“Hmmm…” Monty nodded, as if deep in thought. “Capable of running the blockade, do you suppose?”
Cole frowned. “My duty is to man the blockade, not run it”
“Yes, yes, of course.” Monty sighed heavily. “I suppose that won’t work, then.”
“Good, it’s all settled,” Devon, who’d remained silent until that point, hastily broke in. “Uncle Monty, we really should be going—”
Cole knew he’d probably regret his next question for the rest of his life, but that didn’t prevent him from asking it. “What won’t work?”
Monty smiled broadly, his dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “You see, Captain, a man in my position is privy to certain bits of information that may not be available to others. Take for example the rumor I heardwhen I first reached this lovely island. Jonas Sharpe has run into a bit of bad luck. You know, of course, that one of the warships Sharpe had constructed left Liverpool approximately a month ago. But it seems that you Yanks recently captured Captain Nathan Daniels, the man slated to take over the helm.”
Cole recognized the name, for he had heard as much while he was in Fort Monroe. The capture of Captain Daniels had been quite a coup for the Union Navy. What neither Cole nor anyone else had known, however, was that Daniels was the man Sharpe had chosen to take on the first in his fleet of iron rams.
“The word is out that Sharpe is looking for a new captain for his ship,” Monty finished.
Cole drew his brows together, studying Monty. “The Confederate Navy is full of commissioned men waiting for a ship. It should be no trouble at all for Sharpe to find a replacement for Daniels.”
“A commission in the Confederate Navy is a mark of neither ability nor experience, but simply the right political connections. Jonas Sharpe knows this as well as you or I. The best men are the ones running the blockade, and those are the men Sharpe is attempting to lure to his side.”
Cole leaned back in his seat, reassessing Montgomery Persons. He might be a thief, but he was also thoroughly knowledgeable about naval matters, incredibly resourceful, and apparently well-connected. And strangely enough, despite his glib talk and quick fingers, the man wasn’t completely unlikable.
“Of course, Sharpe won’t hand over his ship to just anyone,” Monty continued. “The man must be willing to prove his worthiness as a seaman. Whoever wants a go at captaining the frigate must first demonstrate his skill and daring by running the blockade into Wilmington.”
Cole considered Monty’s words, recognizing at once the incredible opportunity laid out before him. If he succeeded, not only would he be handed the battleship straight from Liverpool, but he would be able to use Sharpe’s own ship against him; All in all, the reward far outweighed any risk he might have to take.
Monty regarded him steadily. “Within an hour’s time, Captain, I can not only build you a reputation as one of the South’s most notorious blockade runners, but find you a profitable cargo to take into Wilmington.” He let that sink in, and then lifted his shoulders in a broad shrug. “Of course, if you won’t consider it…”
The challenge was neatly and effectively thrown down. Cole had no choice, and they both knew it. There was simply too much at stake for him not to try. The run into Wilmington was one of the trickiest sea lanes open, but after two years of manning the coast, he knew it as well as any runner. He paused, considering the time and tides.
“You understand, of course,” Monty said, “that my niece and I fully intend to accompany you on the voyage.”
Cole snapped his attention back to Monty. “Running the blockade isn’t a sport. You’ll stay here until I return.” He turned to Devon, fixing her with the full weight of his stare. “Both of you.”
Devon coolly returned his gaze. “I have no intention of either running the blockade or remaining here,” she stated firmly. “I intend to return to England at first opportunity.”
“Now, now, my girl,” Monty crooned, softly patting her hand. “You’re upset, and I don’t blame you, but you’re not going anywhere with this murder hanging over your head.” He turned back to Cole, smiling broadly. “Surely you realize that Devon and I have as much at stake in this matter as you do. I think it best for all involved that we work together, don’t you?”
“Absolutely not.”
Monty lifted his thick shoulders, still smiling. “In that unfortunate event, I’m afraid I’ll just have to find another man capable of running the blockade. The island is no doubt brimming with men willing to try their luck.”
The full import of his words was abundantly clear: you’ll do it my way or not at all. The damned problem was, Cole couldn’t do anything without Monty’s connections. The man had him completely over a barrel, and he knew it.
Seeing his hesitation, Monty pressed his advantage. “Good, that’s all settled then. I presume we’ll want to leave at first light, Captain.” He raised his hand and signaled to the owner. The same greasy little man that Cole had spoken to earlier appeared instantly, brandishing a bottle of the house’s best champagne.
The owner filled their glasses, then stood hovering at the table, waiting for payment. Monty gestured at Cole. “Please, Captain, I wouldn’t dream of depriving you of the honor of paying for our refreshments.”
“How very considerate of you. Unfortunately I seem to have misplaced my wallet.”
Monty clucked his tongue. “My good friend, what a dreadful shame. Perhaps you should check again.”
Cole studied him for a moment, then reached into his vest, not at all surprised to find that the man had managed to work both his watch and wallet back onto him as nimbly as he’d taken them off.
“So easy to misplace the little things, isn’t it?” Monty said, beaming. He raised his glass in a toast as Cole paid the bill. “To our illustrious partnership. May it be as profitable as the night is long.”
“Uncle Monty,” Devon immediately protested, “nothing is settled yet.”
“I suppose you’re right, my girl. We do have just one small bit of business left to attend, don’t we?”
“Your fee, no doubt,” Cole surmised dryly.
Monty frowned and waved that away. “Of course not. I’m acting strictly for the. sake of my lovely niece.” He paused and interjected smoothly, “Naturally, however, I will be due a percentage of the profit we make on whatever cargo we carry,”
“Naturally.”
“But all that can be discussed later, Captain,” Monty continued brightly. “What is at issue here is undoing the damage that has been done to my niece’s reputation. Though I’m certain it was unintentional on your part, surely a man of your standing and position understands how deeply sullied Devon’s name will be if word gets out that she spent a considerable amount of time traveling with a man who was not her husband.”
“It doesn’t matter, Uncle Monty,” Devon said softly, a pale rose tint lighting her cheeks. Cole saw the embarrassment streaked across her features and ached for her.
Monty placed his hand lightly on her knee. “Ah, but it does to me, my girl. It does to me.” He transferred his gaze back to Cole. “Devon had her heart set on being a bride, and I aim to see to it that she becomes one.”
“Uncle Monty, I told you, I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want—”
“Now, my girl, don’t interrupt your uncle. This is between the captain and me.” His eyes locked on Cole’s. “Devon will go as your wife, or not at all.”
“Uncle Monty!” Devon gasped in horror. “No!”
Cole stared at the man, then looked at Devon. Decked out in her emerald silk finery, she was the picture of classic feminine elegance. Grace and beauty. But beneath that delicate exterior lurked one of the most willful, unpredictable, troublemaking females he’d ever met. If he had any brains left at all, he’d get up and run. Instead he smiled. “Agreed.”
“What?!” Devon shouted, looking at him as though he’d just lost his mind. “You’re crazy, both of you! I won’t do it, do you hear me? Absolutely not!”
> Monty looked from her to Cole, then took a deep sip of his champagne. He settled back into his chair, his lips split into a broad grin that engulfed his whole face. “Welcome to the family, my boy.”
CHAPTER 13
Devon sat alone on a small bench outside the chapel where she was to be married. Married. It still didn’t seem real to her. She didn’t know how Cole had pulled it off, but somehow he’d managed to prepare everything within a mere twenty-four hours: the minister, the license, the chapel. She supposed it shouldn’t surprise her any longer. The man seemed to be able to accomplish whatever he set out to do.
She wondered if it was a bad omen that she was the first one to arrive, then immediately chastised herself for the thought. Thinking of omens and superstitions was silly. Cole wanted her only because she and Uncle Monty could help him capture Sharpe. If he hadn’t been so quick to agree to her uncle’s outrageous demand, she would have been able to talk Uncle Monty out of it. Now it was too late. Obviously the thought of capturing Sharpe was worth anything to him, even being saddled with her as a bride.
Devon refused to lie to herself. It was a simple business arrangement, and she had to remember that. They were working together for a short time for the mutual good of all involved. Once Sharpe had been captured, she was sure Cole would want to be free from her and seek an annulment. They would dissolve their marriage as neatly and as unemotionally as they had entered into it.
But her rational side was overpowered by the emotions playing havoc with her nerves. Being this close to Cole was going to be sheer torture. She’d tried to force him out of her mind since the day she’d fled Virginia, but that had proved impossible. Cole McRae was with her every second of the day. He was her last thought every night and her first thought every morning. He haunted her dreams in between.
When he’d walked into that crowded tavern yesterday afternoon, she was sure she was only imagining him. Then Cole had spoken. Her had heart slammed against her ribs in response, expanding against her chest as if it would explode. Her lungs had swelled with joy, stealing away her breath and her words, leaving her speechless.
And now they were to be married.
A business arrangement, she amended silently, but still…
As always when she was nervous, she reached for her mother’s wedding ring, which she wore around her neck. She felt a momentary shock of alarm to find it missing, then remembered that as of that afternoon she no longer wore it. She’d taken it off for the last time.
She sighed and stood, wishing the peaceful setting would calm her nerves. The chapel was a lovely, quaint building made of pink stone, situated on a hill overlooking the harbor. Rich vines of purple and scarlet bougainvillea cascaded down the outer walls. It was now early twilight, the sky filled with dusty shades of rose and lavender. A gentle breeze caressed her skin, carrying the thick scent of jasmine and gardenia. In the harbor far below, ships bobbed like tiny toys, in a sea that slowly changed from teal to sapphire.
Devon paced back and forth, her heels clicking on the stone walk. She had changed out of her emerald-green traveling suit and into a frothy gown of the palest shell-pink. She’d purchased both upon her arrival in Bermuda two weeks ago. She’d hated to squander her money, but at the time she had possessed nothing but the clothes on her back, she hadn’t had a choice. In order to make money, she’d had to look as though she didn’t need it.
Now, however, she was glad of the extravagant purchase. Glancing into the mirror as she dressed, she’d noted that the soft hue brought a delicate rose tint to her skin and made her eyes glow like those of a real bride. The gown was simple and unadorned, with a snugly fitted bodice and cap sleeves. The full skirt swished around her legs in hushed whispers of silk. She wore her hair up in a loose chignon, a spray of tiny white orchids tucked behind her ear in lieu of a bonnet.
She clutched the pale pink silk reticule that had been made to match her gown tightly in her hands, kneading it between her fingers as she fought back her worries. Cole needed her help, it was as simple as that. No matter what it cost her, she would give it to him. Nothing else mattered.
She heard the sound of hoof beats, a horse racing up a steep path that led to the chapel. She froze, knowing it was Cole. Within seconds, he appeared in view, looking strong and in command—and unbearably handsome in his summer uniform. The deep gold braid of his trim navy jacket accentuated his broad shoulders and the narrowness of his waist and hips. Crisp, white linen trousers encased his long, powerful legs; his black boots were polished to a high sheen. He wore his thick golden hair brushed back, away from his face.
He leaped from his horse and secured the reins to a low branch. He turned toward the chapel, then stopped, scanning the grounds. An expression of regret, anger, and anxiety marred his strong features. It was then that Devon realized she must blend into the chapel, due to the color of her gown and the fact that she was standing motionless in the fading twilight shadows. Recognizing immediately that he thought she hadn’t come, she stepped forward.
Alerted by her movement, Cole jerked his head around, relief coursing across his face as he found her. His expression deepened as his eyes traveled slowly over her. She was held captive by his gaze, reading in his eyes everything she’d ever longed for him to say. She saw approval, possessiveness, and a burning hunger that she understood all too well. For one incredible moment, time seemed to stand still. The world stopped spinning and the sea no longer crashed against the shore. Nothing existed except her and Cole.
A kaleidoscope of images tumbled through her mind, searing her very soul. She remembered the first time she’d set eyes on Cole, so wounded and raw and angry, yet there’d been something about him that had drawn her to him even then. She remembered his gentle touch as he removed the iron shackles that had bitten into her wrists. She remembered him leaping onto the train to save her life, laughing with her as they talked, and the anguish on his face when he’d told her about Gideon. And finally she remembered making love to him in a wooded glen, beneath a midnight sky that shimmered with stars.
Looking back, she saw that each step had been part of a dance led by fate, bringing her to this very spot. To this man. To a pink chapel nestled between a lavender sky and a sapphire sea. This was where she was meant to be.
Cole moved forward, his long strides bringing him quickly to her side. He took her hands in his and said simply, “You came.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry I’m late. It took me longer to set the crew to storing the cargo than I’d expected.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Your uncle sent a note. I’m afraid he won’t be here for the ceremony. Apparently he was able to arrange a meeting with one of Sharpe’s agents.”
Devon nodded, ignoring the disappointment that shot through her at the news. She let out a shaky breath and attempted a smile. “I guess that just leaves the two of us then, doesn’t it?”
He frowned as he studied her, then reached out and softly brushed her cheek. “Nervous?”
“You don’t have to do this, Cole. I’ll talk to Uncle Monty, just give me a little time. I can convince him to help you, to give you everything you need.”
Silence hung between them as he seemed to consider her words. Finally he said, “Everything except the one thing I need most of all.”
Devon searched her mind. The cargo, the connections, the ship, Sharpe’s agent… She shook her head in bewilderment, wondering what she’d missed.
“You.”
Devon sucked in her breath. She searched his eyes, finding nothing but tender solemnity in their tawny-brown depths. He looked absolutely serious, but did she dare believe it was true? Incredible as the thought might be, she didn’t know if it was worth the risk to actually find out.
“What is it?” he asked gently. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s just that…” Her voice trailed off as she searched for the proper words to convey her feelings. She’d left England for exactly this sort of arrangement.
Only then she’d been promised to a man she’d never even set sight on, a man for whom she cared nothing. Now she was actually going to marry Cole. Cole. Not some stranger, but the one man in the world capable of twisting her heart into knots and turning her brain into mush. “It’s just that… You’re not Boris Ogglesby.”
He slowly grinned. “You’ll have plenty of time to thank me for that later. Now come on, the minister’s waiting.”
Cole took her hand and led her into the chapel. Devon glanced around, studying the decorations. Obviously they were left from some previous ceremony. The flowers were wilted and the candles were partially melted down, giving the room the air of a party that had been abandoned. Her mind strayed once again to thoughts of omens and bad luck, but she resolutely pushed them aside.
Cole frowned. “Devon, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”
“No, it’s all right,” she said, forcing a cheerful note to her voice. “It doesn’t matter, truly it doesn’t.”
She found herself repeating the same thing near the end of the ceremony when the minister asked him for the ring and Cole’s expression changed to one of shocked horror. He’d forgotten to buy one. The minister shrugged and continued, speaking in a monotone voice of Scripture, vows, and promises. Finally he pronounced them husband and wife. Devon doubted if the entire ceremony had taken more than ten minutes.
She left the chapel feeling dazed, not quite believing that it was all real. Cole sent Devon’s driver back with his horse, then assisted her into the carriage she’d rented earlier. Night had fallen quickly, murky darkness replacing the hazy twilight. They moved back onto the narrow, winding path that led back to the docks. The path had been cut into the mountain, where one side hugged the wet, green, tangled face of the cliff, while the other side—the side where she sat—was nothing but a sheer precipice that dropped off to the sharp rocks and crashing waves below,
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