Free Captured by Victoria Lynne

her in escape. And finally, Cole had saved her life. He could have abandoned ship with the rest of the crew, but he didn’t.
    Unable to resolve the disparities in his character and annoyed that she’d even bothered to try, Devon turned away from him. She reached beneath her and pulled out the sharp piece of driftwood that had been stabbing her in the spine, then surveyed the area around them.
    It looked as if they had floated downriver a bit, pushed south by the current. They’d washed up on a small, sheltered inlet banked by a grove of dense cedar. She tilted her head to one side and listened intently, but heard nothing save the occasional chirping and squawking of birds.
    “Where is everyone?” she asked.
    “Upriver.”
    He didn’t so much as glance in her direction. She waited. When it became evident that no more information would be forthcoming, she asked, “Was anyone hurt?”
    He turned to look at her now, his dark eyes intense. “Bloodthirsty little thing, aren’t you?”
    Devon tightened her lips, refusing to give rein to her anger. “Just tell me. Please,” she added, proud of herself for getting the word out without choking.
    Their gazes locked and held. Just when she’d about given up hope for getting an answer, he spoke. “No one was hurt,” he said at last. “Not seriously.”
    “I’m glad.” Her captor gave an inelegant snort at that, clearly expressing his disbelief. Devon ignored it. “I thought, in a battle that fierce—”
    “That wasn’t a battle,” he interrupted curtly. “More like an abandon ship drill gone awry. We were barely able to answer their fire before deserting.”
    Devon didn’t know what to reply to that, so she let silence fall between them once again. Cole shifted beside her. She heard his slight intake of breath as he stretched out his long legs. She glanced over, noting the deep crimson stain on his left thigh. “Is it bad?”
    “No.”
    She bit back a sigh of frustration. Even if he was bleeding to death, she doubted he’d admit it. He probably considered that a sign of weakness. She moved toward him before he could protest, gently pulling the torn fabric apart. “Here, let me see.” As her fingers lightly probed the injury, she realized that he was right. It was merely a flesh wound. A bit sore, perhaps, but nothing too severe. Their recent dip in the Potomac had even served to give it a proper cleansing.
    Satisfied, she patted the fabric back into place, laying her hands over the wound. She heard him give another sharp intake of breath, then his large hand slammed down, pinning hers beneath it. Her head immediately snapped up. Was she hurting him?
    “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snapped.
    Taken completely off-guard, Devon could only stammer out a reply. “I‌—‌I thought I’d…” she began, but her voice trailed away.
    That strange, golden fire was back in his deep brown eyes, but it wasn’t pain she read there. It was anger, and something else. Something stronger. Devon’s breath caught in her throat, and her stomach twisted. Her senses were suddenly heightened, and she became aware of everything at once.
    For the first time since they’d met, they were alone. Totally and completely alone. The realization took on a weight and meaning that overshadowed everything else. She lifted her gaze upward, forcing herself to meet his eyes.
    Cole’s face was framed by a mass of tawny-blond hair, which somehow served to heighten his rugged appeal. His firm, sensual lips were slightly parted. The angry scar that split his cheek stood out in white relief against the deep tan of his skin.
    She felt the muscles of his thigh quiver and tense beneath her fingers, then felt herself tremble in response as a shiver of delicious anticipation raced down her spine. It occurred to her that she should protest, force herself away. But she couldn’t move her hands. Nor did she truly want to. She swallowed hard and tried again. “I thought