Surrender The Night (44 page)

Devon obeyed, his jaw flexing with fury. ‘ ‘How the hell did you know we were here?” He casually hooked the basket over his arm.

“I didn’t. Just out for a drive, you know.”

A disdainful smile stretched Devon’s mouth. He eyed the loaded wagon, its cargo covered by a tarp. “Certainly you are.”

Katrina wondered what they were distributing. She knew better than to ask, however. Carrington needed little excuse to kill them. What did he plan to do? She edged closer to Devon.

“We’ve room for one more. My dear, can we escort you home?” Carrington’s eyes never left his onetime friend as he spoke.

“We’ve a carriage coming any moment,” Devon inserted before she could speak. “We’ll bid you good day.” He took Katrina’s arm with his free hand.

“I think not. In the wagon, wench.” When Katrina stayed put, Carrington cocked the pistol. “Now. Unless you want to see your lover with a new hole in his face.”

Katrina paled and took a jerky step forward.

“No!”
Devon pulled her back.

“Interesting. She must be quite a talented whore if you’re willing to give up your life for her.”

“You always were a coward, Phillip. No one touches her but me. Not while I live. And if you kill me, you’ll have a deal of explaining to do.”

“A duel, you know.” Still, Carrington hesitated.

“Get on with it, man,” Jack growled, shifting restively on the carriage seat.

Katrina’s heart fluttered like a trapped bird. She dug her nails into Devon’s arm. He glanced sideways at her. She mouthed, “Now,” put a hand to her forehead, moaned, and pretended to faint.

Carrington started, his finger lax just long enough for Devon to throw the basket. The basket hit Carrington’s arm, deflecting his aim. The pistol shot exploded harmlessly into the air.

Devon sprang at Carrington’s throat.

Hennessy made a move to jump down, but carriage wheels sounded on the hard path. Cursing loudly, he whipped the horses up the trail in the opposite direction.

Carrington wasn’t able to shout after him for the simple reason that Devon’s hands were cutting off his air. Devon shook his old college chum. “You pox-carrying spawn of hell, I’ll kill you!”

Katrina tried to pull Devon away, but he ignored her. “Henry, come help!”

Henry threw his reins aside and leaped down. Between the two of them they pulled Devon off just as Carrington’s knees sagged.

Retching, he cradled his abused throat, wavering on his feet.

Devon watched him emotionlessly, then snarled out of the side of his mouth, “Tie him and throw him in the luggage compartment, Henry. Take Miss Lawson home first, then drive me to the constable’s. I want this man arrested on suspicion of smuggling.” Grabbing Katrina’s arm, he hauled her after him to the carriage.

Somehow she managed to match his angry strides with three of her own, and she didn’t protest when he tossed her inside. He followed quickly, sprawling on the opposite seat, his hands still flexing with anger.

The carriage lurched as Carrington was forced into the rear, jounced again as Henry climbed aboard, and then they were off. Katrina eyed Devon warily, deciding against telling him of the scheduled run that night. After this he’d be furious if he knew she still planned to go. Now that Carrington would be out of the way, she had to be at each transaction to see if the account was still short.

“You’ve your own stubbornness to thank for this,” Devon burst out as if he couldn’t contain himself longer.

Katrina’s head swiveled around. “What?”

“If you’d wed me weeks ago, Hennessy and his ilk wouldn’t consider you free game.” He shifted his long legs. “Blast it, how am I to protect you when I can’t always be with you?”

“You’re not. We’re each responsible for ourselves, Devon. I can take care of myself.”

A snort made short work of her pretension. “You’d be sprawled between the two of them right now if I hadn’t been there.”

Somehow she doubted it. Carrington had attacked with an air of purpose that had little to do with lust. However, at Devon’s crudity, all thoughts of discussing her suspicion flew out the window with her composure. She leaned forward to fix him with a snide smile. “Who’s to say
I might not have enjoyed it?’

Glittering brown eyes locked with blue, then Devon erupted in a fury of motion. She barely had time to shrink away before he had her pinned against the velvet squabs.

“If you’re so insatiable, my dear, we might as well both benefit.”

Stormy darkness raged within the tiny carriage, challenging the peaceful night. Katrina beat her hands against his shoulders—at first. But soon her clothes hugged her waist and his mouth gentled from brutality to desperate passion. Her claws re-formed into fingers, exploring the sudden beauty anger had wrought.

With a tortured groan Devon shoved her away. “It’s not enough. Part of you is not enough.” He turned his head aside, his jaw set in granite.

When the carriage lurched to a stop, Katrina wondered if this was God’s cue to end it. Wearily she straightened her clothes, intoning, “Two years ago I would have been ecstatic that you finally understood that. Now?” She shrugged. She buttoned her last button and reached for the door handle.

“Now it means naught, apparently.” He grasped her arm so hard she knew she’d be bruised in the morning. “Tell me, has this all been some obscene plan to avenge yourself on me?”

She bit back an hysterical laugh. “Believe what you will. It’s too late for us. It was too late that night I left you, those years ago.” Shaking him off, she leaped down and ran into the cottage.

In the carriage, Devon covered his face with trembling hands, trying to master the dark despair. Why didn’t he just leave her to her fate, as she’d left him to his? He’d tried every tactic, but Katrina, in her inimitable way, resisted him. Yet she claimed to love him. The two conclusions were at odds, and he wondered if even the key to what had happened in the brothel would solve the riddle she posed. What could have been so terrible to keep apart two people who loved one another? Together they could conquer anything. He truly believed that, but he no longer had heart to convince her. She was bleeding him dry. If he didn’t leave, he’d be an empty caricature of the man she had helped form.

When they clattered onto the cobbled streets of Truro, Devon forced himself upright. Very well. Once more he’d try to wheedle the truth from her. He’d wine and dine her as if this were their last night, as it well could be. If she still denied them both, he’d seek her no longer. London would be a cold, dreary place after the strife and joy he’d known here, but there he’d have solitude to lick his wounds. Who knew? Maybe some of the old demon remained in him. What had morality and kindness bought him? The deepest despair he’d ever known. Even the shallow life of gaming and whoring offered better than that.

Yet, as the carriage rattled on toward the constable’s, deep inside Devon knew he fooled himself. The demon was gone, too dead for him to mourn the loss. Katrina had dragged his better half into the light only to condemn him to darkness. If she forced him to leave her, he would ever after be a twilight denizen. Condemned to purgatory, fitting nowhere, unhappy everywhere.

And Katrina? Somehow he knew she would never wed. She’d spend her life in good works, spreading that unusual ability to love so deeply on many, rather than giving it to the one man God had sent her. If that were not so, why did He unite them and give them such a tantalizing taste of what they could share?

“Oh love, don’t sentence us both to misery.” Bowing his head, Devon prayed, his former lip service now fervent to the deity he’d once doubted.

Much later that night Katrina paced nervously as they awaited the Frenchman. Why was he so late? She glanced over her shoulder at Hennessy, then quickly away. Aside from a mean glare, he’d not looked at or spoken to her. Rumors of Carrington’s captivity were already circulating in the district. The excisemen had searched Carrington’s house and found enough contraband, apparently, to prefer charges against him.

Ostensibly they were left without a distributor. If so, why hadn’t Hennessy canceled this run? Surely it was dangerous to store the goods for long. They’d been lucky so far partly because of the speed with which the cargo was dispersed. And Hennessy hadn’t accused her of betrayal, as she’d half ex
pected. Surely he would have done so if the smuggling leader had been captured partly through her interference?

Katrina frowned unseeingly into the night. Their appearance at the cairn had been too convenient. How had they known they’d be there unless they’d followed? Katrina flushed as she thought of the passion the pair might have interrupted, but the stones had concealed them. Still, why had they come? It would have been easier to kidnap her on a night like this than to openly challenge a powerful man like Devon. Had someone else sent them for a reason she didn’t understand?

Who? Why? Katrina had a chilling suspicion that she’d soon find out.

A stealthy footfall made them all start. They whirled, hands reaching for weapons. The cadaverous Frenchman scrambled down the beach, his hands before him in protest.

“C’est moi, mademoiselle. ”
He relaxed when the men put their guns away.

“You’re late,” Katrina reprimanded him in French. “Where is your wagon?”

He jerked his head toward the rise.

“And what do you carry that was worth such a hasty run?”

“The finest brandy. It should fetch even more than usual. Silk and tea from China.”

“We’ll want to see every bolt and taste every tub.”

‘ ‘But of cburse.’ ’ He looked about. ‘
‘Ou est monsieur?
I was told he would come himself tonight. I arranged this meeting with him.”

“Lord Carrington is . . . indisposed,” Katrina replied, watching the man closely.

Jack stiffened when he heard Carrington’s name and approached him.

“Carrington? Who is that?” the Frenchman asked.

Katrina wasn’t surprised when Jack took her arm and said roughly, “Get on with it, gal.”

She threw him a bland look. “Why? This is
such
an interesting topic.”

“We’ve work to do, and I don’t like the feel o’ this.” He nodded at two of his men, and they scattered to search the area.

“Who is this person you’re expecting? I can tell you if he’s here.”

But the Frenchman was frowning suspiciously. “None of your affair. Come. I will show you the goods.’ ’ He led them up the rise.

She and Jack both looked uneasily about, but all seemed calm. Katrina was brisk during the negotiations, and her unease heightened when the Frenchman lowered his price so easily.

He shrugged under her curious eyes. “I am not gree
dy. I grow weary.”

Katrina barely stifled a skeptical sniff She had little choice but to take him at his word, however. As the men began to load
the luggers she sat on a rock some distance away, turned sideways, shielding her paper and pencil with her cloak.

Her fingers ached when the loading was finished. They should all make quite a nice profit this time, she thought. She also could make a fair estimate of what the goods should fetch since this was their typical cargo. The brandy
had
been unusually fine, so she’d increased the estimate slightly. She was so busy with her calculations that she didn’t hear Hennessy approach.

He growled over her shoulder, “Come on with ye then if ye’d not wish to be left behind. . . His voice trailed away as she guiltily stuffed the paper in her cloak.

“Just writing a letter.” She smiled brightly and rose. “I’m ready.” She hastened up the beach and accepted Paulie’s hand into the dinghy that would take them out to the lugger.

As he always did Jack made his last walk about the beach to see that they’d left no evidence of their presence. They were all aboard the dinghies awaiting hi
m when he gave a satisfied nod and turned to join them. Several men dressed in French uniforms scrambled over the hill.

The officer in the lead shouted in English, “Halt! You’re under arrest!”

Jack turned and ran. The other dinghy shoved off, the smugglers too busy rowing to return fire. Paulie glared at the Frenchmen, gauged how far Jack had to come, and bit out of the side of his mouth, “Away with ’ee.” To Jack he hollered, “Swem for et, man! We’ll peck ’ee up.”

A bullet knocked Jack’s hat off. He gathered himself and made an athletic lunge for the water. He let the breakers carry him out, then began to swim in powerful strokes.

The Frenchmen knelt on the beach, steadying their muskets, but they could barely see Jack now. A few minutes later the first lugger sailed alongside to pick him up. Katrina saw Jack catch a line and cling as he was hauled up. The Frenchmen reloaded and fired again, but they could see only shadows in the night.

They reached their own lugger soon after. The darkness swallowed them as quickly.

“Phew! That was close. Jack was lucky,” Paulie said.“Hurry on it, men, in case they’ve ships waiting to give chase.”

Never had the men hoisted sail so efficiently. A fair wind to England soon skimmed them across the channel to the God
fearing side. They sighted no boats, and the night was quiet when they hove to.