Silver Storm (The Raveneau Novels #1) (19 page)

* * *

"I think that I will be able to go tomorrow
night," Azalea decided.

Startled, Devon looked up from her sewing.
The two girls had been sitting quietly all morning on the sofa.
Azalea was reading a romantic novel, while Devon worked on one of
the two dresses for which her friend had given her material.

"Well, Devon, you needn't look so shocked! My
ankle is fine. I scarcely limp at all. Besides, why should you have
all the fun? This will probably be the last message. The battle is
bound to begin soon, and when it's over, winter will have set in
and I'll be bored, bored, bored. You'll have gone off with that
fiancé of yours, and I'll be left with Mama and Pa. I just can't
miss tomorrow night!"

Devon's heart sank. If Azalea went, she would
probably never see Jay again. She would have nothing to look
forward to, nothing to dream about.

But what of Azalea? Didn't she deserve a
taste of adventure as well? Devon had discovered so many hints of
her own selfishness lately that she was beginning to feel like a
stranger to herself. Maybe the time had come to make a decision,
rather than allowing life to just sweep her helplessly along.

"If you are certain that your ankle is strong
enough, then I agree that you should go. You and this Jay seem to
be such
close
friends after all."

Azalea's eyes were twinkling with mischievous
curiosity. "Why, Devon, are you jealous? For all your declarations
of faithful love for your Morgan, I'll wager you're not immune to a
man like Jay." She leaned closer, whispering suggestively, "Tell
the truth. Don't you think he's delicious?"

Devon found herself blushing. Hastily she
threw up a barrier of outrage. "You are truly terrible! I think
it's a mistake for you to marry at all, Azalea. What will happen
when you have to live every day with one man? Does Isaac know how
fickle you are?"

Azalea laughed, running a hand through her
gleaming curls. "Isaac is a quieter sort. I suppose we complement
each other. He'd never admit it, but the wild streak in me excites
him. Besides, I have to think of the years ahead. I want children
and I love this land and the challenge of rebuilding the farm.
There won't be many men like Jay roaming about... he'll be gone
forever once the war's over. And Andre, too." She sighed, her doe
eyes wistful. "Besides, Isaac worships me, and I need that from a
man if it's going to last. Men like Jay and Andre could never give
me that. They live only for the moment, then it's on to the next
breathless female. Why should they marry? They've got the whole
world at their feet."

Devon pricked herself with the needle. She
watched a crimson drop of blood form at the tip of her finger and
nodded. "You're right... of course." Her eyes lifted to meet
Azalea's gaze. "I'm glad I didn't get involved. I couldn't take it
all in the same spirit you do. It would be hard to go to Morgan
after a man like Jay, or Raveneau... I'm afraid I'd never stop
comparing."

Azalea shrugged. "I don't have that problem.
I hoard my memories. They'll keep me warm when I'm old like
Mama."

* * *

Nights on the farm were friendly and
peaceful. The darkness draped the house like a velvet cover and
night birds called from the woods.

Devon lay alone in the attic bed, dreaming of
old age with Morgan. He was pale and thin and feeble, with tears in
his eyes. In her dream he sat alone in the drug shop, too frail to
clear away the dust and cobwebs that filled the room and repelled
customers. Devon saw herself, solitary and shriveled, in a room
upstairs, identical to the living quarters above the Linen and
Pewter Shop. Portraits of faceless children and grandchildren lined
the walls; she was sitting by the window, watching the people pass
below.

Devon awoke repeatedly, but the loathsome
dream returned whenever she dozed off again. It filled her with
sickening dread. Finally she got out of bed and crossed the floor
to look outside, hoping to see Azalea. Part of her was worried; the
same evening errand had brought
her
back to the house at
least an hour earlier. Could Azalea have hurt herself again?

Devon's instincts suggested that the delay
was not due to any accident. The odds were that Azalea was out
there hoarding memories with the Blue Jay...

A scolding cry pierced the night and Devon
straightened her back, alert. It couldn't be! she told herself in
an effort to still her racing pulse. She tried to remember if she
had ever heard a blue jay call at night. Perhaps it was some other
bird. Then she spotted Azalea creeping out of the trees, clad in
her brother's breeches. She hadn't wanted to wear them, but Devon,
worried about her ankle, had insisted.

There was a trellis that reached to their
bedroom window. Devon watched anxiously as her friend climbed up,
then crawled over to Devon's outstretched arms.

"Are you all right? Where have you been? I've
been worried sick!"

Azalea's face was radiant. "That was
wonderful. I'd forgotten what such excitement is like!"

"I'm so glad it was worthwhile for you!"
Devon heard the brittle tone of her voice and flushed when Azalea
stared at her in surprise. "It's fortunate that you didn't reinjure
your ankle. I certainly wouldn't have wanted to nurse you back to
health a second time!"

"Then we are both happy," Azalea remarked
coolly. "If you are done being mean-spirited, I think you should
get out of that bedgown and into some clothes. Jay brought me back
to the farm to be sure I didn't fall again. He wants to see
you."

"He does? Me?" A wave of elation washed over
Devon, sweeping away all the lonely, bad feelings. "I wonder what
he wants."

* * *

Jay stood in shadow, surrounded by hickory
trees. As Devon approached, she could see that his disguise was
intact, from tricorn hat and mask to his gloved hands and
midnight-blue cape. Only the gleam of white teeth betrayed his
mood.

"I am glad you could make it," he murmured in
the husky voice she had tried to re-create in her daydreams. "I
like the gown. I wish I could have helped you down from the
roof."

"You are a wicked person." Devon smiled. She
wanted to laugh out loud, to dance and clap her hands.

"That doesn't seem to bother you."

"I can see why you are so pleased with
yourself, with both Azalea and me sneaking off into the woods to
see you."

"Well, Azalea was serving her country." His
grin was irreverent.

"And what am I doing?"

"Saying goodbye." One gloved hand caught hers
and Devon swayed as his fingers tightened. "I wanted to express my
gratitude. You took risks for an important cause."

Devon flushed guiltily, knowing that she had
only craved adventure. "Well..."

"Is there anything I can do for you? I won't
be back again, but I will be going to Yorktown. Can I carry a
message for
you
this time?"

Devon thought of Andre Raveneau, and hated
herself for it. It was Morgan she was supposed to want! In the inky
darkness she tried to read Jay's shadowed eyes. What was he
thinking? "No," she said. "When the battle is over, I shall have to
carry my own messages. But if you should happen to meet..."

"Yes?" His voice chilled.

"Never mind."

Slowly he drew her closer, looking down at
her delicate, expressive face. His other hand reached out to smooth
her shining curls. "You are an enchanting girl, Devon." Gently, he
lifted her off the ground, kissing her mouth, tasting its hesitant,
quavering response. Her arms went around his neck and she could
feel the heavy wool of his cape through her thin bodice. It seemed
that her heart would shatter, so frenzied was its pounding. Jay's
steely arms held her prisoner, and she trembled with a thousand
conflicting emotions, both physical and mental.

"I want you," he whispered, his breath harsh
against her ear. "Can you give yourself to me? Or... is your heart
with another man?"

His words broke the spell. Like a specter,
Raveneau's chiseled, sardonic face filled her vision, and it seemed
that his arms held her, rather than Jay's. It would be wrong, she
thought. I cannot complicate things any further. I am betrothed to
a boy and haunted by a man who has left my life forever. If I'd
face up to it, I would admit that Jay is only a substitute for
Raveneau.

Tears sparkled in her sapphire eyes. "I
sometimes feel that I don't know myself any more," she whispered
apologetically.

Jay inclined his dark head, waiting.

"I won't be able to face myself in the
morning if I go with you. Please... I'm sorry, but you're right. My
heart is with someone else."

"That is all I wanted to know." Jay's voice
was strangely bitter. He released her and stepped back. "Good
fortune to you, Devon. I hope your young man appreciates you." His
gloved hand lifted hers and firm lips burned her soft palm.
"Adieu, cherie."

Devon stood frozen amidst the hickory trees,
watching as the Blue Jay's dark, broad-shouldered figure melted
into the night. I'll never see him again, she thought, and felt
tears sting her eyelids. Is it possible that he could have cared
for me a little, or was that an act he has performed for dozens of
girls before me? And why would he refer to my young man?

She mulled that over on her way back to the
farmhouse, and even awoke Azalea to discuss the matter with her.
The older girl scanned her face sleepily for a long, tense moment.
"You've read too many novels, Devon," she said at last, her voice
jaunty. "There's a simple explanation. I told Jay about Morgan, but
I suppose he figured you were worth a try, anyway."

"Oh. I see."

"Jay never could resist a challenge." Azalea
rolled over and pulled up the covers again.

"You make it sound as though you have known
him so long! Do you know who Jay really is?"

"Perhaps," Azalea teased. "But I'd never tell
you even if I did know. Let me go back to sleep. You just put him
out of your mind, Devon. The Blue Jay is gone, and I don't think he
will
ever
be back."

***~~~***

Mid-October, 1781

A fortnight passed with agonizing slowness.
Azalea and Devon found themselves starting at every noise,
wondering how events were progressing at Yorktown. The town was
only fifteen miles across the peninsula, and sometimes the two of
them lay awake at night and made detailed plans to travel there on
horseback, just to find out for themselves what was happening. They
both knew this was an idle dream—neither wished to
die
for
adventure's sake. There was no sign of either the first messenger
or the Blue Jay. Devon hadn't expected a reappearance, but
continued to hope for one during the long, tedious October
days.

One morning in mid-October, Devon rose early
and crept out for a solitary ride. After saddling the aging mare,
she set off across the farm. It was cold and clear; the trees
created bouquets of rust and gold, and the sight of them made Devon
homesick for the brilliant autumns of Connecticut. The wind put
roses in her cheeks and tangles in her curls, and she began to feel
briefly like her old self again: free, impetuous, and
confident.

As she approached the uncleared oak and
chestnut trees on the farm's border, Devon made ready to turn the
mare back. Suddenly she spied another horse emerging from the
woods, the rider half slumped on its back. Devon called out and
urged the mare forward. As they drew near, the man raised his head
and she saw that it was Halsey Minter.

"Minter! What has happened to you?"

He was pale, his lips dry and cracked. "I
was... wounded." He gestured weakly to the bandages under his coat.
"I'll be fine—but the captain thought it best for me to come
home."

"You look terrible. Come on, let's get you
into bed." Devon desperately wanted to ask about Raveneau, but she
swallowed her questions and led Halsey's horse back to the
house.

The rest of the Minters were awake and eating
breakfast, but even Jud interrupted his meal at the sight of his
son, leaning against Devon in the doorway. The old man was on his
feet before his wife could move. He almost carried Halsey upstairs
to the large four-poster, where he quickly removed his boots and
coat. When the boy was lying back against the pillow, Mrs. Minter
undid his bandaged shoulder to inspect the wound.

"Nothing serious," Halsey protested. "It only
needs to heal."

"Hmm. I'll admit it's been well cared for.
‘Tis clean."

"Captain Raveneau did it. When our ship's
surgeon saw the wound, he said he couldn't have done neater work
himself."

"A marvel of a man!" declared Jud, and his
wife nodded agreement.

"’Tis not the first time he has come to our
aid," she said.

Devon asked, "Where were you wounded—at
Yorktown?"

"Yes. Damn, I'm thirsty."

His mother frowned at the vulgarity but
brought him water, and after a few greedy swallows, Halsey
continued. "The captain decided that we could do more fighting on
land, since the sea battle was over. He left a skeleton crew on the
Black Eagle
to maintain the blockade, but the rest of us
sailed for Yorktown in that same cutter you and I used, Devon."

"Andre, what about Andre?" Devon demanded,
unable to stop the words.

But Halsey's eyes were drooping and Mrs.
Minter shook her head, saying there was plenty of time to hear the
rest of the story. He slept instantly.

Azalea and Devon, consumed by curiosity,
spent the day pacing the floor, waiting for him to awaken. The
aroma of glazed ham and corn bread filled the air by the time
Halsey's brown eyes fluttered open. The girls rushed to his
side.

"Mama's fixing your favorite supper," Azalea
told him. "We've all helped. There's even apple pie."