Cole propped one slim hip up against the washstand and crossed his arms over his chest. “Guess I don’t swoon enough to notice it.”
Her eyes wandered briefly over his body. “No, I suppose not.”
“Would you mind explaining what you were doing?”
“I told you, I was practicing.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “Once you’ve captured Sharpe, Uncle Monty and I can return to Liverpool and go back into business. Then everything will be just like it was before I ever—” She stopped abruptly and looked away.
Before I ever met you, Cole finished for her, knowing that was what she’d been about to say.
“Before I ever left,” she finished awkwardly.
“I see.”
“Fainting dead away can come in very handy, you know. A limp is useful as well. I’m much better at that, if you’d care to see.”
“Thank you, no.”
She looked at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to speak. When he didn’t, she glanced around the small room. “I’ve been monopolizing your cabin, haven’t I? I’m sorry, I’ll get out of your way.”
“You’ve never been in my way, Devon.”
A melancholy smile touched her lips, then flitted away. “We both know that’s not true, now don’t we? Excuse me—”
“Devon, wait.” His words stopped her as she turned toward the door. He saw her stiffen, then turn reluctantly back.
“Yes?”
He studied her in silence for a moment, then moved back to the doorway and reached for the tapestry bag he’d dropped when he saw her fall. He crossed the tiny cabin in two long strides and set it on the bed. “You left a few things behind in Virginia. I thought you might want one of them.”
Devon had left exactly two things behind in Virginia, and they both knew it. One item was the bag full of stolen contraband that he’d just set on the bed; the other was Cole himself. Devon focused on the bag. “Thank you,” she murmured. “That was very considerate.”
Not knowing what else to do, he leaned against the washstand and watched her unpack. If he moved a mere inch in her direction, they would be touching, but Devon seemed blithely unaware of that fact. She went about the task with cool efficiency, ignoring him completely. “I’ll have the cook send up a tray,” he said after a few minutes. “We can eat here in the cabin—”
“If you don’t mind, I thought I might dine with Uncle Monty today. I had so little time to visit with him yesterday.”
“Of course,” Cole said. “Perhaps supper then.”
“Supper? Well, you see, I generally like to eat rather late, and I wouldn’t want to hold you up…”
“A late supper is fine. That’s usually how I like to dine.”
Devon paused in the midst of cluttering his washstand with her various creams and ointments. She glanced at him, then quickly averted her gaze. “Did I say late? I meant early. I like to dine early. Sometimes I’ll eat my supper immediately after lunch. It’s a rather bizarre habit, I know. I wouldn’t want you to change your schedule just to accommodate me.”
Cole stared at her for a long moment, his face carefully blank. “I see.” So that was the plan. She was going to avoid him at all costs until she could finally slip away. Damned if he was going to let her. “Devon,” he said firmly.
She let out a weary sigh. “Is there something else you want?”
“As a matter of fact, there is. I should have taken care of this yesterday.” Cole straightened and moved toward her. He reached into his pocket and withdrew the glittering wedding band he’d purchased last night. With tender solemnity, he asked, “Would you do me the great honor of accepting this?”
Her startled gaze flew from the ring to him. Surprise and pain flashed through her expressive eyes. She shook her head, her voice slightly unsteady as she said, “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I did.”
Devon hesitated, then grim understanding crossed her features. “Ah. I see. I suppose it would look odd if I didn’t have a ring.”
“Will you wear it?”
He watched her run her hands over her skirts, the gesture that always evidenced her nervousness. She drew her brows together in a worried frown, then reluctantly accepted. “Fine.”
She reached for the ring, but Cole caught her hand instead. He traced the rough pads of his fingers over the flesh of her palm in a gentle caress. He turned her hand over and lifted it to his lips, his eyes locked on hers as he brushed her skin with a gentle, lingering kiss. Then, moving with infinite slowness, he slipped the ring onto her finger.
The second he released her, she pulled her hand away, holding it as though it had just been burned. “Don’t worry,” she said with a shaky laugh. “I won’t forget to give the ring back to you when this is over.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that, Devon.”
“Cole…” Her voice was little more than a whisper.
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
She spun away from him and resumed unpacking, removing the items from the tapestry bag with slow, careful precision. “You know,” she finally remarked, “once when we were in London, Uncle Monty took me to see a traveling show. There was a man there who had an ax stuck in the middle of his forehead. The doctors wouldn’t remove it for fear that he might bleed to death.” She glanced at him and lifted her shoulders in a light shrug. “If that man could learn to live with an ax in the middle of his forehead, I suppose I can learn to live with you. After all, it’s only for a short time, isn’t it?”
Wonderful. Of all the things she could learn to tolerate in her life, being married to him ranked just above being struck in the forehead with an ax.
“Devon, if there was any way I could take back every blasted word I said last night, anything I could do—” Cole shook his head, searching for the words he needed to get through to her. What he found instead were barely coherent thoughts that seemed to tumble straight from his soul. “I keep making mistakes, don’t I? Stupid, unforgivable mistakes. I used to feel that I was in complete control of my life, but now I see that was nothing but arrogance. I would give anything for just one day, one hour, to go back and do it all over.” He stopped and drew a ragged breath. “But I can’t go back, Devon. I’m asking for another chance. Please, let me make it up to you. Give me another chance.”
“Actually, there is something you can do.”
Relief coursed through him. “What?”
Devon pointed to her gowns, which lay spread over his trunk. “I’ll need a peg to hang those on or they’ll be nothing but wrinkles by tomorrow.”
Cole froze, feeling as though he’d just been struck by a pail of ice water. He nodded tightly and moved toward the door. “I’ll send a steward to see to it right away.” He gave her a brief, polite bow. “If you’ll excuse me, I can see that you’re busy—”
“Cole, wait,” Devon cried. She stood in the center of the room, clutching her skirts. She bit down hard on her lip, then blurted out, “Where did you sleep last night?”
“I didn’t.” He stared at her for a long second, then sighed. “I’ll need to tonight, however. I’ll try not to disturb you when I come in.”
Devon watched him leave, then sank onto the bed, swallowing past the fist-sized lump in her throat. Don’t do this to me, Cole. She wasn’t going to start crying. She’d already spent the better part of last night bawling, and she refused to give in to that wretched impulse again.
She clutched her hands tightly in her lap and drew in a shuddering breath. Last night she’d cried because he’d rejected her. Today she wanted to cry because she’d rejected him. The whole situation was hopeless. She felt in her pocket for a handkerchief and came up instead with the note Uncle Monty had enclosed with the flowers he’d sent.
She read it again, frowning as she did so. Trust me. I have a plan. He hadn’t even signed it, but the note had to be from him. No one but her uncle would be audacious enough to send that message, or to use her marri
age as a means to an end for one of his schemes. She rose wearily from Cole’s bed, thankful to have something to distract her. Whatever Uncle Monty’s plan was, she was about to put a stop to it.
She found him on deck, deep in conversation with a man she’d never seen before. Judging by the fancy suit the man wore, he wasn’t a member of the crew. He was of medium height and build, with thinning brown hair and cool gray eyes. She guessed him to be somewhere in his early forties. He looked entirely out of place aboard ship. Devon pictured him seated at a desk with a book of ledgers spread open before him. Seeing her approach, the two men stepped apart, their conversation abruptly ended.
Monty smiled broadly. “Ah, there she is now, Mr. Finch, my lovely niece, Mrs. Smith.”
“Hello, Uncle,” Devon said cautiously, giving Monty a light kiss on the cheek. She turned to the stranger next. “How do you do, Mr. Finch.”
Finch nodded, clearly sizing her up. His gray eyes swept over her, cool and analytical. She saw him even glance at her finger to check for a ring, as if suspecting she was no more than the captain’s mistress. He bypassed all the usual social pleasantries and said, “It’s rather odd for a woman to want to run the blockade, isn’t it? If a battle erupts, we won’t have time to cater to your frail sensibilities. I hope your husband made that clear.”
Devon had perfected the art of the icy stare, and she used it now. “I believe I’ll manage, sir.”
“Newlyweds,” Monty broke in smoothly. “They couldn’t bear to be parted. Lovely, isn’t it?”
Finch sniffed disdainfully. “Quite.”
Devon ignored him. “If you don’t mind, Uncle, I should like to speak to you.” She paused and glanced at Finch, adding with deliberate rudeness, “Privately.”
Finch bowed stiffly. “You’ll pardon me then.” With that he took his leave, wandering off below decks.
“What a wretched little man,” Devon murmured absently, watching him go. “Who is he?”
Monty patted her hand approvingly. “You always were a fine judge of character, my girl. He’s our link in the chain that will lead us to Jonas Sharpe. Finch will either approve or disapprove of us. He knows where the ship is being routed, but wants to see us run the blockade before he’ll share that bit of news.”
Devon nodded, silently absorbing the information. “Who are you, by the way?”
“Reginald Teller.”
She smiled. “Uncle Reggie, is it? We haven’t seen him in ages.” She tilted her head to one side, considering. “Do I need to change my name?”
“That’s already been taken care of, my girl. There’s no reason for Sharpe or anybody else to connect Devon Blake to the wife of Captain Cole Smith.”
Devon was not yet accustomed to hearing herself referred to as Cole’s wife—regardless of the name he was using. She looked away and said hollowly, “I suppose so.”
Monty frowned. “That’s hardly the response I’d expect from a blushing bride.”
The image of herself as a happy, blushing bride was so opposite the reality of her situation that Devon found tears once again rushing to her eyes. She blinked them back, swallowing past the sudden ache in her throat as she shook her head. “Oh, Uncle Monty,” she choked out, “I think we made a dreadful mistake.”
Monty wrapped his arm around her, instantly concerned. “What is it, my girl?”
“Cole and I never should have married. Even if it’s only for a little while, it’s all wrong—”
“Who said it’s only for a little while?”
“I do. We forced him into it, and I have no intention of holding him to a promise he never wanted to make. It was nothing but blackmail. If he weren’t so desperate to capture Sharpe, he would have turned you down flat.”
“Is that a fact?” Monty countered. “Seems to me the man was here on the island to track you down, and capturing Sharpe was nothing but an afterthought.”
Devon accepted the handkerchief he offered her. With an embarrassed smile, she wiped away her tears and blew her nose. “That doesn’t mean anything. Cole has this absurd sense of honor. It was his duty to bring me to Washington; he came after me only because I escaped. Trust me, all he cares about is capturing Sharpe.”
“Suppose you tell your uncle why you feel that way.”
She nodded miserably. “Last night—what was supposed to have been our wedding night—well, it was awful, truly awful.”
“Ah, so that’s it.” Monty shifted, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “Devon, I should have spoken to you about this sooner. Obviously I’ve neglected my duties in educating you about the ways of life.” He shook his head, his expression mournful. “Quite frankly, I had hoped you would just pick it up in the streets, but I suppose that was too much to ask.”
Devon stared at him, drawn out of her own misery for a moment. “Uncle Monty, you’ve done everything for me.”
“If that were true, my girl, you’d know that there are certain ways that a man will want to touch his wife. Now it might seem shocking to you at first, perhaps even vulgar, but—”
“Oh, Uncle Monty, that’s not it. Cole taught me all about that when—” She stopped abruptly, appalled at what she’d let slip out.
Monty’s eyes went dark. “Oh, he did, did he?”
“It was all my idea,” she rushed on, “but I convinced him to go along.”
“How generous of the man to oblige.”
Devon let out a deep sigh. “He thinks I’m a thief, Uncle. Last night, I gave him a wedding gift and he accused me of stealing it.”
“That doesn’t sound like the man,” Monty replied, studying her intently. “What exactly did he say to you?”
She took a shuddering breath as she remembered Cole’s words. “He told me that I never had to steal again, that he was going to take care of me, and that all I had to do was trust him.”
Monty smiled. “The bloody brute. No wonder you’re upset.”
“This isn’t funny,” she cried. “He had no reason to believe that of me, no reason at all.”
“No reason at all? I suppose you never dipped your fingers into his pockets while you were together?” Devon frowned. “Well, yes, but—”
“And he didn’t find you merrily back in business in that tavern in St. George?”
“Well, yes, but… Uncle Monty, you’re taking his side!”
Monty clucked his tongue. “Now, now, my girl, I’m just pointing out mat your captain has some justification. A fact you seem to have overlooked.” Her uncle lifted her hand and continued, “Besides, if he thought you were a thief, would he have given you a ring with stones the size of which would rival the royal jewels?”
“The ring doesn’t mean anything. It’s just so the marriage looks real. I’m going to give it back as soon as we’ve captured Sharpe.”
“In that case, my girl, might I suggest we return it with creative glass substitutes for the stones? Hardly detectable, except to the discerning eye…”
Devon gasped and pulled back her hand. “Uncle Monty, not my wedding ring!”
“I thought you said it didn’t mean anything.”
“It doesn’t,” she replied.
“Ah, I see. So that’s the way it is.” He nodded sagely, his gaze focused entirely on her. “You know, your captain and I had a little talk this morning, and I believe we were able to come to an understanding.”
Devon regarded him warily. “About what?”
“Oh, this and that. He’s not a bad man, my girl. A little too straight and narrow for my taste, of course. He also has a rather primitive way of phrasing things, very little sense of adventure, and I imagine he’s rather stubborn. Why, now that I think on it, he’s a most unpleasant chap. I can certainly see why you wouldn’t want to be married to someone like that.”
“No, Uncle Monty. Cole’s not like that at all. He’s… he’s perfect. That’s the problem,” she choked out.
Monty shuddered. “A perfect human being. What a ghastly thought. No wonder you can’t stand
the man.”
Devon gave him a trembling smile. “It’s even worse than that. I love him, Uncle Monty,” she admitted miserably. “That’s why everything is such a wretched mess. I’ve been trying not to, but I can’t seem to help myself. I love him.”
“How does he feel about you?”
“He doesn’t love me.”
“Are you sure?”
Devon nodded as tears flooded her eyes once again. “Positive.”
“Hmmm.” Monty rubbed his fingers over his beard as he considered. “Perhaps he does, perhaps he doesn’t. But I saw him just a few minutes ago as he was leaving your cabin, and I’ve never seen a more miserable fellow in all my life.”
She let out a shaky breath. “You see? It’s impossible.”
Monty shook his head. “On the contrary,” he said, smiling brightly. “You should be damned proud of yourself. It takes a special woman to make a man that unhappy.”
Devon felt a surge of hope. “Really?”
“Absolutely. Now stay out of my way. Your Uncle Monty has some thinking to do.”
She blinked. “But what am I supposed to do now?”
“Have you ever seen a tree growing on the edge of a cliff, with what looks to be nothing but bare rock to support it? There it will stand, through fire and the fiercest storm, the roots digging in hard and deep to hold on. Yet another tree, one which is anchored in the finest, loose soil, will topple over if a breeze so much as blows the wrong way.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“The sturdiest of trees grows in rocky soil, my girl.” Devon sighed. “Uncle Monty, we’re talking about my marriage here, not planting trees.”
“The same principle applies. Go water the roots, my girl. Go water the roots.”
CHAPTER 15
Devon wasn’t exactly sure how she was going to go about watering Cole’s roots, but wearing a cotton nightgown so sheer it was nearly diaphanous seemed a good place to start. She’d purchased it along with her gowns, undergarments, and other necessities when she’d arrived in Bermuda. At the time, she hadn’t thought about how sheer the shift was, her primary concern then being to find something cool in which to sleep. She glanced down at herself in nervous hesitation, then shrugged. If nothing else, she was fairly certain she would get his attention.
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