The Prize (65 page)

He had never been
more torn. Inhaling harshly, he started after his bride. He could not allow her
to weep over her damned uncle in the other room.

Devlin paused on the
threshold of the library.
Virginia
stood by his desk, gripping it
as if for support. Tears streaked her face when she turned to meet his gaze.

He wanted to take
those tears away, but he made no move to do so, as if his body refused to obey
his mind. "I am sorry your uncle had to ruin your birthday,
Virginia
," Devlin said cautiously.

She wet her lips, the
knuckles on her hands turning white. It was a moment before she spoke, and
then, she did so hoarsely. "Devlin? These past few days have been wonderful,
have they not?"

He started, wondering
what this tack meant. "Yes, they have." Wariness filled him now.

She forced a smile.
'Isn't it time to forgive and forget? Isn't it time to think about all that we
have—all that we could have? A wonderful future awaits us—"

"You go too
far," he warned abruptly. Did she think to

deter him now? He was
not a man to be led around by his bride as if a puppet on a string!

She stiffened.
"You haven't heard me out."

"There is
nothing to discuss. Not on the subject of
Eastleigh
. That battle must be waged—and it must be
finished,
Virginia
, to my satisfaction."

She stared at him
with her huge, moist eyes, impossibly pale.

He wished he had
spoken in a softer, less masterful tone. "He wanted to distress you,"
he began, but she interrupted.

"Devlin, there
is something I haven't told you."

His heart lurched. He
did not like her tone or expression. What terrible news did she wish to impart?
And he retreated instantly, closing his expression as if she were his worst adversary
and not his beautiful bride. "Do tell," he said formally.

She clung to the
desk. "I am having our baby."

For one moment, he
felt that he must have hallucinated. His heart raced.
"What?"

"And I beg
you," she said hoarsely, "to promise me a life of peace and
happiness. To promise
us
that life!"

He jerked, barely
able to comprehend what she had told him.
She was with child.
But how?
When? His mind raced, calculated. Their child must have been conceived after
their marriage in December. Dear God, he was going to be a father—it was too
soon!

And
Eastleigh
's mocking expression as he had
stood in Adare's salon just a moment ago filled his mind.

"I beg you to
give up your need for murder and revenge!" She began to cry. "I can't
bring our child into such a life! Don't you see? We are about to become a
family, and I need you to choose."

Once again, it was a
moment before he understood her. He was shaking and his knees felt weak and all
he could think

of was the baby and
the fact that he had a ruthless enemy in the world. He stared at her as she
wept. Choose? She wanted him to choose? And the ugliest comprehension came.

He inhaled, becoming
rigid with anger. "Don't do this,
Virginia
," he warned. There could be no choice
to make! Not yet, not now!

"You must
choose!" she cried, trembling wildly.

"Don' t ask
this of me,"
he
commanded as if on the quarterdeck of his ship. And he felt everything begin
to slip away, fading then and there, the joy, the love, the fear...

"You must
choose," she whispered. "I will not bequeath a life of hatred to our
child. I will not put our child in jeopardy. Choose, Devlin. Choose us—the
baby and me!"

But he could not
choose. He simply could not. And he felt his heart disappear, vanishing into
nothingness. And with its disappearance, all emotion congealed into ice and was
gone.

"Don't!"
she begged. And she ran forward. "Don't turn away from me now! Not after
all we have shared—not when I am carrying your child!" And she seized his
hand and placed it on her abdomen.

He stared at her
small, still-flat belly, but there was only emptiness now. No joy, no love,
just the dispassionate nature his enemy had left him with when he was ten years
old.

"You can have us—or
you can have your revenge. But you can't have both!"

He dropped his hand
and turned away. "I am sorry," he said, "but you knew my nature
when you married me."

She cried out.

Virginia
remained in bed for the entire
day, afflicted with a huge migraine and a malaise of the soul. She did not
weep. She was too frozen with fear to do so.

She had the baby to
consider now. Her unborn child had become her priority. It had been one thing
for her to manage a relationship with Devlin, to somehow survive his ruthless
obsession and his hard heart, but dear God, what kind of father would Devlin
be?

If only she did not
love him still...but she did, and she always would.

Virginia
did not know what to do, and
Devlin was leaving for his tour of duty—for his damnable war—in three more
days.

Now she faced the
closed bedroom door, dressed for supper. She had not seen him even once since
their argument yesterday. He had chosen not to share their room or their bed
last night and she had avoided him as well. What should she do? She had no
appetite, but that was not the issue. He remained her husband and the child
within her womb would

always be his. But
she no longer wished to compromise herself for the sake of their marriage, for
the sake of being with him. It felt as if their marriage was turning to ashes
before her very eyes.

Virginia
opened the door and went
downstairs, trembling nervously, her face stiff with tension and trying
desperately to appear natural.

To her surprise and
dismay, once in the entry hall she heard male voices that she recognized.
Tyrell and Cliff were with him, apparently having a drink before supper. She
liked both brothers but now prayed they did not intend to stay and dine with
them.
Virginia
slowly approached the salon. Its
double doors were wide open and she saw all three men seated causally there,
glasses of wine in hand.

Tyrell and Cliff saw
her almost at once and came instantly to their feet. Devlin also stood, but
more slowly, and he did not quite look at her. His brothers bowed, but in turn,
their smiles faded as she came forward and she knew her distress was clear.

"Good
evening," she said, holding her head high.

"
Virginia
, you are as lovely as
always," Cliff murmured, but he had lowered his lashes over his blue eyes,
a clear indication that he was merely being gallant.

She thanked him.
"I hope you will be staying for supper," she said, aware she was
being as dishonest as him.

Cliff looked up, and
then he and Tyrell exchanged glances. "I think we have other
arrangements," he said.

"I'm afraid that
is the case," Tyrell said. He then glanced somewhat darkly at Devlin, who
stood as still as a statue. 'Take care of your wife," he said, and with a
nod at
Virginia
, he and Cliff set their
wineglasses down and walked out.

Alone at last with
her husband,
Virginia
tensed.

He faced her, his
expression that mask she knew so well and so hated, and he held out his arm.
"I believe supper is being served, Madam," he said.

She flinched.
"You never call me 'madam,'" she somehow managed.

His shoulders,
already ramrod stiff, tightened even more. "I am not trying to offend
you," he said as if she were a stranger, not his wife.

"Don't do
this," she breathed.

His face closed
impossibly. "I hardly know of what you speak." He gestured toward the
hall. "Shall we?" And without waiting for a reply, he took her arm
in his.

She recoiled. Was
this how it would now be? A polite mockery of a marriage? A cold and formal relationship,
at once tense and strained? "I only asked you to give up hatred, Devlin,
for the sake of your child," she whispered through stiff lips.

He started forward as
if he had not heard her—clearly pretending that he had not.

But she refused to
follow, tearing her arm from his.

He stopped and faced
her. "Are we going in to dine?" he asked.

She hugged herself.
"Not like this, never like this."

He inclined his head.
"Then I am going out," he said.

She started in
surprise.

"Madam? I
believe I will join my brothers at White's." He nodded at her and abruptly
walked out.

She stared after him
in shock.

And that night, he
did not return.

Dawn arrived, dark
and grim.

Devlin had spent the
past two days out of the house. He did not sleep at home, either, and
Virginia
learned from a servant that he
was sleeping on his ship. At least, she thought, he had not gone to another
woman.

But their marriage
was over and she knew it. There did not seem to be any possibility of saving
it.

Her depression knew
no bounds. Her world had become dark and black. She could not sleep at night,
nor could she get out of bed in the morning. She had no appetite, never mind
the child growing inside of her womb. She wept frequently and ignored Hannah's
worried glances.

Now, clad in a lavender
robe, she stared at her pale, listless expression in the mirror of her
dressing room. She had hardly slept last night, as had become the norm, but she
had somehow roused herself from her bed, knowing that Devlin would soon set
sail. She knew the tides would be high in another hour or so, for she had
asked Hannah to check for her yesterday. But Devlin had slept yet again on the
Defiance
.
She assumed he was going to set sail for his
war without coming to say goodbye. He had broken her heart before, but never
like this.

/
simply cannot go
on this way,
she thought as she stared at her impossibly pale reflection.

A knock sounded on
her door. She turned, making no reply, wondering what her maid wanted at this
unholy hour.

The door opened and
from her boudoir she saw Devlin in full dress, his black felt hat in hand,
standing on the threshold of the bedroom. She felt her eyes widen and she trembled
with surprise.

His expression was
hard, but his nostrils were flared and tinged with red—from the cold, she thought.
"I see I did not wake you." His gaze quickly took in her untidy
appearance. "I set sail within the hour and I have come to take my
leave."

She wanted to beg him
to love her again, the way he had before. She wanted to tell him that she could
live with his need for revenge, if it meant so much to him. But she did not
speak because she could not. She did not move; she did not breathe.

His jaw hardened; his
eyes darkened. "How are you, madam?"

She wanted to scream,
I am dying inside, moment by moment and minute by minute. But she simply
stared. Then, finally, she managed, "As well as can be expected."

"How is the
child?" he demanded sharply.

She inhaled and
fought for some composure now. "Fine, I believe."

He nodded, grinding
down his jaw, and it was a long moment before he spoke, as if he had something
to say that he was struggling with.

And she prayed.

But she was wrong. He
merely said, "I will return in six months, I think. God keep you,
Virginia
." And he bowed and turned
and left.

She wanted to run after
him and tell him to stay safe. But her damnable body simply would not move.

Oh, God. He would
go away like this? And what if she never saw him again? What if this was the
war that took his life?

Virginia
ran to the window. Outside, she
saw him striding toward his coach. She struggled to unlatch the panes of heavy
glass and heave them open. He was already inside the carriage. Panting from
the exertion, she stuck her head outside. The coach began to roll away.
"Devlin! God speed," she cried.

But she had no idea
if he heard her.

Later that day,
Virginia
stood in a salon in Harmon
House, wringing her hands nervously. Devlin's departure had been a stunning
blow—and she knew what she must do now.

Cliff entered the
room, his stride long but unhurried, his manner as indolent. "
Virginia
? You wish to see me?" he
asked with mild surprise.

She nodded, then wet
her lips and said, "Could you close the doors?"

530                          

More surprise
flickered in his sky-blue eyes. Cliff turned and closed the double doors.
"This is very odd," he said, moving toward her. He held out a chair.
"Please."

"I would rather
stand," she whispered, filled with desperation now.

"What is
wrong?" he asked, his gaze intent and searching.

She did not avoid it.
"I am with child," she said. He started. "I am with child and I
must go home to Sweet Briar, where I was born, and bear my child there."

His expression was
one of astonishment.

"You have a
fleet of ships!" she cried. "Surely one of them will disembark for an
American port? Please, my lord, I can pay for my fare, and I beg you to let me
find a berth on that ship!"

He was clearly
shocked. "Are you running away from my brother?"

She stiffened. That
was not quite the case, but she had no delusions. She doubted they would ever recover
what they had so briefly had. Still, her goal was not to leave her bus band.
She simply had to go home. Her country was at war. Sweet Briar was being
threatened, and she must bear her child there, where she would not be alone.

"
Virginia
—" his tone became kind
"—I cannot aid you in such a feat." Clearly he had taken her silence
for an affirmative.

She inhaled harshly
and sat down. Then she covered her face with her hands. "I love your
brother," she whispered, not looking up. "And I always will. But it
was one thing for me to bear the brunt of his obsession with the Earl of
Eastleigh." She glanced at Cliff and held his gaze. "I have begged
him to give up his revenge for the sake of his child. He will not. I must think
about our babe now.
Our child comes first."