The Prize (34 page)

But so many images of
Devlin O'Neill assailed her now. She saw him standing strong and proud on the
quarterdeck of the
Defiance,
the scourge of the seas; she recalled
Devlin staring at her fierce with pride, telling her that all the land, as far
as the eye could see, was Askeaton, that all the land belonged to him.

And finally there was
Devlin, his body hard and aroused, covering her, his eyes brilliant and
unfocused with the maddened haze of his lust.

Virginia
tried to breathe and calm
herself. He hadn't always treated her abominably. He had treated her well until
those last few hours—and if she dared to remember, she had sought to seduce him
then, never dreaming what her success would mean.

"I'm afraid I
don't believe you," Sean murmured, his hands sliding around her now.

She stiffened,
stunned. "What are you doing?"

                             
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"I have tried
very hard to think of you only as a friend," he said slowly, his gaze
holding hers.

And in the fading
light of dusk,
Virginia
saw every emotion that he was
feeling in the pale gray disks that were his eyes. Unlike Devlin's, they
shimmered with sorrow, with sincerity and with something far greater than
friendship.
He was in love with her.

His hands tightened.
"I will always be your friend," he said grimly. "But what I want
to know is if there is any chance that you could forget him and what you have
shared with him. If there is any chance, no matter how small, that you might
ever think of me as something more than a friend."

Virginia
reeled. She did not know what to
say. And she was so touched that she cupped his face in her hands, a strong,
handsome face, his features as hard, defined and angled as his brother's, a
face so terribly similar except for his dark brown hair and brows. But she had
never confused the brothers, because his eyes were windows to his soul, as Devlin's
were not. "I don't know," she began hoarsely. "I am so
surprised...."

His hands moved into
the heavy weight of her hair, which she had pinned back but left down. "I
lied to my brother," he said as hoarsely. "I am in love with you,
Virginia."

His words were a
terrible trigger. She loved him, too, but not that way—and what a fool she was
not to love him as a man. Because she knew him completely. He was a man incapable
of treachery while capable of loving a woman deeply, forever. "Sean, I
can't." She dared not admit why, not even to herself.

He nodded, not
speaking now. But he held her for one moment longer before dropping his hands.
Instantly she seized them and clung. "Don't leave me now! I need you now
more than I ever have!"

"I know."
He smiled sadly, then the smile turned grim. "I

will always be here
for you, Virginia, but I am not going with you and Devlin to Wideacre. It is a
terrible idea. I prefer not to be with the both of you."

"But—"

"No. Let me speak.
I have wanted to speak frankly for some time."

She tensed but she
nodded, for she owed him this. Still, what more could he possibly say after
such an admission?

"Devlin is not a
bad man. But the day he saw our father murdered, he changed. That was the day
he stopped smiling, the day the laughter disappeared. That was the day he
became obsessed with revenge."

She swallowed and
nodded. It was impossible not to feel sorry for him, but she steeled herself
not to now.

"Virginia, I am
telling you this because I love him. Like my mother and stepfather, I worry
about him and what he has spent his life doing. His naval career? He couldn't
give a damn about the navy, Virginia. And he cares very little for
Great Britain
."

She thought about the
secret meeting she had witnessed. "But why?"

"A man like
Devlin can become rich and powerful in the navy, and as you have seen, that is
exactly what Devlin has done. He used the navy to acquire enough wealth and
power so he could destroy Lord Eastleigh."

She shivered.

"He went to sea
at thirteen. His system of revenge began that day,
Virginia
."

"Oh, God."
She began to realize the enormity of his obsession.

"He would die
for me, our mother, our stepfather or our stepbrothers and stepsister. Gladly.
He would die to save his men, his ship. He would die for
Ireland
. But I suppose his fearless courage is not
at issue here."

"No, it's
not," she whispered, mesmerized in spite of knowing how dangerous it was
to allow such an intense fascination to overcome her now. And where was Sean
leading?

"He is powerful,
wealthy and fearless, he is widely admired as a great sea captain, and he is
both respected and feared. But he is not kind. His ability to be kind died the
day our father died."

"I am
sorry," she heard herself say.

"Don't be. He is
not a ruthless monster, either, though, and I know you saw that.
Virginia
, I love my brother enough to
tell you now that I think, possibly, there is hope."

"Hope?" she
echoed.

He gripped her
shoulders. "The Devlin I know would never succumb to his desire for a
young, innocent woman. God, we were raised with a stepsister whom we were sworn
to protect! And even more important, the day our father died, our baby sister
was left by the British to burn in the fire they had set. I can't remember, not
any of it. But Devlin remembers it all. He would never use an innocent woman.
To be very crude, if he needed a woman it would be a harlot like Fiona."

"What are you
trying to tell me?" she whispered, trembling, afraid, and oddly, so
filled with hope.

"I think you
have reached a part of him he lost a long time ago, and I think—no, I hope and
pray—you can reach that part again and pull him back into the light of a new
day."

"What?"

"He is
sorry," Sean said. "He told me, and I know him well—it is the truth.
But it is not over."

She could only stare.

"He is not
indifferent—it is a sham, a pretense, a huge theatrical act. If you do not
hate him, if you can ever forgive him, maybe you are the one who can help him
find his soul."

"Are...are you
mad?"

He smiled and released
her. "I am sad."

She quickly moved to
embrace him. She hugged him hard.

In her arms, Sean
whispered, "My brother needs the love of a good woman, and if you cannot
love me, then maybe you can give him another chance."

Virginia
began to shake. "What are you
asking me?" she whispered.

"I am asking you
to save my brother."

Virginia
stared out of the window of the
coach as it left Askeaton. Sean stood in the courtyard waving, and as the coach
traveled down the road, he and the manor became smaller and smaller until
finally Sean became indistinct. There was a terrible lump in her throat, and
the fact that a part of her, a large part, did not want to leave became glaring.
Was it Sean she already missed, or was it the safety she had found at Askeaton,
the safety and comfort, the friendship?

Or was she afraid of
what the future held?

/
am asking you to
save my brother.

Virginia
inhaled harshly and the cold,
wet air somehow burned her lungs and chest. She could see nothing now but the
harvested fields and the woods that the road wound through. Panic came, hard
and fast.
I don't want to save anyone
—
much less him!
she thought
wildly.

Virginia
stole a quick glance at her
captor. He sat beside her in the back seat, dwarfing her as well as the
interior of

280                          

the coach. The cab
was too small for them both, never mind that a few very solid inches remained
between them.

I
think you have
reached a part of him that he lost a long time ago.

Virginia
winced, wanting to plug up her
ears the way a small child might, only that would not stop Sean's voice, so
loudly speaking in her head.

He is not
indifferent. It is a sham, a pretense, a huge theatrical act.

Inwardly,
Virginia
moaned. Why had Sean urged her
to befriend his brother, to awaken him, to heal him? Why? Why not throw such a
monumental task on someone else, someone stronger, more experienced, more
womanly? She did not want to be his savior. Sean had been mad last night, to
think she was the one to help this man recover his humanity.

My brother needs
the love of a good woman:...

Now she moaned out
loud, caught herself, and bit off the sound somewhat belatedly.

She felt his stare.

It felt cool, calm
and terribly indifferent.

She dared another
sidelong glance at him, her hands clasped in her lap.

"Are you
ill?" he asked.

"I...I have a
terrible headache."

Their gazes had met,
but only for a moment, because he accepted her excuse and looked indifferently
out the window at the passing countryside. It began to rain heavily.

She looked at the
edge of his hard jaw, the angle of his straight nose, the slash of a cheekbone.
Her heart tightened, and an oh-so-familiar tension, already within her, grew.
She remained terribly attracted to this man, against all reason and all common
sense. It was as if he were a powerful magnet, she a tiny clip. She could feel
the pull

that arose from him.
Like the very ocean itself, waves emanated from his body, crashing over her
and trying to pull her far out to sea.

It was such a waste,
she thought. But Sean was wrong in many ways. Devlin was indifferent and he did
not care—this could not be an act. And she was not the one capable of guiding
him back to his lost soul.

But everyone
deserves a second chance. What is there to lose, my darling?

Virginia
shot up, for it was as if her
mother, smiling and benign, had spoken.

"We do not have
a ship's surgeon, but if you are in extreme pain, I do know where the laudanum
is kept."

She turned to stare
at him, aware of how wide-eyed she must be, and his gaze narrowed in return. He
was wearing his naval uniform, making his presence even more powerful, more
formidable and even more seductive. "I won't need any laudanum," she
breathed.

Her mother had been
the kindest person
Virginia
had ever met. No one in need was
ever left without, not if Elissa Cray-croft Hughes could help it. Children were
her greatest cause, and one Sunday a month they had made the long trip to
Richmond
so Father could make repairs to
the orphanage there while Virginia and her mother handed out baked cookies and
homemade toys. Every other Sunday they went to church in
Norfolk
. After the sermon they would mingle, with Elissa
always asking the poorest folk how they were and what they might happen to
need. The townspeople were proud and it was a rare day that anyone would admit
to any lack, other than to being sick. Somehow, Elissa always knew what was
needed, whether it was a poultice of her own making or a freshly washed and
repaired hand-me-down shirt. And finally, they'd stop by the black folks'
church,
Virginia
always hoping to catch the last
of the singing of the hymns and the

dancing. Elissa was
welcomed there as warmly as if she were a slave herself. She was never
empty-handed; her grapevine always told her if Grandma JoJo needed a new pair
of shoes or if Big Ben's boy had the fever again. And no needy stranger passing
by Sweet Briar had ever been turned away, either.

"What is it,
Virginia
?" he finally asked.
"Are you anxious about finally meeting your uncle?"

She started.
"No. I was thinking about my mother," she said slowly, still consumed
with the memories, and she smiled at him.

Instantly he glanced
away.

Her mother,
Virginia
thought ruefully, would agree
with Sean. Especially as her daughter was not immune to the man to begin with.
She sighed and finally regarded her captor openly. Her heart skipped a little.
"We missed you at supper last night," she murmured, as he had
remained in his study, apparently immersed in estate ledgers.

He shifted and turned
his head, settling a cool glance on her. "I doubt that."

In the past, such a
cold remark would have hurt her. But she understood him a little now. As a
child he had lost far more than his youth the day his father had been murdered,
and what she had witnessed from the moment of meeting him was the result of
that. This man was heavily scarred. And Sean was right. He wasn't a bad man.
She had never seen cruelty, sadism or evil. What she had seen was a ruthless
discipline, forced upon others and forced upon himself. And what she hadn't
seen was any sign of happiness, not once in all the time she had spent with
him.

She was torn and
confused, not certain of what tack to take, and as uncertain whether she wanted
to feel any compassion for him, but whether she wanted to or not, die fact now
was that she did.

"You know,
Virginia
, I am feeling like an insect in
a laboratory glass."

"I'm
sorry." She smiled a little at him. "Were you ill?"

He sighed with
annoyance, said tersely, "I had a migraine," and stared out of his
window again.

She started to laugh.

He glared at her.

She bit it off and
widened her eyes innocently and said, "Men don't have migraines,
Captain."

He simply stared at
her, very coldly.

He was in a worse
mood than usual this morning. She decided to ignore it. "And even if they
did," she continued, "you are not a man who would ever have such a
headache."

"Pray
tell," he said grimly, "why we are having this conversation?"

She faced him more
fully, her heart racing now in her breast. She felt as if she shared the coach
with a dangerous lion, one who might choose to bite off her head at any moment
with the least provocation. "Well, it is a good hour to
Limerick
and we are enclosed together in a very small
coach and I am being polite."

"There is no
need."

"And you did not
join your brother and myself for supper last night," she added.

"I wanted to
allow the two of you one last meal alone," he said mockingly.

She blinked.
"Are you being serious?"

"My brother is
in love with you, Virginia," he exclaimed. "By now, surely, after
that sweet scene last night, even you must be aware of it?"

She inhaled sharply.
"What?"

He smiled at her, but
it was mirthless and she realized he was angry.

Was he referring to
the conversation she had had with

Sean on the terrace
before dinner? Had he been eavesdropping? "What scene?"

He erupted with rough
laughter. "Oh, please, the scene where you held my brother in your arms—or
was he holding you?"

"You were spying
on us?" she cried, sitting up, aghast and then feeling her cheeks flush.

"I wasn't spying
on anyone, Virginia," he said sharply. "I wanted some air, but the
two of you were so engrossed I decided not to step outside. It was a perfect
night for a pretty pair of lovers."

She gaped. Her mind
raced. "How much did you hear?"

"I heard
nothing," he said sharply. "Did you enjoy his kisses,
Virginia
?" he demanded suddenly.

She gasped. And her
racing mind realized how it might have looked to Devlin—as if they were lovers,
in a prolonged embrace. "What happened last night was between me and
Sean," she managed, still stunned, "and it is none of your affair."

"But I approve
of the match," he said. "I always have and heartily so."

She stiffened, his
words hurtful. Then she recalled that he had said that Sean was in love with
her—and he was right. She stared at him. Surely he was not jealous? The instant
she thought it, she almost laughed. Jealousy was a result of affection or
love, and this man did not care for her in any way—although Sean would
disagree. Carefully, she said, "Sean is only a friend—a dear friend, my
dearest friend."

He made a derisive
sound. His face was so taut the flesh looked like it might snap free from the
tendon and bone that lay beneath.

"But you are
right. Unfortunately, he has come to have very strong feelings for me, feelings
that I do not return."

"Why not?"

                              
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