The Prize (58 page)

Sean swallowed.
Tightly, he said, "
Virginia
, I do not think he is
indifferent. I know my brother. No one knows him as well as I. If he did not
wish to marry you, nothing on earth could persuade him to do so, nothing and no
one."

* * *

Tomorrow was her
wedding day.

It would soon be
dawn.
Virginia
sat in a window seat, the sky
outside a dusky blue-black. Sometime in the evening it had begun to rain, and
the gentle rainfall silvered the curtain of night.

She stared at the
falling rain.
Virginia
was trying to imagine the kind
of woman she would be like if she had seen her father beheaded as a small
child. There was no possible way to do so. She thought she might react like
Sean, forgetting every detail.

But Devlin remembered
everything. Unlike his brother, he had spent the past fourteen years plotting
revenge against his father's murderer. She shivered, and not from the cold morning.
That would make anyone heartless, she thought, but the man who had lain with
her after the Carew ball had not been heartless, she was certain.

She had refused to
reconsider that night again, but now, it was all she could think of.

She closed her eyes
in turmoil. Tomorrow was her wedding. She could run away or she could stay;
she could accept marriage to a cold, vengeful man who insisted he was heartless
or she could have faith. Running away would probably fail, but having faith
only promised a future of heartache, if the past were any consideration.

Virginia stood
grimly. Her logic indicated that she had little choice but to stay and accept
marriage to a heartless man, expecting nothing in return except Sweet Briar.
How could she endure such a matrimonial state?

Virginia shivered
again, chilled in her soul, watching the falling rain. Images of her parents,
laughing, teasing, stealing a kiss or a touch when they thought no one was
looking, assailed her then.

God, she and Devlin
had hardly exchanged words since

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that awful day when
he had almost blackmailed her into accepting their union. One thing was so
clear. She could not endure a mechanical marriage to a man universally
acclaimed as heartless; therefore, she must continue on, foolishly daring to
hope she could somehow save his soul. Virginia realized the amount of courage
she now needed to go forward to the altar.

And it was time for a
civil conversation. It was time for a truce. They certainly could not live this
way after their marriage—or, at least, she could not—and more images of her
parents came, full-force, bittersweet.

Her decision was
made. She walked barefoot across the bedroom, Arthur happily following, filled
with trepidation. She already knew Devlin had not come up to his bed in the
adjacent room, so she went downstairs, certain she would find him at his desk
in the library.

Virginia let the
puppy out on the terrace before approaching the single room that was Devlin's
sanctuary. The library door was open and she had been right. A huge fire blazed
in the hearth and Devlin sat at his desk, a quill in hand, parchment before
him. He looked up, startled.

She smiled and it
felt very grim.
She was not giving up. She would try to be a real wife to
him, no matter the courage it took.

His gaze took in her
white cotton and lace nightgown and her bare feet. "
Virginia
?"

"I thought we
could speak—if you have the time," she added in a nervous rush.

"You will catch
cold," he said, standing and laying the quill aside.

He had a night's
growth of beard upon his jaw, his ruffled shirt was open at the throat and
lower, and it was also rumpled.
Virginia
's
heart skipped a beat or two. He looked dangerous, disreputable and terribly
seductive.

She came into the
room and went to stand before the fire, her back now to him. She felt his gaze
upon her, dared not look back, and then heard him walk over to her. She finally
glanced up at him; he glanced down at her. She saw that he held a throw in his
hands. "May I?"

She nodded, her
throat now constricted, and he settled the dark red wool rug over her
shoulders. The fire was hot and she was considerably warmed.

"What is it you
wish to speak about at five-thirty in the morning?" There was some dry
amusement in his tone.

"Our
marriage," she managed.

He nodded, his jaw
tight, the light hi his eyes flaring.

She hesitated. Her
parents had based their marriage on the truth. "I debated running away
again and decided against it."

He leaned on the
mantel. "Go on."

"Therefore, my
intention is to make the best of our situation."

"That is
reasonable," he nodded.

"How shall we
get along? Once, we were almost friends," she blurted, more nervous than
before. She swallowed hard and reached for his hand. As she took it, he tensed
and she felt it. "We can be friends. I am certain of it. I have been very
angry these past weeks, but I have thought a great deal about this, and now I
wish to start over. Tomorrow is our wedding day. What better foundation for a
marriage than friendship?"

He simply stared as
if mesmerized at her.

"Devlin?"

"Is this a
ploy?" he asked carefully.

"No," she
said quickly. "But I cannot be married to a man I cannot laugh with and
speak with. I cannot be married to a man and bear his children if we cannot
stroll in the park and ride horseback together and in general, engage in a
pleasant camaraderie. We are going to share our lives, Devlin, and that is
worthy of friendship."

For a moment he was
silent. "I do believe you asked me for my friendship once and I failed you
miserably,
Virginia
. It is very bold of you—and
brave—to ask me yet again."

"But is it too
much to ask?" she cried. "Are you saying you have no wish to be
friends? That you only wish .to share my bed and sit across from me at supper?
That is not acceptable to me, Devlin," she warned.

He stared. "So
this is the criteria for our marriage, then? Laughter, conversation, long walks
and hacks across the countryside?"

With great dignity,
she said, "I cannot live in a cold, barren union, Devlin. Surely you know
me well enough now to know that."

"I doubt it will
be cold or barren," he said swiftly.

"You are
avoiding my question," she said as calmly as she could.

"Yes, I suppose
I am." His jaw flexed. "You seem to think I am a gentleman of
leisure, that I will be home and at your beck and call. I am a military man.
Two days after our union I am going to war,
Virginia
, and my tour will last six months."

She felt crushed.

"But when I
return," he said seriously, "we will take long walks and horseback
rides, if that is what you wish. And if you say something amusing," he
said, his gaze intent, "I will make every effort to laugh."

Relief overcame her.
Her knees buckled. "Thank you, Devlin."

He smiled just a
little and then he shook his head. "You remain unpredictable,
Virginia
."

"Then you shall
not be bored," she replied. He was going to try to be a real husband to
her! Her elation began, swiftly increasing. He wasn't willing, oh no, stubborn
man that he was, but he had given in, he had conceded, he was going to fry-

He smiled a little at
her. "I do want you to know this. In this marriage, your every need will
be met. I have already made it clear to my steward that you will lack for
nothing, and if there is ever any problem, there is Adare to turn to, or Tyrell
or Sean. And you have yet to meet Rex or Cliff, but they are as noble."

Some of her elation
vanished. Her every need would not be met, not unless Sean was right and she
was the woman who could save Devlin's soul. But she had won enough that day and
she refused to dwell on that.

"Thank you,
Devlin," she said. She smiled at him and turned to go. Her bare feet were
numb from the cold stone floors.

"
Virginia
?" His tone had softened
remarkably and she whirled.

"Now that I have
had time to consider it, I am not displeased about our union. I think we will
do well together, in the end." He smiled a little at her, his gaze
searching.

Stunned, she met his
gaze. His smile was small but genuine and it reached his gray eyes, and
somehow, it stole her breath away.

He seemed to flush as
if embarrassed with his small confession—or perhaps he was merely a bit warm
from the fire.

Virginia
turned away. She remained in
terrible danger. One small smile, one soft look, and she was as hopeful as
ever. To enter a union so one-sided, to love a man who refused to ever return
her feelings, a man obstinately dedicated to hatred and revenge, was surely
madness on her part. But then, the human heart knew no reason.

Virginia
knew she would not give up on
him, not ever.

The wedding march
began.

Devlin felt his heart
lurch and then it picked up a maddening beat. He stood before the altar in the
chapel at Har-

mon House, his
brother Sean acting as his best man. The only guests present were his
family—Tyrell, Rex and Cliff stood in the front row with Mary and his
stepsister, Eleanor, who had just returned from
Bath
. He turned, strangely breathless, and it
was as if time had somehow become suspended.

Virginia
was coming down the aisle,
escorted by his stepfather.

He could only stare.
And suddenly he was terrified of his bride, the most beautiful woman he had
ever beheld, her violet eyes huge and bright and riveted upon him as she
slowly approached. He could not breathe. He was about to be married and his
life would never be the same.

The tumult in his
heart increased. Terror ran rampant. He need not fall victim to her allure, he
told himself in panic, nothing need really change. He had promised her long
walks and country hacks and conversation, but in two days he was going to war,
and it would be six months before he returned.

He was relieved;
insanely, he was even more disappointed.

She was a vision in
the glittering white gown, a sheer veil covering her face, her long hair
braided with diamonds and curling riotously about her shoulders. He simply
could not look away. There were so many memories.
Virginia
, standing at the rail of the
Americana
,
aiming a pistol at his head.
Virginia
in his cabin, proud and defiant,
demanding to know his intentions.
Virginia
at Askeaton, too lovely for words, offering him her body, beseeching his love
with her eyes. Virginia that morning in her nightclothes, as slender as a
child, offering him a truce and a real marriage if he dared accept it.

He did not deserve
such a woman. He never had and he never would.

But it was too late
to back out now! He closed his eyes, sweating. He would play her game, follow
her rules. He

                             
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would honor her, be
her companion, her lover, father their children, but he needed neither joy nor
love.

Virginia
paused at his side, while Edward
moved away. She gazed up at him expectantly. He was too stunned to even offer
her the smallest smile. Instead, he nodded at her. Appearing uncertain, she
faced the priest.

Father McCarthy
gestured and they both went down on their knees as the mass began.

Devlin heard not a
word the priest said. Instead h& was acutely aware of his bride, and as
acutely aware of the opportunity being presented to him. He was at a
crossroads. It was glaring at him. There were two directions his life could
take.

Joy and love...or
revenge and hate.

The small wedding
party had been removed to one of the salons at Harmon House. A long table had
been set up with a buffet offering enough food for fifty, including a resplendent,
multitiered wedding cake. Servants passed silver trays containing flutes of
champagne and a small orchestra played from one corner of the room.
Virginia
remained stunned and she could
not speak; in fact, other than to say, "I do," she had not said a
word in hours.
She and Devlin were married. It had really come to pass.

She blinked at her
left hand where a simple gold band declared the fact. She was weak of knee, it
was hard to breathe, and indeed, she almost felt faint.

She was married to
the man who had abducted her from the high seas, who had held her hostage, who
had flaunted her in society as his mistress, and who now, finally, had forced
her to the altar. She could summon up no regret. But she wondered what the
future held for them and foolishly prayed that all of her dreams might one day
come true. She looked across the room.