The Prize (40 page)

Virginia
almost hugged herself, staring
back at him. Was he telling her that he would never love her? Could he be that
perceptive? Had the liquor allowed him to speak so honestly with her now?

"I do not know
what you mean," she whispered, perspiring.

He shrugged with a
small smile, the gesture meant to convey that he did not believe her, not for
a single moment.

An idea struck her
then, a wonderful idea that might help her attain her end. "But there is
something that I want, Devlin," she said.

He studied her, half
a smile on his face, waiting.

"There is
something that I want from you and I
know
you can give it," she
said firmly. How tense her expression felt.

"Oh, ho! I sense
a new battle. Darling, you cannot win, so do not even think to take to the
field." He smiled, but she saw the wariness in his eyes. She realized then
that, drunk or not, he would always be a dangerous adversary.

"I am not your
darling," she breathed.

"But you are—in
the eyes of the world." His soft tone was a deadly caress.

She wet her lips,
praying hard, wondering if he might actually be trying to seduce her, in spite
of what he had said earlier. "I want your friendship, Devlin. Nothing
more, just your friendship."

His eyes widened,
then quickly narrowed. "A new twist," he murmured, inclining his head
with real respect. "As I said, forever unpredictable. I think not."

"No! You must
hear me out!" She finally walked over to him and took his hand.

He stared first at
her face and then at her pale hand, and he made an incredulous sound. "
Virginia
," he warned, and it was
clear that the seductive dance between them was now over.

Bravely she stood her
ground. "I want your friendship, freely given, until the ransom is paid
and I am free to go."

He stared at her.
"I have no friends."

"That's
ridiculous!" His brows lifted. "Sean is your friend."

He pulled slowly away
from her and folded his arms across his broad chest. "Forever
interesting," he mused softly. And his tone hardened. "I sense a
negotiation. Negotiate."

She wet her lips. His
gaze lingered on her mouth. She noticed, but only vaguely, as her heart
slammed with undue force. "In return, I will play the part of your
mistress so well

that even you will
believe me your shameless lover," she said.

He looked at her in
absolute surprise.

She smiled, savoring
a moment of triumph. "Well? This game will end much sooner if I cooperate.
I am offering you more than cooperation—I am offering you full participation."

He slowly smiled at
her, but it did not reach his eyes, which remained dark and thoughtful. "I
know how clever you are," he said. "And I know you have some scheme
upon which this bargain rests. Whatever it is, whatever you think to truly
accomplish, you will fail—if it is not what I want."

She shrugged, weak
with the desire to win. "Just make the bargain."

"Patience,
darling,
is what you must learn if you are to be a real player hi the game of
life."

She sighed with real
exasperation, while inside she was very close to elation. "Do we have a
bargain or not?" she cried.

"We have a
bargain," he agreed softly, with a slight smile. "Let me guess. We
seal it with a handshake?" His tone remained soft, but it was mocking.

"I don't think
so,"
Virginia
said boldly, barely able to believe
her courage, and she moved into his arms. "We seal it with a kiss."

His smile told her he
had thought so. And he waited.

Her heart raced with
such strength that she felt faint.
Virginia
stood on tiptoes, clutching his shoulders, too exhilarated to be annoyed that
he made no effort to bend down to her. She turned up her face and closed her
eyes, the last thing she saw being his silver gaze, suddenly hot, suddenly
bright. He wanted this, too. And then she moved her mouth firmly over his.

He remained utterly
still.

330                          

She pushed at the
seam made by his lips, using her tongue, and when he gave, she felt real
triumph and she invaded, her small tongue against his much larger one.

His hand closed on
her nape, hard, and instantly he bent her over backward and his tongue swept
deep into her mouth. In that one instant he took over the kiss, branding her
and letting her know it.
Virginia
didn't care. She held on
tightly, pressing against him, allowing him every possible liberty, should he
wish to take any. And when the hot, hard kiss was over, he lifted his head and
stared.

"Whatever your
game, darling, it's a dangerous one."

She smiled, but
fiercely, while trembling in his arms. "I merely want your friendship,
Devlin," she lied.

He made a mocking
sound.

The moment the door
opened,
Virginia
pretended to be asleep.

She lay absolutely
still, on her back, listening intently. As no footsteps sounded, she thought he
stood in the doorway, staring at her.

He sighed and walked
in, closing the door. "I know you are awake,
Virginia
, your cheeks are turning pink," he
said, holding a candle aloft.

She sat up. It was
midnight
. She had tried to go to sleep two hours
ago, but her mind had refused to cooperate. No longer confused, she remained
scared, the feeling distinct, as if she were standing on a cliff high above a
lake, preparing to dive into icy, unknown depths far below. All she could
think of was what she was doing. Did she really think to beat him at his game?
Did she really think to win his friendship? Did she have a chance of making him
fall in love with her? And how in God's name were they going to share a room?
She could think of little else than a far better way of spending the night in
the same bedroom together—even though her resolve not to leap into his bed remained.

"I see you made
my bed for me," he said, glancing at the pile of sheets and pillows on the
floor. "How thoughtful."

She hugged her knees
to her chest, watching him yank a sheet free and then lay it flat. When his
makeshift bed was made, he sat down in the room's single chair and tugged off
his boots. When the second one hit the floor with a thump, he looked up, his
eyes hard and narrowed. "Do not make this difficult,
Virginia
."

"Why not?"
she flung. "You have certainly made my life difficult."

"We are not
sharing mat bed." He stood, unbuttoning his shirt.

She had to watch,
mesmerized by the swath of golden skin slowly but surely revealed. "That's
right, we're not. This is pretense and I know it better than you."

"Really?"
He clearly did not believe her.

"Now you plan to
undress?" she asked breathlessly as he tossed the shirt aside. She made
sure not to inhale, but he was an Adonis, impossibly beautiful, his body hard
and muscular, every sinew and tendon sculpted and defined.

Not looking at her,
he blew out the candles. "I am sleeping in my britches, if that is any
comfort to you."

"It's such a
relief!" she mocked. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and with the
moonlight streaming through the window, she saw him lying quietly on the white
sheets, one arm flung above his head. A moment passed and she wondered if he
were already asleep, as he did not move at all. "Devlin?"

Remaining motionless,
he said, "Yes,
Virginia
?"

"Are you
thinking about what I am thinking about...at all?"

"No," he
said calmly.

She stared at him
suspiciously. "Yes, you are! How else would you know what I am
thinking?"

"You are
thinking about going home," he returned smoothly. "Good night."
It was a warning.

She hugged her knees
harder, her pulse racing, and finally, softly, she said, "I am not
thinking about going home. I am thinking about that kiss in the library."

"Good
night," he said very firmly.

She sighed with
exasperation and frustration and flopped onto her back. Instantly images of his
eyes, blazing with lust, filled her mind, followed by another image of how he
had just looked, shirtless, and her body responded completely. She bit her lip
hard. How would she ever fall asleep when he was right there on the floor, a
temptation like no other? And why did she have to be so tempted? She had a plan
now, one that frightened her, but one she intended to follow. Would it really
matter if she was his mistress in fact as well as in fiction?

It would matter to
her, she thought. It would matter a great deal, unless he gave her his love as
well as his body. She sighed. She might as well resign herself to a very long
and uphill battle, including the one against herself.

"
Virginia
," he warned. "You are
acting like a child."

She sat up and moved
to the end of the bed, where she could see him quite clearly. "How am I
acting like a child? I simply cannot sleep with you there on the floor!"

He remained on his
back, but he was looking at her. "You don't want to sleep," he
muttered. "You want to argue...among other things."

"What other
things could I possibly want, Devlin?" she asked innocently, although she
was smiling.

"Count
sheep," he said firmly. "Or leaves of tobacco. Good night."

"I think I am a
bit mad," she said reflectively. "That must be

it I mean, six months
ago I was on the
Americana
and we had never met. No, actually, I was
still at that awful and horrid ladies' school in
Richmond
. Since then you have abducted me, taken me
to Askeaton, had your way with me, left me, handed me off to your brother, and
here we are, man and mistress—almost."

"Good God,"
Devlin said. "Are you going to be this garrulous every night?"

"And after all
of that, I still enjoyed that kiss. Of course, I refuse to ever entertain you
in bed again."

He sat up. The sheet
dropped to his lap, revealing the hard slabs of his chest and his lean, flat
abdomen. "You have an eerie mind,
Virginia
, and it seems to be on a single path. And,
darling, I entertained you, not vice versa."

That was it. She
thought about his mouth and tongue against her sex and she could not breathe,
not one drop of air.

He suddenly leapt to
his feet. "I am going downstairs to read for a while."

This was never going
to work, she thought, staring at him. He was aroused, the rigid line impossible
to miss in his snug, pale britches. 'Too bad Fiona isn't here," she heard
herself remark.

"Yes, it
is," he said, crossing the room and not looking at her.

"Devlin, this
will not work. Our sharing a room, it's simply impossible. You have to sleep
somewhere else. To hell with the servants!"

He leaned against the
closed door, facing her. "Servants gossip madly, and I would bet my
fortune that Mrs. Hill's telling everyone she can think of how shameless a
barbarian her new Irish master is. So this will have to work, and it will, but
only if you make an attempt,
Virginia
, an attempt not to think about
your passionate nature."

"Like you are
doing?" she challenged softly.

"Like I am
doing," he said with a smile that was a simple baring of his teeth.
"It is called self-will,
Virginia
, and while I realize you have
never thought to exercise it, now is a good time to start."

"This is not my
fault," she reminded him.

"Lie down, close
your eyes and count sheep,
Virginia
, sheep—or bales of tobacco, if
you will—or battleships. Then I am certain you will be able to rest." He
walked out.

"We do not bale
tobacco," she muttered crossly.

Virginia
flopped back down, arms crossed,
oddly pleased. He wasn't that hard to provoke, she decided, and she did enjoy
stirring him up. And he did find her attractive, of that there was no doubt.

Virginia
closed her eyes and began to
count tobacco leaves. But the tobacco faded, replaced with a striking image of
Devlin O'Neill.
Virginia
suddenly smiled. Maybe her plan
would work after all.

"Miss
Hughes? You have callers in the parlor," Tompkins said.

Virginia
had awoken that morning quite late,
as it had taken her hours to still her mind and fall asleep, and the bedroom
had been empty. It was now
noon
and she had been strolling the
back lawns, finally pausing on the small terrace behind the house. She smiled
at Tompkins. "Callers?"

"Yes," he
beamed back at her.

He was not at all
like the horrid Mrs. Hill, whom
Virginia
had seen in passing that morning. The housekeeper had made a remark that
breakfast was taken between eight and nine, an explanation for the empty
sideboard in the small dining room. She had refused to look at
Virginia
, as if doing so might make her a
mistress, too.
Virginia
had ignored her growling belly,
politely asking for some coffee, toast and chocolate. A maid had brought her
the requested refreshments, as it was clearly beneath Mrs. Hill to wait upon
her master's lover.

As they turned to the
French doors,
Virginia
asked, "How long have you
been at Wideacre, Tompkins?"

'Ten years, if I do
say so myself," he responded cheerfully.

"And you love it
here?"

"Yes, I do. The
missus died some time ago, my two daughters are married with children, one in
Manchester
, the other in a small village to
the south, and Wideacre has become my home." He shrugged a bit, his cheeks
pink.

"You do a
wonderful job,"
Virginia
assured him. They stepped into
the parlor.

Devlin stood speaking
to a country gentleman and his plump, pretty wife.
Virginia
halted the instant she laid eyes on him and
for one moment, she admired him in his fine brown frock coat and tan britches.
She had never seen him in a casual coat before. It hardly made a difference; he
remained such a stunning man.

He saw her and their
gazes locked. She wondered if he had ever come up to their room last night;
when she had finally fallen asleep, he had yet to return.
Their room.
It
was still almost impossible to believe, as was the state of her heart, now
that she had admitted her worst fears and greatest dreams.

"Do come in,
Virginia
," Devlin said, smiling.
"Squire Pauley and his wife have been so kind as to call."

Virginia
hesitated, aware of the game
they would now play. It had already begun, in fact, with his calling her by her
given name so intimately. Both the bewhiskered squire and his blond wife were
regarding her curiously, smiling.
Virginia
knew they did not yet know that she was a fallen woman.

She would change
that. She smiled and swept forward, going right to Devlin, where she stood on
tiptoe and kissed his cheek. His skin was warm and smooth—he had clearly shaved
recently. Her heart leapt as she withdrew her mouth and she said, "Good
morning, darling," her voice husky without any effort on her part.

He started, but then,
ever the better gamesman, he took her hand and lifted it to his mouth, pressing
his lips firmly there.

"You are
ravishing,
Virginia
," he murmured. "I see
you slept late. No doubt you have deserved it."

Their gazes held.
"I was so tired I simply could not get up," she breathed, and
deciding to outdo him, she stroked his cheek, just once.

He started yet again.
That gave her no satisfaction, however, as her heart was racing from the
feigned intimacy. It was as if they were really lovers, and in that brief
moment of pretense, it had felt as if they were alone.

"May I present
Miss Virginia Hughes of Sweet Briar, Virginia," Devlin said, looping her
arm in his.

The squire and his
wife were wide-eyed; now, quickly, they both smiled, at once. "How nice to
make your acquaintance, Miss Hughes," the squire said, his gaze shooting
back and forth between them.
Virginia
knew he was trying to fathom
their relationship.

"It is my
pleasure,"
Virginia
said, as if she had been the
most stellar student at the
Marmott
School
. She extended her hand and he brushed the
air above it with his lips. She turned to his wife. "Hello, Mrs. Pauley.
Do you live far from here?"

"We live just a
few miles away," the blonde replied, attempting a smile and not quite
succeeding.

"The captain
tells us you have just arrived," Squire Pauley said, tugging at his
cravat.

"Yes, yesterday.
I have spent the past five months at Devlin's home in
Ireland
,"
Virginia
said, giving him a sidelong glance.

His brows lifted with
amusement. He was clearly no longer surprised by her gamesmanship. "While
I, alas, was patrolling the coast of
Spain
."
He sighed heavily as if he had yearned for her every day they were apart.

Mrs. Pauley's cheeks
were bright red. But she turned her blue eyes on Devlin then. "We have
heard so much about you, Captain. You are a hero to us all."

"Yes, sir,"
her husband added. "We are so pleased that you have a home here now."

"Thank
you," Devlin murmured.

"How long will
you be in residence?" the squire asked.

"I think a week,
certainly no more," Devlin said.

Virginia
was surprised. "Only a
week, Devlin?" she asked softly.

He pulled her close.
"Has my little country home grown on you the way that Askeaton has?"

She smiled up at him,
acutely aware of the length of his body against her side. She was practically
in his embrace, nestled against him and in the hard curve of one arm. It felt
right. "I fear that it might...darling," she said.

The squire coughed.
Or perhaps he choked.
Virginia
glanced at him and saw his face
had turned the color of beets.

"Are you...are
you betrothed?" his wife managed, her expression mesmerized.

"Betrothed?"
Devlin echoed.
Virginia
heard the disbelief in his tone
and she inwardly stiffened, but she smiled and looked up at him. Devlin's brows
lifted. "I am afraid I am not a marrying man."

The blonde stared. So
did her husband.

Virginia
broke the silence. "I am
merely his mistress," she announced boldly, and she felt Devlin stiffen
with surprise.

"I believe
Virginia
meant she is a dear old
friend," Devlin murmured.

"Er,
right," the squire mumbled, now definitely choking on his words.

Virginia
looked at him and she looked at
his pretty wife. Their shock and distress were evident. She also thought she
knew their thoughts, racing through their heads.
She lives with him as his
mistress ? Good God, does she have no shame ?
And as they turned their eyes
upon her, she saw the disbelief and dismay turning to condemnation. She smiled
bravely back.

For she truly did not
care. Did she?

She slipped free of
Devlin and walked over to a table to fiddle with some trinkets there. She was
not
embarrassed and she was
not
dismayed, she told herself fiercely. The
stakes were too high now. This was only a game, a bargain made betwixt her and
Devlin, and if she won, she would have her freedom and his love.

Nothing and no one
else mattered.

Tompkins was wheeling
in a tea cart piled high with miniature cakes.
Virginia
had the urge to rush outside for some fresh
air. Thankfully, Devlin was breaking the increasingly strained silence. "I
have heard there is a wonderful market every Sunday in the local village."

"Oh, there
is," Mrs. Pauley cried, smiling widely in relief. "You must go,
Captain, really, for there are wonderful homemade pies, a dancing bear, pony
rides for the children and one of our cabinetmakers always shows his wares. He
makes the most intriguing chests, in all sizes, filled with dozens of hidden
drawers! You should bring Miss Hughes—
Virginia
—I
mean, Miss Hughes, as I am sure she would find it most entertaining!" she
cried in a rush, her face flushed with her embarrassment.

Virginia
wanted to flee. She felt
miserable, but what was even worse was using these good and decent people, all
to further Devlin's obsessive scheme, and to so humiliate them. But she faced
everyone, smiling. "I should love to go, darling."

She realized that
Devlin had turned away to examine a porcelain dish.

"You shall most
enjoy it," the squire said gamely. "Beth? I do think we must be on
our way, as we have taken up enough of the good captain's time."

"Yes, of
course," Beth Pauley said, her gaze darting to
Virginia
with a mixture of fascination and horror.

340                          

Devlin came to life.
He shook the squire's hand. "Do come again," he said politely, and
Virginia
had no idea if he meant it or
not. "Mrs. Pauley, it was a pleasure," he said, so gallantly that
Virginia
gaped.

Mrs. Pauley flushed,
but with pleasure, and
Virginia
knew she was smitten. "Do
come to the fair, Captain," she said, her eyes soft and glowing.

"We shall make
every attempt," he returned. Then he faced the door, where Tompkins
somehow magically stood. "Do escort the squire and his wife out. Good
day."

Virginia
had plastered a smile on her
face. She watched the couple hurry out. Devlin strolled to the door and closed
it so that they were alone. He faced her, no longer smiling, his expression
strained.

He stared
speculatively. "You are a good player, Virginia."

"But?"

"But as I said
last night, you are forever outspoken."