Silver Storm (The Raveneau Novels #1) (18 page)

The swarthy little man considered this. He
studied Devon's earnest, innocent face and decided to trust her.
"My eventual destination is Yorktown."

She grinned, warming to the adventure. "Do
you have a message for the Blue Jay?"

"Yes." His smile was almost imperceptible.
Extracting an envelope from his inner pocket, the man held it out
to Devon. "Do you know where to find Jay?"

"Yes. Azalea told me."

"Hurry, then. I will be here again in three
days." With that, the man turned and disappeared into the trees.
Devon found herself following, but when she reached the edge of the
woods, he was nowhere to be seen.

It was dark by the time Devon reached Azalea
again. She paused there only long enough to be certain her friend
was able to endure the wait; then, at Azalea's urging, she set off
for the giant oak.

Luckily, the moon shone brightly and Devon
had quite a clear view of the trees. She thought she saw the oak
several times, but closer inspection failed to reveal the A she
sought.

Finally, there it was. The tree was immense,
and even in the moonlight Devon could see the yellow tint of the
leaves and the large A carved into the trunk. Standing beside it,
she wondered idly what the letter stood for. Had Isaac carved it
for the A that began his sweetheart's name? Or was it Azalea's
work? Could it stand for Andre—the pirate she had loved but
couldn't keep?

Devon heard a soft splash and glanced toward
the water, her heart beating with fearful excitement. She saw the
boat a short distance downstream, then a man walking toward her in
the darkness.

He was very tall, possibly as tall as
Raveneau, Devon thought, with wide shoulders covered by a
midnight-blue cape. He wore a tricorn hat tilted forward, a black
silk mask over his eyes and nose, and knee boots. Doeskin gloves
covered his hands, while a short, bristly beard concealed the lower
half of his face.

"What are you doing here?" Blue Jay asked in
a husky, French-accented voice.

"Azalea hurt her ankle. I discovered her, so
she asked me to do her—errand."

"What is your name?" His eyes glittered as he
loomed over her.

"Devon."

"You are very beautiful, Devon." One side of
his mouth curved upward.

She blushed for the first time in a week.
"Me?"

"Do you wish me to insist?"

"You must think I am a poor replacement for
Azalea." What am I saying? she thought. How can I flirt with this
stranger out here alone in the dark?

"On the contrary. I find you refreshing and
delightful. Azalea is an entirely different type."

"I think this is a ludicrous conversation. I
don't even know you!"

"Do you wish to?" The other side of his mouth
went up in a wicked smile.

"No, I mean—Oh! You are insolent, sir, and I
must ask you to stop!"

"And if I do not?" He stepped nearer. He
smelled of tobacco and brandy... and man.

"Please—"

"I could never hurt you intentionally, my
lady," he whispered. "I shall do as you ask. The message?"

Devon colored again as she realized she had
put it into her bodice for safekeeping. Jay grinned when she
produced it.

"I shall treasure this," he murmured. One
gloved hand reached out to clasp her own lightly. His eyes were on
her face as he lifted her fingers to his mouth. A tingling warmth
coursed up Devon's arm when he kissed her palm, his beard tickling
her soft skin.

"Adieu,
Devon," he said huskily.
"Until—"

"Three nights from now," she replied,
somewhat stunned by her response to so simple a gesture.

He began to turn away, then said, "I am
ashamed of myself. Your lovely presence has caused me to forget
poor Azalea. Has she found a way to return home?"

"No! Could you help her? She has been lying
in the grass for more than an hour and I have truly wondered how I
would be able to get her back in the dark."

Without another word, Jay gestured for Devon
to lead the way. He took her arm in a hard grasp as they walked,
keeping her from stumbling when her skirts became tangled.

Before long they reached Azalea's side. She
had fallen asleep, so the spy lifted her into his arms as though
she were a child. "Come," he said over one shoulder, "let us get
her home."

Devon felt uneasily envious of Azalea. She
wondered how it would feel to be held in that man's arms. As she
was thinking this, Azalea awoke, purring adorably. She registered
no surprise at finding herself in Jay's arms, but nestled against
him and cooed, "Well, I am glad I got to see you after all!" She
put a creamy hand up to his beard. "I like this.
Very
mysterious!"

"For a young lady who has hurt her ankle, you
seem remarkably cheerful," he remarked sardonically.

Devon, tripping along behind them, was beset
by an unaccountable urge to break Azalea's other ankle.

Jay left Azalea and Devon outside the front
door, and with a wave of his gloved hand, disappeared into the
trees. That left Mrs. Minter to contend with. It was bad enough
that they had missed the supper she had labored over for hours, but
her suspicions about Azalea's activities and her alarm over her
daughter's ankle caused a deluge of questions, nagging, and
scolding. Devon got her share as well, for she declined to confide
in the old woman, supporting Azalea's tale of a simple walk and a
misstep into a simple hole. Eventually, the girls were grudgingly
served portions of reheated stew and cold corn bread, which they
dutifully praised.

At last Devon assisted a pale Azalea up the
narrow stairway. Alone in their bedroom, they undressed and Devon
helped the other girl get into a bedgown. Both were silent, mulling
over their separate thoughts, but once in bed with the candle out,
Azalea asked conversationally, "How do you like being a spy?"

"I hate to admit it, but I found it rather
fun!"

"Oh, really? And Jay—how did you find
him?"

Devon froze. "I liked him."

"He reminds
me
of Andre."

"I suppose," Devon mused. "But Jay is much
less sarcastic and more charming."

Azalea peered through the darkness. "Are you
looking forward to your next meeting?"

"Azalea! You ought to know better than to ask
me questions like that!"

"You can't blame a girl for trying! You sound
angry—that must be a sign of something." She yawned extravagantly.
"You know, I'm frightfully tired... think I'll just close my
eyes..."

She fell asleep almost immediately, leaving
Devon to stare up at the shadow patterns on the slanted ceiling.
There was no doubt about it... she certainly had felt something for
the mysterious Jay! Part of her was elated and relieved to know
that Andre Raveneau was not the only man who could send hot and
cold chills down her spine. Yet another part of her wondered if she
found Jay so attractive only because he reminded her so poignantly
of Raveneau.

* * *

When the girls awoke the next morning, they
found that Azalea's ankle was still swollen. When she moved it
experimentally, she let out a squeal of pain.

Her infirmity left Devon free to run over the
farm as she pleased. She divided her time between helping Mrs.
Minter, conversing with a bored and restless Azalea, and slipping
outdoors for an hour or two of solitude. Devon thought about
Raveneau and Morgan and the spy, Jay, a great deal. She wondered
what her future would hold, and whether she could ever regain the
old relationship with Morgan if she found him.

On the third day after Azalea's injury, Devon
felt nervous from the moment she awoke. She found herself
constantly picturing the events of the evening to come, making up
dialogue for herself and Jay and visualizing him in her mind. When
four o'clock arrived, she put on her breeches and set off to meet
him, having memorized at least a dozen witty rejoinders.

Devon's heart raced with excitement all the
way to the fork in the inlet. She couldn't remember the last time
she had felt such delicious anticipation. The same small, swarthy
man came out of the trees to meet her, smiling.

"I am glad to see you here—"

"Devon," she supplied, returning his smile.
"Will you tell me your name?"

"I cannot. I am sorry. How is Miss
Minter?"

"Except for her ankle, she is fine. She's had
to stay inside, and that makes her cross."

"I can imagine. You may tell her that I have
news of her fiancé and he is well."

"She will be cheered to hear that." Devon
paused. "It is probably silly for me to ask, but have you heard of
a young man named Morgan Gadwin? He is part of a Connecticut
regiment—"

"No, I am sorry. Your brother?"

"Actually, he is
my
fiancé." It didn't
sound true even to her own ears.

"You have come to Virginia to look for
him?"

"Yes."

"Then I wish you good fortune, Devon." He
fished inside his coat for the envelope and handed it to her. "By
the way, you look very well in breeches." He flashed an impish
smile. "I hope to see either you or Miss Minter one week from
tonight," he said, and turned to leave.

Devon tucked the envelope into a pocket and
started back toward the yellow-leaved oak. Darkness was gathering
quickly now. Crickets chirped, owls hooted, and from time to time
Devon heard a strange animal noise.

The moon was hidden behind a blanket of
clouds, but Devon found her way to the giant oak as if by instinct.
It was chilly; a breeze off the water ruffled her red-gold curls
and she crossed her arms to ward off the cold. She was lost in
thought by the time Jay arrived. This time Devon saw no boat. He
came from behind, soundlessly, and put his hands on her shoulders,
causing her to jump with fright.

"My God!" she gasped, her blue eyes
sparkling. "You scared me half to death!"

"May I feel your heartbeat?" Jay inquired,
trying to repress a smile.

Devon almost agreed until she realized that
her heart lay behind her breasts. "Men! You think only of one
thing."

"I think that you enjoy my interest," he
murmured huskily, his French accent pronounced. "And if all men
think alike around you, you have only yourself to blame for being
so lovely."

"You say these things to amuse yourself," she
accused. "You flirt with every female you meet. I saw the way you
looked at Azalea and I heard you cooing at her."

Jay's mouth was bent in a half-smile. "You
may believe whatever you need to be content."

"Fine." Devon glared at him, wishing she had
the courage to pull off his mask. "I am curious... why do you
affect this disguise?"

"Affect?" Jay repeated, obviously amused.
"Devon, your choice of words hurts me deeply. Are you not impressed
by the fact that I am important enough to keep my identity a
secret?"

"No!" she lied.

"That is a pity. But it will not persuade me
to unmask."

"Do you want this message, or have you come
only to tease me?"

"Of course I want the message... but I would
like you as well."

"I am not available at this time,
sir.
Here is your letter. I must say, I cannot understand why you two
men don't just meet together and avoid all this confusion. You
certainly take yourselves seriously!"

"That's true; we do. And so would the British
if they caught us together." Jay read the letter quickly, then
tucked it beneath his cape, a smile flickering at the corners of
his mouth. "You look charming in those breeches, cherie. Where did
you get them?"

"I—oh, never mind! It's none of your
affair."

"You are quite rude, do you know that?"

"Your insolence invites rudeness!"

"That is not what I meant to invite." His
smile gleamed in the darkness and Devon went weak. "Now, I am
giving you this letter to keep until the next time you meet my
comrade. When will that be?"

"Not for a week."

"So be it. Protect this well. I am counting
on you to see that it reaches his hands."

"Do you trust me so much?"

"Should I not?" Jay smiled. “You are the
picture of integrity."

She eyed him warily while putting his letter
in her pocket.

"I must go now," he whispered. "I know that
you would not accept this for yourself, so let us call it a
get-well message for Azalea."

To her total astonishment, his gloved hands
reached out and pulled her against the length of his body. Warm,
determined lips came down over her own, forcing a response that she
could not conceal. Her hands fluttered, then caressed the hard
strength of his arms until he shifted to hold her nearer. She spun
in a dizzying whirlpool, her body hot and trembling against his.
She wished his kiss would never end, but of course it did. She
stared at him as though mesmerized, one hand reaching up to touch
his close-cropped beard.

"I can see you are a true friend to Azalea,"
Jay murmured ironically. "You knew exactly what she would need to
aid in her recovery."

* * *

Azalea breathed softly in the darkness, while
Devon rolled from side to side, trying to find a comfortable
position. It must be the middle of the night, she thought
despairingly. This is awful, terrible. I must get to sleep!

Endlessly, her mind replayed the few moments
when Jay had kissed her and she had been trapped in a web of magic
not unlike Raveneau's own. Part of her was shocked that she should
be so undone by physical desire, particularly for a man whom she
barely knew.

Yet Devon found herself mulling over the
inescapable conclusion that she could respond to a man other than
Andre. She had believed that he alone had the power to make her
hungry for a man's touch, kiss, and even that complete union.
Knowing that a future with him was impossible, Devon had feared
that she would go through life deprived, remembering the fire he
had lit in her body. But now, after Jay, she hoped that she might
find that magic a third time. Morgan might hold the key to her
future after all.