Captured (20 page)

Staying in the room while she bathed hadn’t helped matters much. As he’d listened to the soft splashing sounds coming from the other side of the screen, his brain kept conjuring up images of Devon on the other side, naked, wet, and soapy. Hell, he’d wanted the woman even when she was covered in goose slime. The thought of her soft body, clean and fresh, splashing in a tub only a few feet away had almost been too much for him to bear.

And then she’d stood, her body silhouetted against the screen in dark relief, framed by the golden glow of the lamp. Cole had simply stared in stunned awe, unable to tear his eyes away. He’d not given much thought to what lay beneath Devon’s clothes. Some, of course, but not much. Then behind the screen, he saw what he’d only dimly imagined. Devon was a small woman, but every ounce of her was pure feminine perfection, from her delicate ankles and shapely legs, to the gentle flare of her hips and tiny waist. Her breasts were small, but firm and round, with nipples that tipped up toward the sky. Then she’d turned, giving him an outline of the graceful curve of her back, her delectable derriere.

And that wasn’t even the worst of it. While he watched in stunned awe, in a move he was sure was nothing but pure, calculated torture on her part, Devon reached for a bucket of water and poured it over her head. He hadn’t been able to stop the groan that tore from his lips at the sight of the water cascading like liquid silk over her glorious curves, dripping from her body in thin, wet rivulets that splashed softly back into the tub.

Yet when she poked her head around the screen a few minutes later, there was nothing in her expression to prove that it had all been deliberate. In fact, just the opposite was true. Her face showed nothing but wary innocence, her skin glowed fresh and rosy after her bath. Cole suddenly found himself wanting her even more.

Clutching her wrapper tightly around her throat, she had padded lightly toward the small dressing table and began spreading out her assorted feminine wares. Jars of creams, bottles of scent, hairpins, items that had all heretofore seemed nothing but trivial wastes of time, had become fascinating necessities in Devon’s hands. He watched her primp and smooth and pamper, saw her thick glossy hair slip through her fingers.

His gaze had even followed her when she stepped back behind the screen to dress. Unable to stop himself, he watched her silhouette as she wiggled into a camisole, pulled on her stockings and secured them at her thighs, tugged her petticoat over her hips and tied it at her waist. He found every movement incredibly erotic, and was stunned that he did. Cole was too experienced a lover to be aroused simply by the sight of a woman dressing. He consoled himself with the rationalization that he’d never before watched a woman put on her clothes unless he’d first helped to take them off.

She’d looked absolutely adorable when she’d finally emerged, prim and proper in the blue and lavender gown he’d bought her buttoned all the way up to her pretty little throat. Her eyes were glistening bright, her skin dewy-soft, fresh and sweet-smelling. He couldn’t help but stare in appreciative wonder.

Given his state of mind, it was no wonder he’d reacted the way he had when she’d begun flirting with every man at their table, damned near every man in the room. He figured he couldn’t entirely blame her for the stunt she’d pulled with Lieutenant Davis’s wallet. Had he been paying attention the way he should have been, he would have seen that coming. Instead he’d been too busy working himself into a quiet fury over the way the lieutenant’s gaze traveled over Devon.

But that no longer mattered. The question was what to do now. The more he knew about Devon, the less he understood. The woman was infuriating one minute, aloof and intriguing the next. He’d thought that one kiss would be sufficient to quench the fire that had been steadily building within him; instead just the opposite was true. She’d responded with such an intoxicating mix of passion and innocence that it had been nearly impossible for him to break away.

But he had. He wouldn’t allow himself to go any further, not until he knew exactly how she was involved with Jonas Sharpe. He’d let things go too damned far already. Cole wasn’t ordinarily a man to let lust interfere with his thinking, but then he’d never met a woman like Devon Blake before. Tomorrow he’d get all the answers he needed about Sharpe, then he would know how to proceed.

“I’m not going to bed with you,” Devon said as she darted out from beneath his arms and skirted across the room to stand behind a chair. “I’d rather go straight to prison!”

Cole arched a tawny brow. “Apparently my kiss left much to be desired.”

“I mean it!”

“I know you do,” he said calmly. “But it’s late, and I think we could both use the sleep.”

Surprise and wary distrust flashed across her delicate features. “Sleep?”

“Sleep.”

“You want to go to bed to… to sleep?”

“That’s usually where it’s done.”

“That’s where quite a few other things are done as well,” she snapped.

“True, but that’s not what I had in mind.”

“Why not?” she demanded, then bright spots of color stained her cheeks. “I mean, of course not! Of course it isn’t! But… but you kissed me.”

“I seem to recall you kissed me back.”

Her knuckles went white as she tightened her grip on the back of the chair. “I thought it only polite.”

Cole bit back a grin. “How very obliging of you.”

“Yes, wasn’t it? So in light of that, perhaps you could oblige me in something.”

He waited to see where the conversation was going, wondering if he would ever figure out how her mind worked.

Devon said, “Perhaps you’d like to sleep in the tub tonight.”

“Not a chance.”

“I see,” she replied stiffly, her eyes sparkling with emerald fire. “In that case, I will.”

He shook his head. “In the first place, the tub has already been removed, and is probably being used by one of the other boarders as we speak.” He watched her eyes as she glanced about the room, absorbing the impact of his words. “In the second place, the bed is plenty large enough for two, and that is where I want you to be. I won’t get any sleep if I have to lie awake listening for sounds of you picking your way out the door.”

Devon looked insulted. “If I do decide to pick my way out the door, I guarantee you won’t be able to hear me‌—‌whether you’re asleep or not.”

“How comforting. However, it doesn’t change anything. We’re both sleeping in that bed.”

“But you kissed me!”

He wished she’d quit reminding him of that. It just made him want to do it all over again. “Devon, I give you my word, all I intend to do now is sleep.”

She studied him through narrowed eyes. “How do I know that once we’re in bed you won’t… won’t…”

“Turn into a wild, rutting beast who’s unable to control himself?” he supplied.

“Exactly,” she breathed, looking supremely relieved that he’d said it and not she.

“That’s very flattering, but I can assure you that you’re quite safe.” He waited until he saw her relax to add casually, “That only happens when the moon is full.”

She brought her chin up once again, her features stiff with anger and embarrassment. “You’re teasing me now. You think I’m being silly.”

“You’re right, I do.” Before she could protest, he continued, “Your kiss was nice, Devon. Quite nice, as a matter of fact, but that’s all it was. And as to sharing the same bed, I don’t know what else I can say to put you at ease. I give you my word not to touch you. I’ve never been accused of snoring, though I suppose I don’t really know for a fact whether that’s true or not. I don’t toss and turn, and you’re welcome to all the blankets. Now is there anything else that’s bothering you?”

Devon stared at him for a long, silent moment. “You have bad dreams. About someone named Gideon.”

If she’d been looking for a way to ensure that the flames of lust had been thoroughly extinguished, she’d found it. Cole felt his muscles tense as every nerve in his body suddenly screamed to life. “I’ll try not to disturb you,” he managed to say evenly.

She shook her head. “You don’t—”

“It’s time to sleep,” he said, abruptly ending the conversation. This time Devon complied without argument. She stepped behind the screen, returning a few minutes later with her dressing gown wrapped tightly around her, and slipped into bed. Cole tugged off his boots, removed his shirt, and began to unbutton his pants. Devon’s appalled gasp filled the air. He stopped abruptly, realizing only then that he’d been stripping down out of habit.

“Sorry,” he muttered and buttoned his pants. She flipped over onto her side and pretended not to hear. Cole doused the light and slipped into bed beside her. They both lay absolutely still, their backs to each other. Thick, palpable tension filled the empty space between them. After what seemed an eternity, Devon’s breathing changed to a soft, steady pattern, telling Cole that she was asleep.

He sighed and shifted onto his back, exhausted but unable to rest. A thousand images flitted through his mind, keeping him awake. He saw his ship, the Islander, under attack, her sails aflame as the screams of his crew roared in his ears. Next he saw Jonas Sharpe in his mind. Though he’d been shown the man’s portrait only once, the image had attached itself to his memory. Then Gideon. Of course, always Gideon.

Devon muttered a word in her sleep and rolled over. Her hands were clenched in delicate fists, her dark, glorious hair swept carelessly over her pillow. The soft, feminine scent of her drifted toward him. Cole pushed aside his immediate physical reaction, forcing himself to focus solely on the facts.

She’d had a trial and been found guilty. She’d been arrested with the knife in her hand, the body of the slain lieutenant lying on the ground next to her. Her suitcase had been full of documents detailing the sale of warships being built in England for the Confederacy, in the beginning, he’d accepted her guilt completely, without question. More than that, he’d wanted to believe it, because it made everything so much easier. He’d wanted to see her as nothing but a liar, a thief, a murderess. But as the days went by, that had proved an impossible task.

There was something about Devon that made him feel strangely protective toward her. He thought of her sitting on an old oak branch, twirling her toes in the stale creek water, a picture of complete, fetching innocence. She’d risked her own life in her attempt to escape, leaping aboard a speeding train rather than screaming and putting his men in jeopardy. She’d returned his kiss with an artless sensuality that had sent his pulse racing, a kiss that seemed to define the very essence of the woman: hot and sweet and totally giving. Either Devon Blake was Jonas Sharpe’s scheming accomplice‌—‌and a hell of a lot more gifted an actress than he’d ever given her credit for‌—‌or she was as guiltless as she’d claimed to be from the very beginning. They were two completely contrasting images, and only one of them would prove to be right. Tomorrow morning he’d find out which one.

But morning came and went without a resolution to Cole’s dilemma. It seemed he’d just dropped off to sleep when a pounding on the door awakened them both. It was General Brader’s adjutant, requesting an audience with the general posthaste. They dressed immediately and headed for camp, where Cole left Devon with a guard while he sought out Brader. Once there, he heard the disquieting rumor that Stonewall Jackson was moving his men up from Richmond to confront General Pope near Culpepper County. The action could be heating up around them at any time.

As Cole left the general’s office, he noted the somber mood that hung over the entire camp. The men who only yesterday had been playing cards and writing letters home were now checking ammunition and testing their guns. But until he heard differently, Cole determined to treat the rumor as what it was: a rumor, one of hundreds that flew from camp to camp, with no more substance or weight than the wind that carried them.

Hearing Devon’s soft laughter coming from the corral near where the horses were penned, Cole turned and headed in that direction. He stopped at the entrance to the barn. A shaft of golden sunlight showed Emmett lounging in a pile of hay, a long piece of straw stuck between his teeth, while Devon stood, a grooming brush in her hand as she tended a chestnut mare. Something about the intimacy of the scene made him hesitate at the door, feeling like an intruder.

“I got me a sweetheart back home,” he heard Emmett confess.

Devon smiled, continuing to stroke the mare as she glanced over her shoulder at the boy. “Do you?” she asked. “What’s her name?”

“Sally Ann.” He paused, digging his toe into the pile of hay. “I was gonna marry her, but Pa wouldn’t let me.”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“Aw, he sez mean Sally Ann are too young to get married up. I gave her a ring anyway, just to make sure she’d wait for me. Maybe it’s best we wait till after the war. Seein’ as how she’s clear back in Texas, and I’m all the way out here. ’Sides, that way, after I whup me some Rebs, I can go back a genuine hero, and won’t Pa or nobody be able to stop us then.”

Devon simply nodded and continued to brush the horse.

Emmett looked down, a worried frown on his face. “The only trouble is, most of my friends back home done went Rebel on me. I know I should hate them now, on account of them being the enemy and all, but I don’t. I don’t want to kill them neither. It ain’t like I’m a coward or nothing, but I don’t think I could shoot none of them boys I grew up with. It don’t seem like that’ll solve nothing, killing off all my friends just ’cause they’re on the wrong side of the war.”

“Have you talked to your father about this?”

“Hell‌—‌excuse me, ma’am‌—‌heck no! Pa already thinks I’m too young. If I told him that, he’d send me back for sure.”

“I think he would understand.”

Emmett looked panicked. “You ain’t gonna tell him, are you, ma’am?”

Devon sighed. “No, I won’t,” she promised, then changed the subject. “Tell me about Sally Ann. What’s she like?”

The boy fairly leaped to his feet. “I got me one of them miniatures of her, you want to see?” he asked, proudly shoving a worn leather case at Devon. “She ain’t smiling there, which is too bad, ’cause she’s got just about the prettiest smile in the whole world. She’s a mighty fine cook too. Why, last summer at the county fair, her cherry pie took first prize. And that wasn’t just among the cherry pies neither. She was competing against all them other fruits too. Apple, strawberry, rhubarb, you name it. She won the prize for best pie, period. Now ain’t that something?”