The Prize

by Brenda Joyce

  “I didn’t say he wished to die, merely that the thought doesn’t frighten him as it does us other mere mortals.”

  Virginia considered that and immediately she felt certain that Sean was right. “But why? What kind of man would be indifferent toward his own life?”

  Sean was silent.

  Virginia suddenly comprehended the only possible answer—only a man deeply wounded or deeply embittered would be so indifferent. She was shaken. She quickly sipped her champagne, which, she saw, was also contraband, as it was French. How complex Devlin O’Neill was. “His men respect and admire him,” she mused aloud, almost to herself, “and the town seems to think of him as a hero. I have seen myself how effective he is on the high seas, so I understand why his men admire him. But the town?”

  “You are very curious when it comes to my brother,” Sean remarked.

  “Yes, I am. After all, he seized my ship, then seized me. I simply do not understand why he wishes to ransom me when he so clearly does not need the money.”

  “Perhaps you should ask him,” Sean said.

  “Perhaps I will,” Virginia returned thoughtfully, “although I am sure he will only become angry—he is a very angry man. Why is that? You are not angry. I can see kindness in your eyes. You seem as compassionate as he is ruthless.”

  “I am not a ship’s officer upon the high seas, where discipline is crucial to maintain, and once lost, impossible to regain.” Sean sighed then. “There is one fundamental difference between us. When we were small children, we saw our father brutally murdered by an English soldier. Devlin has never forgotten that day—I cannot recall a single second of it.”

  She stared, her mind spinning, trying to understand. “How old was he?”

  “He was ten, I was eight. From that moment, Devlin has been a father as well as a brother to me, and acutely aware of his responsibilities as head of the O’Neill clan here in southern Ireland.”

  “How terrible,” Virginia said softly, “and how fortunate you cannot remember. I cannot imagine how I should feel or what I would think if I saw my father murdered. I suppose I should intend to kill the murderer.” And now the mind of her captor was beginning to make sense. Of course he was a hard, cold man. He had learned a brutal lesson as a small child, one that clearly had affected his character, his nature. Perhaps that was why he had chosen the rough and merciless life of a career spent at sea.

  “Then perhaps you and I have more in common than we think,” Devlin murmured.

  Virginia whirled and saw Devlin standing in the doorway rather nonchalantly, as splendidly dressed as his brother, although he wore his naval uniform. In his navy-blue jacket with its gold epaulets and buttons, his stark white britches and stockings, he made a terribly dashing figure, enough so that her heart seemed to stop. There was simply no comparing the brothers, not now, not anymore. Sean might have an innate decency and kindness that she doubted Devlin would ever have, but Devlin fascinated her impossibly, as if she were a moth, he the fatal flame.

  She shivered, hoping the image was not in any way a premonition.

  “I am sorry about your father’s murder,” she heard herself say.

  He shrugged, coming forward, giving her a cool and indifferent glance. “Life is filled with surprises, is it not?” His gaze moved slowly over her face, her hair, her bare shoulders and finally across her décolletage.

  And his look warmed her the way his lovemaking had the previous night. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out, as her thoughts were preoccupied with how she hoped the night would end in his bed, in his arms.

  “Sean, escort Virginia in,” Devlin said.

  Virginia started, surprised and disappointed, and when she turned, Sean was holding out his arm, looking resigned and grim. She quickly smiled at him, but her gaze followed Devlin, who had moved away from them, his back turned as he poured himself champagne.

  “You don’t have to pretend to be pleased,” Sean said. “Your feelings are clear, Virginia.”

  She quickly focused on him. “I am hardly displeased, and I do not know what you mean!”

  “Virginia? I hope the time comes when I may speak with you frankly, because there is something I fear I must say.”

  She did not like his tone or his expression, and she murmured some vague affirmative, not wanting to continue the subject.

  “SOME GROWERS PROTECT THE seedlings with a fine net of cotton,” Virginia said happily, her small face animated and her violet eyes sparkling. “But that is far too expensive and not really necessary where we are, as it doesn’t get that cold. We found that mulch works just as well. We use a thin layer of straw and chopped grass. The real issue is transplanting the seedlings, which is done in about eight or nine weeks. The soil has to be pulverized, level, disease-free—which is why we burn the fields every spring—and fairly wet. We plant just under an ounce of seed for every two hundred square yards. It is crucial that the seeds are distributed uniformly, which is why we do so by hand.”

  Sean shook his head with admiration. “Is there anything you don’t know about planting tobacco, Virginia?” His eyes were dancing.

  “I’m sure there’s something.” Virginia smiled at him.

  Sean smiled back.

  Devlin lolled in his chair between them at the head of the long trestle table, absolutely silent—the way he’d been all through supper. And while his expression and posture remained indifferent, he was irritated with the two of them. His gaze moved slowly over Virginia, who seemed to have forgotten his presence at supper. But then, his brother was openly admiring, gentlemanly and attentive, and probably the most rapt audience she had ever had. She was as greedy for the attention as a gambler for a single win, he thought sourly.

  His gaze took in her tiny upturned nose, her full mouth, the low-cut bodice of her dress and the small breasts thrusting up against the corset she wore. He stretched out his long legs beneath the table, trying to ignore the simmering pressure in his groin. Only he knew how passionate she was, how fiery and hot, how easily ignited.

  I have never been kissed before, Devlin.

  The pressure felt explosive, just like that. He shifted in his seat as Sean said something and she laughed. Her bedroom was at the other end of the manor, which he considered fortunate. Because in spite of his determination not to repeat last night, he was very tempted. One touch and she would not be thinking about his brother.

  He grimaced. They’d been regaling each other with stories of Sweet Briar and Askeaton all night. However, he did admit that her stories were somehow interesting and even refreshing. Knowing her now, even the little that he did, not a single story of her life in Virginia surprised him. But what father raised a woman to shoot, ride and swim, allowed her to roam a hundred acres freely, allowed her to wear britches, work beside the slaves, forgo teas and dances—in total, what father raised such a little hellion?

  Randall Hughes had probably been an interesting man. He had surely been unconventional.

  “I still can’t believe your father taught you to shoot a musket when you were seven,” Sean remarked.

  Virginia laughed for the hundredth time that night, the sound as bright as bells. “Mama was furious when she found out. Papa had to bring her trinkets and gifts for a month afterward, to return to her good graces.”

  Sean laughed as well.

  Virginia sobered. “I do miss them,” she said.

  Devlin started as Sean reached across the table to cover her hand. He stiffened as Sean said, “This is a terrible cliché, but it will get easier with time.”

  She smiled slightly now. “It has gotten easier, but I think I will miss them until I die. Sweet Briar will never be the same, not without them.”

  Sean withdrew his hand. “Do you miss the plantation very badly?”

  She nodded. “Sometimes—usually in the middle of the night. But—” she brightened “—I do like Ireland! There’s something about it that reminds me of home, even though the climate is so different. Maybe it’s the
green. Everything is so rich with life here—it’s that way at home, too.”

  “I should like to visit Sweet Briar someday,” Sean said suddenly.

  “I should love for you to come,” Virginia cried, clearly delighted.

  That was it—he’d had enough. And did his little hostage find his brother attractive? Only last night she had been in his bed, in his arms. Was a new romance unfolding before his very eyes? He stood abruptly, shoving back his chair. “I am going to smoke,” he announced, trying not to glare at either of them.

  “I do hope your tobacco is Virginian,” Virginia said sweetly.

  He stiffened. And from the corner of his eyes he saw Sean sputter with laughter and the two of them share a glance. He turned. “It’s not. It’s Cuban. Good night.” He was pleased to see her face fall as he uttered his last words, then, having no intention of leaving them alone, he looked darkly at his brother. “Join me,” he said, and it was a command.

  As he strode out, he heard Sean say, “And his lordship doth speak.”

  Virginia giggled. “He is so dour tonight.”

  “He is always dour,” Sean remarked.

  He debated walking back to them and defending himself, but decided to pretend he hadn’t heard their insipid insults. Besides, they’d both drank enough champagne to sink a ship. Still, Sean was far too interested and it was simply not acceptable.

  In the study, rebuilt to exactly replicate the study his father had used up until his death, he found a cigar and poured a brandy, then lit up. Exhaling deeply did not ease the tension. And if he brooded further, analyzing the evening in order to decide if the camaraderie he had just witnessed was romantic or not, the pressure would increase. He knew it, as surely as he knew the sky would be clear that morning.

  “Captain, sir,” a woman breathed.

  His annoyance faded as he turned and faced Fiona.

  She smiled at him, clad in a tight white blouse and dark skirts, the blouse showing off the full shape of her bosom and hinting at the large areolas beneath. He carefully looked her over now, for the first time since he had returned home. She was actually pretty, and she had the kind of body most men would die to bed. He vaguely recalled a few torrid nights spent in bed with her, many years ago. And while he didn’t lust after her, she certainly presented a solution to the problem of avoiding Virginia in the long, dark shadowy hours of the night.

  “Kitchen’s done and your room’s ready,” she said softly, her gaze on his. “Is there anything else I can do for you, sir, before I go to my bed?”

  He made the decision instantly. “Yes. You can go to my room. I’ll be up shortly.”

  There was no look of surprise, she only smiled and purred, “Of course, Captain, sir.” She gave him a promising look and strolled out, her wide hips swinging.

  He wanted to compare their width to one particular waif’s far too slim ones, but refused to do so. He would satisfy his lust tonight in the way lords of the manor had for centuries—with a willing, comely, insignificant maid.

  Sean made a derisive sound, apparently having been standing in the doorway for some time. Devlin ignored it, handing him a cigar and lighting it for him. As Sean puffed, he poured his brother a brandy. He said, “You seem smitten with our little guest.”

  Sean exhaled and said, “I am nearly so.”

  “Don’t become too attached. She is going to lose her beloved Sweet Briar and blame me for it, I have no doubt.”

  “That’s right. She will blame you, and rightly so, I think. But she certainly won’t blame me.”

  Devlin sat down on the edge of the desk. Oddly, his father chose that moment to cast a presence in the room. “I am going to find you an heiress,” he warned.

  “I don’t need an heiress. You would never stay home to run Askeaton. One day I need a wife who will partner me in all that I do here.”

  “You mean, a wife who understands crops, markets and shipping, inside and out?” He became angry.

  “Maybe.” Sean came closer. “Look, Dev, I find her intriguing, and unlike you, I am not using her for some terrible end—for some personal retribution. In fact, after getting to know her somewhat tonight, I think you should end your miserable scheme and help her get to Eastleigh. Who knows? She’s charming beyond words. Maybe he’ll be smitten, too, and he’ll save her home.”

  Devlin was furious now, furious because if he read Sean right, his younger brother was falling in love with his captive. “No. Nothing changes, and you keep your heart and guard it well. She is not for you—I will not allow it. She is a tool, a tool I am using even as we speak, she is only a tool. Do you understand me?”

  Sean was furious, too. “I told you this afternoon—I don’t even know you, so how can I understand you? But I grow tired of your orders! I am not a sailor on your ship! If I choose to admire Miss Hughes, that is my concern, not yours.”

  “You go very far.” Devlin stood, and the two men stood eye to eye and nose to nose, the exact same height. “Since when do I order you? I haven’t been at home in six years—I see you perhaps once a year in London! There have been no orders, little brother, until yesterday, and may I remind you that this manor is mine? The land is mine? It is all mine until I die, heirless. Only then does it become yours.”

  “Do you threaten to give me the boot?” Sean was incredulous. “You may have bought Askeaton from Adare with your damned prize money, but Askeaton would be nothing but bogs and woods without me! I took this land and made it fertile, I took this land with my own bare hands and made it rich! You’d have nothing here without me, and you damn well know it!”

  Devlin inhaled hard, stunned at the intensity of Sean’s anger and his own answering rage. How had they come to this terrible argument? Virginia’s image seared his mind. “Sean.” He clasped his arm and Sean flinched but did not pull away. “I know all that you have done. I agree with you. Without you, this house would be a burned-out hull, the fields would be barren and lifeless, bogs would abound. I know that. I appreciate every day you have spent here in my place, planting our crops and harvesting them, collecting our rents, breeding our livestock. I more than appreciate all you have done. You’re my brother. We should not fight, not like this, not ever.”

  Sean nodded, pale now. “And I know how hard you have worked to be able to buy Askeaton, and the house in Greenwich, and all the treasures we now have both here and there. I know you are the lord of this manor, Dev. I don’t want to be lord here. God, I want you to take a wonderful wife and have fine sons to inherit all that you have earned—and all that is your rightful due as Father’s eldest son.”

  “I know that, too,” Devlin said, relaxing only slightly. And he looked closely at his brother now.

  Sean stared back. Very carefully, he said, “We will fight again, however, because I cannot ever approve of what you are doing and the way you are ruthlessly using Virginia.”

  “Don’t fall in love with her,” Devlin heard himself say.

  Sean hesitated. “Perhaps it is too late.”

  Devlin reeled, as if physically struck with shot.

  “I am going to bed,” Sean said, putting out his cigar. He smiled a little, but it was forced, and walked out of the room.

  A yawning silence came over the study. Devlin stared at his own cigar, burning in the porcelain ashtray. He was grim. Virginia had been nothing but a pawn in his game with Eastleigh until that night. Now he felt as if she had become a terrible viper in their midst.

  But he could not change his course.

  He covered his eyes briefly, pain stabbing in his forehead, then paced wildly, allowing the anger in, welcoming it. She had come perilously close to flirting with Sean tonight. She had encouraged his emotions. Her attentive behavior, her pretty laughter, her eager conversation had ensnared his brother thoroughly. She had become a problem, one he must quickly solve.

  The sooner he was rid of her, the better. The better for everyone.

  Suddenly Virginia materialized in the doorway. He stiffened. She didn’t sm
ile, but said, low, “It’s a beautiful night. Would you walk with me, Devlin?”

  “No.”

  She jumped at the harsh sound of his voice.

  “Come in,” he ground out, fully aware of what he must do to end any further dalliance between her and his brother. As she did, her eyes wide and wary, he walked swiftly past her and closed the door.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked cautiously.

  “You are to stay away from Sean.”

  “What?” she gasped.

  He found himself gripping her shoulders. Now his anger had become infused into something entirely different and it was rearing up insistently, the blood there hot and red, pounding. “Let me repeat myself. Stay away from Sean.”

  “Whatever you are thinking—you are wrong!” she cried, eyes wide.

  “Am I? The last thing I need is my brother falling in love with you, Miss Hughes. Do I make myself clear?” He found his grip tightening. She whimpered, but it was too late, somehow his hands had a will of their own, pulling her up against his hard, aroused body.

  “Devlin,” she whispered, the sound throaty with need.

  Triumph surged within him. She would not think about his brother now. “Do you wish to know something, an interesting fact?” he asked harshly, palming her backside and holding her up against his arousal, where she began to squirm. “I don’t think it will be very difficult to make you forget all about Sean…darling.”

  Her eyes were glazing over. She gripped his shoulders, her chest heaving, her cheeks flushed. “I don’t want Sean,” she said hoarsely. “I want you.”

  Inside his brain, coherence exploded. Devlin crushed her to his chest, taking her mouth, forcing it open. As his tongue swept deep, hers came forth to meet him. More explosions went off inside of his head. Then he felt her small hands sliding over his waist.

  Desire thoroughly blinded him. “No, here,” he said, taking one of her hands and pushing it over the hard ridge that was his arousal. She gasped and he almost laughed, but the pain and the pressure was far too intense and he could not get a sound out. Choking, he forced her hand to slide down the length there, and when suddenly she closed her fingers around most of him, he pulled her down to the floor, moving on top of her, claiming her mouth yet again. And briefly, there was no more thought.