Captured

by Victoria Lynne

  He checked on the loading of the cargo and found that the work was proceeding smoothly. His crew didn’t need him. There was still no word from Monty about the outcome of his meeting with Sharpe’s agent. He thought about returning to his cabin but abruptly dismissed the idea, knowing that it was still too soon. He wandered around his ship, finding himself entirely at loose ends. Restlessness crept over him like an itch that festered beneath his skin.

  Cole left the ship and meandered along the docks, looking for something to distract him from his bleak thoughts. The lights and laughter spilling out from a busy tavern drew him. He went in and ordered a whiskey, then sat in the back and nursed it, watching the crowd with complete detachment. One or two women approached, but his look was enough to send them away, for they retreated without a word.

  God, he’d acted like an idiot today. Today? Hell, he hadn’t been thinking straight since the first time he’d set eyes on Devon. Once he’d convinced her to marry him, he hadn’t wanted to let her out of his sight. So he rushed her. No ring, no flowers, no wedding gift. No time to change her mind. He wondered if she’d noticed that the minister who performed the ceremony had been drunk. He sighed, disgusted with himself. She deserved better than that. Perhaps it was having lost Gideon that created this overwhelming fear of losing someone else he loved.

  Cole blinked, shocked by his rambling thoughts. Someone else he loved. His hand tightened around his glass. He loved her. When he’d tried to rationalize what he was doing and why, he’d come up blank. Now the answer came through with stunning, crystal clarity. He loved her. He wanted to shout it out to the world. More importantly, he wanted to tell Devon.

  He shoved back from the table and made his way through the door. As he strode back to the Ghost, he passed a lane known as Robber’s Row, an extravagantly priced shopping district for the island’s elite. He wasn’t surprised to find that the shops still blazed with light, despite the lateness of the hour. The merchants purposely timed their business hours to coincide with those of the local taverns. Drunken sailors and profiteers were known to blow entire fortunes they’d made in as little as one night.

  As Cole moved past the displays of rich merchandise, he determined to make up for at least one mistake by purchasing a wedding ring for Devon. He slowed his pace and searched the selection of ladies’ jewelry, hoping to find something suitable. He turned, ready to move on, when a ring tucked near the back of the case caught his eye. He stared at it for a long moment, then walked into the shop.

  The owner, a tall Frenchman, immaculately dressed, his hair and pencil-thin mustache neatly oiled, sized him up and issued an effusive greeting. Cole pointed to the ring, and the man frowned. “Surely monsieur would like to see something of better quality…”

  “Show me the ring.”

  The Frenchman frowned again. “Certainly, monsieur.” He reached into his display case and removed it, sniffing disdainfully as he passed it to Cole. “This is not the sort of merchandise I would normally carry, you understand…”

  The man’s voice faded away as Cole stared at the ring in his hand. He recognized the gold band immediately: thin, badly scratched, set with a row of tiny diamond chips. He hesitated, icy dread coursing over him as he peered at the tiny initials engraved inside. ELB. Elizabeth Layton Blake. Devon’s mother’s ring.

  “Monsieur, is there something—”

  “Where did you get this?”

  The shop owner regarded him strangely, then shrugged. “A young woman came in this afternoon wanting to barter it for another piece of merchandise,” he answered. “Ordinarily I wouldn’t have bothered, but I am a sentimental man, and she was a bride in need of a gift for her groom.”

  Cole sucked in his breath and squeezed the ring tightly in his palm. Regret exploded inside him. She hadn’t wanted him to come to the shop because she hadn’t wanted him to see what she’d sacrificed for him, what she’d had to give up to buy him that pin. That’s why she hadn’t told him. And he, of course, had assumed the worst. You don’t have to steal anymore, Devon. It’s not your fault. I don’t want to spend my time bailing my wife out of jail. His voice echoed through his mind, sickening him. Then, after everything he’d said, he’d dared to lecture her about trust.

  “Monsieur, perhaps—”

  “I’ll take it.”

  “Pardon?”

  “The ring. I’ll buy it. And I need another.”

  The owner blinked. “You need two wedding rings?”

  Cole glanced at the display case. “Have you anything better?”

  “Monsieur, this is the finest selection of—”

  “Never mind, then. Just—”

  “Attendez, attendez,” the owner cried, holding up his hands. “Allow me a moment, if you please. Obviously you are a man of discriminating taste. As it happens, I do have a small collection of pieces I reserve for my better clientele.” He disappeared into a back room, returning a moment later with a small velvet tray and metal box. He unlocked the box and spread three glittering rings on the tray. “Perhaps these are more to your liking, monsieur.”

  Cole knew instantly which one he wanted. He selected a gold band with a huge diamond, framed on either side by a matching emerald. “Yes,” he said slowly. “That will do.”

  He settled the bill, leaving the ecstatic owner bowing over his feet as he left the shop. The rings burned in his pocket as he made his way back to his ship. If they didn’t help to make it up to Devon, he’d try something else. And keep trying, until he found a way back into her heart, until she’d forgiven him for his stupid, senseless blunder.

  He went straight to his cabin but found it empty, no sign of Devon anywhere. He stepped out in the passageway, grabbed the first crewman he saw, and hauled him up by the shirt collar. “Where’s my wife?”

  The sailor’s eyes went wide. “Who?”

  “My wife! The only woman on the whole blasted ship! Where is she?”

  “I didn’t take her, sir! I swear it!”

  The man’s words stunned some sense back into him. Abruptly recalling himself, Cole let the innocent crewman go. “I’m sorry, Ensign. Carry on.” Not ready to sound an alarm, he proceeded to search the ship himself, beginning with the upper decks. He found her almost immediately, standing alone at the starboard bow. She stood bathed in moonlight, staring out at the peaceful sea. A gentle trade wind tossed her hair around her shoulders and rustled her skirts.

  Though she must have heard him approach, she did not acknowledge his presence. He waited quietly, then spoke. “Devon.”

  She slowly turned toward him, her face carefully expressionless. As though he were a stranger who had disturbed her solitude and she was patiently waiting for him to speak, then go away. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  She looked at him blankly. “For what?”

  “For this.” He produced her mother’s ring from his pocket and held it out to her.

  Devon stared at the ring for a long moment, then reached out, allowing him to drop it into her palm. “How did you find it?”

  “Purely by chance. I was walking by the shop.”

  “I see.” She looked at the ring, then slipped it into her skirt pocket. “It was silly of me to have kept it for so long. It never brought my mother much luck either.” She turned back toward the sea, pointedly dismissing him.

  Cole took a step closer. He ached to reach for her, but knew instinctively that his touch wouldn’t be welcome. “Devon, tell me what I can do to make it up to you.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t have to do anything. I told you before, once people know you’re a thief, they never let you forget it. It always comes back‌—‌no matter what you do, no matter how hard you try. It always comes back.” She turned and looked him straight in the eye. “You’re no different than anyone else. I don’t know why I thought you would be.”

  Cole knew why. Because he was her husband. Because he knew better. Because he loved her, for God’s sake, and instead of showing it, all he did was continually hurt her
and ruin any chance they might have. “Devon, if there was any way I could take every word back—”

  “Then we’d have the thoughts between us, the silent accusations. No, it’s better this way. It’s better that we both know where we stand.” She looked up at him, her gaze filled with cool determination. “I’ll stay with you until you capture Sharpe. I’ll help you in whatever way I can, just like I promised.” She paused and took a deep breath. “I want you to promise me something in return, Cole.”

  “Anything,” he swore.

  “When we’re done, I’m leaving. I’m going back to England. Promise me you won’t come after me when I go.”

  Her words slammed into him with an intensity he hadn’t expected. “Devon, please—”

  “Swear it or I’ll leave right now.”

  Cole took a long, deep breath, and then slowly nodded. “I won’t go after you.”

  “Thank you.”

  He watched her lift her skirts and move gracefully away from him. If she left, he wouldn’t go after her. He’d given his word. Despite what it cost him, he would let her go. Which meant he had only one course of action left: move heaven and hell, if that’s what it took, to convince her to stay.

  CHAPTER 14

  Cole frowned into the mid-morning sun as he stood at the helm of the Ghost. They’d left harbor at dawn, just as planned. Normally he enjoyed the start of a voyage, but this trip was definitely an exception. His body ached with exhaustion, and the hot glare of the sun only worsened the fierce pounding in his head. He’d been up all night supervising his crew as they loaded the last of the shipment they were carrying into Wilmington. Not because they needed his help, but because even the heavy work of loading cargo was preferable to going back to his cabin and facing Devon.

  Cowardly, perhaps, but there it was. He’d slunk around and hauled cargo all night, simply because there was no place else on his damned ship for him to go. Cole let out a sigh of disgust and rubbed his hand across the stiff muscles at the back of his neck. His mood didn’t improve as he watched Montgomery Persons stride toward him from across the deck.

  Reginald Teller, he reminded himself, for that was the name Devon’s uncle was temporarily using. Judging by the ease with which the name slipped off Monty’s tongue, Cole presumed it was an alias he used quite often. Monty had bestowed upon him the unimaginative title of Captain Cole Smith. The necessity for the assumed names was clear: it wouldn’t do at this point in the game for Sharpe to know who was behind arranging the run.

  Monty wore a dapper three-piece suit of burgundy plaid that made him look even rounder. A trim bowler hat sat at a jaunty angle on his head. “Lovely morning to run a blockade, is it not?” he said, his voice gratingly cheerful.

  “We won’t be running the blockade for another three days,” Cole answered tersely. It would take them at least that long to reach the inlet of Cape Fear River.

  Monty shrugged, seemingly oblivious of his tone. “Well then, it’s a lovely day to be at sea.”

  Since the man obviously had no intention of leaving, Cole decided that now was as good a time as any to press him for the information he needed about Sharpe. “Where’s Finch?” he began, referring to Sharpe’s agent. The man, who’d been sent to accompany them on the run, had boarded last night.

  “Ingratiating himself with your crew, I imagine. Probably at this very moment trying to discover if we are who we say we are.”

  Cole had spoken with his men at length about his plan, and he trusted them completely. He had a good, solid crew. Still, he didn’t like the idea of Finch poking around his ship, looking for trouble. He leveled Monty with a cool stare. “You sound awfully blasé about it.”

  “My good friend, I’m thrilled. We’ve baited the trap, now it’s up to the rat to bite the cheese. I’ve done what I needed to do to get Sharpe’s man aboard. If everything goes as planned, Finch will lead us straight to Sharpe himself.”

  “Any idea where that frigate’s being routed?”

  “All in good time, Captain, all in good time.”

  Cole managed to temper his anger. That was exactly the sort of answer he’d come to expect from Montgomery Persons. Neither a yes nor a no, but rather a reply that cheerfully slithered around his words until the original intent became either convoluted or forgotten entirely. That trait, combined with the fact that they had nothing but the most tenuous strands of a plan at this juncture, fortified the ever-increasing doubts he harbored about Monty. Despite his glib assurances that all would be well, there was too much about the man that he didn’t trust. “You sound as if you’re enjoying this.”

  “Of course I am. Why do you think I made it my life’s calling? There’s nothing like the thrill of watching a cleverly executed scheme unfold.”

  “And you have no conscience as to anyone else who might get hurt along the way.”

  Monty looked surprised. “Hurt? Who am I hurting?”

  “Let me guess. This is where you give me the bit about not being able to swindle an honest man.”

  “Nonsense. Anyone can be swindled,” Monty asserted gruffly. “An honest man simply requires more work.” He shrugged. “That’s a moot point in any case, Captain. When the Lord has chosen to make the greedy and stupid so plentiful, who am I not to share in His bounty? The way I see it, the fools in this world are like certain species of fish. They fill their place in nature as sustenance for the sharks.”

  Cole shook his head in disgust. “Remarkable. You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

  “My good friend, I’m a professional. Part of an elite group of the most talented scoundrels alive today. But there are three rules to this trade by which even I must abide. One, never take a man’s last dollar. Two, never betray a friend.”

  “And the third?”

  Monty beamed. “The most important rule of all: never get caught.”

  The conversation was doing little to improve either Cole’s disposition or his headache. Instead it served only to amplify the foolhardiness of the scheme upon which they’d embarked as well as his own dismal judgment at having allowed Devon’s uncle to lead them this far. But at this point, it was too late to go back. There was nothing for him to do but make his own position clear.

  “Allow me to demonstrate the secret of my success,” Monty said as he pulled a playing deck from his coat and spread three cards on a nearby crate. He flipped them over to show three queens, and then turned them facedown again. “Surprise, Captain, that’s what I always say. Surprise a man and he won’t know what hit him.” He flipped the cards once more and the queens were gone. Sitting face up on the crate were a three, four, and five of clubs.

  “Impressive,” Cole acknowledged. “Maybe now you’d like to hear a little saying of my own.”

  “I’d be delighted.”

  With a flash of movement, Cole reached across and grabbed Monty’s wrist. He pulled three queens from the man’s sleeve and tossed them on the crate. His gaze locked on Monty’s as he said in a low growl, “Don’t piss down my back and tell me it’s raining.” He tightened his grip on Monty’s wrist, then slowly let go. “I hope we understand each other.”

  Monty pulled back and adjusted his sleeve. “Crude, but effective. I believe your point has been made.”

  “Happy to hear it.”

  “By the way, Captain, I’m on your side.”

  “Now why don’t I believe that?”

  Monty smiled broadly. “No one ever does.”

  Cole watched him walk away. He remained at the bridge for an hour after Monty left, unable to pinpoint the exact cause of his unease. Despite Devon’s blind devotion to her uncle, a twisting sensation in Cole’s gut told him something was wrong. Ordinarily he wasn’t a man to believe in premonitions, but he’d spent too many years at sea to discount them completely. The sky might read bright and clear, but if he felt the coming of a storm in his bones, he made damned sure both his ship and his crew were prepared.

  Given his current state of mind, it was probably not th
e most auspicious time to face his reluctant bride, but Cole decided there was no sense putting off the confrontation any longer. He strode to his cabin, tapped lightly on the door, and edged it open. He was just in time to see Devon, standing with her back to him, drop to the floor in a dead faint.

  Cole shot forward, falling to his knees beside her in an instant. But just as he reached for her, Devon straightened and sat up. She looked up at him and blinked in surprise. “Oh, hello.”

  He hesitated, his hands stopped in midair as he searched her face for signs of illness or injury. “Devon?”

  “How was I?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “My swoon,” she clarified. “I’ve been practicing all morning. Uncle Monty says I’m dreadful at it, but I don’t think that last one was so bad.” She frowned and tilted her head to one side, thinking. “Do you suppose it would be better if I swayed a bit more before I fell?”

  “You’ve been practicing…” he repeated blankly.

  “Of course. It has to look real, even if it’s not.”

  Cole jerked to his feet. He turned his back to her and tugged his hand through his hair, taking a deep breath in an attempt to slow the furious pounding of his heart. When he spoke, his voice sounded more than a little strained. “Devon, in the future I’d appreciate it if you’d warn me—”

  “Well how was I to know you’d come barging in here?”

  He turned slowly around, making every effort to summon his patience. “In the first place, I didn’t barge, I knocked. In the second place, this is my cabin.”

  Devon considered that, then frowned. She rose to her feet and dusted off her dress. He noted that she wore the calico he’d bought for her in Virginia, and wondered if he could take that as an indication that her feelings toward him had softened a bit. “You could do with a rug in here,” she said. “This wood floor makes swooning awfully hard on a body.”