by Brenda Joyce
She stared, swallowing, for he was too astute, and it was almost as if he knew her thoughts and feelings. “You started this,” she began. “And we both know I am not beautiful, so I am not asking you to find me so. We also both know it takes little to arouse you, so clearly you yearn for my kiss—or something along those lines. And as for living together? Are you madder than I previously thought? Of course you can live without me—without Sean—without anyone! You are an island, Devlin, an island unto yourself and the whole world knows it.” She was very pleased with her brisk tone and how firmly she had rebutted him.
For a long moment he stared, so intensely that she backed away. “No, I’m afraid that you started this, Virginia, by wanting something from me that I cannot give.” His tone was soft but firm and very sincere.
Virginia almost hugged herself, staring back at him. Was he telling her that he would never love her? Could he be that perceptive? Had the liquor allowed him to speak so honestly with her now?
“I do not know what you mean,” she whispered, perspiring.
He shrugged with a small smile, the gesture meant to convey that he did not believe her, not for a single moment.
An idea struck her then, a wonderful idea that might help her attain her end. “But there is something that I want, Devlin,” she said.
He studied her, half a smile on his face, waiting.
“There is something that I want from you and I know you can give it,” she said firmly. How tense her expression felt.
“Oh, ho! I sense a new battle. Darling, you cannot win, so do not even think to take to the field.” He smiled, but she saw the wariness in his eyes. She realized then that, drunk or not, he would always be a dangerous adversary.
“I am not your darling,” she breathed.
“But you are—in the eyes of the world.” His soft tone was a deadly caress.
She wet her lips, praying hard, wondering if he might actually be trying to seduce her, in spite of what he had said earlier. “I want your friendship, Devlin. Nothing more, just your friendship.”
His eyes widened, then quickly narrowed. “A new twist,” he murmured, inclining his head with real respect. “As I said, forever unpredictable. I think not.”
“No! You must hear me out!” She finally walked over to him and took his hand.
He stared first at her face and then at her pale hand, and he made an incredulous sound. “Virginia,” he warned, and it was clear that the seductive dance between them was now over.
Bravely she stood her ground. “I want your friendship, freely given, until the ransom is paid and I am free to go.”
He stared at her. “I have no friends.”
“That’s ridiculous!” His brows lifted. “Sean is your friend.”
He pulled slowly away from her and folded his arms across his broad chest. “Forever interesting,” he mused softly. And his tone hardened. “I sense a negotiation. Negotiate.”
She wet her lips. His gaze lingered on her mouth. She noticed, but only vaguely, as her heart slammed with undue force. “In return, I will play the part of your mistress so well that even you will believe me your shameless lover,” she said.
He looked at her in absolute surprise.
She smiled, savoring a moment of triumph. “Well? This game will end much sooner if I cooperate. I am offering you more than cooperation—I am offering you full participation.”
He slowly smiled at her, but it did not reach his eyes, which remained dark and thoughtful. “I know how clever you are,” he said. “And I know you have some scheme upon which this bargain rests. Whatever it is, whatever you think to truly accomplish, you will fail—if it is not what I want.”
She shrugged, weak with the desire to win. “Just make the bargain.”
“Patience, darling, is what you must learn if you are to be a real player in the game of life.”
She sighed with real exasperation, while inside she was very close to elation. “Do we have a bargain or not?” she cried.
“We have a bargain,” he agreed softly, with a slight smile. “Let me guess. We seal it with a handshake?” His tone remained soft, but it was mocking.
“I don’t think so,” Virginia said boldly, barely able to believe her courage, and she moved into his arms. “We seal it with a kiss.”
His smile told her he had thought so. And he waited.
Her heart raced with such strength that she felt faint. Virginia stood on tiptoes, clutching his shoulders, too exhilarated to be annoyed that he made no effort to bend down to her. She turned up her face and closed her eyes, the last thing she saw being his silver gaze, suddenly hot, suddenly bright. He wanted this, too. And then she moved her mouth firmly over his.
He remained utterly still.
She pushed at the seam made by his lips, using her tongue, and when he gave, she felt real triumph and she invaded, her small tongue against his much larger one.
His hand closed on her nape, hard, and instantly he bent her over backward and his tongue swept deep into her mouth. In that one instant he took over the kiss, branding her and letting her know it. Virginia didn’t care. She held on tightly, pressing against him, allowing him every possible liberty, should he wish to take any. And when the hot, hard kiss was over, he lifted his head and stared.
“Whatever your game, darling, it’s a dangerous one.”
She smiled, but fiercely, while trembling in his arms. “I merely want your friendship, Devlin,” she lied.
He made a mocking sound.
THE MOMENT THE DOOR OPENED, Virginia pretended to be asleep.
She lay absolutely still, on her back, listening intently. As no footsteps sounded, she thought he stood in the doorway, staring at her.
He sighed and walked in, closing the door. “I know you are awake, Virginia, your cheeks are turning pink,” he said, holding a candle aloft.
She sat up. It was midnight. She had tried to go to sleep two hours ago, but her mind had refused to cooperate. No longer confused, she remained scared, the feeling distinct, as if she were standing on a cliff high above a lake, preparing to dive into icy, unknown depths far below. All she could think of was what she was doing. Did she really think to beat him at his game? Did she really think to win his friendship? Did she have a chance of making him fall in love with her? And how in God’s name were they going to share a room? She could think of little else than a far better way of spending the night in the same bedroom together—even though her resolve not to leap into his bed remained.
“I see you made my bed for me,” he said, glancing at the pile of sheets and pillows on the floor. “How thoughtful.”
She hugged her knees to her chest, watching him yank a sheet free and then lay it flat. When his makeshift bed was made, he sat down in the room’s single chair and tugged off his boots. When the second one hit the floor with a thump, he looked up, his eyes hard and narrowed. “Do not make this difficult, Virginia.”
“Why not?” she flung. “You have certainly made my life difficult.”
“We are not sharing that bed.” He stood, unbuttoning his shirt.
She had to watch, mesmerized by the swath of golden skin slowly but surely revealed. “That’s right, we’re not. This is pretense and I know it better than you.”
“Really?” He clearly did not believe her.
“Now you plan to undress?” she asked breathlessly as he tossed the shirt aside. She made sure not to inhale, but he was an Adonis, impossibly beautiful, his body hard and muscular, every sinew and tendon sculpted and defined.
Not looking at her, he blew out the candles. “I am sleeping in my britches, if that is any comfort to you.”
“It’s such a relief!” she mocked. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and with the moonlight streaming through the window, she saw him lying quietly on the white sheets, one arm flung above his head. A moment passed and she wondered if he were already asleep, as he did not move at all. “Devlin?”
Remaining motionless, he said, “Yes, Virginia?”
“Are you thinking about what I am thinking about…at all?”
“No,” he said calmly.
She stared at him suspiciously. “Yes, you are! How else would you know what I am thinking?”
“You are thinking about going home,” he returned smoothly. “Good night.” It was a warning.
She hugged her knees harder, her pulse racing, and finally, softly, she said, “I am not thinking about going home. I am thinking about that kiss in the library.”
“Good night,” he said very firmly.
She sighed with exasperation and frustration and flopped onto her back. Instantly images of his eyes, blazing with lust, filled her mind, followed by another image of how he had just looked, shirtless, and her body responded completely. She bit her lip hard. How would she ever fall asleep when he was right there on the floor, a temptation like no other? And why did she have to be so tempted? She had a plan now, one that frightened her, but one she intended to follow. Would it really matter if she was his mistress in fact as well as in fiction?
It would matter to her, she thought. It would matter a great deal, unless he gave her his love as well as his body. She sighed. She might as well resign herself to a very long and uphill battle, including the one against herself.
“Virginia,” he warned. “You are acting like a child.”
She sat up and moved to the end of the bed, where she could see him quite clearly. “How am I acting like a child? I simply cannot sleep with you there on the floor!”
He remained on his back, but he was looking at her. “You don’t want to sleep,” he muttered. “You want to argue…among other things.”
“What other things could I possibly want, Devlin?” she asked innocently, although she was smiling.
“Count sheep,” he said firmly. “Or leaves of tobacco. Good night.”
“I think I am a bit mad,” she said reflectively. “That must be it. I mean, six months ago I was on the Americana and we had never met. No, actually, I was still at that awful and horrid ladies’ school in Richmond. Since then you have abducted me, taken me to Askeaton, had your way with me, left me, handed me off to your brother, and here we are, man and mistress—almost.”
“Good God,” Devlin said. “Are you going to be this garrulous every night?”
“And after all of that, I still enjoyed that kiss. Of course, I refuse to ever entertain you in bed again.”
He sat up. The sheet dropped to his lap, revealing the hard slabs of his chest and his lean, flat abdomen. “You have an eerie mind, Virginia, and it seems to be on a single path. And, darling, I entertained you, not vice versa.”
That was it. She thought about his mouth and tongue against her sex and she could not breathe, not one drop of air.
He suddenly leapt to his feet. “I am going downstairs to read for a while.”
This was never going to work, she thought, staring at him. He was aroused, the rigid line impossible to miss in his snug, pale britches. “Too bad Fiona isn’t here,” she heard herself remark.
“Yes, it is,” he said, crossing the room and not looking at her.
“Devlin, this will not work. Our sharing a room, it’s simply impossible. You have to sleep somewhere else. To hell with the servants!”
He leaned against the closed door, facing her. “Servants gossip madly, and I would bet my fortune that Mrs. Hill’s telling everyone she can think of how shameless a barbarian her new Irish master is. So this will have to work, and it will, but only if you make an attempt, Virginia, an attempt not to think about your passionate nature.”
“Like you are doing?” she challenged softly.
“Like I am doing,” he said with a smile that was a simple baring of his teeth. “It is called self-will, Virginia, and while I realize you have never thought to exercise it, now is a good time to start.”
“This is not my fault,” she reminded him.
“Lie down, close your eyes and count sheep, Virginia, sheep—or bales of tobacco, if you will—or battleships. Then I am certain you will be able to rest.” He walked out.
“We do not bale tobacco,” she muttered crossly.
Virginia flopped back down, arms crossed, oddly pleased. He wasn’t that hard to provoke, she decided, and she did enjoy stirring him up. And he did find her attractive, of that there was no doubt.
Virginia closed her eyes and began to count tobacco leaves. But the tobacco faded, replaced with a striking image of Devlin O’Neill. Virginia suddenly smiled. Maybe her plan would work after all.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“MISS HUGHES? YOU HAVE callers in the parlor,” Tompkins said.
Virginia had awoken that morning quite late, as it had taken her hours to still her mind and fall asleep, and the bedroom had been empty. It was now noon and she had been strolling the back lawns, finally pausing on the small terrace behind the house. She smiled at Tompkins. “Callers?”
“Yes,” he beamed back at her.
He was not at all like the horrid Mrs. Hill, whom Virginia had seen in passing that morning. The housekeeper had made a remark that breakfast was taken between eight and nine, an explanation for the empty sideboard in the small dining room. She had refused to look at Virginia, as if doing so might make her a mistress, too. Virginia had ignored her growling belly, politely asking for some coffee, toast and chocolate. A maid had brought her the requested refreshments, as it was clearly beneath Mrs. Hill to wait upon her master’s lover.
As they turned to the French doors, Virginia asked, “How long have you been at Wideacre, Tompkins?”
“Ten years, if I do say so myself,” he responded cheerfully.
“And you love it here?”
“Yes, I do. The missus died some time ago, my two daughters are married with children, one in Manchester, the other in a small village to the south, and Wideacre has become my home.” He shrugged a bit, his cheeks pink.
“You do a wonderful job,” Virginia assured him. They stepped into the parlor.
Devlin stood speaking to a country gentleman and his plump, pretty wife. Virginia halted the instant she laid eyes on him and for one moment, she admired him in his fine brown frock coat and tan britches. She had never seen him in a casual coat before. It hardly made a difference; he remained such a stunning man.
He saw her and their gazes locked. She wondered if he had ever come up to their room last night; when she had finally fallen asleep, he had yet to return. Their room. It was still almost impossible to believe, as was the state of her heart, now that she had admitted her worst fears and greatest dreams.
“Do come in, Virginia,” Devlin said, smiling. “Squire Pauley and his wife have been so kind as to call.”
Virginia hesitated, aware of the game they would now play. It had already begun, in fact, with his calling her by her given name so intimately. Both the bewhiskered squire and his blond wife were regarding her curiously, smiling. Virginia knew they did not yet know that she was a fallen woman.
She would change that. She smiled and swept forward, going right to Devlin, where she stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. His skin was warm and smooth—he had clearly shaved recently. Her heart leapt as she withdrew her mouth and she said, “Good morning, darling,” her voice husky without any effort on her part.
He started, but then, ever the better gamesman, he took her hand and lifted it to his mouth, pressing his lips firmly there. “You are ravishing, Virginia,” he murmured. “I see you slept late. No doubt you have deserved it.”
Their gazes held. “I was so tired I simply could not get up,” she breathed, and deciding to outdo him, she stroked his cheek, just once.
He started yet again. That gave her no satisfaction, however, as her heart was racing from the feigned intimacy. It was as if they were really lovers, and in that brief moment of pretense, it had felt as if they were alone.
“May I present Miss Virginia Hughes of Sweet Briar, Virginia,” Devlin said, looping her arm in his.
The squire and his wife were wide-
eyed; now, quickly, they both smiled, at once. “How nice to make your acquaintance, Miss Hughes,” the squire said, his gaze shooting back and forth between them. Virginia knew he was trying to fathom their relationship.
“It is my pleasure,” Virginia said, as if she had been the most stellar student at the Marmott School. She extended her hand and he brushed the air above it with his lips. She turned to his wife. “Hello, Mrs. Pauley. Do you live far from here?”
“We live just a few miles away,” the blonde replied, attempting a smile and not quite succeeding.
“The captain tells us you have just arrived,” Squire Pauley said, tugging at his cravat.
“Yes, yesterday. I have spent the past five months at Devlin’s home in Ireland,” Virginia said, giving him a sidelong glance.
His brows lifted with amusement. He was clearly no longer surprised by her gamesmanship. “While I, alas, was patrolling the coast of Spain.” He sighed heavily as if he had yearned for her every day they were apart.
Mrs. Pauley’s cheeks were bright red. But she turned her blue eyes on Devlin then. “We have heard so much about you, Captain. You are a hero to us all.”
“Yes, sir,” her husband added. “We are so pleased that you have a home here now.”
“Thank you,” Devlin murmured.
“How long will you be in residence?” the squire asked.
“I think a week, certainly no more,” Devlin said.
Virginia was surprised. “Only a week, Devlin?” she asked softly.
He pulled her close. “Has my little country home grown on you the way that Askeaton has?”
She smiled up at him, acutely aware of the length of his body against her side. She was practically in his embrace, nestled against him and in the hard curve of one arm. It felt right. “I fear that it might…darling,” she said.
The squire coughed. Or perhaps he choked. Virginia glanced at him and saw his face had turned the color of beets.