a wet eye in the congregation. Not that the Deveraux clan, as well as a good portion of the towns of Metairie and Bayou Chaveau, wasn't well represented. After all, they had reputations to uphold, and snubbing the burial of one of their own, even if that kinship was only by marriage, just wouldn't do. Besides, most of them had known the deceased, in both the biblical and non-biblical sense of the word, all her life.
Clarice's body had lain in state at San Souci plantation, where she had lived with Michel for the length of their marriage. There had been no wake, but all were invited to view the body. The mahogany and bronze casket was placed in the foyer in front of the stairs leading to the bedrooms--those same stairs which had caused Clarice's demise--where one and all might view the corpse before the priest arrived to convey it to the church. It was said Michel had never entered by the front door since the coffin was placed there; he reached the room where he slept by the back verandah, exiting the same way, even going to the dining room through the kitchen. It had been his elder brother who had made all the arrangements, which was ironic since Luc hadn't been inside the little church since his commencement. When the body was taken to the church, Michel had followed in the family limo but he hadn't spoken to anyone. To look at him, one would think he neither saw nor heard anything that went on.
The church ceremony had been lengthy—the Circle of Prayers, the Funeral Mass, Absolution--as if Michel was asking for anything and everything the Church could do to assure his wife's soul wouldn't suffer even a brief sojourn in purgatory for the sin she had committed. Briefly, as the coffin was lifted and carried from the church to the cemetery, he looked as if he might burst into tears. Then, he passed a hand across his eyes, his face became stony, and he recovered, walking stolidly with his brother and sister-in-law behind the other family members who acted as pallbearers. As they stood at the damp and dismal graveside, many of the women were trying to be charitable, thinking how ironic it was that after a childless five years of marriage, Clarice should at last become pregnant only to die in a fall down a flight of stairs, leaving her prematurely-born son motherless. Quelle domage! But it was said with a rolling of eyes and a smirk. A great percentage of the men were truly mourning, especially those who had sampled Clarice's charms before her marriage or been tempted by her during it, reflecting that it was a damned shame such a fine piece of tail was being placed in a tomb where no man would ever get at it again.