The Prize

by Brenda Joyce

  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 Craycroft 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, the 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. Hi
s 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?”

  “Why not?” she gasped, and then she was so angry her fists balled up. His gaze moved to them, then back to her own eyes. “I am not a whore. Or have you really forgotten that you took my virginity, Devlin?”

  He flinched and their gazes held, and unfortunately, Virginia thought him to be far more in control of any emotion than she was.

  “How can I forget,” he asked, “when you are forever reminding me?”

  She ached to slap him. She did not. “I think that night precluded any possibility of my ever falling in love with Sean.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” She was in disbelief.

  “Yes, I asked why. The past needs to remain dead and buried, Virginia, and very shortly you will be free to go where you please. You were very sad to leave Askeaton—and Sean.”

  Virginia hesitated, still incredulous, hurt and angry. He is not indifferent to you. It is a sham, a pretense.

  She couldn’t believe Sean, but dear God, she wanted to. But if he cared at all, why would he be doing this? Why would he be pushing her toward his brother? Softly staring at him, she said, “There is magic at Askeaton, Devlin. In the five months I have been there, it has come to feel like my home.”

  His gray eyes were impossible to read. Then his mouth twisted into a parody of a smile. “Well, that is good. Because when the ransom has been delivered, you may return there happily, if that is what you wish.”

  “Is it guilt?” she asked. “Is it guilt that drives you now? Do you think to have your brother clean up the mess of your making?”

  “That’s enough,” he said harshly.

  “That’s it, isn’t it?” she cried, stunned. “It’s guilt! You have some heart after all! You said you were sorry—Sean says you are sorry—you even said you deserved that slap. So you know you have behaved monstrously. But you would never offer marriage—not that I wish you to!” she added hastily. “But if Sean did, why, how convenient for you! You could forget there was a day when you became the kind of man your mother would not recognize, that your mother would—”

  He seized her by both shoulders. “Enough.”

  She tensed, the grasp of his large hands causing her heart to slam, and for one moment, her body shifted toward him, expecting him to pull her close and kiss her. Instantly, her mind told her otherwise and she pulled back. As instantly, his gaze plunging to her mouth, he let her go.

  “Never bring up the subject of Lady de Warenne again,” he warned.

  She hesitated. “I met her.”

  He paled.

  Oh-ho, this was interesting indeed! “She is a very kind woman. I liked her very much.” Virginia became sly.

  “I am going to kill Sean,” he said.

  She grabbed his arm, but he was too close, too male, and it was not a good idea, so she dropped her hand quickly. “It was not Sean’s fault! They came calling as they had heard of our engagement.”

  “Our engagement?” he gasped.

  Virginia stared and then she had to try very hard not to smile. She had thrown him off balance, and God, it felt so damn good. So she did not reply; far more slyly, she waited.

  “We are not engaged,” he choked out.

  She was enjoying this moment. She wished to engrave it in stone. She smiled and shrugged, refusing to clear up the misunderstanding.

  “Jesus, the people,” he said. “It must be all over the village, the town, that you are my fiancée.”

  “I suppose,” she murmured.

  “Why are you grinning like the Cheshire cat?” he snapped. “We both know I fabricated that story to save your pretty little neck.”

  He liked her neck? “You find my neck pretty?”

  “Is that what they still think? My mother and Adare?”

  She sighed. “No, Devlin, that is not what they think.”

  The coach became very silent, very tense. She looked at him. His silver eyes were hard and unwavering. She shivered. “Sean chose his words with care.” Then she gave up. “Well, what do you expect! To take your blood enemy’s niece hostage and fool your family, who live but a dozen miles away?”

  He cursed.

  “This is all of your own making,” she reminded him sweetly.

  He gave her a dark glance. “The sooner I break Eastleigh, the better. The sooner you are gone, the better,” he added as darkly.

  His words did hurt, when she knew better, and they also somehow dismayed her. Carefully, she said, “You are right. And when I am ransomed, I am going home to Sweet Briar—I can hardly wait.” But the odd truth was that she hadn’t thought very much about her home in these past few months. Memories that had once been a lifeline had become vague and distant, replaced by the day-to-day existence she had shared at Askeaton with Devlin and then Sean. “If it still exists,” she added grimly.

  ONCE AT SEA, ITS MAIN SAILS unfurled, the Defiance took off, fighting the rain and the sea, tacking across the wind to the south. Virginia did not like being back in his cabin. His presence was everywhere, powerful, heavy and overwhelming. She sat down at the dining table, finally overcome with confusion and the gravest of doubt. A part of her so wished to tame the beast and eventually heal it, but she had no confidence, and Devlin’s continued insistence that she should marry his brother did not help. She suspected he felt guilty, but he was so arrogant, so impossible to read, that he left her feeling terribly uncertain and terribly naive. She wished the conversation with Sean had never taken place.

  By dusk, the rain had ceased and the skies had cleared, the seas growing calm and sweet. Virginia dined alone, not surprised that her captor was avoiding her—she knew that much, at least—and then, donning a pelisse, she slipped from the cabin.

  Devlin was at the helm, although he did not steer the ship. He stood beside a sailor she recognized, his strong legs braced, facing the prow and the stars shining ahead. Virginia hesitated, her heart quickening, and then she walked over to the quarterdeck. As she climbed up, he turned.

  She took the last step, expecting him to order her away, but he met her gaze, his eyes a flash of silver in the twilight, with a mere inclination of his head. Virginia walked over to him. “It’s a fine night for sailing,” she breathed, meaning it. Behind them, the moon was rising in the east, a spectacular sight.

  Devlin seemed to flinch, though she could not be sure. But he glanced at the rising moon and nodded. “Yes, it is. We’ll have a moderate breeze for an hour or two and we must make use of it. It’s a good fourteen knots.”

  She studied him as he stared ahead. He had removed his naval uniform some time ago and wore only a loose shirt with his britches and boots. How she would love to be in his strong arms again.

  Virginia started with guilt, dismayed by her wayward, uncalled-for thoughts. That was the last place she ever intended to be! She had learned her lesson and learned it well. “You didn’t come down to dine,” she said softly.

  “I ate on deck.” He didn’t look at her as he spoke.

  She decided to enjoy the night, the stars, the wind, the sea and even his impersonal company. It wasn’t a bad life, she thought, sailing the world by day and night. “It’s so free,” she whispered.

  He didn’t respond, his arms now folded across his chest.

  Suddenly she was struck by a comprehension and she faced him. “Do you think to outsail your childhood memories?” Was that what he was doing? Running away from his past under the guise of being a naval captain in a time of war? “How convenient,” she gasped.

  He seemed to choke.

  “I mean, this is a life without family, without responsibility. If you wanted, you could sail the world forever.”

  Not looking at her, he said to the first mate, “Red, I’ll take the helm.”

  Red said, “Aye, aye, Cap,” and he
stepped aside.

  Virginia watched Devlin’s large hands close on the helm, firm and assured, neither hard nor gentle, and she was breathless. Blood pumped in places it should avoid. She looked away, taking a huge breath, suddenly faint with the most urgent desire. His hands had been on her like that, almost exactly so.

  “I think you should go below,” he said tersely, still refusing to look at her—and it was as if he knew.

  “Is that an order?” she asked. But she knew her dazzling insight was right.

  He finally turned his head and their gazes locked. He seemed to hesitate. “No.”

  “No?”

  His jaw was most definitely flexing. “The nights are long.”

  She began to smile. “You don’t mind my company.”

  “As long as you are quiet.”

  Her smile widened—how quickly he could make her heart sing and dance! “You want my company,” she teased.

  She thought she saw him hold back a smile. “I hardly said that. But I do not mind it, if you are quiet.” He stressed the last word.

  “I promise.” She grinned, and she leaned on the siding, gazing up at the stars. Tendrils of stray hair whipped her face; she loosened her pelisse. “If I were a boy, I could have been a sailor,” she mused.

  “No, you couldn’t.”

  She turned, leaning her back on the ship, facing him. “You dispute me?” she bantered, praying their conversation would remain light and thrilled with it this far.

  “You love the land.” He added thoughtfully, “One might think you are like the sea, a flighty mistress, ebbing one way, then another, forever free, but you are really like the dark, deep earth, solid and immovable.”

  She stared. “How wrong you are, Devlin. You are like the earth, not I.”

  He started.

  “Did you always want to be a sailor?” she asked, aware of the depth of the tension between them. The light conversation, as brief as it was, had not done anything to dispel it.

  “No.”

  She tilted her head. “No? Do you care to elaborate?”

  He seemed to caress the helm, steering the ship.

  “Devlin? Has it ever occurred to you that it is easier to converse than to be in a speechless war?”