The Prize (22 page)

"And vengeance
is mine, said the lord," Sean said harshly. "Vengeance belongs to
God, not you, and this moment you have been waiting for—not I!" He slammed
his drink down, untouched.

"You may not
share my enthusiasm, but I am doing this for you as much as for myself,"
Devlin said. He pushed open the door and inhaled the clean, floral and
grass-scented Irish

                             
175

spring. He did not
want to debate Sean on the merits of his revenge against the Earl of Eastleigh.
The subject was an old and tired one. It came up every time he saw his brother,
once or twice a year, depending on how often they met in
London
or
Dublin
.

"You do this
only for yourself. God, when will you let our father rest in peace?" Sean
cried. Then he added, "Thank God Mother and Adare are in
London
!"

Devlin turned, his
temper igniting. "Gerald will never rest in peace and you know it. As for
our mother, she doesn't need to know about this."

Sean stared. "If
his spirit wanders, it is because you will not allow him peace! Dear God, you
have destroyed the man financially, when will you stop? When will you let go of
this obsession and find some peace of your own?"

"Perhaps, if
your memory served you as well as mine did me, you would be as bent upon
revenge as I am," he said coldly.

Sean's own silver
gaze chilled. "Do you think I don't wish that I could remember that day?
You speak as if you think I willed my memory loss! I do not know why my mind
has failed me so, but do not accuse me of complaisance when it comes to the
fact that I cannot remember anything of that terrible day our father was
murdered!"

"I'm
sorry," Devlin said, but sometimes he resented the fact that he alone was
the one haunted by Gerald, for neither his brother nor his mother seemed to
suffer as he did.

"And what of the
navy? Is the Admiralty going to let you get away with this, the abduction of an
American woman, an attack upon the English aristocracy?" Sean demanded.

"
Eastleigh
will never allow word of this
abduction to come out. He already plays the fool and his pride will ultimately
make him pay for
Virginia
's freedom. I feel certain no one
will ever know about this little game, other than ourselves."

"Little game?
You abuse an innocent young woman and it is a little game? Father must be
turning over in his grave right now. You have gone too far!" Sean cried.
"And what about Miss Hughes herself? If she goes to the authorities, you
could lose your head! And I do not speak figuratively now."

Devlin laid his hand
on Sean's rigid shoulder. "I have no intention of losing my head,
Sean," he said softly.

"You think you
are invincible. You are not."

"Trust my
instincts.
Eastleigh
will conclude this affair
swiftly. His pride is all he has left."

Sean stared, his
expression harsh and agonized. "I don't approve, Devlin. I simply cannot.
God, I don't even know who you are," Sean suddenly despaired, "and
frankly, I never have."

"I'm your
brother."

"Yes, my
brother. A stranger whom I never see, as you clearly abhor the soil and the earth—as
you cannot spend a fortnight on land, it seems. You are a stranger with a
passion for vengeance and little else. I pity you, Devlin."

Devlin made a mocking
sound, although his brother's words made him very uncomfortable. "You
should save your pity for one who needs it—perhaps the beautiful Miss
Hughes?"

Sean did not flinch.
"I won't deny I find her attractive beyond comparison. I only hope she
does not need my pity, ever, Dev."

"When you become
more acquainted with Miss Hughes, you will discover that she is not the kind of
woman to be pitied." He almost smiled, thinking of her courage and her absurdly
independent nature.

A silence fell.

Devlin turned and
found Sean staring, his gaze wide and searching. He said, "You almost
sound fond of her."

He actually
hesitated. "I am hardly fond of her, Sean. But frankly, her courage is
amazing—reckless though it may be."

"So you admire
her, then," Sean said quietly.

Devlin became
impatient. "Enough of Miss Hughes! The subject grows tiresome. When
Eastleigh
pays her ransom, she goes back.
Until then, she is
our
guest." He stressed the plural pronoun
deliberately and stared. He softly added, "Your loyalty to me does precede
your noble sense of honor and your disapproval, does it not?"

Sean folded his arms
across his chest, staring grimly in displeasure.

"Sean?"

He spoke roughly.
"You know I would never betray you, in spite of my outrage over what you
think to do."

Satisfied, Devlin
stalked back to the silver tray of decanters and glasses on the sideboard,
pouring himself another, far stiffer drink. The silence lengthened. He finally
sighed and glanced up. "All right. What is it? What is it that you wish to
say?"

"If
Eastleigh
is so impoverished, what makes
you think he will even wish to pay a ransom for his distant American niece,
someone he has probably never seen and does not care for?"

Devlin stared.
"He'll pay."

"And if he
doesn't?" Sean prodded.

Devlin felt his
entire being tense. "Then I will have to provoke him publicly until he
has no choice but to rescue our little guest, until it becomes a matter of
honor."

"To destroy
Eastleigh
, you will have to destroy her,
will you not? How can you live with yourself?" Sean cried.

"Rather
easily," Devlin said, but even he knew there was nothing simple about his
life and that his answer was a lie.

"You
bastard," Sean said.

The
manor seemed terribly quiet and felt almost empty,
Virginia
thought, pausing in the grandiose hall. She
had spent the afternoon exploring the grounds and visiting the stables, where
Devlin had some very fine horses, especially a sweet bay mare. Now dusk was
quickly approaching. Virginia had bathed in scented water—Connor had filled her
tub—and changed into one of her mother's fine evening gowns, one altered
hastily by Tillie before she had left Sweet Briar. The gown was a bright rose
silk, with small puffed sleeves and a low-cut bodice.
Virginia
had gone to great lengths to pin up the
heavy masses of her hair. If she were fortunate, the pins would stay in place
until she retired for the night.

She wondered where
her captor was.

Virginia
walked through the hall,
admiring several very old tapestries hanging on the walls and the huge crystal
chandelier. She paused before two open doors that led to another salon, this
one smaller and more intimate, with moss-green walls and green, pink and
lavender molding on the ceiling. A man rose from the dark brocade sofa—it was
Sean.

"Oh, I didn't
realize anyone was in the room,"
Virginia
said quickly. "I hope I am not intruding."

He came forward in a
formal blue evening coat, pale britches and stockings. His gaze was openly
appreciative as he smiled at her. "You are not intruding, Miss Hughes, not
at all. After all, supper is almost upon us. Would you like a sherry or some
champagne?"

She had to admire him
as well. With his
midnight
hair and pale gray eyes, he was
every bit as handsome as his older brother. Like Devlin, he was tall, broad of
shoulder, long of leg and lean of hip. His body looked every bit as muscled and
toned. "I would love a glass of champagne," she said.

He quickly poured two
flutes from the chilled bottle on the sideboard, handing her one. "You are
fetching, Miss Hughes, in that lovely dress," he said.

She wondered if he
was blushing, as she remarked two slight spots of color high upon his
cheekbones. "You must call me
Virginia
,
Mr. O'Neill, and thank you very much." She hesitated. "This dress
belonged to my mother."

"I am sorry
about your parents," he said instantly. "And please, it's Sean."

She started, meeting
kind and concerned gray eyes. "You know about my parents?" she asked.

"Dev mentioned
that you are an orphan."

She nodded. "It
was a carriage accident last fall."

"Sometimes there
is no comprehending God's will."

"I'm not sure I
believe in God," she said.

His eyes widened.
"Then that is a shame. But there have been moments, I confess, when I have
had my doubts, too."

She smiled at him.
"Then we must both be intelligent and human."

He laughed.

She stopped smiling,
enjoying his laughter, which was

180                           

warm and rich and so
different from the odd, croaking sound Devlin had made on the few occasions
when he seemed to try to laugh. "You and he are nothing alike, are
you?"

"No." Sean
studied her.

"How is that
possible? Aren't you both close in age?"

"I'm two years
younger," Sean said. "Devlin assumed responsibility for me when our
father died. That is one reason for the difference between us."

"And the
other?" she asked, determined now to learn everything she could about her
captor.

He smiled wryly and
shrugged.

"I do not
understand him," she said. "He is very brave, that much is clear,
almost fearless, I think—" she recalled how he had defied gale winds to
rescue his ship "—and that's not very human, is it?"

"He is
fearless," Sean agreed. "I think he doesn't care if he lives or
dies."

Virginia
stared, Sean's theory stunning.
"But no one wishes to die!"

"I didn't say he
wished to die, merely that the thought doesn't frighten him as it does us other
mere mortals."

Virginia
considered that and immediately
she felt certain that Sean was right. "But why? What kind of man would be
indifferent toward his own life?"

Sean was silent.

Virginia
suddenly comprehended the only
possible answer—only a man deeply wounded or deeply embittered would be so
indifferent. She was shaken. She quickly sipped her champagne, which, she saw,
was also contraband, as it was French. How complex Devlin O'Neill was.
"His men respect and admire him," she mused aloud, almost to
herself, "and the town seems to think of him as a hero. I have seen myself
how effective he is on the high seas, so I understand why his men admire him.
But the town?"

"You are very
curious when it comes to my brother," Sean remarked.

"Yes, I am.
After all, he seized my ship, then seized me. I simply do not understand why he
wishes to ransom me when he so clearly does not need the money."

"Perhaps you
should ask him," Sean said.

"Perhaps I
will,"
Virginia
returned thoughtfully,
"although I am sure he will only become angry—he is a very angry man. Why
is that? You are not angry. I can see kindness in your eyes. You seem as
compassionate as he is ruthless."

"I am not a
ship's officer upon the high seas, where discipline is crucial to maintain,
and once lost, impossible to regain." Sean sighed then. "There is
one fundamental difference between us. When we were small children, we saw our
father brutally murdered by an English soldier. Devlin has never forgotten that
day—I cannot recall a single second of it."

She stared, her mind
spinning, trying to understand. "How old was he?"

"He was ten, I
was eight. From that moment, Devlin has been a father as well as a brother to
me, and acutely aware of his responsibilities as head of the O'Neill clan here
in southern
Ireland
."

"How
terrible,"
Virginia
said softly, "and how
fortunate you cannot remember. I cannot imagine how I should feel or what I
would think if I saw my father murdered. I suppose I should intend to kill the
murderer." And now the mind of her captor was beginning to make sense. Of
course he was a hard, cold man. He had learned a brutal lesson as a small
child, one that clearly had affected his character, his nature. Perhaps that
was why he had chosen the rough and merciless life of a career spent at sea.

"Then perhaps
you and I have more in common than we think," Devlin murmured.

Virginia
whirled and saw Devlin standing
in the doorway rather nonchalantly, as splendidly dressed as his brother, although
he wore his naval uniform. In his navy-blue jacket with its gold epaulets and
buttons, his stark white britches and stockings, he made a terribly dashing
figure, enough so that her heart seemed to stop. There was simply no comparing
the brothers, not now, not anymore. Sean might have an innate decency and
kindness that she doubted Devlin would ever have, but Devlin fascinated her
impossibly, as if she were a moth, he the fatal flame.

She shivered, hoping
the image was not in any way a premonition.

"I am sorry
about your father's murder," she heard herself say.

He shrugged, coming
forward, giving her a cool and indifferent glance. "Life is filled with
surprises, is it not?" His gaze moved slowly over her face, her hair, her
bare shoulders and finally across her décolletage.

And his look warmed
her the way his lovemaking had the previous night. She opened her mouth to
speak, but no sound came out, as her thoughts were preoccupied with how she
hoped the night would end in his bed, in his arms.

"Sean, escort
Virginia
in," Devlin said.

Virginia
started, surprised and
disappointed, and when she turned, Sean was holding out his arm, looking
resigned and grim. She quickly smiled at him, but her gaze followed Devlin, who
had moved away from them, his back turned as he poured himself champagne.

"You don't have
to pretend to be pleased," Sean said. "Your feelings are clear,
Virginia
."

She quickly focused
on him. "I am hardly displeased, and I do not know what yo
^u
mean!"

"
Virginia
? I hope the time comes when I
may speak with you frankly, because there is something 1 fear I must say."

She did not like his
tone or his expression, and she murmured some vague affirmative, not wanting
to continue the subject.

"Some growers
protect the seedlings with a fine net of cotton,"
Virginia
said happily, her small face
animated and her violet eyes sparkling. "But that is far too expensive and
not really necessary where we are, as it doesn't get that cold. We found that
mulch works just as well. We use a thin layer of straw and chopped grass. The
real issue is transplanting the seedlings, which is done in about eight or nine
weeks. The soil has to be pulverized, level, disease-free—which is why we burn
the fields every spring—and fairly wet. We plant just under an ounce of seed
for every two hundred square yards. It is crucial that the seeds are
distributed uniformly, which is why we do so by hand."

Sean shook his head
with admiration. "Is there anything you don't know about planting tobacco,
Virginia
?" His eyes were dancing.

"I'm sure
there's something."
Virginia
smiled at him.

Sean smiled back.

Devlin lolled in his
chair between them at the head of the long trestle table, absolutely silent—the
way he'd been all through supper. And while his expression and posture remained
indifferent, he was irritated with the two of them. His gaze moved slowly over
Virginia, who seemed to have forgotten his presence at supper. But then, his
brother was openly admiring, gentlemanly and attentive, and probably the most
rapt audience she had ever had. She was as greedy for the attention as a
gambler for a single win, he thought sourly.