blow because her need was desperate, but shame followed swiftly and hit more painfully. She should have felt nothing, nothing except distress to find Sally near her danger.
Sally, not seeing her immediately, began to cast about in a panic, and then to race for the tavern, as if to go back in. She had nearly reached the light when Devon vaulted lightly over the side of the wagon and stopped her, clamping his hand over her mouth and saying, "Hush! She's safe. But she won't be and neither will you if you run yelling into the tavern."
She fought his grasp and muttered something Merry couldn't distinguish through his muffling hand.
"After you promise not to scream," he said, "I'll let you go. Do you understand?"
Under his hand she jerked her head in a hard nod, and as soon as he had freed her mouth, Sally cried, "Where is she? Where is she? What have you done with her?"
Calling her cousin's name, Merry struggled to scale over the wagon's side, her legs twisting clumsily in her skirts. She might have fallen if Devon hadn't stepped to catch her around the waist and eased her way to the sand. For a moment Merry's legs shivered under her and nearly buckled, and then with a cry she ran into Sally's wide-flung arms. As from a distance she heard her own voice begging, "Help me, Sally."
Merry put back her head to look into her cousin's face and saw that Sally was glaring fiercely at the blond pirate.
"Don't!" Sally said to him in a savagely angry voice that sounded as if it was strangling in her throat. "You've got to let her go! She's so young. If anything happened—she'd never recover from it. In the name of pity ..."
Devon had settled back against the wagon, long legs crossed, arms casually folded at his chest, and his shining golden hair caressed by a black breeze. He was watching Sally in an intent way without seeming to be listening to what she said.
He took his time before speaking, and when he did, his tone was dangerously mild. "I wonder if it would be worth my time to discover what two young women of obvious breeding are doing in a low-life tavern."
"The puppets," said Sally, too quickly.
"Ah. Itinerant puppeteers. The common folk." His beautiful mouth curved into a smile that quit before reaching his eyes. "And yet little Venus here has hands softer than an infant. She's never been within a furlong of a scrub bucket. As for yourself, Miss Sally, no matter what silly disguises you adopt, your speech and manners belong to a lady."
His tone robbed the words of any shade of a compliment, and there was a calm conviction in the indifferent voice that showed that it would be futile to argue. A threat rolled in the sea air, as thick and sizzling as hot oil over coal.
In a cool voice that made Merry pink with admiration, Sally said, "It's unwise to put too much stock in these superficial judgments, sir. Your speech, for example, marks you as a gentleman, while your manners suit ..."
"The gutter?" he supplied, his smile widening a fraction. "And they get much worse than this. It's a good thing for you to think about."
It was too much, even tor Sally. "The devil take you, sir. we don't know anything that would interest you!"
"How do you know what would interest me?" he asked her smoothly, inclining his head. "I'm willing to believe you haven't been foolish enough to tell Venus much. But you, Sally—it's what's in your mind that intrigues me."
Sally lifted her chin in brave defiance and snapped, "It'll take longer than you've got to beat it out of me."
"Without a doubt. I wouldn't waste my time beating you, dear, because you have already shown me a quicker course." Almost gently he said, "How much would you let me do to Venus before you started answering my questions?"
The shaft hit home with lethal accuracy. Over her head Merry heard Sally's horrified cry, and Merry felt her legs grow cold and seem to recede from her body.
More than a minute passed before he said, "You're a clever girl, Sally, but you're an amateur."
Sally, not seeing her immediately, began to cast about in a panic, and then to race for the tavern, as if to go back in. She had nearly reached the light when Devon vaulted lightly over the side of the wagon and stopped her, clamping his hand over her mouth and saying, "Hush! She's safe. But she won't be and neither will you if you run yelling into the tavern."
She fought his grasp and muttered something Merry couldn't distinguish through his muffling hand.
"After you promise not to scream," he said, "I'll let you go. Do you understand?"
Under his hand she jerked her head in a hard nod, and as soon as he had freed her mouth, Sally cried, "Where is she? Where is she? What have you done with her?"
Calling her cousin's name, Merry struggled to scale over the wagon's side, her legs twisting clumsily in her skirts. She might have fallen if Devon hadn't stepped to catch her around the waist and eased her way to the sand. For a moment Merry's legs shivered under her and nearly buckled, and then with a cry she ran into Sally's wide-flung arms. As from a distance she heard her own voice begging, "Help me, Sally."
Merry put back her head to look into her cousin's face and saw that Sally was glaring fiercely at the blond pirate.
"Don't!" Sally said to him in a savagely angry voice that sounded as if it was strangling in her throat. "You've got to let her go! She's so young. If anything happened—she'd never recover from it. In the name of pity ..."
Devon had settled back against the wagon, long legs crossed, arms casually folded at his chest, and his shining golden hair caressed by a black breeze. He was watching Sally in an intent way without seeming to be listening to what she said.
He took his time before speaking, and when he did, his tone was dangerously mild. "I wonder if it would be worth my time to discover what two young women of obvious breeding are doing in a low-life tavern."
"The puppets," said Sally, too quickly.
"Ah. Itinerant puppeteers. The common folk." His beautiful mouth curved into a smile that quit before reaching his eyes. "And yet little Venus here has hands softer than an infant. She's never been within a furlong of a scrub bucket. As for yourself, Miss Sally, no matter what silly disguises you adopt, your speech and manners belong to a lady."
His tone robbed the words of any shade of a compliment, and there was a calm conviction in the indifferent voice that showed that it would be futile to argue. A threat rolled in the sea air, as thick and sizzling as hot oil over coal.
In a cool voice that made Merry pink with admiration, Sally said, "It's unwise to put too much stock in these superficial judgments, sir. Your speech, for example, marks you as a gentleman, while your manners suit ..."
"The gutter?" he supplied, his smile widening a fraction. "And they get much worse than this. It's a good thing for you to think about."
It was too much, even tor Sally. "The devil take you, sir. we don't know anything that would interest you!"
"How do you know what would interest me?" he asked her smoothly, inclining his head. "I'm willing to believe you haven't been foolish enough to tell Venus much. But you, Sally—it's what's in your mind that intrigues me."
Sally lifted her chin in brave defiance and snapped, "It'll take longer than you've got to beat it out of me."
"Without a doubt. I wouldn't waste my time beating you, dear, because you have already shown me a quicker course." Almost gently he said, "How much would you let me do to Venus before you started answering my questions?"
The shaft hit home with lethal accuracy. Over her head Merry heard Sally's horrified cry, and Merry felt her legs grow cold and seem to recede from her body.
More than a minute passed before he said, "You're a clever girl, Sally, but you're an amateur."
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