Her eyes flew open at his accusation. “I-I told you, I wanted you to be the one.”
In agony Devon did not move, did not dare too. He closed his eyes and bent his forehead to hers, breathing heavily. He sure as hell needed release. Needed to plow himself into the whole inside of her. He damned Claire for not telling him, but niggling in the back of his mind, she had. Most of all he damned himself for doubting her.
“Contrary to what you might think of me, Claire, I would not take you and then walk away. I’m not without conscience.”
Claire cradled his face between her palms and with heart-rending tenderness, said, “I want it to be you, Devon. Only you.” Devon’s control was destroyed with her words. He started to move again. She thrust her loins against him, and it was his final undoing, he pulled all the way back, and−
The door slammed open like an explosion. Lily rushed inside.
“Christ!” shouted Devon, grabbing the sheets to cover their nakedness.
“You have to leave now!” Lily’s cheeks flamed red as the flush of dawn when she witnessed their state of undress, the act so clear.
Like a bucket of icy water thrust over his head, Devon drew back. “What is the meaning of this?”
Lily froze. Her mouth open, she turned away. “Jarvis is coming. He discovered Claire ordered a slave to clean the cottage this morning and that you had been ordered here. He put two and two together. He will kill you, Devon if he finds you here. I am afraid of what he will do to Claire.”
Lily picked up Claire’s dress and tossed it to her. “My horse is tied up in the back along the path. Hurry!” She tossed his breeches to him. She fled into the other room. Devon jerked on his breeches. Claire threw on her dress. Devon listened to the clink of glasses as Lily packed up any evidence to be seen. Horses approached. Men shouted.
“You need to leave. Now!” Lily hissed.
Without a word, he turned, yanked on his shirt, scooped up his bag, and followed Claire out the back door. Claire led him down a path, a sea of ferns waved against their legs; her uncle’s pounding on the cottage door reverberating through the forests. A flock of yellow-billed parrots flew up to the sky. They remained undiscovered. Lily intervened, answering Jarvis’s loud inquiries.
“You must go,” Claire bid him.
He didn’t budge. “How do I know Jarvis will not harm you?” He would not see her again. He planned to escape the next night. Someday, he vowed, he would return for her. He grabbed her, kissed her long, soulfully, savagely, until the blood pounded in his brain. “We met in the gaol and on this island. Did you ever entertain that divine interference with the ordinary course of nature would have such consequence? That an attempt to find a cause for such fate to be the result of more than mere chance? I ask you to think about the possibility, Claire.”
He hated the thought of parting from her for even a minute. She wanted him, and if she weren’t so damned stubborn, she would have known it long ago. She was his wife and he wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything in his life. He wanted to fill her days with joy and her nights with pleasure, until she loved himas much as he loved her.
As a slave, his life was done. He could offer her nothing. To survive he’d have to leave her behind. It remained the only logical thing to do, and he hated the very thought of that logic.
Lily’s voice grew shrill, warning them.
“There’s nothing more,” Claire said, though it was on the tip of her tongue to beg him to whisk her away, to escape to some distant place, to take her far from the troubles that plagued her. But there was no such heaven, only a wild imagining. Her life was no fairy tale. She remained trapped. There arose no knight in shining armor to come to her rescue. “What I want is for you to go,” she said. “You must go before my uncle finds you. Take Lily’s horse. Oh please before you− we−are discovered. You must leave!”
Devon straddled the nag and paused. “Someday, I promise I will finish what we started.” He smiled wickedly and bent over for one last kiss. He turned the nag, gave a sharp tap with his heels. She watched the forest consume him. He was gone, vanished, with not even a bush stirring on the side of the forest to mark his passage. Claire hesitated lost in a wave of confused emotions, unable to explain the painful knot in her throat.Was it fate brought on by more than mere chance that brought them together?
Her hands flew to her face. She had lain with a slave, a felon. Oh the things he’d done to her. The pink rose from her toes to her hair roots. Was the bargain complete? As far as she was concerned the promise was fulfilled.
“Did you like the coat I sent you?” The husky voice took Devon by surprise. Anne Jensen, Port Royale’s leading prostitute, invited herself aboard the wherry, docked at the end of the harbor where the vessel would be out of sight. Devon’s patience flared. Anne would be noticed. Women on shipboard were nothing but problems. The last hour he devoted to going over plans with Dooley would have to end.
Dooley had done well, finding a serviceable wherry, its prior owner inclined to dispose. For extra coins, Dooley concealed necessary stores of a hundredweight of bread, a quantity of cheese, a cask of water and some bottles of rum, a compass, quadrant, chart, half-hour glass, log and line, a tarpaulin, some carpenter’s tools, and a lantern and candles. Dooley, of course, would accompany them, a man owed to the sea as a seasoned shipwright, and eager to be free of his debts. Devon looked to the sky and fair-weather clouds. If all went well, their escape would go as planned, but a crosswind shifted from the west, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. The weather, like a woman, reared unpredictable and ruthless.
He could not be caught on a vessel, and now with Anne aboard, he was surely to capture attention. Anne had made it clear on more than one occasion that Devon was far more to her taste despite his lack of coin. He took great care where she was concerned for her power reached far, including the ear of Jarvis who for change of a shilling fattened her purse for services rendered. To hear of his slave upon a boat readied for sea would spell disaster.Best to cajole than to earn her scorn. Devon sighed. He looked down at her, posturing and preening before him, her ample breasts bared by the scarlet low-cut blouse she wore.
“Faith Anne, I loved the coat more than you’ll ever know,” said Devon, putting his thumbs beneath the lapels, feeling the lightened weight of the coat, lessened from his dealings.
“Was it adequate payment, if not, I could offer you something more−”
“Ah lass, it’s an inspiring thought to be sure, but a simple kiss is all the thanks I need.” He swung around on a rope to offer his cheek. Anne had different ideas. With strength born of an ox, she clutched him to her, kissing him long and hard. Vise-like arms hooked around his neck to anchor him to her massive breasts. Devon lost his balance and fell in a hard snap to the deck. Anne sprawled on top of him. Her ample weight pinned him, her skirts flew up over her naked hips. Devon wrestled to remove her bulk from his person, but it only encouraged and excited her.
“I knew you’d like it rough, my proud peacock. You’ve been avoiding me, but you’ll love me when I’m done with you.” Her wide tongue licked up the side of his face. Sharp teeth bit his ear. She laughed then stuck her tongue in his mouth. The foul taste of stale rum disgusted him. Cheap perfume mingled then lost to the scent of her unwashed body, nauseated him. But what revolted him more was when her hand worked its way down to his breeches to clutch his manhood.
On the hill above Port Royale, the three Johnson sisters hailed Claire from their open carriage. She reined in her horse to chat and bit her lip, calling to mind, Devon’s ‘Vinegary Virgins’ and the ever-present pinched expression on their faces. “How are affairs on your side of the island?” she asked, wondering what possible need for conversation the sisters desired. They had never sought her out before, mainly keeping to themselves.
“Interesting don’t you think, your slave with Anne Jensen and on a ship,” said Agatha the eldest, her nose halfway down to her mouth.
Claire blinked. “Pardon me?” What were they talking about?
