The Prize (23 page)

His gaze took in her
tiny upturned nose, her full mouth, the low-cut bodice of her dress and the
small breasts thrusting up against the corset she wore. He stretched out his
long legs beneath the table, trying to ignore the simmering pres-

sure in his groin.
Only he knew how passionate she was, how fiery and hot, how easily ignited.

I
have never been kissed
before, Devlin.

The pressure felt
explosive, just like that. He shifted in his seat as Sean said something and
she laughed. Her bedroom was at the other end of the manor, which he considered
fortunate. Because in spite of his determination not to repeat last night, he
was very tempted. One touch and she would not be thinking about his brother.

He grimaced. They'd
been regaling each other with stories of Sweet Briar and Askeaton all night.
However, he did admit that her stories were somehow interesting and even
refreshing. Knowing her now, even the little that he did, not a single story of
her life in
Virginia
surprised him. But what father
raised a woman to shoot, ride and swim, allowed her to roam a hundred acres
freely, allowed her to wear britches, work beside the slaves, forgo teas and
dances—in total, what father raised such a little hellion?

Randall Hughes had
probably been an interesting man. He had surely been unconventional.

"I still can't
believe your father taught you to shoot a musket when you were seven,"
Sean remarked.

Virginia
laughed for the hundredth time
that night, the sound as bright as bells. "Mama was furious when she found
out. Papa had to bring her trinkets and gifts for a month afterward, to return
to her good graces."

Sean laughed as well.

Virginia
sobered. "I do miss
them," she said.

Devlin started as
Sean reached across the table to cover her hand. He stiffened as Sean said,
'This is a terrible cliché", but it will get easier with time."

She smiled slightly
now. "It has gotten easier, but I think I will miss them until I die.
Sweet Briar will never be the same, not without them."

                             
185

Sean withdrew his
hand. "Do you miss the plantation very badly?"

She nodded.
"Sometimes—usually in the middle of the night. But—" she brightened
"—I do like
Ireland
! There's something about it that
reminds me of home, even though the climate is so different. Maybe it's the
green. Everything is so rich with life here—it's that way at home, too."

"I should like
to visit Sweet Briar someday," Sean said suddenly.

"I should love
for you to come,"
Virginia
cried, clearly delighted.

That was it—he'd had
enough. And did his little hostage find his brother attractive? Only last night
she had been in
his
bed, in
his
arms. Was a new romance unfolding
before his very eyes? He stood abruptly, shoving back his chair. "I am
going to smoke," he announced, trying not to glare at either of them.

"I do hope your
tobacco is Virginian,"
Virginia
said sweetly.

He stiffened. And
from the corner of his eyes he saw Sean sputter with laughter and the two of
them share a glance. He turned. "It's not. It's Cuban. Good night."
He was pleased to see her face fall as he uttered his last words, then, having
no intention of leaving them alone, he looked darkly at his brother. "Join
me," he said, and it was a command.

As he strode out, he
heard Sean say, "And his lordship doth speak."

Virginia
giggled. "He is so dour
tonight."

"He is always
dour," Sean remarked.

He debated walking
back to them and defending himself, but decided to pretend he hadn't heard
their insipid insults. Besides, they'd both drank enough champagne to sink a
ship. Still, Sean was far too interested and it was simply not acceptable.

In the study, rebuilt
to exactly replicate the study his father had used up until his death, he
found a cigar and poured a brandy, then lit up. Exhaling deeply did not ease
the tension. And if he brooded further, analyzing the evening in order to
decide if the camaraderie he had just witnessed was romantic or not, the
pressure would increase. He knew it, as surely as he knew the sky would be
clear that morning.

"Captain,
sir," a woman breathed.

His annoyance faded
as he turned and faced Fiona.

She smiled at him,
clad in a tight white blouse and dark skirts, the blouse showing off the full
shape of her bosom and hinting at the large areolas beneath. He carefully
looked her over now, for the first time since he had returned home. She was
actually pretty, and she had the kind of body most men would die to bed. He
vaguely recalled a few torrid nights spent in bed with her, many years ago. And
while he didn't lust after her, she certainly presented a solution to the problem
of avoiding
Virginia
in the long, dark shadowy hours
of the night.

"Kitchen's done
and your room's ready," she said softly, her gaze on his. "Is there
anything else I can do for you, sir, before I go to my bed?"

He made the decision
instantly. "Yes. You can go to my room. I'll be up shortly."

There was no look of
surprise, she only smiled and purred, "Of course, Captain, sir." She
gave him a promising look and strolled out, her wide hips swinging.

He wanted to compare
their width to one particular waif's far too slim ones, but refused to do so.
He would satisfy his lust tonight in the way lords of the manor had for
centuries— with a willing, comely, insignificant maid.

Sean made a derisive
sound, apparently having been standing in the doorway for some time. Devlin
ignored it, handing him a cigar and lighting it for him. As Sean puffed,

he poured his brother
a brandy. He said, "You seem smitten with our little guest."

Sean exhaled and
said, "I am nearly so."

"Don't become
too attached. She is going to lose her beloved Sweet Briar and blame me for
it, I have no doubt."

"That's right.
She will blame you, and rightly so, I think. But she certainly won't blame
me."

Devlin sat down on
the edge of the desk. Oddly, his father chose that moment to cast a presence in
the room. "I am going to find you an heiress," he warned.

"I don't need an
heiress. You would never stay home to run Askeaton. One day I need a wife who
will partner me in all that I do here."

"You mean, a
wife who understands crops, markets and shipping, inside and out?" He
became angry.

"Maybe."
Sean came closer. "Look, Dev, I find her intriguing, and unlike you, I am
not using her for some terrible end—for some personal retribution. In fact,
after getting to know her somewhat tonight, I think you should end your
miserable scheme and help her get to
Eastleigh
.
Who knows? She's charming beyond words. Maybe he'll be smitten, too, and he'll
save her home."

Devlin was furious
now, furious because if he read Sean right, his younger brother was falling in
love with his captive. "No. Nothing changes, and you keep your heart and
guard it well. She is not for you—I will not allow it. She is a tool, a tool I
am using even as we speak, she is only a tool. Do you understand me?"

Sean was furious,
too. "I told you this afternoon—I don't even know you, so how can I
understand you? But I grow tired of your orders! I am not a sailor on your
ship! If I choose to admire Miss Hughes, that is my concern, not yours."

"You go very
far." Devlin stood, and the two men stood

eye to eye and nose
to nose, the exact same height. "Since when do I order you? I haven't been
at home in six years— I see you perhaps once a year in
London
! There have been no orders, little brother,
until yesterday, and may I remind you that this manor is mine? The land is
mine? It is all mine until I die, heirless. Only then does it become
yours."

"Do you threaten
to give me the boot?" Sean was incredulous. "You may have bought
Askeaton from Adare with your damned prize money, but Askeaton would be nothing
but bogs and woods without me! I took this land and made it fertile, I took
this land with my own bare hands and made it rich! You'd have nothing here
without me, and you damn well know it!"

Devlin inhaled hard,
stunned at the intensity of Sean's anger and his own answering rage. How had
they come to this terrible argument?
Virginia
's
image seared his mind. "Sean." He clasped his arm and Sean flinched
but did not pull away. "I know all that you have done. I agree with you.
Without you, this house would be a burned-out hull, the fields would be barren
and lifeless, bogs would abound. I know that. I appreciate every day you have
spent here in my place, planting our crops and harvesting them, collecting our
rents, breeding our livestock. I more than appreciate all you have done. You're
my brother. We should not fight, not like this, not ever."

Sean nodded, pale
now. "And I know how hard you have worked to be able to buy Askeaton, and
the house in
Greenwich
, and all the treasures we now
have both here and there. I know you are the lord of this manor, Dev. I don't
want to be lord here. God, I want you to take a wonderful wife and have fine
sons to inherit all that you have earned—and all that is your rightful due as
Father's eldest son."

"I know that,
too," Devlin said, relaxing only slightly. And he looked closely at his
brother now.

Sean stared back.
Very carefully, he said, "We will fight again, however, because I cannot
ever approve of what you are doing and the way you are ruthlessly using
Virginia
."

"Don't fall in
love with her," Devlin heard himself say.

Sean hesitated.
"Perhaps it is too late."

Devlin reeled, as if
physically struck with shot.

"I am going to
bed," Sean said, putting out his cigar. He smiled a little, but it was
forced, and walked out of the room.

A yawning silence
came over the study. Devlin stared at his own cigar, burning in the porcelain
ashtray. He was grim.
Virginia
had been nothing but a pawn in
his game with
Eastleigh
until that night. Now he felt as
if she had become a terrible viper in their midst.

But he could not
change his course.

He covered his eyes
briefly, pain stabbing in his forehead, then paced wildly, allowing the anger
in, welcoming it. She had come perilously close to flirting with Sean tonight.
She had encouraged his emotions. Her attentive behavior, her pretty laughter,
her eager conversation had ensnared his brother thoroughly. She had become a
problem, one he must quickly solve.

The sooner he was rid
of her, the better. The better for everyone.

Suddenly
Virginia
materialized in the doorway. He
stiffened. She didn't smile, but said, low, "It's a beautiful night.
Would you walk with me, Devlin?"

"No."

She jumped at the
harsh sound of his voice.

"Come in,"
he ground out, fully aware of what he must do to end any further dalliance
between her and his brother. As she did, her eyes wide and wary, he walked
swiftly past her and closed the door.

"What's
wrong?" she asked cautiously.

"You are to stay
away from Sean."

190                           

"What?"
she gasped.

He found himself
gripping her shoulders. Now his anger had become infused into something
entirely different and it was rearing up insistently, the blood there hot and
red, pounding. "Let me repeat myself.
Stay away from Sean."

"Whatever you
are thinking—you are wrong!" she cried, eyes wide.

"Am I? The last
thing I need is my brother falling in love with you, Miss Hughes. Do I make
myself clear?" He found his grip tightening. She whimpered, but it was too
late, somehow his hands had a will of their own, pulling her up against his
hard, aroused body.

"Devlin,"
she whispered, the sound throaty with need.

Triumph surged within
him.
She would not think about his brother now.
"Do you wish to
know something, an interesting fact?" he asked harshly, palming her
backside and holding her up against his arousal, where she began to squirm.
"I don't think it will be very difficult to make you forget all about
Sean...darling."

Her eyes were glazing
over. She gripped his shoulders, her chest heaving, her cheeks flushed. "I
don't want Sean," she said hoarsely. "I want you."

Inside his brain,
coherence exploded. Devlin crushed her to his chest, taking her mouth, forcing
it open. As his tongue swept deep, hers came forth to meet him. More explosions
went off inside of his head. Then he felt her small hands sliding over his
waist.