Captured (27 page)

The questions were eating him up inside. It was the middle of the damned war, for God’s sake. He didn’t have time to chase after her. But his only other alternative, to forget her and go about his business, was unthinkable. Not until he knew why she’d left him. Not until he knew she was safe.

Not until he got her back.

It had taken him a week to return to Fort Monroe. There he had spent an additional two weeks overseeing the completion of repairs to his ship. That totaled three weeks: more than enough time for Devon to have slipped past him, for her to be well on her way to England by now. He’d spent his nights prowling the docks, interrogating any sailor he could find for news of runners that had slipped through the blockade. Hoping for word from someone who might have seen Devon. In the end, he’d found nothing. Nothing but blank stares and negative responses.

When Cole left Fort Monroe, Admiral Billings had given him one month’s leave to pursue Jonas Sharpe. After that, he was required to return to blockade duty. One month. That was all the time he had.

Cole pushed open the doors to the Pig’s Head Inn and made his way through the tavern. He found a table near the back, kicked out a chair, and sat down. Despite the fact that it was midday, the bar was teeming with drunken revelers. Thick plantation shutters at the doors and windows filtered the light and air, allowing entrance to the salty sea breezes that blew from the harbor, but it wasn’t enough. The air stank of the hot press of bodies and stale alcohol. A man who looked to be the owner approached his table. He wore a coarse apron blotched with stains, no shirt beneath, his skin glistening with sweat. He flicked a greasy rag across the table and asked Cole for his order.

“I’m looking for a woman.”

The man glanced up, studied Cole for a minute, then nodded. He motioned across the room to a dusky-skinned beauty whose dress was split open nearly to her waist. “Her name’s Bettina,” he said in a bored voice. “You can have her for an hour. Pay me when you’re finished.”

Cole shook his head. “Not her.”

“You prefer yellow hair?”

“The woman I’m looking for is English, small, with dark hair and green eyes.”

The man shook his head. “No,” he said, flicking his rag once again over the table. “I have thirsty customers to attend. Do you drink or not?”

Something in his voice, or perhaps the furtive glance of his eyes, gave him away. Cole felt a tightening deep within him. “Where is she?”

The owner studied him once again, then finally asked, “What do you want with her?”

Cole didn’t answer, but simply opened his billfold, removed a crisp hundred-dollar Federal note, and set it on the table before him. “Where?” he said, his tone cold and flat.

The man stared at the money, his eyes dark with greed, but shook his head. “She makes more for me than that. More than even Bettina makes.”

Cold fury shot through Cole. “The woman I’m looking for isn’t a whore.”

“No,” the owner quickly agreed. “No, not a whore. She… brings in customers. Fancy customers.” It took Cole a minute to follow the man’s meaning, then understanding slowly dawned. Not bad. Devon lured the marks in, coaxed them into getting drunk and running up lavish tabs, then freed them of their watches, wallets, and any other sparkling fob they might possess. The owner not only got the additional business, but presumably a hefty share of Devon’s take as well. He coolly eyed the owner, testing his theory aloud.

The man promptly began to look uncomfortable. “I ran a proper establishment—”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Cole said in disgust. He set another hundred-dollar note on top of the first. “Consider that a reward for your honesty and integrity. Now tell me where I can find her.”

“I don’t want any trouble—”

“Where?”

The owner reached out, grabbed the money, and shoved it deep within his pocket. “Wait here. She’ll be back in an hour, maybe two.”

Cole settled in his chair, refusing to let himself build any false hopes. The man could be lying, or he could simply be wrong. Or perhaps there was another woman who fit Devon’s description. He ordered a glass of whiskey and nursed it as he waited, watching the crowd. The war had temporarily lifted all societal boundaries, he noted. Every section of society, both men and women, seemed duly represented. Rich patrons from the pompous enclave of Rose Hill mingled with lowly wharf rats. All were anxious to partake in the excitement that surrounded them, reeling with the thrill of misbehaving, intoxicated by the jubilant pandemonium that had overtaken the tiny island.

He watched as another high-society group entered the door, then he turned away, only to snap his head back to the scene, his gaze focused on the woman in their party. His breath caught in his throat as he stared.

Devon.

He almost didn’t recognize her.

She wore an emerald-green silk gown edged in black lace and carried a matching parasol. Her hair was coiffed in an elegant chignon. She looked poised, polished, and absolutely, stunningly beautiful. Another fact struck him at the same time: she was standing altogether too close to the two men who escorted her into the tavern.

He quickly sized them up. Judging by their meek builds and fancy frock coats, she’d found a couple of dandies out slumming. Cole nodded in approval; she chose her marks well. He felt his heart constrict as he watched her walk gracefully across the room. He didn’t move or make a sound, but simply watched as they settled into a table. For the first time since she’d left him back in Virginia, he felt as though he could breathe again.

After a minute, he stood and made his way through the crowded bar toward them. He didn’t take his gaze off her, half-afraid that if he blinked she would disappear again. She was smiling and laughing, but he knew it was all a performance. None of it reached her eyes. He stopped just short of their table, listening as one of the men recommended the house brandy.

“Actually,” Cole said, his eyes focused entirely on Devon, “brandy doesn’t agree with the lady.”

He watched her freeze, then she slowly lifted her gaze to his. A myriad of emotions flashed across her face, all passing too quickly for him to read. Her mouth dropped open, but it was a moment before any sound followed. When she finally spoke, it seemed one word was all she could manage. “Cole.”

He politely inclined his head. “You remember my name. I’m flattered.”

“You‌—‌you thought I would forget?”

“In light of the other things you forgot, such as the proper way to say good-bye, yes, it occurred to me that you might.”

The two men with whom Devon had entered watched the exchange in stupefied silence. Finally one of them rose nervously to his feet and cleared his throat. “Pardon me, sir, but this is a private—”

“You’ll excuse us, then,” Cole said firmly, reaching for Devon. “The lady and I have unfinished business to attend to.”

The dandy sputtered in outrage, but after sizing up Cole’s powerful build and angry demeanor, he wisely made no move to stop him as Cole escorted Devon back to his table. They sat opposite each other in silence, as if taking each other’s measure once again. Cole still hadn’t adjusted himself to this new side of her. In the dim light of the tavern, her eyes were no longer a soft green, but a deep, glittering emerald. Her skin glowed‌—‌delicate ivory with hints of rose. Every strand of her dark, silky hair was neatly coiffed. She’d looked pretty in her indigo calico, but nothing had prepared him for this.

This was a Devon he’d never seen before‌—‌certainly not the Devon he thought he’d find. In his mind, he’d pictured her wild and reckless, tossing his threats and insults back in his face. He remembered the way she looked the morning when they broke camp, all soft-eyed and sleepy, her hair mussed and adorable. And most of all, he remembered the way she’d looked when they’d made love, her body bathed in moonlight, her skin soft as satin to his touch. Now she looked so prim and proper, so untouchable. He frowned. “You’re wearing one of those corset things, aren’t you?”

Her eyes went wide. “That’s what you have to say to me?”

No. As a matter of fact, Cole didn’t give a damn about what she was wearing. He had rehearsed dozens of stinging lectures and gentle discussions in his mind, but now that she was here, he couldn’t remember a word of any of them. Instead all he could focus on was the one question that had been burning through his soul for the past three weeks. “Why did you leave me, Devon?”

She stared at him silently for a moment, then sighed. “You’re angry, aren’t you?”

“How the hell did you think I would feel? To wake up and find you’d snuck off like a th—” he stopped abruptly, cursing himself.

“Go ahead,” she said quietly. “Say it. Like a thief in the night.”

“Dammit, Devon, that’s not what I meant.”

She shrugged. “Why not? It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

She gave a bitter laugh. “Is that why you’re here? You want to reform me, to lead me down the path of righteousness? Well, forget it. I tried that and nearly spent the rest of my life locked away in prison.” She rose to her feet. “I’m not your responsibility anymore, McRae. You can leave with a clear conscience.”

“Devon, wait.” He stood and grabbed her arm, easing her back into her chair as he frantically searched for the words he needed to say. “That’s not why I’m here.”

“You shouldn’t have come. Can’t you see that I was doing you a favor—”

“You call running out on me in the dead of the night a favor?”

Devon drew in her breath as pain flashed through her eyes. “It wouldn’t work, Cole. I thought I could pretend to be something I’m not, but I can’t. It would have only made matters worse for both of us if you’d brought me to Washington and tried to pass me off as a lady to your friends—”

Shock tore through him. “Did you think I actually intended to go through with that?” He realized she didn’t know him at all if she still believed, after the night they’d spent together, that he could ever willingly give her to another man.

“That’s what you said you were going to do.”

“Obviously I changed my mind.”

“I see.” A dark shadow passed across her face. “So you were taking me to prison after all. That’s why you’re here now.”

“Prison?!” he exploded. “Good God, is that what you think of me?”

“I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what you want or why you’re here, I only know that I’m going back to England.”

Despite her cool demeanor, Cole saw that she was gripping the edge of the table hard enough to turn her knuckles white. This definitely wasn’t going the way he had planned. He had decided weeks ago exactly what would happen once he found her: first a stinging lecture for leaving him like that, followed by her profuse apologies and promises never to do it again. Then, once that had all been settled, he’d looked forward to sweeping her into his arms and carrying her off to make love all night.

Instead they were sitting across from each other like adversaries, separated by the same barriers that had always kept them apart. Worse, they’d become intimate strangers. Too much had passed between them to go back, too little to go forward. He’d idiotically assumed that Devon would be as thrilled to see him as he was to see her. Now he couldn’t think of a reason in the world why she should be. Not after the way he’d treated her. If he could just buy a little more time somehow, he’d find a way to convince her to trust him. All he needed was a little more time.

“We need to talk,” he said. “Privately. My ship’s in the harbor, we can go there.”

“We have nothing more to say to one another.”

He let out a breath of disgust as his gaze shot around the squalid room. “That has to be the most asinine thing you’ve ever said. Unless, of course, spending the rest of your days rotting away in this seedy tavern is exactly what you always wanted for yourself.”

Devon tilted her chin. “Not that it’s any of your business, McRae,” she bit out, “but I happen to like it here. Not once have I been shot at, awakened at dawn and tossed on the back of a horse, pushed out of a speeding train, or rolled in slimy goose droppings. Why, compared to a week spent with you, this wretched tavern is the pinnacle of luxury.”

Cole regarded her steadily as silence stretched between them. He reached across the table, gently capturing her hand in his. “Was it all that bad between us, Devon?”

Panic flashed through her eyes. She tugged at her hand, and he reluctantly released it. “I’m leaving,” she announced, her voice high and tight. “I’m going back to England. I sent word to my uncle a while ago asking him to wire money to me here, in care of the hotel. I expect the funds should arrive any day.”

“Five minutes, Devon. That’s all I ask.” He had no idea what he was going to say to her once he got her aboard his ship, but the idea of locking her in his cabin until he figured it out held a certain appeal.

Her gaze narrowed, then she finally nodded. “All right, I’ll go. But just to talk, is that understood?”

Cole slowly let out his breath, aware only then that he’d been holding it. He reached for his wallet to pay for his drink, then frowned and felt in his other pocket. He searched his vest, realizing that not only was his wallet missing, he’d lost his gold watch as well. “If you don’t mind, Devon, I need to pay for the whiskey.”

“Go ahead.”

Cole held out his hand. “Well?”

She arched a dark brow. “Surely you don’t expect me to pay for it?”

“No. I’d simply like you to return my billfold and pocket watch.”

Shock and anger flashed across her face, then she rose to her feet once again, her expression glacial. “You know as well as I do that those items were returned to you before I left. If you’ve come all this way just to accuse me of stealing—”

“You mean you don’t have them?”

“Certainly not.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Cole muttered to himself, glancing around the crowded barroom.

Devon frowned, watching him. “Are you sure you had them?”

“I had them five minutes ago when we sat down.”

“You mean to tell me someone lifted them while I was here?” She shook her head. “Impossible. No one’s that good. No one except me and perhaps…” Her voice trailed away as her eyes fastened on a large man who stood with his back to them. A startled smile flashed across her face, then fell away as she looked back at Cole. “Let’s go back to your ship,” she said, rising to her feet so abruptly, she nearly tipped her chair.