De Warenne Dynasty: The Prize Part 16

"When you become more acquainted with Miss Hughes, you will discover that she is not the kind of woman to be pitied." He almost smiled, thinking of her courage and her absurdly independent nature.

A silence fell.

Devlin turned and found Sean staring, his gaze wide and searching. He said, "You almost sound fond of her."

He actually hesitated. "I am hardly fond of her, Sean. But frankly, her courage is amazing-reckless though it may be."

"So you admire her, then," Sean said quietly.

Devlin became impatient. "Enough of Miss Hughes! The subject grows tiresome. When Eastleigh pays her ransom, she goes back. Until then, she is our guest." He stressed the plural p.r.o.noun deliberately and stared. He softly added, "Your loyalty to me does precede your n.o.ble sense of honor and your disapproval, does it not?"

Sean folded his arms across his chest, staring grimly in displeasure.

"Sean?"

He spoke roughly. "You know I would never betray you, in spite of my outrage over what you think to do."

Satisfied, Devlin stalked back to the silver tray of decanters and gla.s.ses on the sideboard, pouring himself another, far stiffer drink. The silence lengthened. He finally sighed and glanced up. "All right. What is it? What is it that you wish to say?"

"If Eastleigh is so impoverished, what makes you think he will even wish to pay a ransom for his distant American niece, someone he has probably never seen and does not care for?"

Devlin stared. "He'll pay."

"And if he doesn't?" Sean prodded.

Devlin felt his entire being tense. "Then I will have to provoke him publicly until he has no choice but to rescue our little guest, until it becomes a matter of honor."

"To destroy Eastleigh, you will have to destroy her, will you not? How can you live with yourself?" Sean cried.

"Rather easily," Devlin said, but even he knew there was nothing simple about his life and that his answer was a lie.

"You b.a.s.t.a.r.d," Sean said.

CHAPTER NINE.

THE MANOR SEEMED terribly quiet and felt almost empty, Virginia thought, pausing in the grandiose hall. She had spent the afternoon exploring the grounds and visiting the stables, where Devlin had some very fine horses, especially a sweet bay mare. Now dusk was quickly approaching. Virginia had bathed in scented water-Connor had filled her tub-and changed into one of her mother's fine evening gowns, one altered hastily by Tillie before she had left Sweet Briar. The gown was a bright rose silk, with small puffed sleeves and a low-cut bodice. Virginia had gone to great lengths to pin up the heavy ma.s.ses of her hair. If she were fortunate, the pins would stay in place until she retired for the night.

She wondered where her captor was.

Virginia walked through the hall, admiring several very old tapestries hanging on the walls and the huge crystal chandelier. She paused before two open doors that led to another salon, this one smaller and more intimate, with moss-green walls and green, pink and lavender molding on the ceiling. A man rose from the dark brocade sofa-it was Sean.

"Oh, I didn't realize anyone was in the room," Virginia said quickly. "I hope I am not intruding."

He came forward in a formal blue evening coat, pale britches and stockings. His gaze was openly appreciative as he smiled at her. "You are not intruding, Miss Hughes, not at all. After all, supper is almost upon us. Would you like a sherry or some champagne?"

She had to admire him as well. With his midnight hair and pale gray eyes, he was every bit as handsome as his older brother. Like Devlin, he was tall, broad of shoulder, long of leg and lean of hip. His body looked every bit as muscled and toned. "I would love a gla.s.s of champagne," she said.

He quickly poured two flutes from the chilled bottle on the sideboard, handing her one. "You are fetching, Miss Hughes, in that lovely dress," he said.

She wondered if he was blus.h.i.+ng, as she remarked two slight spots of color high upon his cheekbones. "You must call me Virginia, Mr. O'Neill, and thank you very much." She hesitated. "This dress belonged to my mother."

"I am sorry about your parents," he said instantly. "And please, it's Sean."

She started, meeting kind and concerned gray eyes. "You know about my parents?" she asked.

"Dev mentioned that you are an orphan."

She nodded. "It was a carriage accident last fall."

"Sometimes there is no comprehending G.o.d's will."

"I'm not sure I believe in G.o.d," she said.

His eyes widened. "Then that is a shame. But there have been moments, I confess, when I have had my doubts, too."

She smiled at him. "Then we must both be intelligent and human."

He laughed.

She stopped smiling, enjoying his laughter, which was warm and rich and so different from the odd, croaking sound Devlin had made on the few occasions when he seemed to try to laugh. "You and he are nothing alike, are you?"

"No." Sean studied her.

"How is that possible? Aren't you both close in age?"

"I'm two years younger," Sean said. "Devlin a.s.sumed responsibility for me when our father died. That is one reason for the difference between us."

"And the other?" she asked, determined now to learn everything she could about her captor.

He smiled wryly and shrugged.

"I do not understand him," she said. "He is very brave, that much is clear, almost fearless, I think-" she recalled how he had defied gale winds to rescue his s.h.i.+p "-and that's not very human, is it?"

"He is fearless," Sean agreed. "I think he doesn't care if he lives or dies."

Virginia stared, Sean's theory stunning. "But no one wishes to die!"

"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 s.h.i.+p, 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 compa.s.sionate as he is ruthless."

"I am not a s.h.i.+p'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 b.u.t.tons, his stark white britches and stockings, he made a terribly das.h.i.+ng 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 s.h.i.+vered, 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 decolletage.

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 gra.s.s. 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 b.r.e.a.s.t.s 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 pa.s.sionate she was, how fiery and hot, how easily ignited.

I have never been kissed before, Devlin.

The pressure felt explosive, just like that. He s.h.i.+fted 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 refres.h.i.+ng. 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 h.e.l.lion?

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 cliche, 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 lords.h.i.+p 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 s.h.i.+p. 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, a.n.a.lyzing 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.