Keys clanked. The outer door’s lock turned over in the tumbler. Devon rose and dropped his blanket. Best face whatever was coming on his feet. The potbellied jailer swung a lantern and stepped to the side.
Devon blinked in the light.
Another lantern and another man. Moyer. Dressed in his finest as if he’d stopped by on the way to the ball. Someone moved from behind, also dressed for the gala. Burgundy gown, white lace, and a dark-green cape.
Morning Fawn. Devon’s knees wobbled. His breath left him. He sputtered out a cough.
Her hair was drawn back from her face in a mass of waves and curls. A tiara encircled the crown of her head. Emerald earrings swung from her ears, a perfect match to the necklace which adorned her neck.
Moyer strutted forth. “I promised to bring my betrothed to say goodbye.”
Devon clenched his hands at his sides. What he wouldn’tgive to lay his fists into that smug snout. “You make a mockery of the word ‘betrothed.’ Coercing a woman is hardly something to brag about.”
“I’d never force a woman to marry me.”
“You must have left all of the dirty dealing to her uncle, then.”
Morning Fawn said nothing to disavow the claim. Her face tight and pale, she stepped toward the bars.
Moyer waved the jailer away. “Wait outside the door.”
Devon ran a trembling hand over his face and hair, beyond repair.
She wrapped her gloved fingers around the bars. He couldn’t reach them. The chain rattled as he tried.
Moyer chuckled. “I’ve been telling Morning Fawn how you gave yourself up to save the Schramm girl.”
Morning Fawn? That was his name for her, no one else’s. Devon ground his molars. Of course, this devil would work every angle he could to worm dissent between him and the woman he loved. “Frieda disobeyed orders. She was supposed to flee. Instead, she showed up with a canoe. I couldn’t let her be shot or hung on my account, just as I wouldn’t allow any woman die for me if I could help it. I’d have done the same for a seventy-year-old grandmother.”
Morning Fawn stared at him, wounded doe eyes filled with depths he couldn’t fathom.
He pivoted and uncurled his chain from its post in the floor.
“Pity it didn’t amount to much.” Moyer hung the lantern from a hook.
The chain length or the mission? “Don’t tell me it didn’t mean anything. I smelled smoke for three days afterward.”
“A few bales. We snuffed that one out. And then a bit of the roof of the depot. Nothing more.”
“He’s lying.” Her words sounded as if they were pouredthrough sand. “You destroyed the depot. And burned countless bales of cotton.”
Moyer stuck his hands in his pockets. “Fables to comfort the dying.”
Morning Fawn flinched.
Devon strode forward and yanked. Three feet closer. With his arms stretched, he curled his fingers around the bars just below Morning Fawn’s.
She startled as if she might withdraw.
Dear God, no. Don’t let her go. Don’t let her believe the devil’s lies about Frieda. His breath came short as he lost himself in her hazel gaze. “You’re the woman I love. You are the woman I wanted…wantto spend the rest of my life with.”
“I love you. And only you.” Her words latched hold of his sinking heart and thrust it toward daylight. “Forever.”
Moyer snorted. “It’s time to go.”
“Don’t marry him.” Devon slipped his hands up over hers. Couldn’t she take off the gloves? What if he never saw her again on this earth? “You’d be better off scrubbing floors than to spend one day with the likes of him.”George will have a horse. Find the safe house.He mouthed the words.
Her lips moved.
