by Brenda Joyce
Finally he sighed and sat down. If Virginia decided to return to Askeaton to be with Sean after her ransom, he would give them his blessing, pretense or not. “You know, I have spent the past three months patrolling the coast of Spain by day and preying upon the few remaining French privateers by night. We seized four ships in that span of time, four ships and eight hundred in crew.”
“Are you making a point?”
Devlin glanced at him. “Yes, I am. In all that time, I never spared a single thought for Virginia. Out of sight, out of mind.” He did not tell Sean how much discipline that had taken.
“How proud of yourself you must be.”
Devlin met his brother’s stony gaze. “I am sorry I did what I did. My regret is vast.”
“Then maybe you should tell her that!”
Devlin started. “And what would that accomplish?”
Sean snorted in disgust. “What would it accomplish? You broke her heart. Perhaps you can help to mend it!”
“Sean, I beg to differ. I could not possibly break her heart. She is my prisoner—not my lover.”
“Now I beg to differ. She is in love with you,” Sean said.
Devlin stared, so stunned he could not think coherently, not for a long moment.
“You are such a fool,” Sean said, quietly now.
“No,” Devlin said, shaken. “You are wrong. Virginia is curious, independent and passionate. That is all. If she thinks she loves me, she is wrong—it is lust, nothing more, and any fondness on her part comes from the fact that I was her first.”
“You know,” Sean said slowly, “it is possible that a woman might want more from you than your body.”
“Yes, a woman might want the wealth, power, position and security I could give her.” He was annoyed now. He leapt to his feet, flinging the bloody rag away. “I never expected this, and not from you!”
“Then what did you expect? To do the deed and simply walk away? To have her now choose me? Or hand her off to me, with no regard for her feelings? She is not Elizabeth! She is nothing like Elizabeth! Virginia could not pretend to be anything that she was not, not even for a moment. Virginia wears her affections openly—she wears her heart upon her sleeve! What did you expect?”
“Unfortunately, I wasn’t thinking at all, much less expecting anything,” Devlin said, abruptly sitting down. His heart dared to race and mock his cool demeanor now. His body trembled. Did he dare to confess the real truth, not to his brother, but to himself? “I lost all control,” he said slowly. “I swore I would not do it. I swore I would not touch her that way. That night I lost all control. I have never lost control before. Damn it, I ruined an innocent young woman!” And he felt the anguish then as it was simply impossible to ignore. Briefly he covered his face with his hands.
He had abused an innocent young woman—he had ruined Virginia Hughes. Gerald must be rolling in his grave, and dear God, his mother’s heart would break if she ever learned the truth.
“Then you are human after all. Tell her what you told me—that you are sorry, that you have regret, and that you found her so beautiful you could not stop yourself.”
He cursed. “I am not a poet, Sean.”
“Then say something kind in your own words!”
“I already have.” His intention would not waver now. He was not going near Virginia again and certainly not to bring up the ugly subject of the past.
“Tell her again.”
“Absolutely not.”
Sean sighed, as if admitting defeat. Then, slowly, he said, “Perhaps you should think about what such lack of self-control signifies?”
Devlin stood. “It means she provokes me in an unnatural way.”
“How convenient your theory is,” Sean murmured.
But Devlin was pacing now, back and forth, as if on his deck, and he really did not hear. “I have spent these past months exorcising every thought of her from any and all existence,” he said, almost to himself. “If I can defeat any French commander, I can defeat myself.”
Sean smiled a little. “Maybe it is a slip of a woman whom you cannot defeat.”
“Like hell.” And he was, finally, furious.
VIRGINIA DEBATED NOT GOING down to supper but decided that would make her appear childish and as if she were sulking. And she was not sulking—she was hurt and angry and determined not to allow him to know just how hurt she was. She looked through her four gowns, already knowing there was no choice, and she took out the rose silk with the low-cut bodice and black lace trim. In this dress, she looked her best, in this dress, she knew she was beautiful, and she hoped he would look at her and regret everything. Then she held the dress tightly, turning to face the mirror. What was she doing?
If only he hadn’t come back!
Things had been fine recently, for she had been content and almost happy, having managed to forget and bury the past. Now she was ill, her stomach so tight and knotted she could barely breathe, and once again, he consumed her every thought and moment, against her very will. At least, she thought rigidly, her reflection unearthly and pale in the mirror, he had admitted that he had deserved her slap. At least he was moral enough to know that what he had done was wrong. But she would never accept his apology, sincere or not.
She should not be wearing her only seductive gown.
But she wasn’t trying to seduce him—Virginia had no intention of ever going there again. He might remain the most interesting and disturbing man she had ever met, not to mention the most magnetic, but she would never make the mistake that she had. Sex is not love. She had been a fool once, but never again. How those words hurt.
She had wanted an admission that he had been stunned by their passion, too, that he had cared, that he still did. But none of those sentiments would be forthcoming, not ever, and she remained a fool, to think he might admire her at all in her dress, when it was clear that he didn’t find her attractive anymore.
Virginia rang the bell pull, wanting a bath. An icy fear seemed to grip her now. And she dared face her darkest thoughts: he hadn’t admitted anything that she had secretly hoped for because he was a man of the world, and she was only one more woman out of the hundreds he had already used.
Virginia knew she was growing up because she did not shed a single tear.
IF DEVLIN WAS SURPRISED to see her, he gave no sign. He nodded politely, sitting on the emerald-brocade sofa, legs crossed in soft beige britches that delineated his every muscle, not having bothered to change his Hessians for stockings and shoes. He wore a navy-blue velvet coat, a sapphire blue and silver-brocade waistcoat beneath, his ivory shirt exquisitely ruffled at the cuffs and throat, the jabot carelessly tied.
He did not even glance at her; instead, he sipped his red wine as if deep in thought.
But Virginia stared. He had been in a fight. His left eye was swollen and bruised, as was the same side of his jaw. What in God’s name had happened?
She was diverted when Sean leapt to his feet and rushed to the threshold to escort her inside. He smiled but glanced searchingly at her.
“I’m fine,” she said to his unspoken question. She stole one more glance at Devlin, then told herself, quite firmly, that she did not care if he had been fighting the devil himself.
Sean smiled again and squeezed her hand. “He’s taking you to his country home tomorrow. It’s close to Eastleigh. He plans for you to meet him. Are you all right with this, Virginia? Will you be able to manage?”
She nodded, glancing over at her captor, who now, finally, eyed them. No expression could be seen on his implacable face. It crossed her mind that she could thwart him easily by denying that she had ever heard of Virginia Hughes and claiming to be someone else. And if she really wanted to hurt him, to thwart him, she could go to the authorities once she was freed. Devlin would wind up in prison for years, unless he had a plan for that contingency, too.
Neither alternative gave her any pleasure. She only wanted to go home—if her home still existed. Unlike Devlin, she had a heart and
it was human and kind. She would never deliberately hurt him, and not out of revenge.
“You are lovely tonight,” Sean added. Then he added, “You are always lovely, Virginia.”
Something in his tone caused her to start and she met his gaze. “If you are overly kind, I might lose what is left of my composure,” she said softly.
Sean smiled a little. “Don’t do that!” Then he said, “Virginia, would you step outside with me? We have to speak.”
“Now?” She knew it was seven and they always dined precisely on the hour.
“Please.”
Something was afoot. She nodded, searching his expression for a clue as to the matter at hand and they crossed the room. She had no idea what was on his mind. Devlin murmured, “Do not mind me.”
Virginia decided to hell with it and she glared at him.
He saluted her with his glass and then picked up a Dublin newspaper.
Outside, the night was pleasant, a few stars beginning to emerge in the inky blue vastness overhead. To Virginia’s surprise, Sean gripped both her arms. “I am going to miss you,” he said roughly.
Her eyes widened. “I will miss you, too,” she said.
His gaze searched hers. “I don’t want you to worry about Devlin. I have become your protector, Virginia. You do not have to fear another episode like the last one. I won’t allow it and…” He hesitated.
She was becoming moved beyond words. “And?”
“And he is resolved to treat you with all of the respect that you deserve.”
Oddly, the twinge of dismay was at once rude, surprising and strong. “I doubt he said that.”
“He didn’t have to. He is very sorry, Virginia—”
“Don’t! If that man cares about what he did, how he did it and how he left, he can tell me himself.”
“He may never have the courage,” Sean said softly.
Virginia started. As Devlin was the bravest man she knew, what in God’s name was Sean talking about?
Sean touched her cheek. “Virginia, I must ask you something.”
She was suddenly wary, though Sean had become her best friend.
“Do you still love him?” Sean asked.
Virginia gasped. She was so flustered and so stunned she could not respond for a moment. “Sean!” She gripped his hand, causing it to drop from her face. “I do not love that man,” she said fiercely. “Maybe, once, for a brief moment, I was deluded into thinking that I did. I do not even know him! He has treated me abominably. There is nothing, absolutely nothing, there!” she cried.
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?”
“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.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
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?
I 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 the coach. The cab was too small for them both, never mind that a few very solid inches remained between them.