Captured (44 page)

“Monty made a trip to the butcher’s shop early this morning,” Cole said. “I had a sheep’s bladder filled with blood strapped beneath my shirt.”

“Disgusting bit of business,” Monty said, “but effective.”

Cole showed Devon the ring he’d been wearing. The side that faced his palm had a jagged metal protrusion. “All I had to was slap my hand against my chest and jerk it upward.” The blood had gushed out thick and heavy, just as Monty had promised it would.

“But I helped you dress,” Devon protested, “there was nothing—”

“I didn’t put it on until just before we met with Finch.”

Devon’s face changed, and the pain of betrayal flashed through her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Cole sighed. “We didn’t want you involved, Devon. I didn’t want you to worry, and I was terrified that if you knew what we were up to, you would find a way to put yourself at risk. I tried to do whatever I could to keep that from happening. It was selfish, and I know you deserve better, but I was trying my damnedest to protect you. Obviously I failed miserably, didn’t I?”

Devon considered his answer, then seemed to put the matter from her mind. Though Cole sensed clearly that within the next few days he would doubtless be treated to a stinging lecture on the subjects of trust and honesty.

“What happens now?” she asked, sounding tired.

“Now I do what I was ordered to do nearly a month ago: bring my prisoner to Old Capitol.”

Monty’s brows snapped together, and Devon gave a soft gasp. “I’m speaking of Jonas Sharpe, of course,” Cole immediately clarified. “His men will be traded for Union prisoners of war. Last I heard, Lincoln and Davis were still swapping men. As long as they swear an oath never to lift arms against the Union again, there shouldn’t be any difficulty.”

“What about the ships that are being built in Liverpool?” Devon asked. “Do you have to stop those too?”

Cole shook his head. “Word is out that Lee was stopped in his invasion of the North. As long as the Union is winning, England won’t dare release them.”

Devon’s eyes glowed. “You did it, Cole,” she said, her voice filled with pride. “You won‌—‌you got everything you wanted.”

“We won,” he amended, gently brushing her hair back away from her face.

“Speaking of winning,” Monty boomed out, “I must congratulate you on that swoon, my girl. First-class all the way. Your skin turned the most magnificent shade of green‌—‌it nearly matched your eyes! Fabulous! Now if you can remember that when we go back into business—”

“She’s not going back into business,” Cole announced firmly.

“What?” Monty frowned as he looked from Devon to Cole, then he slowly stroked his beard. “Now that you mention it, Captain, perhaps this would be a good time to retire. Look at the profit we just made: we bought the cotton for six cents a pound in Wilmington, we’ll sell it for sixty cents a pound in England. Now how many tons did we have aboard?”

“You’re right, the profit was extraordinary,” Cole replied. “The people who run the Fund for Widows and Orphans of the War were quite astounded to receive it. They were so grateful, in fact, that I took the liberty of donating your half as well.”

Monty’s face slowly changed from red to crimson to purple. “You did what?!” he roared. “My half?! Did you say you my half?! Why you no good son-of-a—”

“Later,” Cole said, rising to his feet. He slid a glance at Devon, who was looking pale and fatigued, as though the shock was finally setting in, and, taking the hint, Monty nodded and left the room without another word.

After seeing Monty out, Cole crossed the cabin and sat down beside her. Their eyes locked for a long, silent minute, then he reached out and gently touched her cheek. “Does it hurt very much?”

She shook her head, just as he knew she would. The bruise was probably throbbing. She frowned, glancing at his knuckles as he drew his hand away. “That looks painful,” she said, referring to his swollen, torn skin.

“You should see the face of the man who gave you that bruise.” Cole shrugged. “For that matter, Jonas Sharpe doesn’t look very healthy either.”

“Hmmm.”

“Do you want to sleep?”

“No.”

Another long silence fell between them. Finally Cole drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out. He glanced down at his hands, amazed to find that they were actually shaking. “Devon, when I came up from the engine room and saw Sharpe’s gun pointed at your neck…”

She gazed solemnly into his eyes. “Did you know I was making my last wish?”

Cole thought about it and remembered her lips moving in fervent prayer. Gently he asked, “Will you tell me what you wished for?”

Devon took a deep breath and gave him a trembling smile. “I was begging God not to send me to heaven if I died.”

He stared at her in silent confusion. “Why?”

Her smile wavered as tears once again flooded her eyes. “Because I knew that couldn’t possibly be where He’d have sent you.”

Cole gave a choked laugh as his heart exploded in his chest. He wrapped her tightly in his arms, squeezing her against him. “I love you, Devon. God, how I love you.”

Devon let out a blissful sigh and rolled over onto Cole’s chest. There was something almost sinful about being indoors, making love in the middle of the day. She smiled to herself, wondering if that added touch of “sin” was what had made the experience so wonderful, or if it was merely the fact that she hadn’t seen Cole for two whole weeks.

He’d left the day after they’d captured Sharpe, heading back to Fort Monroe to see to the exchange of prisoners. Jonas Sharpe was shackled and bound, then placed on a heavily guarded barge sailing up the Potomac toward Old Capitol Prison. From what he’d told her, the mood at Fort Monroe was one of determined optimism after Lee’s defeat at Antietam and the reduced threat of England’s interference. With any luck, the war would be ending swiftly. Devon prayed that it was so.

For now, she fully intended to enjoy the fact that her husband was with her once again, and had earned two weeks of leave before he had to return to blockade duty. Cole lifted a finger and traced it over her mouth. “That smile is not only beautiful and enticing,” he said, “but it looks to be a cover for some gloriously wicked thought. Tell me.”

She laughed and gazed down into his eyes from her perch atop his chest. “Doesn’t this seem… decadent, in the middle of the day?”

He grinned. “Absolutely. That’s why we’re doing it.”

“What if someone catches us?”

“Who?”

“Well, Elize could just walk in…”

“Elize is not about to just walk into my bedroom. Besides, she and John are in town.” He thought for a moment. “Where’s Monty?”

Devon ran her fingers over his chest. “He said something about going down to the docks and teaching your crew a new card game.”

Cole groaned.

“Oh, I got your watch back, by the way,” she continued brightly.

He let out a sigh and rubbed his hand over his eyes. “I didn’t realize it was missing again.”

“I hope you understand, Cole. It’s nothing personal; Uncle Monty just likes to keep in practice.” She gave him a stern frown. “But you do make it awfully tempting for him. You should be more careful with your things.”

“My apologies. In the future, I’ll try bonding my watch and wallet to my skin. Though I suspect he’ll find a way to pry them loose no matter what I do.”

“True.” Devon sighed contentedly. “This is nice.”

“What?”

“This. Just lying here, doing absolutely nothing.”

“Nothing?” Cole smiled and ran his hands lightly over her body. “You have a awfully short memory. It seems to me we were quite busy not more than ten minutes ago.”

Devon squirmed on top of him. “Maybe it’s time for you to remind me.”

He laughed. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, my love, where do you sleep when I’m not around for you to climb on top of?”

She gave him a suggestive smile. “I don’t. I stay up all night, yearning for you.”

Cole let out a long breath. “Thank you very much. That image is going to cost me at least one night’s sleep while I’m away.”

Devon instantly sobered. “Please, let’s not talk about that now. We have two whole weeks left,”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” He brushed a light kiss over her lips and traced his hands soothingly over her back. Then he lifted her off him and moved to stand. She watched his gloriously naked body as he crossed the room.

“Where are you going?”

He didn’t answer, but went to rummage through the bag he’d brought back from his ship. He returned and handed her a gaily wrapped package. “This is for you.”

“What is it?”

“A wedding gift.”

Devon arched a dark brow.

Cole grinned. “A little late, I know. But we’ve already established what a horrid sense of timing I have, so there’s no need to go into that again.”

She smiled and removed the wrappings to reveal an intricately carved gold box, the lid studded with pearls and semiprecious stones. “Oh, Cole,” she said, “the jewelry box is lovely—”

“It’s not for jewelry.”

She gazed up at him, surprised by his somber tone. “Then what—”

“It’s a memory box, Devon. Something in which to store all those memories you collect, so you’ll never lose a single one.” He paused, looking both tender and serious at once. “Unlike the wedding gift you gave me, this one comes with strings attached. If you accept it, I expect the next fifty years of your life in return to help fill it up.”

Devon bit her lip to hide a wayward, trembling smile. “Only the next fifty?”

He shrugged. “We can negotiate after that.”

She nodded, swallowing past the tight knot in her throat. “That sounds like a pretty fair deal to me.”

She let her body melt against his as his hands drifted in random, loving strokes over her skin. “You know,” she said, “I still can’t believe that you let Uncle Monty talk you into that wild scheme of his.”

Cole frowned as he searched her eyes, clearly puzzled. “What scheme?”

“His plan to capture Sharpe, of course.”

“I’ll have you know that entire scheme was my idea.”

“No,” she gasped.

“Every last detail,” he smugly informed her.

Devon studied him in an altogether new light. “Cole McRae, I’ve come to the conclusion that you were corrupted long before I ever met you. You’re nothing but a thief at heart.”

Cole smiled and tightened his arms around her. “And you, my darling wife, are such a lady.”

VICTORIA LYNNE is the author of five historical romance novels. She’s received two RITA Award nominations, and has consistently earned Romantic Times’ “Top Pick” award. Called “A Fabulous Storyteller!” by Rendezvous Magazine, her work consistently draws rave reviews and continues to attract new readers. Her books have been translated into German, Italian, and Spanish, and are currently available online through Kindle and Nook.

Ms. Lynne lives in Vermont with her husband and two children.