The Prize (26 page)

And he knew. His body
stiffened far differently, the tightening in his shoulders and spine; his
roving hands went still, and his mouth, while covering hers, no longer sought
to invade.
Virginia
finally managed a weak and pitiful
close-mouthed kiss.

He pulled away and
looked closely at her.

She wanted to curse
him to hell but did not dare, as the

crowd had fallen
silent. She felt a dozen pairs of suspicious eyes and she summoned up a smile
that had to be as pathetic as it felt frail.

His stare
intensified.

Someone cheered,
"Captain O'Neill and his bride!"

The cry was taken up.

Devlin smiled coldly.
He put his arm around her in such a way that she could not move an inch if he
did not let her do so. He faced the crowd, which no longer seemed suspicious.
"My little fiancée could not wait for me to return home," he said
mockingly.

Rough male laughter
sounded.

But McCarthy said,
"Will she be sworn to secrecy, Captain?"

Devlin smiled coolly
at him, with real warning. "She would never betray me, Tim."

He nodded slowly, not
even looking at Virginia, his gaze hopeful and eager and riveted on their
leader.

"Let's go,"
Sean said, appearing with his horse and Devlin's. He was smiling pleasantly,
but
Virginia
saw the wariness in his gray
eyes. For one moment, as his glance moved over her, she saw so much of Devlin
in him. His gaze was as cold, his expression as controlled. She sensed a new
wariness and some hostility. Was he suspicious of her? she wondered, surprised.
Or was it the men in the meeting he did not trust?

Devlin's hands closed
around her waist and before she could protest she was seated on his stallion.
He swung up behind her and the saddle was far too small for them both. She held
her breath, for otherwise she would turn and quell him with a look. He didn't
seem to notice as he spurred the gray forward.

"How did you get
here?" he asked tightly, his breath feathering her ear.

So he was angry, she
thought, thinking of Fiona again. Good, because she hated him and she always would.
"I rode."

210                          

"Really? And who
gave you permission to do so?"

"No one,"
she said snidely.

He was silent. As the
bay mare had become visible, grazing farther up the hill, she knew he had seen
her horse. He changed his horse's direction, causing them to canter toward the
bay. "What is on your mind,
Virginia
?"
he asked.

"Nothing,"
she snapped.

"Good, as I have
no patience for you today." He halted abruptly beside the bay.

Virginia
started to get down, but he
wouldn't let her. "You are riding with me," he said, dismounting and
untying the mare.

"Like hell I
am!" she cried.

He stared at her.
Slowly, he said, "I am the one who is angry, Virginia, as you were spying
on me. How much did you hear?"

She lifted her chin.
"Everything."

He smiled then, so
ruthlessly that she shivered. "Then you may never leave Askeaton, my
dear."

She gasped, "You
don't mean it!"

"Oh, but I
do."

"But, my
ransom?"

"Your ransom
pales in significance right now," he said. "And it is my duty to
protect Sean and the others."

Her mind raced.
"I didn't hear anything!"

He swung up behind
her. "That's not what you just said."

"I lied. I
really didn't hear anything!"

"Liar. Pretty
little liar." He had yet to ask his mount to move. "Why didn't you
kiss me when I told you to? Your life hung in the balance and that was an
order, not a request."

"I don't take
orders from you," she managed.

He finally looked
very irritated, indeed. Then he asked, "And why did you cry?"

"I had dirt in
my eyes," she flung.

He stared searchingly.
"You are a terrible liar. I would not recommend dishonesty,
Virginia
, as you are as easy to read as a
children's book."

"Then why am I
angry?" she asked with false sweetness.

His prying gaze never
wavered. "I don't know. But I will find out." Abruptly he spurred the
gray forward.

Virginia
would have fallen off except for
his strong grasp, which tightened as the horse surged forward. She bit off her
cry, as she refused now to give him any satisfaction at all. They rode the rest
of the way back in a charged and uncomfortable silence.

Sean was waiting for
him when he came into the library. He had his hip balanced against the edge of
the desk, his arms folded across his chest. He was almost scowling. "What
did you do with her?"

"She's in her
room. Connor has orders to watch her every move."

"Maybe she
should be kept under lock and key," Sean said tersely.

Devlin was almost
amused. He poured himself a brandy, offering his brother one, who declined.
"I thought you were her champion."

"How much did
she hear?" Sean asked tersely, not amused.

"I don't know
precisely, but I intend to find out—one way or another."

"Damn it!"
Sean suddenly exploded, coming off the desk and pacing. "What the hell was
she doing at Canaby's farm?"

"Probably
following us," Devlin said. . "Now what are you going to do? For
God's sake, you can't return her to
Eastleigh
now!"

Devlin sat down in a
huge leather chair, stretching his legs out in front of him, glass in hand.
"I'll have to return her sooner or later."

Sean stared, his gaze
wide. "That meeting was treasonous and you know it, even if nothing has
been planned. We could lose everything—and you, an officer in the navy, could
wind up swinging from the nearest yardarm for this, never mind the damnable
ransom you intend!"

"It's more likely
they would chop off
your
head and stick it on a pike. You're their
leader."

"Is that
funny?" Sean was disbelieving. "They are looking for hope, Devlin,
and I am trying to give it to them."

He sipped. "No,
but it's odd, isn't it? Like father, like son."

"And now you
choose to be morbid? I will not allow a rebellion. But Devlin, you are holding
Virginia
against her will. She has
terrible information that she could use to bring us both down."

"What do you
suggest? Should I send her to the bottom of the sea?" But Sean was right.
Virginia
needed to keep her mouth closed
and her lips sealed, even though what she had seen looked far worse than what
it was. He knew from Sean's letters how angry and desperate their people were
and that once or twice a year they held local meetings. His arrival home had
precipitated this one. Even if he hadn't been invited to attend, he would have
done so. But the men were not planning an uprising. They were farmers and
cotters, more interested in feeding their families than losing their lives. And
while free speech was sedition in wartime
Great Britain
, everyone was encouraged to speak freely at
these meetings. Tim McCarthy and the others had called a meeting mostly because
they desperately wanted to hear what Devlin had to say. As Sean had said, they
desperately needed hope.

Sean was pacing.
Devlin wanted to calm his brother down. "Sean, you need not worry. I will
not allow
Virginia
to bring the British down upon
you and the others. If I have to, I will tell
Virginia
the truth. Our people are frustrated, angry
and hungry, but we will not allow a futile armed struggle."

Sean did not appear
reassured. "I do not think
Virginia
is in the mood to listen to anything that you might say."

"She'll
listen," he said, instantly grim. What had been wrong with her that
afternoon? Why had she been crying?

Sean hesitated.
"Devlin, I have a solution, I think, as far as
Virginia
is concerned."

"Pray
tell."

"One of us
should marry her."

Devlin spilled his
drink.

"I'm deadly
serious."

He quickly placed the
snifter on a small end table, wiping his hand on his britches. "And who
is to have the honor of making
Virginia
a happy, loving, loyal wife? Oh,
let me guess! That honor would be yours?"

"I would marry
her if she were willing. But it's not me that she wants."

"I am not
marrying that penniless American orphan, Sean," he warned. His heart was
racing with alarming speed, as if he were about to sail his ship into a
hurricane.

"Why not? After
all, you are the one victimizing her, and only you can make this just."

"Are you
serious?" Devlin could not get over his brother's suggestion. It was
beyond absurd.
Virginia
was going to
Eastleigh
directly upon his receiving his
ransom, and if her plantation home was sold, she would undoubtedly reside in
England
with her family.

"I said I am. I
do not wish to lose Askeaton, and you certainly do not need to lose your
head." Sean gave him a grim look, then continued the pacing he had left
off.

"The one thing I
am not about to lose is my head," Devlin said wryly. "Cease
worrying. There will be no accusations from Miss Hughes."

Sean stared.

Devlin didn't like
the unwavering look. "What is it?"

"If you will not
marry her, then I want permission to court her."

Devlin started.

Sean began to flush.
"I know you've had her in bed. I could lie and say I don't care, but I do.
However, if it stops right here, I can live with that. Give me permission to
court her, to win her over, to marry her."

"No."

Sean flinched.

Devlin hadn't even
thought about it before refusing, and now, as angry as he was, his mind began
to tell him that if the little American wanted to cause problems, Sean's idea
wasn't a bad one. First he could ransom her and break
Eastleigh
, then Sean could marry her, undoubtedly
winning her loyalty and love. The two of them could live happily ever after at
Askeaton while he was gone.

But Sean could do
better, and Devlin intended for that to be so.

"So even though
I wish to marry her, your desire to have her as a plaything usurps my
wishes?" Sean asked coolly.

Devlin did not
hesitate. "My desire is for you to marry a wealthy heiress so you may
raise yourself up in this world."

Sean strode to him.
"Is it? Is it really? Because I don't think so. I think you are speaking
with your prick. Think about it. Really think about it and then give me your
answer." He stalked out.

Devlin stared
thoughtfully after him, the rush of anger receding. Sean was wrong—he did not
intend for
Virginia
to be his plaything—and damn it,
Sean's idea was actually clever. And the man who had made a fortune from the
bloody ashes of nothing knew it was worth consideration. He lifted his snifter
and stared at the contents, trying not to think about
Virginia
thrashing wildly in his bed, trying not to
recall the feel of her sum little body, her soft, wet lips.
Why not let Sean

                             
215

at her?
At least his intentions were
noble ones. And
Virginia
truly deserved a fine man like
his brother. She certainly did not deserve what he was doing to her.

He was so tense he
felt like he might snap, so he stood, but there was no relief.

A marriage between
Virginia and Sean would solve so many problems. In fact, it would even cover up
the crimes he had committed and his life could continue this way indefinitely.

And his life seemed
to stretch ahead infinitely, like the bleak gray line of one of the old Roman
roads, a strip of nothingness, never used, impossibly dismal, impossibly
insignificant, joyless, flat, with no possible end in sight.

Devlin walked to the
window overlooking the back lawns, suddenly shaken. He would rather die
tomorrow, a murderer and a cutthroat, than live out the interminable travesty
that was his life.

As
punishment for her crimes, she hadn't been allowed out of her room the entire
day or even downstairs for supper.
Virginia
had been sent her repast on a silver tray. She had simmered hi rage all
afternoon at the absolute injustice of her sentence. She had only gone for a
morning ride. How was she to know that she would be uncovering some kind of secret,
political, anti-British society? Had she known what was going on in that
farmhouse, she would have stayed away! It was all O'Neill's fault, for bedding
that fat Fiona, anyway. Had he not been such a cad, she would not have gone
riding so far and for so long. Consumed by such thoughts, she was simply unable
to enjoy the cook's fine stuffed pheasant and roasted salmon, which she barely
touched.

Had he meant his
terrible and disturbing threat, that he would not let her leave Askeaton if she
had seen all that she had?
Virginia
shivered. He had gone to great
lengths to abduct her so he could ransom her, and she seriously doubted he
would give all of that up.

He had said he had to
protect Sean and the others. Protect

them from what? Being
convicted as traitors to their country?

Virginia
stood at an open window in her
cotton nightgown, not having bothered to braid her hair, her supper tray
removed a long time ago. The night was filled with a thousand shining stars.
She knew she gazed toward the river, even though she could not see it, and
beyond that lay the
Atlantic
Ocean
and home.

A terrible heaviness
engulfed her. She wanted to go home. The feeling of being homesick took her by
surprise; it was as vast and consuming as it had been when she had been locked
away at the
Marmott
School
in
Richmond
.

Virginia
tucked her chin on her hand. Now
she was locked away at Askeaton. Of course she would be homesick, because until
this past year, she had never been anything but free to go and do as she
wished. Growing up the way that she had, she hadn't realized how lucky she was.
She realized it now. If only she had said thank you to her parents for all
their love, for their confidence in her, for allowing her to wear britches,
ride astride and help Father run the plantation.

A knock sounded on
her door.

Virginia
thought it was Connor, who
remained ridiculously outside of her door, guarding her as if she were a dangerous
felon. Perhaps he was leaving to go to his bed for the night. If so, she might
be tempted to climb out the window, steal the bay mare and simply run as far
away as she could.

Virginia
wasn't given a chance to answer.
Devlin walked into her bedroom.

For one moment she
was shocked. "Get out!"
Virginia
cried, her rage erupting.

He stared at her, so
inscrutable that it was impossible to guess what was on his mind. "We have
matters to discuss," he said carefully.

She strode back to
the bed and reached for the closest object on the bed stand, finding a water
pitcher there. Hefting it, she turned to throw it at him. She hoped to hit him
in the head and, if she were lucky, murder him on the spot.

He leapt forward
before she could hurl the object, gripping her wrist and causing her to cry
out. "Put it down," he warned.

"I'll put it
down." She bared her teeth at him. "I'll put it down on your
head." She tried to jerk free. Suddenly nothing was as important as
breaking his grasp and slamming the pitcher on his head. Images of him and
Fiona, starkly naked, passionately entwined, fueled her as nothing else could.

"Stop it,
Virginia
," he said quietly,
tightening his grip on her wrist.

Virginia
glared at him, afraid she was
going to start to cry, and said, "Fine." She dropped the pitcher,
hoping it would land on his foot, and if not, that it would break.

It didn't land on his
foot, but it was heavy
Waterford
crystal, and the handle
chipped, the water sloshing over her bare feet and his boots.

"I take it you
are still angry?" he asked, easing his hold but not releasing her.

She snorted
derisively. "How clever you are, Captain. Now, let me go, you are hurting
me."

"You also sound
bitter," he remarked, and she saw his glance go once, quickly and in such
a manner that it was barely perceptible, past the ruffled edge of her bodice.
She knew what he was about—he was looking at her breasts.

Virginia
yanked her arm hard to pull
away, but failed. "Why should I be bitter? I was on my way to
London
to take care of the most urgent and
personal affairs, when I was abducted off of my ship. I have since been locked
in your cabin, at your mercy, and now I am locked in this bedroom. Bitter? Oh,
no."

"I want to speak
with you. If you think to attack me again, you will be locked in this bedroom
for an entire week."

She met his cold
gaze. "You are every bit the bastard that everyone says you are."

He shrugged,
releasing her.

She jumped away and
felt her buttocks hit the edge of the bed. She did not like being trapped
between him and the bed, not at all.

"You are angrier
with me now than you were when I first seized the
Americana
.
You were crying this afternoon and now
again. Why? And do not tell me there is dirt in your eyes."

"This time it's
the
dust,"
she said with false sweetness. "Now, get out of my
bedroom, O'Neill!"

"I think
not." He studied her, unsmiling and far too carefully.

"But Fiona is
waiting." The moment the caustic words slipped out, she regretted them and
winced.

He went still. But
she saw the spark of surprise in his eyes.

She flushed and she
slipped aside, away from the bed and away from him. She walked across the room
to the fireplace, where she pretended to be fascinated with the flames. Oh, why
had she just said that? Now he would think her upset, jealous even, when she
was not. She was glad, fiercely so, that he had reunited with his love.

"What did you
just say?" he asked.

She folded her arms
tightly beneath her breasts and stared at the flames. Tears hazed her vision.
Why
? Just tell me why ? Don't you owe me that?

She never heard him
come up behind her and she jumped when his hand enclosed her elbow from behind.
"What did you say?" he asked again.

"Nothing."
She firmly pressed her lips together, but her heart slammed wildly and she
hated being so aware of him, standing behind her.

"No, you said
that Fiona is waiting. Waiting where? For whom?" His tone was without
inflection.

220                           

She whirled to face
him. A tiny voice inside of her head warned her not to say what she wished to,
but she ignored it. "I don't care if she is in your bed, Devlin. In fact,
I am relieved! 'Oh, how big it is, I can hardly fit it in my hand!'" she
mimicked.

His eyes flew wide,
and she saw him truly surprised, perhaps for the very first time.

'"Oh, he is so
tireless, like a stud!'" she spat, aware that her cheeks were flaming.
'"Ohhh! I am sooo in love!'" She glared.

He was silent.

She had a terrible
suspicion and she looked more closely at him and saw that he was amused,
goddamn him, for she saw the light of mirth in his eyes. "So you are angry
with me because I took some maid to my bed?" he asked quietly. "You
are jealous of Fiona?"

She cut him off.
"I am not jealous! I am
relieved.
And I think you are in the
wrong
bedroom now." She smiled widely—falsely—at him.

He regarded her for a
long moment.

"Say
something!" she shouted.

"I abducted you
off of the American ship. I have tried to treat you as I would any guest, but
we both know you're being held here against your will. You should be relieved
that I eased myself with some inconsequential housemaid, Virginia."

He was choosing his
words with so much care and it was obvious. Virginia knew she should be as
careful, but she couldn't. "I am relieved, I told you already, and I think
you should go back to her this very moment!" she cried, and horrified,
she felt tears welling.

He didn't speak.

"Why are you
staring at me as if I am a madwoman?" she asked, her mortification growing
because her tone was a choke-filled sob.

"I don't
understand you," he said softly. "You're my prisoner. How can you be
jealous? That would imply that you have feelings for me, your captor."

"I'm not
jealous." She turned away, perilously close to allowing those forming
tears to fall.

He seized her arm,
reeling her back around. "How could I have hurt you?"

"You
haven't!" she lied, furiously batting back the tears.

"You're
crying—again,"

"I'm not. I
don't care about you and I don't care that you prefer Fiona," she said.
"Please don't touch me."

But as he released
her, he also cupped her chin. "Only a foolish man would prefer the maid to
you."

She was sure she
hadn't heard him correctly. "What?"

"I don't prefer
her. In fact, I had forgotten all about her." He hesitated. "I am
sorry she spoke so freely to you, Virginia. I had also forgotten that I gave
you your very first kiss."

They had never spoken
so sincerely before. Virginia bit her lip, then had to say, "But I didn't
forget."

His jaw flexed.
"I wanted to discuss some important matters with you, but this is clearly
not the time."

She shook her head,
touching his sleeve. "I thought you liked me," she heard herself say,
and it was as if she were a little girl begging to understand.

He was so motionless
it was as if he did not even breathe. Very quietly, after a long pause, he
said, "Men use women all the time. It means nothing. It is a means to an
end. Fiona was eager to service me. I didn't go to her. I didn't seek her out.
I can't even recall what she looks like, except that she is fat. But I needed
the release physically. I am sorry if I made you jealous, that was not my intention.
To be truthful, I had forgotten entirely about the incident."