The Seduction of Shay Devereaux

by Carolyn Davidson

  “That’s in the past, and he’ll have to learn to leave it there.” Harsh words with no hint of compromise made her shudder, and she turned away from him. “Look at me,” he said, his voice low and demanding.

  She shook her head, stiffening her spine. “No man tells me what to do,” she told him. “I’ve been on my own for a long time, Roan Devereaux, and until Shay came along, I wouldn’t have given you two bits for the best man in the world. Now, I’m telling you I don’t need to hear what you have to say.” She reached for the candy jar again, making her selection with fingers that trembled.

  As though the words came hard, he sighed. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’d like to offer my apology. Katherine would have my head on a pole if she heard me talking to you that way.”

  “Well, good for her,” Jenny said sharply, thinking that the absent Katherine was someone she wouldn’t mind meeting.

  “I want to see my brother.” The words hung in the air as Jenny replaced the lid and folded down the top of the paper sack. “Please, ma’am.”

  “My name’s Jenny.” She turned to face him. “Jenny Devereaux, sir. And my husband’s name is Shay. It’s what he wants to be called, and it’s what he’s known as hereabouts. If he wants to see you, that’s fine with me. But don’t blame me if he runs you off the place.”

  A grin curved his mouth as Roan offered his hand. Jenny looked down at it with a frown. He twitched his fingers. “I’m only asking you to shake it, Miss Jenny. Not spit on it.”

  Her grin answered his. “I wasn’t intending to.”

  “It sure looked like it there for a minute.”

  Tillie called from behind them. “Your things are ready, Miss Jenny. I’ll have Herbert carry them out to the wagon.”

  “I’ll tend to that, ma’am,” Roan said quickly, striding to the counter where a box waited, a wrapped bundle beside it. He slid the box to his shoulder, holding it in place with ease, then picked up the bundle. “Lead the way,” he told Jenny, nodding at the door.

  Isabelle’s eyes widened as they approached the wagon, and she bent low to whisper against Jenny’s ear. “Damn, where’d you get that one? He’s kin to Mr. Shay, ain’t he?” Her head lifted and, turning in the seat, she shot a challenge at Roan. “You comin’ to make trouble, mister?”

  Roan’s eyes focused on the stalwart woman who held the reins, and she met his gaze unflinchingly. His grin was spontaneous. “I reckon I see why my brother was smart to find himself a home with you, Miss Jenny. You’ve got yourself a ready-made guardian angel, don’t you?”

  There was no softening to Isabelle’s demeanor as she offered a hand to Jenny. “He comin’ along?” she asked, ignoring Roan’s presence.

  “He can follow if he wants to,” Jenny told her, climbing atop the wagon seat. “We can’t stop him from tagging behind.”

  Isabelle picked up the shotgun, holding it across her lap. “He’d do well to behave himself, is all I got to say.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Roan said meekly, lowering his burdens onto the back of the wagon. He strode to the hitching rail and untied his horse, mounting in a motion that again brought Shay to Jenny’s mind.

  Two men so alike, yet so different. No wonder Eli had recognized Shay as a Devereaux. And now, for the first time in years, a lot of years, she amended silently, the two would meet. And either sparks would fly, or they would be accepting of their differences and be brothers once more.

  “Where the hell’d you find him?” Shay’s voice was a low growl, dark with anger as he slid from his stallion. The last one in from the field, he’d ridden the length and breadth of the acres they’d planted to cotton, estimating the remaining crop, sending the men back on foot. Now, he held the reins of his horse, looking down at Jenny as if she had somehow betrayed him.

  “He was in town. He said he wanted to see you, and there wasn’t much I could do about it, Shay. He followed behind the wagon when we came home.” Glancing at the porch, where Roan was stretched out, his booted feet crossed at the ankles, she felt apprehension settle between her shoulder blades.

  “Sure looks comfortable, don’t he?” Shay said, leading his stud into the barn. Joseph held out a hand, and Shay delivered up the reins with a mumbled thanks.

  “Shay, please.” Not knowing what she begged for, Jenny stood beside him. “Don’t have a big fuss with Marshall looking on,” she said finally. Speaking of the child might deter his harshness, she thought, and a sigh escaped as Marshall came out the kitchen door to squat beside the visitor.

  “This your boy?” Roan called out. “Don’t look much like you, brother.”

  “Ah…hell.” Shay’s curse made Jenny wince and she stepped ahead of him, only to be drawn back by his hand on her waist, holding her fast, tugging her to his side. “Wait for me, lady,” he said quietly. “You may find yourself in the middle of this.”

  “I already figured that out.” Neither of them frightened her, she decided. Only appealed to her, on a different level, of course, with Shay holding her heart. But Roan was quick-witted, with a smile that was capturing Marshall even now.

  “He’s my new papa,” Marshall said, his voice carrying clearly across the yard.

  “Yeah? And how do you feel about that?” Roan asked the boy. “Is he mean to you, making you work all day pickin’ cotton?”

  Marshall laughed, as though he saw through the droll question and appreciated the humor therein. “Naw, I just tote the bags back and forth. But I helped with the planting. And sometimes I watch the water jars and keep the flies off the food.” He jumped from the porch and ran to where Shay and Jenny stood, his grin wide.

  “That man looks like you, Papa, only he doesn’t have a badge of honor.” Reaching for Shay, Marshall clasped his hand around two long fingers and tugged him closer to the porch.

  Roan’s eyes darkened as he swung his feet to the ground and stood, facing his brother. His gaze swept Shay’s long frame, then focused on the side of his face. “Did he pay?” he asked, his voice deceptively gentle.

  “You better believe it.”

  And that was more than she’d been able to have him admit in almost six months, Jenny thought, a spark of anger lighting her fuse. “Can we go inside?” she asked, her words crisp.

  “Yeah, we can go inside,” Shay agreed, climbing the step and opening the screen door. His hand touched Jenny’s back and she moved ahead of him, Marshall close on her heels. “After you, brother,” her husband said, and she shivered at the note of derision he made no attempt to stifle.

  Isabelle had plates on the table, and watched their entrance with silverware in her hand. “I didn’t know if y’all were ready to eat or not,” she said to Jenny. “I’ll dish up quick, and then take what’s left to the men.”

  “You won’t join us?” Roan asked, shooting a glance at Isabelle.

  She shook her head. “My menfolk will be hungry. They’re comin’ in from the field.” Her look was long and searching as she took measure of the two brothers. “I think there’s things to be settled here. I believe I’ll take Marshall along with me, Miss Jenny, if that’s all right.”

  So easily she assumed the servant role, Jenny thought, aggravation running rampant as she watched Isabelle dish up a serving bowl full of the savory stew. The green beans were limp from long, slow cooking and the potatoes, whole and still firm, nestled among them. Chunks of ham and thick broth completed the meal, along with a plate of sliced bread Zora had set aside, covered with a clean towel.

  Isabelle lifted the kettle from the stove, a double layer of towels protecting her hand from the handle, and walked to the door. “Come along, Marshall.”

  He ran to hold the door for her, looking back longingly at the two men who faced each other across the table. But, obviously aware that Isabelle’s word was as valid as his mother’s, he made no complaint, leaving with a small wave of his hand.

  Roan returned the gesture, then looked at his brother. “New papa? How long you been here?”

  “Long enough,” Shay said, reachi
ng to pull Jenny’s chair from beneath the table. She sat down and watched as the two men took their places. They ate, their forks moving almost in unison, silent, yet watchful. Until both plates were wiped clean with bread and pushed aside. “Why’d you come looking for me? What do you want?” Shay asked his brother. His gaze searched out the coffeepot, then sent a silent message to Jenny.

  She obliged him, unwilling to make a fuss over his high-handed gesture, rising to find cups and pour the strong brew.

  Roan’s words were soft-spoken, as if he offered a casual invitation. “Thought it was about time you came to see your family.”

  “I saw them four years ago.” Shay’s reply was clipped and precise.

  “So I heard,” Roan said, leaning back in his chair. “I take it you don’t consider me a relation?”

  “You’re a traitor.”

  Well, he couldn’t be much more blunt than that, Jenny decided, casting a glance at the visitor, gauging his response. From Roan’s stoic expression and nonchalant shrug, Shay had not hit home with the pointed accusation.

  “I couldn’t abide the idea of owning slaves any longer.”

  “Because of Jethro?” Shay asked. “He ran off, Roan. He knew Pa wouldn’t let him get away. Anybody else would have whipped a runaway. Pa just gave him what-for and made a lot of noise.”

  Roan nodded. “I know all that now, but when Pa turned loose the dogs and scoured the swamp to find the best friend I’d ever had, I decided River Bend was the last place I wanted to be. When I saw Jethro in chains, I headed north, wishing I could take him with me. I carried that scene in my mind for a long time.” His eyes held memories, Jenny thought, and not all of them good.

  And then he blinked and shrugged. “Might not have been the best move I ever made, but it turned out all right.” Roan looked directly at Jenny. “I met and married Katherine in Illinois, right after the war.”

  “You brought her home with you?” Jenny asked, feeling a kinship to the woman who’d married a Devereaux.

  Roan grinned suddenly, a beguiling expression that probably would lure most any woman into his web, Jenny decided. “Katherine, and a string of horses besides,” Roan said. “She trains them.”

  “I’m surprised Pa didn’t meet you with a shotgun,” Shay said. “They’d all but written you off when they found out you were wearin’ a blue uniform.”

  “They weren’t overjoyed, I suppose. But then, I had Katherine with me, and she was carrying their first grandson.” And as if that explained everything, he leaned back in his chair. “I heard you were in Elmira.”

  Shay stood abruptly, his face white with anger, the scar prominent against his cheek and jaw. “You’d do better if we didn’t talk about that.”

  “I reckon we’ll have to, one of these days,” Roan said quietly. “Either that, or have a private war of our own.”

  “That can be arranged.” Shay’s words were bitter, spat from his mouth as if he detested their flavor.

  “Won’t do any good,” Roan said pragmatically. “Only mess up your pretty face.”

  The table flew across the kitchen, dishes shattering against the black stove, silverware flying through the air. Roan was on his feet, his arms at his sides, hands fisted, and yet there was a relaxed air about him, as if he would only do battle if pushed to the wall.

  “I’ll bet Jenny won’t appreciate cleanin’ up that mess,” he said, shaking his head at his brother.

  Shay took two long steps, coming up against Roan’s stalwart frame, their faces only inches apart. “If you’re a smart man, you’ll leave right now,” he said in a deadly murmur. “If you stick around any longer, there’ll be blood shed between us, and your mama and papa won’t like that even a little bit.”

  “They’re your mama and papa, too,” Roan reminded him gently.

  “Shay!” Jenny moved, her hands outstretched, reaching to come between the brothers.

  Without sparing her a glance, Shay shook his head. “This doesn’t concern you, Jen. Stay out of it.”

  “If it concerns you, then it’s my business, too,” she cried. “I won’t be a party to bloodshed between brothers. There’s been enough of that already.” Her voice broke as tears gave way to sobs and she lifted trembling fingers to grip their shoulders. “Can’t either of you see how useless this whole thing is? The war is over. We can’t change anything that happened, only pick up and move ahead.”

  “Listen to her, Gaeton.” Roan stepped back, as if he would pacify the angry man facing him.

  “You weren’t there,” Shay said bitterly. “I suffered the insults and the beatings. I saw my friends dying around me.”

  “Yeah,” Roan agreed. “You did. And I saw the men released from Andersonville, the ones that lived through it. Their blood ran just as red as the Rebels’ in Elmira.” He lifted his head and his eyes glittered with tears. “I can’t change any of that. And neither can you. But if you don’t bury it pretty soon, it’s gonna eat you alive.” He walked to the doorway, looking out on the yard.

  “You walked in and out of River Bend and left our folks holding the bag. They didn’t know where you’d gone or if you were dead or alive.” His voice was tired, as weary as if he’d traveled a thousand miles to get to this place. And perhaps he had, Jenny thought.

  “They’re getting old, and they need to see you.” He turned to look at Shay. “I’m not much for begging. You know that. But I’m asking you, as nicely as I can, to come home and let them know you’re all right.”

  “I went home, and Mama cried every time she looked at the scar I’m wearing,” Shay said. “Pa started in giving orders, just like always, and I found out I’d had my fill of it. There wasn’t any peace to be found there.”

  “Did you find peace anywhere?” Roan asked, and then his eyes touched Jenny. “Before you got here?”

  There was no answer for a moment, and Jenny held her breath as Shay looked at her, his eyes searching her face. “Jenny’s my anchor,” he said simply. “I’m not leaving her.” His long arm reached for her and he swept her against his side, his grip almost bruising in its force. “I don’t want to stir up the past. If you’ve made your peace with the folks, that’s sufficient. Tell them…”

  He paused and his fingers pressed with almost cruel force into Jenny’s flesh. “Tell them I’m fine. I’m married and I’m working Jenny’s place.”

  “That’s it then?”

  “Yeah, that’s it.” Shay stood his ground.

  “You’re my brother,” Roan reminded him. “Nothing can change that. All you have to do is look at me, and you’ll see yourself. And every time Pa looks in my eyes, I know he’s wondering about you, Gaeton. You’re his oldest son, his…” His hesitation was long as if he groped for words.

  “You’re his heart. And that’s painful for me to admit. Mama misses you, too, but it’s different with Pa. He’s getting old, and he needs to see you.”

  Shay shuddered. His body trembled against her and Jenny ached for the pain coursing through him. “Maybe. I’ll see,” he said finally.

  “There’s a room upstairs you can stay in,” Jenny told Roan. “Nothing fancy, just a mattress on the floor.”

  “It’ll beat the tree I slept under last night.” His mouth twisted in a sad smile. “I left in a hurry yesterday. Pa had a bad spell, and Katherine told me to find my brother.”

  “How’d you know where to look?” Jenny asked.

  “A big fella from around here somewhere saw me when I went to the city a while back. The man kept starin’ at me until he made me downright upset.” His grin was subdued now, but potent, nonetheless, Jenny thought. “I asked him about it, real nicely.”

  At those words Shay loosed a snort of derision and Jenny caught a glimpse of satisfaction in his eyes. “I’ll bet you scared old Eli out of his wits.”

  Roan’s eyes narrowed. “You knew about it?”

  Shay nodded. “He came here, and announced that I must be one of the Devereaux fellas. Said he’d seen a man that looked like me.�
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  “You knew I was looking for you, then.”

  “I had a good idea.”

  The two men, so evenly matched, so alike, yet such opposites in demeanor, shared a silence, and Jenny wished fervently for some way to bring them together. Neither must be forced to lose his dignity, or be made to lay aside that cocksure arrogance that marked them as the men they were.

  “Can we talk about it in the morning?” she asked Shay. “Let Roan get some rest and we’ll see what tomorrow brings.”

  Shay nodded and Roan echoed the gesture. “Point me in the right direction, Jenny,” he said, “and I’ll be out of your way.”

  She walked into the hallway and looked upward to where the wide staircase opened into a hallway. “Third door on the right,” she told him. “I’ll fetch a bucket of water for you.”

  He shook his head. “I can get it, once I take care of my horse and get my saddlebags.” He looked beyond her to where Shay stood in front of the kitchen window, and then bent low to brush a kiss across her forehead. “Thank you, new sister of mine. It’ll work out. I wouldn’t dare go home to Katherine if I didn’t think things would be well.”

  Jenny managed a smile, but her heart was bleeding for Shay, for the decision he must make and the path they must trod. Together, she thought. They’d be together, no matter what happened.

  “He’ll…” She closed her eyes, finding tears blinding her once again. “He’s a good man, Roan. It just might take time.”

  “Hell, that’s the problem, Jenny. Pa didn’t look good yesterday. We may not have much time left.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  His anger had been defused, whether by Roan’s own unwillingness to be involved in a fight, or by Jenny’s tears. Whichever the cause, Shay felt empty, drained, as if the plug in the watering trough had been pulled, leaving the container dry and without substance. The night air refreshed him, and he drank it in, unwilling to face Jenny across the expanse of their bed. Sitting on the back porch was a poor substitute for tucking his wife against his side, but he lingered.

  Marshall cried out softly, and he heard the quiet movement of Jenny’s feet across the hall as she answered the boy’s summons. Hearing made acute by months spent waiting while guards passed by, was attuned now to the woman and child he’d taken under his protection.