The Prize (59 page)

In his full dress
uniform, Devlin sipped a flute of champagne, surrounded by his stepbrothers.
She had met Rex, the middle one, and Cliff, the youngest, a few hours before
the wedding. Like Tyrell, both brothers were tall and dark of complexion. Rex
was in the army and he wore his scarlet uniform, decorated with gold epaulets
and numerous medals. Like Devlin, he was a captain, but his regiment was
cavalry, and like Devlin, his aspect was a bit forbidding. She vaguely recalled
that he had been wounded at
Salamanca
last year. As vaguely, she heard
he had been in the Russian theater, having only returned home recently.

Cliff she knew little
about. His hair was almost golden-brown, and he had a somewhat arrogant air.
She had overheard something about his ships and the
Caribbean
, leading her to believe that he was a
merchant of sorts. He did not appear to be a trader, but his rakish look also
reminded her of Devlin. All three de Warenne brothers were dangerously attractive,
each in their own way.

Devlin suddenly
looked across the room at her and her heart stopped. They stared, neither one
smiling.

Tonight was their
wedding night.
It
felt like it had been an eternity since she had been in his arms and she was
hollow inside at the prospect of lying with him.

A huge wave of desire
threatened to make her faint. She looked at him as he stood there across the
room, politely conversing with his stepbrothers, resplendent in his navy blue
tailcoat and white britches, at once powerful and charismatic, at once
seductive and dangerous. And he was now her husband.

"He is so
handsome! I can't imagine having such a husband."

Virginia
blinked and looked at a young
girl perhaps two years her junior. The girl was terribly beautiful, with high
cheekbones, amber eyes and dark blond hair that was almost the color of honey.
She was smiling hopefully at
Virginia
.

"I am Eleanor de
Warenne," she said with a graceful curtsy, her cheeks flushed.
"Devlin's stepsister."

Virginia
curtsied. "Forgive
me," she managed, her eyes moving back to Devlin again. He was speaking
with Cliff but his gaze veered instantly to her. The hollow feeling of immense
desire increased. She needed to be in his arms now. She tried to smile at his
stepsister. "How nice to finally meet you. Haven't you been in
Bath
this season?" She had vaguely heard
that the de Warennes' daughter had spent the last season there as another
young lady's companion.

Eleanor murmured an
affirmative.

Virginia
took a closer look at her. She
was gazing at Sean, her cheeks far more pink than before.

Then Eleanor turned.
"Are you nervous about your wedding night?" she asked quite
directly.

Virginia
was taken aback. But she was
nervous, very nervous, if she dared be honest with herself. "Frankly, I
am," she said softly. And she glanced at him again.

Sean suddenly stepped
between them. "I see you have both, finally, met. Eleanor, if you think to
lure
Virginia
into the topic of wedding
nights, you are wrong." His tone was mild but his stare was not. Then he
smiled at
Virginia
. "She is sixteen and
certain subjects are not suitable for her ears."

Eleanor's smile
vanished and she turned crimson. "I will be seventeen in three months,"
she cried. "I am not a barefoot child in pigtails anymore! I am a lady
now—a lady with suitors—ask anyone in
Bath
."
Lifting her skirts, she hurried away.

Sean sighed, staring
after her for one moment, appearing oddly thoughtful. Then he handed
Virginia
a flute of champagne. "You
look exhausted. Should I summon Devlin?"

Virginia
smiled back, hesitating. If he
summoned Devlin, they might find an excuse to leave. "Yes, that would be
wonderful," she managed. It was hard to breathe.

Sean bowed and walked
off, leaving
Virginia
alone. She took a sip of
champagne, hoping to cool herself as she did so. Instead, the crowd in the room
turned into a sea of faces.

And finally
Virginia
could not get any air at all. /
must
sit down,
she thought. But before she could move to do so, the flute
slipped from her fingers and crashed upon the floor.

Virginia
looked down at the puddle of
pale liquid, terribly surprised, and the puddle darkened and wavered in her
vision. How odd, she began to think, as the entire room seemed to tilt and sway
and finally darken, too.

I
am going to faint,
she
thought.

"
Virginia
!" Devlin cried.

His
heart felt as if it had stopped. He knelt over his bride, quickly seeking out
her pulse. It was strong and steady. Relief crashed over him like a tidal
wave; she had merely fainted.

Devlin gathered her
in his arms, glancing up at his family, who surrounded him. "She has
fainted. I think this day has been long enough." He swiftly stood.
Virginia
felt as light as a feather, and
her weight always amazed him.

"She has been
under too much duress," Mary whispered, her face ashen, her eyes filled
with guilt. "Oh, dear, I should have never insisted on such a hasty
wedding!"

"You are not to
blame, dear," Edward said, putting his arm around her.

Devlin strode from
the salon,
Virginia
limp in his arms. Sean reached
his side and Devlin met his brother's eyes. They were grave and concerned.

"Shall I send up
a maid with some salts?"

"She'll be
fine," he said a bit curtly. He was very aware that his brother's feelings
had not changed, just as he remained

480                          

aware that
Virginia
truly should have married
someone like Sean.

"Devlin!"
His mother slipped salts into the pocket of his jacket. "She hasn't been
eating well. She needs rest and nourishment."

He nodded and left
the room.

And once he was alone
with
Virginia
, bounding up the steps, he gazed
at her face and his heart warmed inexplicably. She deserved Sean, or someone
like Sean, but she was stuck with him. Suddenly he wanted to make it up to her.

Their suite had been
filled with flowers and roses. Devlin laid her on the bed, which was turned
down, just as she began to stir. He sat down at her hip and held the salts to
her nostrils; she gasped, her eyes flying open.

For one moment, she
stared. Then she started to sit up.

He clasped her
shoulder and held her down. "Stay still for a moment," he said
gently, an odd affection filling him, soft and tender. He was aware of the fact
that the fear remained, but he had somehow managed to shove it aside. "You
fainted."

She smiled a little.
"I am so sorry. I don't faint."

He found his mouth
curving. "All women faint."

"Not this
one...until now."

He realized he still
held her small shoulder, and that her diamond-encrusted hair brushed his
fingers. He meant to remove his hand; somehow, he touched her face. "It
has been a difficult day, I know.
Virginia
..."
He stopped, unsure of what he wanted to say, but the warmth was filling his
chest and he wanted to say something to her.

"What?" she
whispered.

He hesitated. His
mind raced but no coherent thoughts came, there was only the warmth, oddly
tender and so surprisingly unfamiliar. "I will try to be a good
husband."

Her eyes widened; she
smiled. "I cannot ask for more than that," she said.

She was so beautiful,
so original, so unique—and she was his. Devlin found himself leaning over her
as the room around them blurred and disappeared, as the small noises coming
from the guests downstairs and the wind outside faded and vanished. Time seemed
to slow.
Virginia
did not move. She held his gaze
until their lips brushed.

A harsh sound escaped
from him. He caught her face in his hands and opened her lips gently. Slowly,
gently, their mouths fused and their tongues tangled. He stroked his hand down
her shoulder, her arm. Urgency slammed over him. The need to explode, then and
there, caused him to begin to shake.

He exercised an
impossible amount of restraint and he drew away from her. "I will let you
rest," he said roughly, about to get up.

She seized his arm,
her grip surprisingly strong. "No."

"
Virginia
," he began, sitting back
down as she sat up. "You just fainted." He wanted to do the right
thing now.

Her cheeks were pink,
her pupils dilated. "I am fine," she insisted.

"We have a
lifetime ahead—" he began.

She caught his
shoulders, pressing her mouth to his, and there was nothing soft or gentle or
controlled about her kiss. Her mouth moved insistently, her small tongue
prodding, and when he did not respond, she nipped his lip.

He lost all
self-restraint. He seized her, pushing her down, taking back the kiss, opening
her and thrusting inside. He knew what was coming, and something vast, huge and
hollow filled him—the sensation almost like standing in the path of a gale,
knowing that when it came, he would be blown away. He held her hard, tightly,
kissing her even more deeply, and the gale winds came.

Thought collapsed,
and with its destruction, all logic was also gone. There was only feeling—a
huge madness, part desire, part triumph and something else, something
different,

something never
before felt, swelling impossibly, expanding inside, cresting upward, outward,
consuming his body and his being.

Virginia
was pawing his back frantically,
making small, eager cries. He somehow found the tiny buttons on the back of her
dress. "Hurry," she cried.

He simply could not
speak. Emotion made it impossible. He could only pant and stare as he tore the
dress away, chemise, corset and frilly drawers following. Devlin leapt to his
feet.

She sat up, naked
except for her garters and stockings and the diamonds in her hair. As he tore
off his own clothes, she watched, her small breasts heaving, the tips pink and
elongated. When he was naked, she held out her arms.

For one moment, he
did not move, triumph washing over him, savage and barbaric and male.
This
woman belonged to him. But hadn't he always known that—from the first moment he
had ever seen her
—
when she had thought to assassinate him with a sniper
shot?
And then he went to her.

He pushed her slowly
down, smiling a little, and she smiled a little back. He spread her thighs and
moved against her, and she gasped.

"Watch me,"
he whispered, a command, and he slowly began to fill her.

She moaned as he
entered, and he found that it was him watching her now, as her eyes glazed, as
her flush increased, and finally, when he was seated to the hilt, as her eyes
widened with real surprise and profound pleasure. More triumph seared him, and
with it, more love. Slowly he began to move.

Her eyes closed, she
found his rhythm, and as one, they strained. Devlin held her in his arms,
tighter and tighter still, fighting the need to explode, knowing now that this
was what he would always need, forever and ever, and he kissed her cheek, her
neck, her temple, as she whimpered and begged,

clawing him. Then she
gasped, eyes flying wide, and she cried, "I still love you!"

He stiffened, holding
her as she began her climax, incredulous and disbelieving, and her words
echoed. /
still love you.
And Devlin could no longer restrain himself,
and holding her hard, convulsed into her body, time and again, the frantic
chant /
still love you
a litany in his mind.

Virginia
became aware of strong fingers
easing along the side of her arm.

For one moment, as
sleep slowly lifted, she was disoriented, and then she was awake.

She lay curled
against Devlin—her husband—and he was stroking her arm. She tensed, recalling
the wedding, the small family gathering afterward and his lovemaking.
He had
been so gentle.

Her eyes opened and
she craned her neck to look up at him. Instantly she saw that he was staring at
her, his expression soft and relaxed as she had never before seen it. In fact,
the light in his eyes was just as soft, unguarded and warm. Her brows lifted.

He met her gaze and
his face tightened and his lashes lowered, as if shielding himself from her
scrutiny.

"I fell
asleep," she whispered, shaken. Had she really seen that incredible light
of warmth just then? Had he been looking at her that way while she slept? As
if he loved her in return?

"Yes, you
did," he said quietly, his hand now still on her arm. He smiled a little
at her.

She sighed and lay
her cheek on his chest. Oh, but she did like that—she could hear his powerful
heart beating, slow and steady. She smiled and the love she felt for him washed
over her. Trying not to love this man was simply impossible.

"How are you
feeling?" he asked soberly.

"Wonderful."
She looked up and grinned.

He smiled and amusement
appeared in his eyes. "That is not what I meant. I was referring to the
fact that you fainted."

"Oh, that!"
She was dismissive. "I do feel wonderful."

"Perhaps you
should eat something. I can have a tray sent up."

She smiled against
his chest. Did she dare? Why not! "I am hungry," she murmured,
"very hungry—but not for food."

He was still.

She glanced up.

"You are a
minx," he said softly, but he was smiling.

"Am I?" she
said, pleased by his remark. She kissed the muscle beneath her cheek, then slid
her hand down his rib cage and his abdomen. She felt the muscles there tense.

She kissed his skin
again and brushed her ringers over his manhood, which lay half-stiff upon his
belly. She watched it grow with real interest and teased her fingertips over it
again.

"You play with
fire, little one," he murmured.

"Does this
always happen so easily?" she had to ask as she began to explore both
shape and texture.

There was no
response.

Virginia
closed her hand around him, and
inside, she felt hugely hollow. She glanced slowly up.

He watched her, his
face strained, his breathing harsh, uneven. He said, slowly, with effort,
"If you do as you are doing, yes."

She smiled, pleased,
and stroked his length. "And if I do this?"

"Then I do
this," he growled, and she found herself lifted up above his body and held
over his head, against the headboard. "What?" she began, and then
his tongue swept over her.