Touch the Sun

by Wright, Cynthia

  He glanced over at the girl next to him only to find her in perfect profile, staring dreamily into space. He lifted one honey-colored curl from her shoulder and teasingly flicked it across her tilted nose. His voice held a note of ironic amusement.

  "You do wonders for a man's ego. I can see that you hold my brilliant conversation in high esteem!"

  "Oh—sir—please do not be offended!" Relief spread across her face at the sight of his flickering. "You are teasing me! I am glad you’re not angry, because I was daydreaming for a good reason. My name! To me it is so important, and I hope you'll approve of my choice." She moved closer to him and paused dramatically. "It is... Caroline. Don't you think that is the loveliest-sounding name?"

  She spoke the syllables with such warmth that the name Caroline did indeed sound beautiful. His face softened as he regarded this girl who was smiling at him so radiantly in the midst of what should have been a terrible crisis for her. It occurred to him that most young ladies of his acquaintance would probably be carrying on quite hysterically if they were in Caroline's position. She was lost, unable to remember anything, and perhaps worst of all, left in the woods with only a hot-blooded rogue to rely on. Alec was just beginning to realize how truly different from other females this one was. Gently, he touched her soft cheek and smiled.

  "I believe that you have chosen the most beautiful name in existence, little Caro."

  Twilight gathered quickly, and Caroline did not notice the approaching darkness until she felt a chill in the air. She and Alec were both astride the black stallion, Ivan, who was patiently making his way through the trees. Caroline sat in front of Alec, who held her securely around her petite waist. His nearness unnerved her, and during all the hours they had been riding she had found it difficult to think—and heaven knew she had plenty to think about! She realized that the discomfort she felt wasn't because he repulsed her; instead, it seemed that all her senses were full of him. His arm was strong and her skin seemed to tingle beneath it. She would watch his brown hand holding the reins, and find herself fascinated by its deft movements. She was leaning into his broad chest and his chin brushed the top of her head. She thought he smelled wonderful.

  Riding into a clearing, Alec brought Ivan to a stand-still and Caroline came back down to earth.

  "Well," he inquired lightly, "how does this strike you as an inn? Ceilings of tree branches and carpets of leaves are the latest fashion, I'm told."

  She smiled up at him. "These look like very comfortable accommodations, sir!"

  Indeed it was a lovely spot. The trees joined overhead to form a perfect canopy and the blanket of leaves on the ground looked almost plush. Alec swung down from the horse's back and reached up to grasp Caroline around her waist. He lifted her off Ivan and suddenly they were face to face, his hands still resting on her hips. He looked down into her brown-and-gold eyes and saw in them something he could not read. Moving his palms up her back slowly, Alec could feel the hot blood rising in him, and then Ivan pushed his nose against them and whinnied gustily.

  Nervously, Caroline laughed and turned to pet the horse's neck.

  "Well, Ivan, I suppose you'd like to have the rest of those things off your back, too!"

  It was not yet dark when the three of them set off through the trees to find a stream. They didn't have far to go, and while Ivan drank and Caroline washed, Alec went in search of food and firewood. He had good luck, and before long they were seated by a cozy fire feasting on dried beef and johnnycake from his saddlebags, nuts, berries, and sweet water. They drank from a small wooden cup which Alec produced, explaining that he had carved it in camp early in the war and still carried it with him in his pack. After they finished eating, Alec leaned back against a tree to smoke a thin brown cheroot. Caroline sat nearer the fire, and as they talked he watched her face, which was framed by molten-gold firelight. Her hair spilling over her shoulders, she looked poignantly young and vulnerable in her voluminous shirt.

  "Will you tell me about the future?" she asked. "Where are we going? And what will you do with me after we get there?"

  He smiled behind the thin curls of smoke which drifted up and dissolved into the darkness.

  "Ah, yes, I imagine your head must be full of questions! We are going to Philadelphia, where I live. I’ve decided that after we arrive I shall install you at my parents' home. It wouldn't help you at all socially to be living at my house! As it is, if I were any sort of gentleman at all I'd marry you as soon as we encounter a parson."

  Caroline's eyes were wide with astonishment.

  "Marry me! Whatever for?"

  "Why, to make an honest woman out of you, my dear. Moral codes these days don't have clauses allowing men and women to spend the night together unchaperoned—no matter how innocent the circumstances may be. And in our case, I have a feeling we'll be alone together several nights." He was smiling at her as if the prospect delighted him, and Caroline shifted uneasily. "However, no one needs to know what our circumstances have been before we arrived in Philadelphia. I will solve this problem by explaining that I am your guardian..." He grinned again, looking to Caroline like a scoundrel, "I am not a particularly honorable man, especially where women are concerned. Take that as my warning, cherie! Also, I have no intention of ruining both our lives by trapping us into a marriage neither of us wants—just for the sake of propriety. You are young and very beautiful, Caro, and I'm certain that there will be scores of young swains in Philadelphia who will be eager to win your affections. Besides, we must make sure that you are not already married!"

  Caroline's eyes had been growing larger with each sentence Alec spoke, but with his last words her mouth dropped open.

  "Married! Me? But—but—"

  "It is entirely possible that you were running away from a husband."

  Alec had no doubt that she was old enough, for he had become quite familiar with the attractive curves beneath her smock during their ride on Ivan that day. He knew a great deal about women, and there was no doubt in his mind that she was indeed a delightfully fully grown woman.

  Caro—how she liked the way Alec pronounced her new nickname!—sat quietly for a few minutes, her profile pensive in the firelight. Finally, Alec broke the silence.

  "You look like you're trying to remember something."

  "I am." She paused. "You know, I feel as if I know all about myself, but for the moment it all eludes me. It's as though it's there, in my head, but I cannot reach it."

  "Or perhaps you don't want to," he offered gently.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Only that whatever is in your past may be so painful to you that you've buried it—blocked it out—without even realizing it."

  Their eyes met, and though she did not speak, Alec knew that she understood what he was saying. Her face was so lovely, and in it he could see bewilderment and fear.

  The air was growing colder and Alec moved forward from the shadows to add more wood to the fire. Caro observed him with interest, uneasily aware of his nearness. He turned to look at her, reaching out to grasp one of her hands.

  "Are you warm enough? Here, put this on." He wrapped his own heavy blue wool coat around her shoulders. It was a handsome garment with a rich satin lining, wide lapels, and brass buttons. Then Caro found herself leaning back against the tree next to him, his arm around her, her cheek against his chest. A sudden feeling of well-being flooded her, and she began to ask him more questions. At length, the conversation turned to his family, which Alec described with relish.

  "My father was really a pirate—I was telling you the truth. He did a great deal of illegal trading with the colonies during the days when trade with England was so expensive and troublesome. Actually, it was all quite respectable then. Father tells wonderful stories about the rounds of entertainment from the merchants of New York when he would put into port with his cargo. He really led a wild, adventurous life, but I believe he met my mother just in time."

  "Where did they meet?" asked Caro, completely fascin
ated.

  "Quite classic circumstances, I assure you! My father captured her ship."

  "Her ship!?"

  "Yes, she was on board one of the few quite luxurious passenger vessels of that time, bound from Russia for the colonies to visit her brother and his wife. Father confiscated all the valuables from her ship, foremost among which was my mother!"

  "Alec!" Caro exclaimed. He was chuckling in amusement.

  "Yes, I'm afraid the worst happened—for after all, my father was no gentleman. Seems to be a family trait. At any rate, my mother appears to have enjoyed herself immensely, and soon my father had not only returned all the stolen goods, but also married my mother there at sea. She accompanied him on his pirate ship's last voyage to America and they settled down in Philadelphia to live happily ever after. I stand with my four brothers and sisters as proof of that."

  Caro looked up to see white teeth flash against his black beard.

  "Your father gave up his pirating?"

  "Oh, yes—the only voyages he makes now are with my mother to visit their respective families in Russia and France and to inspect some family vineyards they own in the Loire Valley. After my parents married, Father began ship-building, and as the business grew he branched out into several other interests. These days, when I am home, I am his partner in the ships."

  "When you are home?"

  "I have been quite occupied these last years in the war for independence."

  "Oh—of course!" Caro felt something click in her mind, but even though she squeezed her eyes closed, she could not catch it in time.

  "Do you remember anything about the war?" Alec queried, looking down at her face.

  "Yes, I seem to, though I hadn't thought of it until you said the words. Suddenly now, I can remember it all but rather indistinctly—the deaths, and women all alone, and living with hardships. But I simply cannot see faces in my mind, or recall names."

  They were silent for a moment, then Caro, eyes wide with frustration, blurted:

  "I don't even know where we are!"

  "That is easily enough answered. We are in Connecticut, nearing its western border and the Hudson River. We will follow that to New York town, and then journey on south to Philadelphia."

  "But, if you are a man of means, why are you here in the woods with only a horse? Isn't the war over now?"

  "Yes, it's over. And, Caro, you mustn't let Ivan hear you speak of him as though he were of no consequence!" He had lowered his voice conspiratorially. "You see, he believes he is absolutely the finest horse ever born—the superior of any man." He paused. "Except me, of course."

  "Of course!" Caro giggled, and Ivan peered at them suspiciously from the other side of the fire. Alec squeezed her shoulder and continued:

  "To answer your question, I was inspecting a farm I recently acquired in northern Connecticut. It was left to me by one of my comrades who died at Yorktown. I am used these days to traveling light. It’s been a pleasure to be responsible to only myself; to go at my own pace and to enjoy the woods in autumn before returning to city life. Besides, I have friends in this area that I enjoy visiting. We'll be staying with them in the Hudson River Valley, and I'm hoping to borrow a horse for you."

  "We will go on horseback all the way to Philadelphia?"

  "No, my coach will be meeting us in New York."

  "I have only one more question. Who will you say I am?"

  Alec smiled with satisfaction.

  "Actually, it all fits together brilliantly. You are the poor orphaned daughter of my friend from the war. Much to my surprise, you came with the farm! You'll be my ward, and it will all be cozy and respectable."

  Caro felt her eyelids drooping and she smiled to herself contentedly, snuggling against Alec's broad chest.

  "Well," she murmured drowsily, "I suppose I shall have to trust you...."

  Excerpt from

  Silver Storm

  Special Author's Cut Edition

  Raveneau Novel #1

  by

  Cynthia Wright

  From Chapter Two.

  New London, Connecticut

  October, 1780

  A chilly breeze swept off the Thames and Devon stepped into the sunlight. Approaching the docks, she scanned the sleek, lightweight vessels at anchor and strove to appear nonchalant in her search for the Black Eagle.

  She saw him first, shouting orders on the deck of his ship.

  Many of the captains and officers who sailed privateers had achieved glamorous reputations, but none could match Andre Raveneau, who at thirty-two had become a legend. Men thought him the most daring, successful, and charmed of captains; women knew only that they went weak in his devastatingly handsome presence. Raveneau had given his time, his expertise, and his beautiful privateer Black Eagle to the American cause for reasons he chose not to discuss. Of course, averaging a dozen prizes a year, he had become abundantly wealthy, but there were plenty of less hazardous ways to pursue riches. Because of Raveneau's fearlessness and his ability to succeed in the face of seemingly impossible odds, townspeople whispered that he was allied with the devil.

  Devon watched as he jumped lightly to the wharf, her heart racing and palms icy. Raveneau had fascinated her for five years, though he was dangerous-looking, his dark face chiseled and unsmiling. He strode past Devon, but she might as well have been a barrel of molasses for all the notice he paid her.

  As he disappeared around the corner, Devon wondered why he didn't look at her the way other men did. In the past two years strangers had begun to stare openly at her blossoming figure and exquisite face. However, since most healthy eligible males had gone to war, most of these admirers were either old men or adolescent boys...

  "Good day to you, miss!" a husky voice called. Startled, Devon spun around to face a stocky, genial-looking young man whose sandy hair was queued neatly at his neck. "Have you business on the Black Eagle? Perhaps I might help?" A square hand reached out, but Devon eluded it. She was beginning to regret coming down here, for no decent girl would wander the docks alone.

  "No... I—"

  "Devon!"

  She gasped with relief at the sound of Morgan's voice, and took his arm enthusiastically. "I'm so glad to see you! You can walk me to Nick's. I have this hat to deliver to Temperance, and Mother will thrash me if I'm not back soon." As they started off, she nodded to the sandy-haired privateersman, who shrugged good-naturedly.

  Morgan was delighted by Devon's attention, for he still adored her. The years had added a few inches to his height, but he fell far short of six feet, and his shoulders remained narrow. To his chagrin, Devon continued to treat him as an affectionate friend.

  "I heard today that we won a great victory at King's Mountain," Morgan said, conscious of her arm linked through his.

  "Oh, that's splendid news," Devon said awkwardly.

  Morgan's face burned, for he knew what was on her mind. For two years she had been urging him to sign on with a privateer or even join the army and had been confused and disappointed by his refusal. His excuse was that his father needed him, for both his brothers were gone, one at sea, the other a soldier. Morgan could never admit that he was simply afraid. The thought of battle made him nauseous; he even had nightmares about it.

  "My brother Tyler's company may have been engaged in the battle," he said hastily, thinking to absorb a bit of family glory. "Last we heard, they were nearby."

  "I am certain he was the hero of the hour." Devon couldn't help the accusing note that crept into her voice.

  They walked in silence for several minutes. Morgan wished that he could calm the fever in his body. It seemed to intensify each time he was near Devon, and he feared that only she could cure it. Other boys his age—the few who remained in town—had found relief with the easy women who haunted the docks. One evening, after hours spent lying innocently in the grass with Devon, he had taken his aching groin down to the Beach and had stood and watched the painted harlots. One had actually approached him, but her brazen manner had scar
ed him to death.

  I want Devon and only Devon, he thought now, and the words seemed to sear his brain. She still talked of their future together... surely she would not reject the advances of her husband-to-be? If not for the chaos of the war, they probably would have been married already! Impulsively, he put an arm around her slender waist. She glanced up in surprise, then smiled. Morgan's heart began to pound.

  Devon was feeling sorry that she had spoken to him so impatiently. She must not press him to do her will, she thought. Morgan was Morgan, and she of all people should be able to accept the fact that he was not a warrior at heart. Still...

  Unbidden, the dark image of Andre Raveneau filled Devon's mind and a chill ran down her spine. She could not understand the madness that swept her at the mere thought of him! Still painfully innocent, Devon was curious, yet fearful, about these feelings she had. The fact that they were confined to a rakish privateer captain who did not know she existed was bewildering.

  Feeling her shiver, Morgan tightened his hold. Devon, guilty, leaned against him. Her face flushed self-consciously. Morgan took that as a good sign. She's shy but willing! he thought. His fingers fanned out from her waist to touch the soft curving hip. He felt a hot pressure spread down his belly.

  "Devon..." he gulped. "Look at those apple trees! I am famished. Have you have time to stop?"

  "Well..." she murmured doubtfully.