Captured (8 page)

Devon leveraged herself up and studied him from beneath a sweep of lowered lashes. The man made no sense. He was a dark, brooding, miserable human being. But he’d spent his own money to buy her the finest pair of shoes she’d ever owned‌—‌much to his regret, apparently. He’d been furious with her for talking with Justin, but only because of the risk facing the boy if he aided her in escape. And finally, Cole had saved her life. He could have abandoned ship with the rest of the crew, but he didn’t.

Unable to resolve the disparities in his character and annoyed that she’d even bothered to try, Devon turned away from him. She reached beneath her and pulled out the sharp piece of driftwood that had been stabbing her in the spine, then surveyed the area around them.

It looked as if they had floated downriver a bit, pushed south by the current. They’d washed up on a small, sheltered inlet banked by a grove of dense cedar. She tilted her head to one side and listened intently, but heard nothing save the occasional chirping and squawking of birds.

“Where is everyone?” she asked.

“Upriver.”

He didn’t so much as glance in her direction. She waited. When it became evident that no more information would be forthcoming, she asked, “Was anyone hurt?”

He turned to look at her now, his dark eyes intense. “Bloodthirsty little thing, aren’t you?”

Devon tightened her lips, refusing to give rein to her anger. “Just tell me. Please,” she added, proud of herself for getting the word out without choking.

Their gazes locked and held. Just when she’d about given up hope for getting an answer, he spoke. “No one was hurt,” he said at last. “Not seriously.”

“I’m glad.” Her captor gave an inelegant snort at that, clearly expressing his disbelief. Devon ignored it. “I thought, in a battle that fierce—”

“That wasn’t a battle,” he interrupted curtly. “More like an abandon ship drill gone awry. We were barely able to answer their fire before deserting.”

Devon didn’t know what to reply to that, so she let silence fall between them once again. Cole shifted beside her. She heard his slight intake of breath as he stretched out his long legs. She glanced over, noting the deep crimson stain on his left thigh. “Is it bad?”

“No.”

She bit back a sigh of frustration. Even if he was bleeding to death, she doubted he’d admit it. He probably considered that a sign of weakness. She moved toward him before he could protest, gently pulling the torn fabric apart. “Here, let me see.” As her fingers lightly probed the injury, she realized that he was right. It was merely a flesh wound. A bit sore, perhaps, but nothing too severe. Their recent dip in the Potomac had even served to give it a proper cleansing.

Satisfied, she patted the fabric back into place, laying her hands over the wound. She heard him give another sharp intake of breath, then his large hand slammed down, pinning hers beneath it. Her head immediately snapped up. Was she hurting him?

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snapped.

Taken completely off-guard, Devon could only stammer out a reply. “I‌—‌I thought I’d…” she began, but her voice trailed away.

That strange, golden fire was back in his deep brown eyes, but it wasn’t pain she read there. It was anger, and something else. Something stronger. Devon’s breath caught in her throat, and her stomach twisted. Her senses were suddenly heightened, and she became aware of everything at once.

For the first time since they’d met, they were alone. Totally and completely alone. The realization took on a weight and meaning that overshadowed everything else. She lifted her gaze upward, forcing herself to meet his eyes.

Cole’s face was framed by a mass of tawny-blond hair, which somehow served to heighten his rugged appeal. His firm, sensual lips were slightly parted. The angry scar that split his cheek stood out in white relief against the deep tan of his skin.

She felt the muscles of his thigh quiver and tense beneath her fingers, then felt herself tremble in response as a shiver of delicious anticipation raced down her spine. It occurred to her that she should protest, force herself away. But she couldn’t move her hands. Nor did she truly want to. She swallowed hard and tried again. “I thought I’d—”

“I know what you thought.” Cole moved slowly toward her, tracing his rough hand gently across her cheek. His body was only inches away, raw power and sensuality emanating from him like heat from a fire. Devon froze, captivated by his touch. His deep voice was soft, almost a whisper. “I’d be happy to oblige you, Devon Blake, but know this: nothing changes. You’re still going to prison, and Jonas Sharpe will die under my hand.”

Had he slapped her across the face, Devon could not have been more stunned. She jerked back, alarm and indignation flashing in her soft green eyes. “I wasn’t offering—”

“The hell you weren’t.”

“I thought you might be hurt.”

“Did you? And just where did you acquire your nursing skills, in a brothel?”

Devon drew in a sharp breath. “Obviously I made a mistake,” she conceded regally. Determined to regain her dignity, she rose to her feet. “I should have let you bleed to death.”

He grabbed her arm as she spun away from him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I require a few moments’ privacy. I have to… to attend to myself.”

His eyes narrowed, but he let her go. “Two minutes.”

Devon moved quickly away from him, skirting through a hedge of boxwood and into a dense grove of cedar. She saw to her needs, irritated to find that her hands were still shaking. Once again, she’d completely lost control of the situation. He’d gotten to her, and she was furious with herself. She was also flustered, embarrassed, and thoroughly confused.

After years of being in complete control of whatever situation she found herself in, Cole McRae’s ability to muddle her thinking was entirely unprecedented. Not only was it dangerous, it was a shocking blow to her pride. She had to get away from him. No sooner had the thought flitted through her mind when the realization hit home that this was the perfect opportunity. Devon frowned. It couldn’t possibly be this easy. And yet…

She lifted her head, listening. Her two minutes were up, but she heard no sound of Cole coming after her. They were alone and on foot, she thought, weighing the odds. Ordinarily that would give Cole the advantage, but surely his leg wound would slow him down. Not only that, he’d let her wander out of his sight, so he’d have no idea in which direction she headed.

Devon lifted her sodden skirts and moved cautiously away from her captor. She set a brisk pace until she was confident he was out of earshot, and then broke into an all-out run. She moved recklessly, dodging fallen logs and tree stumps, trampling shrubbery and leaves beneath her feet. Beads of sweat clung to her skin as the midday heat bore down on her, thick and heavy as a blast from a baker’s oven. The muggy air made breathing almost impossible and turned her arms and legs to lead, but she refused to let it slow her down. Exhausted and exhilarated, driven by desperation, she kept moving.

After a few minutes, Devon risked a glance over her shoulder. Still nothing. Victory swelled in her chest. She’d done it. She’d escaped. It had been so simple, so easy. Now all she had to do was make her way back to the harbor and find Jonas Sharpe—

Suddenly Cole McRae stepped out from behind a tree directly in front of her.

“No!” The word flew from her lips before she could stop it. She cut sharply to the right, narrowly avoiding flinging herself into his outstretched arms. She heard his dark curse as she sprinted past, felt his hands brush the fabric of her gown. He was on her heels in an instant. The sound of his heavy, booted tread roared like thunder in her ears. Devon panicked. Her heart pumping furiously, using every last bit of energy she possessed, she pushed herself to run faster than she ever had in her life.

It wasn’t fast enough.

Cole neatly closed the gap between them and brought Devon down with a flying tackle. With a strength born of terror, she twisted and rolled from beneath his grasp, scrambling onto all fours as she lurched away from him. “Dammit, Blake!” She heard his low growl, then felt his iron grip around her ankle as he pulled her down once again. Devon had never struck another human being in her life, but now her survival instincts surged to the surface. She turned and swung as she fell, her fist landing solidly against the side of Cole’s head. His grip loosened for a fraction of a second, enough time for her to pull free and lunge down a grassy ravine.

He was right there after her, grabbing her about the hips this time. But the momentum of her lunge, combined with the sheer force of gravity, propelled them forward. They tumbled down the steep slope, their bodies locked together as they rolled and slid. When they finally lurched to a stop, Cole’s body lay flat atop hers.

Devon instantly renewed her attack. She pummeled her fists against his back and shoulders and bucked her hips in a desperate attempt to break free. When that didn’t work, she twisted and squirmed beneath him, letting loose a string of curses. He pulled back so that he was straddling her, caught her wrists in one hand, and effortlessly pinned them above her head. “That’s enough!” he snapped.

Devon drew in deep, heaving breaths, feeling as though all the air had been choked out of her lungs. It didn’t help. Rather than cool air, she was engulfed instead by the heady, masculine scent of Cole’s body. He leaned over her, his legs locked around hers hips in a position that had originally been necessary to restrain her movements. Now it felt undeniably wanton. Captain McRae seemed to become aware of it at the same instant. Their eyes locked, and they both went suddenly still.

It was an opportunity Devon couldn’t afford to miss. The vulnerability of her position, combined with the overwhelming superiority of his strength and the utter uselessness of any attempt to resist him, was finally driven home. He had accused her only moments ago of trying to seduce him. She realized now she had nothing to lose by actually attempting it. Summoning all her courage, she arched her hips against his and forced her most seductive smile, despite the fact that she was trembling inside.

“I’ll give you anything you want,” she said. “I’ll do anything you want. Just promise you’ll let me go when you’re done. That’s all I ask.” In desperation, she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Please,” she choked out. “Anything you want. Just let me go.”

When still he didn’t reply, but continued to stare at her with his cold, fathomless eyes, panic and despair gripped her. It was suddenly all too much. Her arrest, her trial, the drunken insults of Sergeant Coombs, the icy contempt of Captain McRae, the ship explosion, her clumsy attempt at seduction… Her nerves were strained to the breaking point, and she simply couldn’t take any more.

Her eyes blurred with tears as her body went limp. She dropped her arms from around his neck and did what she swore she’d never do: she threw away her last vestige of pride and pleaded for her life. “Please listen to me,” she cried. “I didn’t murder that man‌—‌he was already dead when I got there. I wasn’t working for Captain Sharpe. I didn’t know about the papers in my trunks until it was too late. I swear it. Please, I’m telling the truth.”

Cole froze above her. For a fraction of a second, his rugged expression softened as her words seemed to penetrate his cool exterior. But the moment didn’t last. He rolled off her and studied her in a detached, contemplative silence, then finally spoke. “That was a pretty performance, Blake. But I suggest you save your maudlin outbursts and crude offers for the guards at Old Capitol. They’ll have more time on their hands to enjoy them than I do.”

Devon gasped as red-hot fury uncoiled within her. His words instantly renewed her fighting spirit. “You son-of-a-bitch!”

He shrugged and rose to his feet, calmly ignoring the insult. “By the way,” he drawled, “if your flight was meant to prove to me that I cannot trust you, you’ve succeeded. If that was a sincere attempt at escape, it was merely foolish.” Taking her arm in an iron grip, he pulled her to her feet.

Devon jerked out of his grasp, furious with herself for showing any weakness. She should have known he would simply throw her shattered pleas for help back in her face. Unwilling to let him believe he’d actually bested her, she glared at him, then pointedly shifted her gaze to the gun tucked in his belt. “I can only assume that you are out of ammunition, McRae.”

He frowned. “Why would you think that?”

“I can’t imagine what else would have prevented you from shooting an unarmed, defenseless woman in the back. Certainly not your high moral standards or your righteous code of honor, as you appear to be deplorably lacking on both counts.” Having scored her point, she turned her attention away from him and busied herself with brushing clusters of grass and leaves from her skirt. A shot rang out directly above her head. Devon shrieked and whirled about, staring at her captor with wide-eyed fear.

Cole simply raised his brows and cocked his head toward the smoking revolver in his hand. “What do you know about that,” he said. “Looks like it was loaded after all.”

It took her a full minute to recover from her fright. Finally she found her voice. “You are the most contemptible, vile—”

He squatted down, stuck his hand beneath her skirts, and grabbed her ankle.

Shock coursed through her once again, leaving her temporarily stunned. She slammed her fists against his broad shoulders. “Don’t you dare‌—‌get your hands off me! How dare you—”

He released her abruptly, leaving her free to stagger backward. Her movement was accompanied by a telltale ripping sound as her thin cotton petticoat, which had remained firmly in his grasp, was torn to shreds. Cole came to his feet and tested the cotton strip in his hands. Satisfied, he grabbed her wrist and tugged her toward a thick, sturdy oak.

Devon instantly realized his intent. Despite her vigorous kicking, scratching, and screaming every blue oath she’d ever heard, he subdued her with an ease that was embarrassing. He positioned her arms so that she was hugging the tree, and then secured her wrists on the other side.