In the agonizing silence, Claire held her breath. Would he reveal everything?
Devon smiled, but after a long moment managed to present a serious face. “Eternal lovers... Faith, that is a new experience for me. In my years as a physician, I have yet to see that practiced and look forward to see the deed done.”
“Eternal lovers. Eternal lovers.”Claire raced her mare about the island, the drumming of the hooves pounding in her head over and over again. Where had Mary selected that from? And leave it to Devon to pick up on that bit of information. She set her knees into the horse’s flanks, thankful his double entendre passed over everyone’s head. She avoided the wretched blackguard for another week, and she triumphed with her evasion, yet the circumvention did little to assuage the anger and shakiness, haunted by her promise.
Sir Jeffrey wasted no time in his courtship. He approached her uncle, and since then, idled hours at the manor house, demanding her attention. Never able to get past the nose and lace, she grew distrustful beneath his narrowed eyes. He devoured her like a hawk.
Visiting the governor’s home became impossible. One never knew when the Governor’s feet would act up. To be lashed by Devon Blackmon’s taunts, repulsed her, but no more than the sniffing, whining, pompous, Sir Jeffrey. She missed her visits with the governor and his wife. But Mary proved to be on a mission, and there would be no deterrence of her efforts to see her wed to Sir Jeffrey. Why Mary had even procured samples of ivory silks for a wedding gown for Claire to approve.
Claire slowed her mare to a canter, discovering minor solace from her self-imposed isolation. She attempted to seize upon the day. The sun, a great dragon held court over the earth. A myriad of vibrantly hued blossoms, their heavy fragrance rising on fitful breezes allayed the heaviness in her chest. She rounded a bend on a sandy road. A well-dressed stranger emerged up ahead. Curious, she slowed her mare to a trot. A visitor perhaps? She raised an eyebrow, a rare enough occasion for someone new to the island. He had his head down when she greeted him.
“Good day, sir.” She said and then believed him peculiar when he remained mute. She moved past him.
A long bronze arm shot out and snatched the reins of her horse.
“How dare you.” She raised her silver-handled whip.
From beneath the broad brim of his straw hat rose a swarthy face that would forever remain tattooed on her brain.
“You.”
“Good day, Madame Blackmon. It is always a pleasure to have the bride look upon her husband’s countenance with such tender regard.”
“Release my horse at once.”
“And deny a rare treat for this poor slave to feast his eyes on his wife’s beautiful visage? Eternal lovers. I went to bed with that thought on my mind, now having you caress me with those lovely eyes of yours again, has destroyed my common sense.”
“As if you had any common sense. You will cease to mock me with your vulgarities.”
“But a promise made is a bargain to be kept,” he reminded her. “Do you know how I ache to put my arms around you; to draw you near, to feel your softness?”
His fingers stroked the hem of her dress where it molded around her calf. Her pulse raced. He made her feel like she was on fire. “Dr. Blackmon.” Claire jerked the bridle away.
He held firm, her departure arrested. “It’s a fine day. I promise to behave if you throw me a morsel of conversation. In fact, let’s negotiate. I’ll consider your time in payment for services rendered in curing your Cookie.”
Why was a slave moving freely about the island? To gain any profit her uncle would rent out the slave and extract a heavy fee for his services. Claire sighed. Devon would be everywhere.
His face remained as innocent as a schoolboy. Did he not bring Cookie through her illness when all hope was lost? That reminder touched her heart. She remained grateful to him for what he had done. And then too, the isolation of the past days had grown wearisome, leaving her feeling neglected. Not giving him an inch, she said, “Like a blade returned to its scabbard. Very well, begin your prattle, but don’t stretch my charity.”
He laughed at her insult and took off his hat, his black hair gleaming in the sunlight. “And since you are dying to know what I am about−” He held his hat to his chest in mock humility. “I’m calling on the Johnson sisters.”
Her interest heightened when he mentioned the three spinsters. “With none of them married and reaching their majority, I imagine your visits are the bright light of their day.”
One dark eyebrow arched. He grinned. “It’s out of favor I am with the vinegary virgins.”
“I find that hard to contemplate. Your silver-tongue can cajole the hardiest of maidens.”
Devon tossed his hat onto a bush. “Most hardened and ancient maidens. Each with not one pink tooth left in her mouth and a tongue like an asp if you earn their displeasure.”
Claire laughed, his depiction accurate. “You are disrespectful.”
Devon shrugged his shoulders, his appearance sublime. “Summoned often to care for their complaints as is my duty thrust upon me to answer that command.”
“Your humility is an art.”
“No humility at all. The spinsters feed and clothe me well.” He spread his arms. “These fine clothes are in appreciation for my services.”
“For a slave, your status is much altered,” she said and could see the meals the spinsters fed him had filled him out quite well.
