Surrender the Stars (55 page)

Caro—how she liked the way Alec pronounced her new nickname!—sat quietly for a few minutes, her profile pensive in the firelight. Finally, Alec broke the silence.

"You look like you're trying to remember something
."

"I am." She paused. "You know, I feel as if I know all about myself, but for the moment it all eludes me. It's as though it's there, in my head, but I cannot reach it."

"Or perhaps you don't want to," he offered gently.

"What do you mean?"

"Only that whatever is in your past may be so painful to you that you've buried it—blocked it out—without even realizing it."

Their eyes met, and though she did not speak, Alec knew that she understood what he was saying. Her face was so lovely, and in it he could see bewilderment and fear.

The air was growing colder and Alec moved forward from the shadows to add more wood to the fire. Caro observed him with interest, uneasily aware of his nearness. He turned to look at her, reaching out to grasp one of her hands.

"Are you warm enough? Here, put this on." He wrapped his own heavy blue wool coat around her shoulders. It was a handsome garment with a rich satin lining, wide lapels, and brass buttons. Then Caro found herself leaning back against the tree next to him, his arm around her, her cheek against his chest. A sudden feeling of well-being flooded her, and she began to ask him more questions. At length, the conversation turned to his family, which Alec described with relish.

"My father was really a pirate—I was telling you the truth. He did a great deal of illegal trading with the colonies during the days when trade with England was so expensive and troublesome. Actually, it was all quite respectable then. Father tells wonderful stories about the rounds of entertainment from the merchants of New York when he would put into port with his cargo. He really led a wild, adventurous life, but I believe he met my mother just in time."

"Where did they meet?" asked Caro, completely fascinated.

"Quite classic circumstances, I assure you! My father captured her ship."

"Her ship!?"

"Yes, she was on board one of the few quite luxurious passenger vessels of that time, bound from Russia for the colonies to visit her brother and his wife. Father confiscated all the valuables from her ship, foremost among which was my mother!"

"Alec!" Caro exclaimed. He was chuckling in amusement.

"Yes, I'm afraid the worst happened—for after all, my father was no gentleman. Seems to be a family trait. At any rate, my mother appears to have enjoyed herself immensely, and soon my father had not only returned all the stolen goods, but also married my mother there at sea. She accompanied him on his pirate ship's last voyage to America and they settled down in Philadelphia to live happily ever after. I stand with my four brothers and sisters as proof of that."

Caro looked up to see white teeth flash against his black beard.

"Your father gave up his pirating?"

"Oh, yes—the only voyages he makes now are with my mother to visit their respective families in Russia and France and to inspect some family vineyards they own in the Loire Valley. After my parents married, Father began ship-building, and as the business grew he branched out into several other interests. These days, when I am home, I am his partner in the ships."

"When you are home?"

"I have been quite occupied these last years in the war for independence."

"Oh—of course!" Caro felt something click in her mind, but even though she squeezed her eyes closed, she could not catch it in time.

"Do you remember anything about the war?" Alec queried, looking down at her face.

"Yes, I seem to, though I hadn't thought of it until you said the words. Suddenly now, I can remember it all but rather indistinctly—the deaths, and women all alone, and living with hardships. But I simply cannot see faces in my mind, or recall names."

They were silent for a moment, then Caro, eyes wide with frustration, blurted:

"I don't even know where we are!"

"That is easily enough answered. We are in Connecticut, nearing its western border and the Hudson River. We will follow that to New York town, and then journey on south to Philadelphia."

"But, if you are a man of means, why are you here in the woods with only a horse? Isn't the war over now?"

"Yes, it's over. And, Caro, you mustn't let Ivan hear you speak of him as though he were of no consequence!" He had lowered his voice conspiratorially. "You see, he believes he is absolutely the finest horse ever born—the superior of any man." He paused. "Except me, of course."

"Of course!" Caro giggled, and Ivan peered at them suspiciously from the other side of the fire. Alec squeezed her shoulder and continued:

"To answer your question, I was inspecting a farm I recently acquired in northern Connecticut. It was left to me by one of my comrades who died at Yorktown. I am used these days to traveling light. It’s been a pleasure to be responsible to only myself; to go at my own pace and to enjoy the woods in autumn before returning to city life. Besides, I have friends in this area that I enjoy visiting. We'll be staying with them in the Hudson River Valley, and I'm hoping to borrow a horse for you."

"We will go on horseback all the way to Philadelphia?"

"No, my coach will be meeting us in New York."

"I have only one more question. Who will you say I am?"

Alec smiled with satisfaction.

"Actually, it all fits together brilliantly. You are the poor orphaned daughter of my friend from the war. Much to my surprise, you came with the farm! You'll be my ward, and it will all be cozy and respectable."

Caro felt her eyelids drooping and she smiled to herself contentedly, snuggling against Alec's broad chest.

"Well," she murmured drowsily, "I suppose I shall have to trust you...."

Excerpt from

Silver Storm

Special Author's Cut Edition

Raveneau Novel #1

by

Cynthia Wright

From Chapter Two.

New London, Connecticut

October, 1780

A chilly breeze swept off the Thames and Devon stepped into the sunlight. Approaching the docks, she scanned the sleek, lightweight vessels at anchor and strove to appear nonchalant in her search for the
Black Eagle.

She saw
him
first, shouting orders on the deck of his ship.

Many of the captains and officers who sailed privateers had achieved glamorous reputations, but none could match Andre Raveneau, who at thirty-two had become a legend. Men thought him the most daring, successful, and charmed of captains; women knew only that they went weak in his devastatingly handsome presence. Raveneau had given his time, his expertise, and his beautiful privateer
Black Eagle
to the American cause for reasons he chose not to discuss. Of course, averaging a dozen prizes a year, he had become abundantly wealthy, but there were plenty of less hazardous ways to pursue riches. Because of Raveneau's fearlessness and his ability to succeed in the face of seemingly impossible odds, townspeople whispered that he was allied with the devil.

Devon watched as he jumped lightly to the wharf, her heart racing and palms icy. Raveneau had fascinated her for five years, though he was dangerous-looking, his dark face chiseled and unsmiling. He strode past Devon, but she might as well have been a barrel of molasses for all the notice he paid her.

As he disappeared around the corner, Devon wondered why he didn't look at her the way other men did. In the past two years strangers had begun to stare openly at her blossoming figure and exquisite face. However, since most healthy eligible males had gone to war, most of these admirers were either old men or adolescent boys...

"Good day to you, miss!" a husky voice called. Startled, Devon spun around to face a stocky, genial-looking young man whose sandy hair was queued neatly at his neck. "Have you business on the
Black Eagle?
Perhaps I might help?" A square hand reached out, but Devon eluded it. She was beginning to regret coming down here, for no decent girl would wander the docks alone.

"No... I—"

"Devon!"

She gasped with relief at the sound of Morgan's voice, and took his arm enthusiastically. "I'm so glad to see you! You can walk me to Nick's. I have this hat to deliver to Temperance, and Mother will thrash me if I'm not back soon." As they started off, she nodded to the sandy-haired privateersman, who shrugged good-naturedly.

Morgan was delighted by Devon's attention, for he still adored her. The years had added a few inches to his height, but he fell far short of six feet, and his shoulders remained narrow. To his chagrin, Devon continued to treat him as an affectionate friend.

"I heard today that we won a great victory at King's Mountain," Morgan said, conscious of her arm linked through his.

"Oh, that's splendid news," Devon said awkwardly.

Morgan's face burned, for he knew what was on her mind. For two years she had been urging him to sign on with a privateer or even join the army and had been confused and disappointed by his refusal. His excuse was that his father needed him, for both his brothers were gone, one at sea, the other a soldier. Morgan could never admit that he was simply afraid. The thought of battle made him nauseous; he even had nightmares about it.

"My brother Tyler's company may have been engaged in the battle," he said hastily, thinking to absorb a bit of family glory. "Last we heard, they were nearby."

"I am certain he was the hero of the hour." Devon couldn't help the accusing note that crept into her voice.

They walked in silence for several minutes. Morgan wished that he could calm the fever in his body. It seemed to intensify each time he was near Devon, and he feared that only she could cure it. Other boys his age—the few who remained in town—had found relief with the easy women who haunted the docks. One evening, after hours spent lying innocently in the grass with Devon, he had taken his aching groin down to the Beach and had stood and watched the painted harlots. One had actually approached him, but her brazen manner had scared him to death.

I want Devon and only Devon, he thought now, and the words seemed to sear his brain. She still talked of their future together... surely she would not reject the advances of her husband-to-be? If not for the chaos of the war, they probably would have been married already! Impulsively, he put an arm around her slender waist. She glanced up in surprise, then smiled. Morgan's heart began to pound.

Devon was feeling sorry that she had spoken to him so impatiently. She must not press him to do her will, she thought. Morgan was Morgan, and she of all people should be able to accept the fact that he was not a warrior at heart. Still...

Unbidden, the dark image of Andre Raveneau filled Devon's mind and a chill ran down her spine. She could not understand the madness that swept her at the mere thought of him! Still painfully innocent, Devon was curious, yet fearful, about these feelings she had. The fact that they were confined to a rakish privateer captain who did not know she existed was bewildering.