Lieutenant Davis finished his tale of a particularly rough battle during which his shoulder had been split open by a bayonet. Devon assumed an expression of heartfelt sorrow at the news. “Oh, how dreadful. Tell me, which shoulder was it?”
The lieutenant pointed to his right shoulder. Devon leaned over and gently placed her small hand atop it. “Does it still hurt, Lieutenant?” she murmured sympathetically.
His eyes traveled slowly over her, taking in the soft curves beneath her gown, the shimmering innocence in her green eyes. He smiled at her. “With an angel’s touch like yours, ma’am, how could it feel anything but heavenly?”
Devon fluttered her lashes. “Why, Lieutenant Davis—”
“That’s it,” Cole said, clamping his hand down on her elbow as he stood and pulled her to her feet. “We’re leaving.”
Lieutenant Davis stood as well. He spoke to Devon, but his eyes were focused solely on Cole, and he was no longer smiling. “Your friend’s a mighty impatient man, isn’t he, ma’am?”
“My friend?” Devon repeated, her brows drawn together in confusion, then she waved the remark away. “Oh, ho, Captain McRae and I are barely acquainted. You see, he was assigned the duty of escorting me to Washington, and I’m afraid he finds it a most tiresome chore.”
“In that case, ma’am, I’d be honored to—”
Cole’s denial was swift and absolute. “No.”
A dark shadow passed through the lieutenant’s eyes. His voice dropped a notch lower. Again he spoke to Devon, though his eyes remained fastened on Cole. “Doesn’t say much, does he? Though I suppose for a dullard, that’s to be expected.”
Devon drew in her breath and glanced at Cole, not at all surprised to see that his expression remained completely unmoved, to the point of looking a trifle bored. “That’s right,” he agreed coolly, his eyes locking on Lieutenant Davis. “Now if you gentlemen will excuse us…”
“Not so fast.” The officer on Devon’s right caught her arm as he and the remaining cavalrymen rose to their feet. “Maybe the lady doesn’t want to go with you.”
The room, which had been loud and boisterous when they entered, was now completely silent as all eyes focused on their table. “Get your hands off her,” Cole said.
Though he hadn’t raised his voice, the cold fury in his tone was enough to make the cavalryman flinch. He swallowed hard and resolutely tightened his grip on Devon’s arm, not about to back down in front of his friends. “Let’s just ask the lady—”
“I said, get your hands off her,” Cole repeated, carefully enunciating every word.
Lieutenant Davis and the two other officers edged forward, clearly anxious for a fight. Devon studied them warily. The cavalrymen were bigger than she’d thought, and mere were four of them. She suddenly regretted what she’d started, though she knew it was far too late for her to alter her course now. Besides, if the situation was reversed and Cole was faced with spending the rest of his life in prison for a crime he didn’t commit, wouldn’t he do anything within his power to escape that fate?
“Please, gentlemen,” she hedged, unconvinced by her own argument, “there’s no need for this. Why don’t we—”
“Wait just a damned minute,” cried Lieutenant Davis, “somebody stole my money!”
There was no time for any more regret. As Uncle Monty was fond of saying, “The show was on.” Years of training took over. “No!” she gasped. “Are you certain?”
“Of course I’m certain! It’s gone!”
“Give it back, Devon,” Cole said curtly. “You’ve caused enough trouble here.”
“I beg your pardon!” she cried, lifting a delicate hand to her chest as though she’d just been mortally insulted.
“Give him back his money.”
“Me?! How dare you!”
“Grab him, boys!” shouted the lieutenant. Devon ducked neatly out of the way as fists started flying. In close quarters as they were, Cole didn’t stand much of a chance against the four of them. Especially when the men from the adjoining table jumped into the brawl, pinning Cole to the floor. They dragged him up, two men on either side of him holding his arms back.
“You’re going to regret this, Davis,” he growled,
“Oh, I don’t think so,” the lieutenant countered. “If there’s one thing in this world worse than a thief, it’s a man who’s cowardly enough to blame his thieving on a woman.” He reached for Cole’s vest, which had been partially split open during the fight, and plucked free his wallet. “If she’s the thief, then how do you explain this, McRae?”
Devon watched as shock flashed through Cole’s eyes, then he jerked his head toward her. Summoning every bit of courage she possessed, she lifted her finger and pointed it straight at him. “Captain McRae!” she cried in horror, “what could you have been thinking!”
All hell broke loose then. Lieutenant Davis and two other men dived for Cole at once, burying him beneath a pile of bodies. Men poured in from the saloon, joining in the melee. Within seconds, the room was filled with grunts, groans, and the sound of flesh meeting flesh. Chairs flew about the room like kindling; glasses and dinnerware were knocked to the floor and shattered. Devon lifted her skirts and ran as fast as she could, ducking between flying bodies as she made her way out the door.
She paused outside the restaurant, guilt washing over her once again. Cole really wasn’t going to be hurt, was he? All she wanted to do was escape, she truly hadn’t meant to hurt him. She thought of him lying on the floor, bloody and weak, then firmly pushed the image away. Cole McRae could, take care of himself. Or so she hoped.
Please, God, Devon silently pleaded as she hurried back to the boardinghouse, don’t let him really be hurt. Well, maybe just enough to slow him down. No, not even that. Don’t let him be hurt at all. Just delay him for ten minutes, enough time for me to collect my things and steal a horse. That’s all I ask, God. Don’t let Cole be hurt, and help me steal a horse. Realizing the impropriety of asking God to help her steal a horse, she abruptly negated that. Never mind the horse, God. I’ll take care of that myself. Just watch over Cole.
Once inside their room, she lit a lamp, grabbed her tapestry bag, and began flinging items inside. She’d just finished and was securing the leather straps when she heard the door softly click shut behind her. Devon gasped and whirled about, stunned by the sight of Cole standing there, looking mussed and dirty, but otherwise unharmed. Relief coursed through her. “You’re not hurt!”
“I’m afraid I keep disappointing you there, don’t I?” Before she could reply, his gaze shifted from her to the bag she was packing. “Taking everything, are you?”
“No. Not everything.” She shook her head and pointed to the bottle sitting atop the dresser. “I was going to leave you the cockle pills.”
“Ah. I see.”
He sounded calm, far too calm considering the circumstances. Devon licked her suddenly dry lips as her pulse began to hammer through her veins. “How—how did you get away?”
“You sound surprised, Devon.” Cole moved away from the door, taking a step forward.
She automatically took a step back, staring at him in total bewilderment. “Yes, but how—”
“It’s easy to slip away from a raging brawl: too much going on to see who’s there and who’s not. Next time you want to lose a man, get him into a fight one-on-one. Your opponent tends to notice if you leave.”
Now he was giving her instructions on how to escape? Something was dreadfully wrong. Cole should be angry, he should be yelling at her. But he wasn’t. She smiled shakily, deciding to stall until she could figure it out. “Thank you, I’ll try to remember that.” She took a step back and then another, until she felt the wall bump up behind her, leaving her no more room to maneuver.
As Cole continued to edge toward her, she studied his face, and abruptly realized he wasn’t calm at all. His eyes were shooting sparks of golden fire, and his jaw was tightly clenched. He was completely, absolutely, utterly furious. “Did you
even consider the damage you might cause? Or the fact that innocent people might be hurt?”
She shook her head as her voice seemed to desert her. “No, I… I just thought—”
“You thought?” he snapped. “You actually thought, before you decided to pull that asinine stunt? What in hell were you thinking?”
Anger flooded through her, replacing the nervous tension that had paralyzed her only moments ago. She ignored the fact that he was towering above her, twice her size and armed with a loaded revolver. “I was thinking I don’t want to spend my life locked away for a crime I didn’t commit! That’s what I was thinking!”
“Well, forget it, Blake. You’re mine, and you’re not going anywhere.”
“Yours? Yours?!” she sputtered, too shocked by the possessive, arrogant absurdity of his words to form a coherent reply. “Have you completely lost your mind?”
“Obviously. Otherwise I would have hauled you out of the restaurant the second you started swinging your hips and batting your lashes at that table of overbearing, idiotic cavalrymen.”
Devon’s jaw nearly dropped as shock coursed through her; Granted, Cole was upset that she’d framed him for stealing the wallet, as well as for the vicious brawl that followed. But what seemed to upset him the most was the way she’d flirted with the lieutenant and his friends. Which, as far as she was concerned, was the least of her crimes. “Oh, that,” she replied. “That was nothing.”
He stood only inches away now, one strong arm braced above her head. Her senses were spinning, overwhelmed by the heat of his body, the clean, masculine scent of his skin. “Really?” he said. “How remarkable. Is that something else your Uncle Monty taught you?”
“Uncle—? Oh, no. No, I suppose that’s simply something I’ve known how to do all along.” She was stammering and stuttering like a complete fool now, but she couldn’t stop herself. Her knees felt like jelly, and her mind still couldn’t seem to focus properly. She licked her parched lips, striving to regain control of herself. It didn’t help seeing Cole’s eyes follow the motion of her tongue, or the way his gaze moved from her lips to her eyes as she spoke. “Men are such simple creatures, really,” she said shakily, “if one knows how to handle them properly.”
“Is that a fact?” he drawled. “Tell me then, Blake, how would you handle me?”
“I’d run,” she blurted before she could stop herself.
He smiled, then lifted his hand and brushed it softly over her cheek. A tremor shot through her, as if he’d just set every nerve in her body on fire. “Do you still want to escape me?” he asked, his deep voice soft as his breath gently fanned her neck.
Yes! screamed her mind. No! came from somewhere else. “Maybe,” she breathed.
Cole frowned and shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s no longer possible.”
Devon knew she should turn away, but she couldn’t move at that moment, not even to save her life. That was just her nature, and she’d long since resigned herself to it. If she’d been Eve, she would have bitten the apple. As Pandora, she would have opened the box. And she knew without a doubt that she was about to get herself into as much trouble as her predecessors had.
“Tell me,” Cole coaxed again, “how would you handle me?”
“Well,” she began hesitantly, her eyes locked on his, “I suppose I’d begin by telling you what a fine figure of a man you are. How handsome—”
“Forget about my pretty face,” he interrupted. “What would you do?”
“This.” She reached up and laid her hand gently on his rock-solid chest, amazed at her boldness, stunned by the feelings that coursed through her at just that slight contact. She felt Cole’s body tighten beneath her hand, watched a muscle leap along the side of his jaw. “And this.” She reached up on tiptoe, curling her fingers around the base of his neck. His skin felt like hot, rough velvet, making her ache to explore more. His hair was softer than she’d imagined, thick golden strands that slipped smoothly through her fingers.
“What else?” he asked, in a voice that sounded strangely hoarse.
Devon blinked, searching for words. “Well, I, er, usually that’s quite enough—”
“No kiss?”
Her heart slammed against her chest. “Kiss?”
He lifted his finger, tracing it lightly over the contours of her lips. “Surely no lesson in flirting would be complete without it.”
“True,” she agreed in a breathless whisper. This was crazy. Absolutely crazy. “You start.”
His lips twitched slightly, as though he was fighting to hold back a smile. “Generally it’s done together.”
Her nerves, which had held up remarkably well until that point, suddenly seemed to fray apart at the seams. “What? Oh, yes, I see. That makes sense, doesn’t it? After all, one could hardly—”
“Blake?”
“McRae?”
“Shut up and kiss me.” With that, he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her tightly against him as his mouth descended on hers. They fit well together, Devon thought, somewhat surprised. Given how big Cole was, and how small she was, she would have expected this to be awkward. Instead her body molded itself instantly to the contours of his, as if that was exactly where she belonged.
She hadn’t anticipated the gentleness of his kiss either. It was simple, soft and sweet, as though he was forcing himself to take his time. His strong hands moved over her body in light, easy strokes, giving her time to adjust to the feel of being in his arms. She was dimly aware of him removing the pins from her hair, weaving it through his hands as he let it cascade down her back.
But just as she was assimilating all that, the kiss changed. With a gentle pressure of his jaw, Cole parted her lips and swept his tongue inside her mouth. Devon stiffened in shock and would have pulled away, but he must have felt it, for his hands stroked her back in soothing motions, calming her. As if he was silently asking her to let go, to trust him.
She did. Devon melted against Cole and let him lead her, guide her through to what he wanted. She was rewarded with a kiss so fierce, so tender, that it nearly stole her breath away. Once the shock wore off, she found herself responding to the sensuous rhythm he was creating. Fire danced through her veins, the world spun away beneath her feet, and her emotions soared out of control. She locked her arms around Cole’s neck, demanding more.
The kiss soared to a new height. It was no longer gentle, but hot, passionate, demanding. Devon mimicked the play of his tongue, felt his body tense as the hunger grew within them both. He cupped her bottom, lifting her up tightly against him, their bodies locked together in primitive desire. Pure masculine need emanated through him, exciting her to a new level, amazing her that she could arouse him as he was arousing her. Devon found herself responding with pure abandon, wanting this to go on forever.
Then, as quickly as the thought flitted through her mind, it all came to an end. As if exerting a Herculean effort, Cole pulled back from her, both emotionally and physically. Devon stared up at him, feeling strangely bereft and suddenly wondering if she’d done something wrong. Even in the dim light of the room, she could see the golden fire that lit his eyes as his gaze traveled over her face and down her body, as if taking new measure of her. He ran his hands over her upper arms, gently brushed her hair back over her shoulders.
She sensed that the motion, while lovely, was nothing but a bid for time while he gathered his thoughts. After a minute, his eyes locked on hers. She stiffened her spine, unconsciously holding her breath as she waited for him to speak.
Finally he did. “It’s time for bed now.”
CHAPTER 9
He’d shocked her. Cole could see that clearly in her magnificent soft green eyes. Eyes that only moments ago had glowed with hazy passion were now shimmering with righteous indignation. But that was the only part of her that had changed. Her face was still flushed from their kiss, her lips soft and rosy, slightly swollen now, but forming the same sweet pout that had enticed him for days. And made him want to p
ull her right back into his arms.
Dammit all, what the hell was the matter with him? It seemed he’d done nothing but think about all the reasons that he shouldn’t kiss her. And Lord knew, he had plenty. But in the end, none of that mattered. In the end, there was nothing but the overpowering urge to take her into his arms, to crush her body against his, to see if her lips tasted as sweet as he’d imagined they would.
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.
Captured Page 15
