Captured

by Victoria Lynne

  Devon clasped her hands tightly in her lap and tried to ignore the nervous flutter in her stomach. Just as she was about to congratulate herself on her bravery, the rear wheel rolled over a rock, jarring the carriage as it swayed around a curve. She gave a tiny yelp, then bit down hard on her lip.

  Cole swung his head around to look at her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she lied.

  “Devon…”

  He reached for her just as the carriage hit another bump in the road. “No! Cole, don’t touch me! Keep your hands on the reins, please!”

  He obeyed, but his focus was almost entirely on her now instead of the road. “Devon? What is it?”

  She shook her head tightly, then admitted in a small, unsteady voice, “I’m afraid I’ve never been overly fond of heights.”

  “Don’t look down.”

  “Now there’s a jewel of wisdom. Original, too. Where else am I supposed to look? We’re careening down the side of a mountain in a rickety trap of a carriage and you tell me—”

  “Devon?”

  “What!”

  “Come here.” Cole kept his hands on the reins, just as she’d asked. He lifted his arm, allowing her room to slip beneath his elbow. Devon hesitated for less than a second before she slid across the seat and snuggled up against him. He lowered his arm and brought her tightly into his embrace. “Now close your eyes,” he instructed.

  Devon obeyed. She breathed in his familiar scent and soaked up the heat of his body. Within minutes, she felt safe and protected, just as she always did whenever Cole was near. The terror of the jagged cliffs slowly faded from her mind. “How’s that?” he asked.

  “Better.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were so afraid of heights? I would have met you at the ship and brought you to the chapel myself, rather than sending you with a driver you didn’t know.”

  “It wasn’t so bad on the way up.”

  “Why not?”

  “I didn’t have to look down, for one thing. Besides, at the time there was something which terrified me even more.”

  She felt his chest move as he shifted to look down at her. “What?”

  “Marrying you.”

  Cole was silent for a long moment, then his hand drifted over her back in a light caress. “That bad, was it?” Though she couldn’t see his face, his smile was clear in his voice.

  She snuggled against him and let out a deep, heartfelt sigh. “Awful.” She thought for a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t know you, Cole. In some ways I do, but in other ways we’re still strangers. I don’t know your birthday, your favorite time of the year, or your favorite food. All the details, all the things that might one day bring us closer together, are missing.” Even as she spoke, Devon wondered if any of that really mattered. Perhaps all that mattered was the way she felt right now, with Cole’s arms locked tight around her. Perhaps all she needed was more time, more closeness, more…

  “May eighth, the fall, and roasted chicken.”

  Devon choked back a laugh. “Cole, I didn’t mean literally—”

  “Your turn.”

  She smiled. Of course. In Cole’s logical, male mind, all they had to do was fill in the blanks and everything would be fine. Not knowing what else to say, she replied, “November twenty-first, springtime, and cherry cobbler.”

  She glanced up at him. “By the way, what’s your middle name? I couldn’t quite make it out on the license we signed.”

  Cole shifted uncomfortably. “You already know it.”

  Devon frowned. “I don’t remember you ever telling me.”

  “Cole is my middle name. It was my mother’s maiden name.”

  “Then what—”

  He let out a sigh of weary resignation. “Sherman. My first name is Sherman.”

  Devon bit down hard on her inner lip to keep from laughing. She took a deep, steadying breath, and said, “Sherman. Well. Isn’t that… something? Actually, I believe it quite suits you—”

  “Devon,” he began warningly.

  “Honesty like that deserves a reward,” she rushed on. “I’ll tell you something I’ll bet you didn’t know about me: I can’t dance.”

  “You mean you don’t like to?”

  “I mean I can’t; I never learned how. I was too young when my mother died to remember anything she showed me. Mrs. Honeychurch certainly didn’t give lessons, and Uncle Monty… Well, he and I sometimes attended fancy balls and such. Not often. He thought there was too great a risk that we might run into someone we’d, er, done business with in the past. Our forays into high society were usually limited to small dinner parties and the like.”

  “Dancing isn’t important.”

  “No, but…” A note of wistful regret entered her voice. “I used to love to watch them. Couples moving back and forth across a dance floor while an orchestra plays. It looks so lovely.”

  “Then I’ll teach you,” he answered, then transferred the reins to one hand, leaving his other free to lightly stroke her back.

  “Really?”

  “Of course.” She looked so pleased at the prospect, so utterly delighted at the small gesture, he couldn’t help but smile.

  They drove on for a few minutes in silence. “Do you feel better now?” he asked.

  “Hmmm,” she answered, in a voice so relaxed it was almost drowsy. “I’m not frightened anymore, Cole.”

  “That’s what husbands are for.”

  Devon smiled. “What are wives for?”

  Cole bit back a grin, squelching the answer that sprang automatically to his lips. “I’ve never had a wife before,” he managed. “I suppose we’ll just have to work it out as we go.”

  Devon had perched herself entirely onto his lap. Her thighs stretched across his, her breasts rubbing softly against his chest. Her every movement tortured him. The soft silk rustle of her gown, the delicate scent of her body as she rubbed up against him, the feel of her warm breath lightly fanning his neck… Each innocent brush of her skin against his, each rocking, rolling motion of the carriage that sent her swaying into him, had become almost painful.

  At last they arrived. He rolled the carriage to a stop, dropped the reins and set the brake, then took a deep breath in an attempt to gain control.

  “We’re here,” he announced thankful he’d kept his jacket on. He didn’t relish the prospect of walking aboard and introducing his wife to his crew while in the throes of the biggest erection he could ever remember. At least his jacket would cover it‌—‌or so he hoped.

  He silently considered his options. He could take her directly into his cabin and spend their wedding night ravishing her, which was exactly what he wanted to do. Or he could take it slow and easy, wait in torment for his aching state of arousal to subside, and give her the proper welcome she deserved as his new bride.

  In the end, chivalry won the day. She turned to look at his ship, studying it in silence. Taking advantage of her distraction, he led her aboard and gave her a cursory tour, explaining the workings of the ship and introducing her to some of his crew. Twenty minutes later, his self-control markedly improved, he brought her back to his cabin.

  He watched her face as she moved into the room. The small, tight quarters had never bothered him, for he didn’t spend a great deal of time there. But now, seen through her eyes, he imagined it must look rather stark and dreary.

  The cabin held only the bare essentials. A bed lined with crisp white sheets and a dark navy blanket took up most of the space. His desk was cluttered with nautical equipment. Beside it was a chest that held his clothing and personal items; a washstand with basin and pitcher stood next to that. A table with two chairs sat cramped against the corner wall.

  He wished now he’d thought to pick up some flowers to soften the space a little for her. Women liked that sort of thing.

  Devon wandered into the tight room, exploring with open curiosity as Cole watched her. She looked small, feminine, and dainty against bulky, masculine furnishings. But
oddly enough, she didn’t look out of place. She looked as if she belonged there.

  As though reading his thoughts, she turned to him and nodded, smiling softly. The twin dimples that had so captivated him before made an appearance. “It suits you,” she said.

  Cole stared at her for a long moment. “True,” he said. “Five minutes ago it was just a stark, barren room. Then you stepped into it, and everything changed.”

  She looked as stunned at hearing his words as he was at having said them. “Cole, you don’t have to say things like that. I don’t expect—”

  “I know you don’t. But I meant it, Devon.”

  Her eyes glowed as a steady current pulsed between them. “Now what do we do?” she asked.

  He studied her, suddenly at a loss for words. He knew what he wanted to do. But whether Devon was ready to make love was an entirely different matter. In all his life, Cole had never felt such an overwhelming need to get a woman into his bed. Nor had he ever felt such stumbling, groping awkwardness about how to accomplish it. He searched for the words to gently introduce the topic. “Well, I believe it’s customary after the wedding day to have a wedding night.”

  A soft pink blush rose to her cheeks. “Yes, that is the custom, isn’t it?”

  Her words told him nothing. Do you want me, Devon? He wanted to scream. Do you want me as badly as I want you? She turned to look at the bed, a worried frown on her face. “What is it?” he asked.

  “It’s just that…” She paused, a wobbly smile on her face. “I’m afraid I’ll disgrace myself again. When you touch me like that, Cole, it stirs something up inside me. I just know I’ll start crying when we’re done and look like a complete fool.”

  Her words shot straight to his heart. Cole moved forward and pulled her tightly into his arms, aching with a desire that went far beyond the mere physical needs of his body. When he finally spoke, his voice was strangely hoarse. “I’ll thank you to watch what you say,” he reprimanded softly. “The woman you’re speaking of happens to be my wife.”

  She pulled back and looked up at him. “Cole—” she began, but whatever response she would have made was prevented by a knock at the cabin door. He reluctantly released her and reached to open it. A young steward entered carrying an exquisite crystal vase brimming with an enormous bouquet of orchids, lilies, jasmine, and gardenias. “Flowers for the lady,” the boy said. He set the heavy arrangement down on the chest near the bed, then quickly exited.

  “Oh,” Devon exclaimed as she bent to examine the flowers, “they’re beautiful, absolutely beautiful. Thank you.”

  Cole dug his hands deep into his pockets. “Unfortunately they’re not from me.”

  She lifted her head, her expression quizzical. “They’re not?”

  “I was just wishing five minutes ago that I’d thought to do that.”

  “Oh.” Devon reached into the arrangement and withdrew a slim white card. As she read it, a slight frown creased her brow, then she tucked it swiftly into her pocket. “They’re from Uncle Monty.”

  She looked worried, and Cole wondered what had been on the card that upset her, but manners precluded him from asking. “That was quite thoughtful of him,” he said in an attempt to draw her out.

  “What? Oh, the flowers. Yes, it was.” With visible effort, she seemed to shake off whatever was bothering her. She hesitated for a moment, then reached into her reticule and withdrew a slim box wrapped in gold paper and tied with a black satin ribbon. She looked up at him, her expression suddenly shy. “While we’re on the subject of gifts…”

  Cole froze, his stomach plummeting with dread. Dammit to hell, how could he be so stupid? He’d been so worried about getting his ship and crew prepared for the run into Wilmington, worried about making the wedding arrangements and getting to the chapel, worried about being separated from Devon for even an hour, afraid that she might slip away from him once again, that he’d forgotten the ring, the flowers; he’d forgotten to buy her a gift.

  She smiled at him, holding out the box. “I believe it’s traditional for the bride to give the groom a gift.”

  Actually tradition called for the groom to give the bride a gift, not the other way around, but he didn’t correct her. He stared at the shiny gold box she held, feeling lower at that moment than he ever had in his life. If there was a snake in the room, he could have walked beneath its belly without so much as ducking down. “Devon,” he began haltingly, “I didn’t—”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she rushed to assure him. “This was purely a whim on my part, that’s all. It’s nothing, really, but… I’d like for you to have it.”

  He reluctantly took the gift from her hand. “I don’t deserve it.”

  “You’re right, Sherman, you don’t,” she answered cheekily.

  Cole groaned. “Remind me never to share any secrets with you again.”

  “I can’t take it back, so why don’t you just go ahead and open it?”

  He peeled off the wrappings and lifted the lid to reveal an elegant gold stickpin, mounted at its crest with a stone of glowing tiger’s eye. It was simple and yet exquisitely crafted. Devon moved to stand beside him. “The stone reminded me of your eyes,” she said softly.

  Cole stared down at her, more moved by her thoughtfulness than he cared to admit. “It’s beautiful, thank you. I only wish I had something to give you.”

  “I’m afraid Uncle Monty has decided that you are my wedding gift,” she answered with a laugh. She glanced at the stickpin then back at him, searching his face for approval. “But you like it? Truly? I wasn’t sure…”

  “It’s perfect. My only fear is that it was too expensive. You should have spent your money on you, not me.”

  Devon waved that away. “You needn’t worry about that I’m afraid what little money I made on the island I spent entirely on clothing and other necessities.”

  Cole frowned as an uncomfortable suspicion suddenly rose to life in the back of his mind. “Then how did you—”

  “It’s very ungracious of you to ask,” Devon replied lightly. “But you needn’t worry. After all, there’s more than one way to acquire jewelry.”

  “You didn’t actually buy this, did you?”

  She turned away from him, looking embarrassed. “Well, no, not exactly, but—”

  “I see.” Cole closed the lid on the box and set it down. He sat down on the edge of the desk and pulled her to him, bringing her to stand between his knees so they were eye to eye. He hated what he was about to say, but had no choice. Issues like this were best tackled head-on, and the sooner the better. “I think we need to have a little talk,” he said, striving to keep his tone nonjudgmental.

  “What about?”

  “This gift.”

  “You don’t like it, do you?”

  “It’s not that, the pin is lovely. But if I were to bring it back to the shop tomorrow, what would the owner say?”

  Devon bit her lip, blushing furiously. “Actually, Cole, I’d rather you didn’t go there,” she said quickly.

  “Why not?”

  “Just tell me what you want and I’ll get that for you instead.”

  Cole took a deep breath. “Devon, in the future, if you want money for anything you need only ask me. In fact, you won’t even have to ask. I’ll see to it that you have ample funds at your disposal—”

  “That sounds very generous, but I could hardly ask you for money to buy your own gift, could I?” she countered with a small laugh.

  “You don’t have to steal anymore, Devon.”

  The amusement he’d seen on her face drained away. Pain streaked through her eyes as she stiffened and pulled back.

  Cole caught her hands in his and held her near. “Devon, I don’t mean to embarrass you. It’s not your fault. I don’t blame you. You’ve done whatever you had to do in order to survive, but it’s no longer necessary.” He gave her hands a gentle squeeze and smiled encouragingly. “Consider it a bad habit that you have to break. I think, once you feel fully secure…�
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  His voice trailed away as he studied Devon. She was no longer looking at him, but through him. He brought his hands up and rubbed them softly from her shoulders to her elbows, hoping for a response. She remained absolutely still, as if stoically enduring his touch. “Devon, I’m asking you to trust me, that’s all. Part of that trust is knowing that I’ll take care of you.” He tried to inject a note of humor. “I don’t want to spend my time bailing my wife out of jail.”

  “I understand.” Her expression didn’t change. “I’ll return the pin in the morning.”

  “Never mind,” he said wanting to spare her any further embarrassment. “We’re leaving with the tide at dawn. Just give me the name of the shop and I’ll send a boy over with sufficient funds to cover the purchase.”

  She pulled out of his grasp and turned away. “I don’t remember.”

  “Devon—”

  “I’ll take care of it myself. It was my mistake.”

  He studied her ramrod-stiff back, wishing she would turn around so he could see her face. “Devon, the thought behind the gift was lovely, more than I’d—”

  “Would you mind leaving me alone now?” she asked softly, her voice perfectly polite. “I seem to have developed a touch of the headache. I think I’d like to lie down for a few minutes.”

  “Certainly,” he answered automatically, but he didn’t move. He remained right where he was, loath to leave when she was so clearly distraught. “Devon, this doesn’t change anything between us.”

  “Please, Cole.” Her voice was strained and tight.

  Five minutes ago they’d been laughing and ready to make love. Now the moment was over, stamped out like a tender flame. He hesitated, then reached for the door. “I’ll let you rest,” he said and backed quietly out of the room.

  He stood on the other side of the door, listening, though he didn’t know what he expected to hear. There was no sound, no movement of any kind. He imagined her standing exactly as he’d left her, rigidly still in the middle of his small cabin. He let out a dark sigh and leaned against the passageway wall.

  Obviously he’d handled the matter clumsily, but he’d had no choice; For the sake of their marriage, she had to learn to trust him, to believe that he would take care of her. She had to leave her old habits behind. It would take time, that was all. Just a little more time. That decided, he moved reluctantly away, giving her the space he knew she had requested.