Captured

by Victoria Lynne

  “How the hell did you think I would feel? To wake up and find you’d snuck off like a th—” he stopped abruptly, cursing himself.

  “Go ahead,” she said quietly. “Say it. Like a thief in the night.”

  “Dammit, Devon, that’s not what I meant.”

  She shrugged. “Why not? It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

  “It doesn’t have to be.”

  She gave a bitter laugh. “Is that why you’re here? You want to reform me, to lead me down the path of righteousness? Well, forget it. I tried that and nearly spent the rest of my life locked away in prison.” She rose to her feet. “I’m not your responsibility anymore, McRae. You can leave with a clear conscience.”

  “Devon, wait.” He stood and grabbed her arm, easing her back into her chair as he frantically searched for the words he needed to say. “That’s not why I’m here.”

  “You shouldn’t have come. Can’t you see that I was doing you a favor—”

  “You call running out on me in the dead of the night a favor?”

  Devon drew in her breath as pain flashed through her eyes. “It wouldn’t work, Cole. I thought I could pretend to be something I’m not, but I can’t. It would have only made matters worse for both of us if you’d brought me to Washington and tried to pass me off as a lady to your friends—”

  Shock tore through him. “Did you think I actually intended to go through with that?” He realized she didn’t know him at all if she still believed, after the night they’d spent together, that he could ever willingly give her to another man.

  “That’s what you said you were going to do.”

  “Obviously I changed my mind.”

  “I see.” A dark shadow passed across her face. “So you were taking me to prison after all. That’s why you’re here now.”

  “Prison?!” he exploded. “Good God, is that what you think of me?”

  “I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what you want or why you’re here, I only know that I’m going back to England.”

  Despite her cool demeanor, Cole saw that she was gripping the edge of the table hard enough to turn her knuckles white. This definitely wasn’t going the way he had planned. He had decided weeks ago exactly what would happen once he found her: first a stinging lecture for leaving him like that, followed by her profuse apologies and promises never to do it again. Then, once that had all been settled, he’d looked forward to sweeping her into his arms and carrying her off to make love all night.

  Instead they were sitting across from each other like adversaries, separated by the same barriers that had always kept them apart. Worse, they’d become intimate strangers. Too much had passed between them to go back, too little to go forward. He’d idiotically assumed that Devon would be as thrilled to see him as he was to see her. Now he couldn’t think of a reason in the world why she should be. Not after the way he’d treated her. If he could just buy a little more time somehow, he’d find a way to convince her to trust him. All he needed was a little more time.

  “We need to talk,” he said. “Privately. My ship’s in the harbor, we can go there.”

  “We have nothing more to say to one another.”

  He let out a breath of disgust as his gaze shot around the squalid room. “That has to be the most asinine thing you’ve ever said. Unless, of course, spending the rest of your days rotting away in this seedy tavern is exactly what you always wanted for yourself.”

  Devon tilted her chin. “Not that it’s any of your business, McRae,” she bit out, “but I happen to like it here. Not once have I been shot at, awakened at dawn and tossed on the back of a horse, pushed out of a speeding train, or rolled in slimy goose droppings. Why, compared to a week spent with you, this wretched tavern is the pinnacle of luxury.”

  Cole regarded her steadily as silence stretched between them. He reached across the table, gently capturing her hand in his. “Was it all that bad between us, Devon?”

  Panic flashed through her eyes. She tugged at her hand, and he reluctantly released it. “I’m leaving,” she announced, her voice high and tight. “I’m going back to England. I sent word to my uncle a while ago asking him to wire money to me here, in care of the hotel. I expect the funds should arrive any day.”

  “Five minutes, Devon. That’s all I ask.” He had no idea what he was going to say to her once he got her aboard his ship, but the idea of locking her in his cabin until he figured it out held a certain appeal.

  Her gaze narrowed, then she finally nodded. “All right, I’ll go. But just to talk, is that understood?”

  Cole slowly let out his breath, aware only then that he’d been holding it. He reached for his wallet to pay for his drink, then frowned and felt in his other pocket. He searched his vest, realizing that not only was his wallet missing, he’d lost his gold watch as well. “If you don’t mind, Devon, I need to pay for the whiskey.”

  “Go ahead.”

  Cole held out his hand. “Well?”

  She arched a dark brow. “Surely you don’t expect me to pay for it?”

  “No. I’d simply like you to return my billfold and pocket watch.”

  Shock and anger flashed across her face, then she rose to her feet once again, her expression glacial. “You know as well as I do that those items were returned to you before I left. If you’ve come all this way just to accuse me of stealing—”

  “You mean you don’t have them?”

  “Certainly not.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Cole muttered to himself, glancing around the crowded barroom.

  Devon frowned, watching him. “Are you sure you had them?”

  “I had them five minutes ago when we sat down.”

  “You mean to tell me someone lifted them while I was here?” She shook her head. “Impossible. No one’s that good. No one except me and perhaps…” Her voice trailed away as her eyes fastened on a large man who stood with his back to them. A startled smile flashed across her face, then fell away as she looked back at Cole. “Let’s go back to your ship,” she said, rising to her feet so abruptly, she nearly tipped her chair.

  He followed her gaze, noting that the man had turned and was looking at them as well. Cole quickly sized the stranger up. He was tall and big; what had once probably been muscle was now settled thickly across his midsection. He wore the loudest plaid suit Cole had ever seen and carried a black derby in his hand. He was almost entirely bald, but what he lacked on the top of his head he more than made up for with the luxurious growth of dark muttonchop whiskers that covered the lower half of his face. He set down his drink and began walking toward them.

  “Please, let’s go,” she urged.

  Cole studied her curiously. Whoever the man was, Devon seemed desperately eager that they not meet. Which, of course, only made him all the more determined that they should. He leaned back in his chair and gestured casually to his drink. “There’s still the bill to be settled.”

  She opened her reticule, snatched up a coin, and slapped it on the table. “Now!” she hissed.

  He picked up the coin and frowned. “That’s hardly enough for a proper tip.”

  “Dammit, McRae!”

  “Devon, my girl! I thought that was you!” The stranger boomed out from behind her.

  With a look of weary resignation on her face, Devon turned, only to be immediately engulfed in the big man’s embrace. When she pulled back, however, her smile was genuine, as was the affection that shone from her eyes and the warmth that softened her voice. “Hello, Uncle.”

  Uncle Monty. Of course. When he received Devon’s telegram, the man must have decided to come in person, rather than simply wire her the funds she requested. Cole would have done the same damned thing. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?” he drawled, coming to his feet.

  “Well, er—” Devon stammered, her worried gaze shifting from Cole to her uncle.

  “My good friend,” the man boomed, not in the least put off by Devon’s awkwardness. “Montgomery Persons at your servic
e.” He pumped Cole’s hand, his face wreathed in a jovial smile. “You must be Boris—”

  “No, Uncle Monty,” Devon quickly intervened. “There were some, ah, difficulties. This is Captain Cole McRae.”

  “I see,” Monty’s smile faded for an instant, then it was back, bright as ever. “In that case, Captain, perhaps you’d be interested in hearing about an investment syndicate I’m putting together. Absolutely no risk, and I guarantee you’ll triple your money within a fortnight—”

  “Uncle Monty,” she broke in again, “this may not be the best time.”

  “Of course it is, my girl. It’s always a good time to learn how to make a fortune overnight, isn’t that right, Captain?”

  “Actually,” Devon said as she stared up at Cole, her expression one of silent pleading, “the captain and I were just saying good-bye. Weren’t we?”

  Cole met her gaze, then slowly grinned. “Not even close.”

  She shot daggers at him with her eyes, then turned back to her uncle. “Why don’t I meet you later, back at your hotel—”

  “Devon—”

  “Please, Uncle.”

  Monty stopped, looking from Cole to Devon. After a long, weighty pause, he said to her, “Maybe you’d like to tell me about those ‘difficulties’ you ran into.”

  “I will, but later—”

  Monty shook his head. “There’s no wedding ring on your finger, my girl. You’re not settled down in a fine house with your banker husband in Virginia. Instead, I find you in a waterfront tavern with a stranger, and you can’t quite seem to look your Uncle Monty in the eye.” He reached out, lightly cupping Devon’s chin as he tilted her gaze up to his. “Now.”

  Devon licked her lips, looking worried. “I don’t want you to get upset. Remember what the doctor said.”

  “I never get upset.”

  Cole watched Devon roll her eyes. She took a deep breath, as if fortifying herself. “You see,” she began hesitantly, “there was a slight misunderstanding at the docks… minor, really… hardly a problem at all…”

  “Jonas Sharpe and his man Ogglesby framed Devon for murder,” Cole interrupted curtly. “She was put on trial and convicted, sentenced to life imprisonment in Old Capitol Prison. I was charged with the duty of escorting her there.”

  Devon balled her fists on her hips, glaring furiously at him. “Oh, that’s just fine, McRae. You couldn’t let me tell it, could you?”

  Cole didn’t bother to reply. His attention was focused solely on Montgomery Persons as the man went from pink to scarlet to the most magnificent shade of purple he had ever seen.

  “What?!” Monty roared, his booming voice sounding like an explosion in the noisy room. All sounds abruptly ceased as every head in the place swung to study the cause of the roar. “What?! He did what?!” he bellowed, bringing a beefy fist crashing down on top of the table, which nearly collapsed beneath the blow. “That low-life‌—‌son-of-a‌—‌bloody hell—” he choked out, too enraged to form a complete sentence.

  Cole stepped protectively in front of Devon at the start of the outburst. But rather than being alarmed or frightened by her uncle’s temper, she simply sighed and sat down, completely immune. She glanced up at Cole and shrugged. “It’ll be a while now.”

  “A while” turned out to be thirty minutes of cursing and fuming, until Monty recovered enough to bring his anger back under control and sit down. Cole listened as Devon related what had happened, carefully minimizing the details so as not to set her uncle off again. As far as explaining Cole’s own part in her misadventure, she said nothing more than that she’d been transferred into his care in Fort Monroe, only to escape later outside Washington.

  When she finished, Monty leaned forward and patted her softly on the knee. “I’m sorry, my girl,” he said. “Your Uncle Monty delivered you out of the water and straight into the shark’s jaws, didn’t he?”

  “No, everything’s fine now—”

  “Hmph,” Monty snorted. “It won’t be fine until Mr. Jonas Sharpe gets back a piece of what he gave to you.” He swiveled around and looked at Cole, truly focusing on him for the first time. “You’ve finished your business here, Captain. You can go.”

  “Not without her,” Cole answered.

  Monty stared at him, his eyes hard, then he slowly rose to his feet. “I don’t care what your orders are, Captain,” he said, his voice dangerously low, “or what happened at that trial. I know my niece, and she would never stab a man in the back.” With a quicksilver motion, he produced a knife from the back of his coat and set it calmly on the table. “I, however, wouldn’t hesitate to do so. I can prove that to you within the next two seconds, or you can get up and leave now. The choice is yours.”

  “Uncle Monty!” Devon gasped.

  Cole stared up at him, remaining right where he sat. He glanced at the knife, then back at Monty, seeing that the man meant every word he’d said. Instead of being furious at the bald threat that had just been thrown in his face, he felt nothing but overwhelming relief. It was exactly the sort of fierce, protective gesture Cole would have made had their roles been reversed. “You’ve taken care of her, haven’t you?” he said.

  “You’re damned right I have,” Monty growled. “And if you think—”

  “Thank you.”

  Monty blinked. He looked from Cole to Devon, then sank slowly back into his seat. “What exactly is going on here?”

  “Nothing,” Devon answered quickly.

  “Is that a fact,” Monty muttered, looking thoroughly unconvinced. He ran his fingers over his beard, his gaze speculative as he focused on Cole. “Have you come to drag my niece off to prison?” he demanded.

  “No,”

  “Then what the hell do you want with her?”

  Cole cursed inwardly at the question. He hadn’t been able to sort out for himself what he felt for Devon. Defining it now for her uncle was impossible. Still, the man expected some sort of answer. “Devon and I—”

  “What are you doing here, Uncle Monty?” Devon blurted, drowning out his words. She gave Cole a sharp kick under the table, as though she’d expected him to finish his statement with “Devon and I became lovers…”

  Monty patted her hand, his tone distracted as he pulled his gaze away from Cole long enough to answer. “Did you think I wouldn’t come after receiving your wire? Besides, I missed you, my girl. Business hasn’t been the same without you.”

  She looked both surprised and pleased. “You came all this way just to see me?”

  “Damned good thing I did too,” Monty grumbled. He turned back to Cole, an intense frown on his face. “How long were the two of you in Virginia together? And no more interrupting me or kicking the captain beneath the table,” he added sternly, glancing at Devon. “I know all your tricks, and they won’t work with me.”

  The man was sharp, Cole had to give him that.

  “How long, Captain?” he repeated.

  Cole leaned back and folded his arms over his chest, mildly curious to see where Monty was going with this line of questioning. “Long enough,” he answered coolly.

  “All by yourselves?”

  “Uncle Monty,” Devon broke in, “this has nothing to do with—”

  Monty held up his hand to silence her, his eyes locked on Cole as he waited for him to speak.

  “From time to time.”

  “I presume you made arrangements for separate quarters.”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  Monty sank back into his chair, his dark eyes moving slowly over Cole. He shifted his gaze to Devon, whose face was scrupulously averted as she busily arranged the folds of her skirt. “I see,” he said after a long moment.

  Devon finally lifted her head, revealing the soft rosy stains that flushed her cheeks. “Uncle Monty, I really think we should—”

  “Now, now, don’t rush me, my girl. You know I don’t like to be rushed.” He let out a contented sigh and smiled at Cole. “How fortuitous it is for us all to have come together here, is it
not? Amazing where fate will steer us…”

  Cole wasn’t impressed by the man’s sudden burst of goodwill. Devon’s uncle was up to something. But whatever the scheme he was brewing, Cole wasn’t having any part of it.

  “We all have our own motivations for stopping Jonas Sharpe, do we not?” Monty continued, as if musing aloud. “Devon needs to clear her name so she won’t have the accusation of murder hanging over her head for the rest of her life. You, Captain, need to stop Sharpe because of the threat the man poses to the Union blockade. And I, of course, must undo the damage that’s been done to my reputation.”

  “Really?” Cole drawled. “And what reputation might that be?”

  “I happen to be a professional,” Monty replied. “If word got out that someone of my caliber and expertise was taken in by the likes of Jonas Sharpe, my career would be ruined.”

  “Of course,” Cole said, amazed at the absurd turn the conversation had taken. “Your career as a thief, con artist, embezzler—”

  “I do no such things,” Monty retorted sharply. “It’s people like that who give stealing a bad name. I simply liberate funds that have been neglected due to carelessness. From time to time, I’ve also gratuitouslyacquired a few select pieces of art and jewelry. But no one has ever been hurt in the process.”

  Cole arched a brow and looked at Devon, but she merely shrugged as if she’d heard the outrageous rationalization many times before.

  “In any case,” Monty continued, “this is steering us away from the matter at hand.”

  “Really? And what matter is that?”

  “Jonas Sharpe, of course. I presume you have a ship in harbor, Captain.”

  “I do,” Cole answered. The Islander had been refitted and repaired and was stronger than ever. Where she’d been primarily a sailing vessel before, she now boasted an engine and sturdy screw propellers aft, giving her more power and maneuverability. Taking the lead from the runners he’d pursued, Cole had ordered the ship painted a dull gunmetal-gray, thus giving her the same cloak of invisibility as the runners. There had been one final change: for all intents and purposes, the Islander had been destroyed that fateful day at sea. Cole christened his newly fitted ship the Ghost.