De Warenne Dynasty: The Prize Part 18

VIRGINIA REALIZED THAT she was starving. She gave the little, very fancy, bay mare another pat, then stepped out of the stall and left the stables. It was a beautiful morning, the sky a brilliant deep shade of blue, cloudless, the sun bright and burning, threatening to make the day extremely hot. In the end last night, she had been exhausted, and the moment she had crawled into bed, she had fallen deeply asleep. But old habits died hard and she had been up at dawn, walking the grounds and exploring the ruins of the old castle behind the house. Devlin's home was lovely, and the ruins had intrigued her. There was something poignant and romantic about them.

Now she started across the lawns toward the manor, aware of a new tremor within her. She had seen Devlin once, briefly, galloping his gray across a distant hill, apparently out for an early morning ride. Astride a horse, he made the same irresistible figure that he did on the quarterdeck of his s.h.i.+p. He remained an enigma, simply impossible to understand. Had he accused her of somehow being too friendly with Sean? Everything had happened so very quickly in the study when she had dared to ask him to stroll with her in the moonlight. He had been very angry with her, but why? Sean was a nice man and Virginia genuinely liked him. She had enjoyed dining with him. She hoped he would one day visit her at Sweet Briar. But not only hadn't Devlin joined in their conversation, he had seemed to think that she had a romantic interest in Sean. That was absurd! How could he think that, given the intimacy they had shared?

But he had ordered her to stay away from her brother. There was one other possibility. Perhaps he was afraid that she would entice Sean into helping her escape the way she had Jack Harvey.

Virginia's steps dragged so she might have a bit more time to think. It was impossible not to recall everything that had happened last night. Her cheeks began a slow burn. When he had held her in his arms, when he had begun to kiss her, when she had felt his huge arousal, all of her sanity had vanished, exactly as it had the other night on the s.h.i.+p. She hadn't imagined her pa.s.sionate reaction to being in his arms, oh no. The fever and the frenzy he evoked in her was very real and simply stunning. And in a way, it was frightening, too.

Because when he held her, she was not herself. When he held her, she turned into a creature of desire and little else. In fact, when she was in his arms being kissed and aroused, nothing else mattered.

Fortunately it was midmorning now and Virginia was no longer insane with that terrible l.u.s.t. Her body was definitely changing in response to thinking about the encounter, but at least she was capable of rational thought. Why did he have such an effect upon her?

He was impossibly mesmerizing, impossibly handsome in a terrible, powerful way, but she was his prisoner, not his guest. Devlin stood between her and Sweet Briar and she was starting to forget that, as if she had all the time in the world to play out this interlude in captivity before rescuing the plantation. She needed to be stronger, firmer, more resolved-time was not on her side.

Still, he wasn't a pirate or a madman. He hadn't hurt her, not a single time, and he was clearly trying to respect her. The world wors.h.i.+pped him for being a heroic naval captain. He was heroic-he was the very stuff that heroes were made from. But he had broken the law by abducting her-not to mention that he had so arrogantly stepped all over the Americana, which had every right to ply its trade. He had committed at least those two crimes, and her spinning thoughts always returned to this final point. The Americana lay wrecked upon the bottom of the sea, she was his prisoner and she had no right to yearn for his embrace.

And she still had no idea why he really wished to ransom her.

It was probably fortunate that he had decided to end their interlude last night as if he had just discovered she was a leper. His hasty exit was almost comical in the light of this morning, and she did smile, recalling it. But it hadn't been amusing last night. Last night she had been desperate and crushed and more confused than ever.

Virginia entered the house, becoming grim. She needed to know why. She needed to know why he risked his career for a ransom he did not need. And in spite of the fact that she was actually enjoying being at Askeaton, that she wasn't in a rush to leave, she had to get to the Earl of Eastleigh. If she wanted a home to return to, she must stay focused and resolved and disregard the pa.s.sionate attraction they seemed to share.

Virginia walked through the hall, wondering if Devlin had returned from his ride. She had seen Sean riding out some time ago, after Devlin but separately and at a more sedate pace. She felt certain he was beginning his day's work. Virginia glanced into the dining room and found only one place set. She sighed, caught up between disappointment and relief.

Virginia raided the breadbasket, giving in to hunger. With one blueberry scone in hand, she began eating a slice of raisin bread, fresh and warm from the oven, as she started upstairs. She decided to give up thinking about Devlin O'Neill. What she would do instead was change into the riding britches she had brought with her from home and take a long ride across the O'Neill lands.

Virginia finished the bread and was beginning on the scone as she entered her bedroom. Fiona was humming away as she made the bed, having opened all of the windows to let in the warm spring day. Virginia ignored her, going to the closet for her valise. "Good morning," Fiona said with abundant cheer.

Every fiber of her being tensed. Alarm began-what was this? Slowly, britches in hand, her riding boots on the floor, Virginia turned.

Fiona beamed at her. "I brought you roses from the garden," she said, pointing to the pink roses in a vase beside her bed.

The alarm began to change, turning into dread. Virginia inhaled, wondering if Sean or Devlin had set her down for her delinquent manner yesterday. "Thank you," she said carefully. "Would you help me out of my dress?"

"Of course!" Fiona practically ran across the room, and Virginia glimpsed her beatific expression just before she turned. As the other woman undid the b.u.t.tons and helped her out of the gown, she said, "You are inordinately happy today."

Fiona laughed. "It's a fine day, is it not?"

Virginia had a sick feeling. She stepped into the boys' britches, then pulled on the high, worn riding boots. A simple cotton s.h.i.+rt followed, which she vaguely tucked in. "Have you received some good news?" she asked, lacing up her boots.

Fiona laughed again. "I think I am in love," she confided happily.

Virginia jerked up, staring, appalled. "In...love?"

Fiona nodded eagerly, clasping her hands together. "It was everything I dreamed it would be. He was everything I dreamed he would be, I mean! Oh, G.o.d, it was glorious, what a man, so strong, so tireless..." She finally faltered, her cheeks splotched feverishly, a similar glaze in her eyes.

"You...you and Devlin?" Virginia managed, the contents of her stomach seriously roiling now.

"Yes," Fiona cried. "He made love to me all night, that man can hold it like a stud! I have never, ever been with a man like that, and I do not know how I will ever wait until tonight!"

Devlin had taken Fiona to bed.

Virginia sat on the edge of the chair, beyond ill, in stupefaction.

"He's so big," Fiona whispered now. "I can hardly fit him in my hand."

Last night Devlin had kissed her and held her and then he had gone to Fiona.

Virginia was about to vomit. And the shattering began in her heart. Somehow she smiled as she stood. Somehow she held her breakfast down. "I am happy for you, Fiona. The two of you make a fine pair."

"We do, don't we! He's so golden, I'm so dark, he's handsome, I'm beautiful," she cried, clapping her hands together.

Virginia left the room, as fast as her legs could carry her without running. She broke into a run as she reached the stairs, not able to breathe, her heart ripping hideously apart. Instantly her slick booted soles slid on the polished wood and she fell hard, tumbling down half of the steps.

On the bottom she paused on her hands and knees, panting harshly, beyond shock. Then she somehow got up, ran out the front door, and there she threw up on the closest rose bush.

When she was done, she crawled around the side of the house and sat there, shaking. Images of Devlin straining over Fiona taunted her, mocked her, throwing pound after pound of salt in her wounds. It was some time before she could take control of her raw emotions, and it was only then that the horrific images began to infuriate her.

Oh, how they deserved each other!

She was a wh.o.r.e-he was a wh.o.r.emonger!

She didn't care-she had her maidenhead intact, thank G.o.d-no, thank Fiona!

Virginia hated them both.

How could he go to Fiona after being with her? How?

Virginia somehow stood, her knees oddly weak, brus.h.i.+ng dirt off of her beige britches. This was for the best. Soon she would leave Askeaton and Ireland, soon she would return to Sweet Briar and never, ever have to see Devlin O'Neill again.

How, how, how?

"She's beautiful and I'm ugly, that's how!" Virginia raged. She stormed past the house and down to the stables, where the bay mare recognized her and whinnied. Virginia found a saddle that looked a bit smaller than the others, grabbed a bridle and blanket and quickly saddled the little mare up. It began to rain. She held the mare's reins and stroked her neck as her hands became wet. "You're so sweet," she choked. Then she led the mare outside, where the sky was blue, confusing her.

Of course it wasn't raining. It was only her tears-they simply wouldn't stop.

Vaguely she wondered if she had somehow fallen in love with the monster that was Devlin O'Neill.

Virginia mounted the mare and gave her a loose rein. A moment later they were galloping away from Askeaton and across the Irish countryside.

THE BAY MARE PICKED HER way along a meandering deer path through a stand of sun-dappled woods. Virginia was herself again and furiously relieved because of it. She was Virginia Hughes, a planter's daughter and the mistress of Sweet Briar. She was an outspoken, independent woman with no interest in any man, with no interest outside of her home and plantation. With the utmost determination, she had spent the past half hour plotting a new means of escape, this time by horseback. Now she was determined to thwart her d.a.m.ned captor. He no longer expected her to try to flee, and once he found her gone, he would expect her to go back to England by s.h.i.+p. To h.e.l.l with him! She would first cross Ireland on a horse, and she'd sail out from one of the coastal towns in the east. In fact, as soon as she had the opportunity, she would sneak into the library and find some useful maps. Maybe she would steal one.

Suddenly the bay mare nickered.

Virginia started, so lost in thought she hadn't been aware of leaving the woods. She halted the mare instantly, wary and alert. She was on a low, gra.s.sy ridge overlooking a small freehold. A stone farmhouse marked its center, along with several barns, a vegetable garden, some cornfields and an open pasture where a dozen cows grazed. Virginia saw his gray stallion instantly.

She stiffened with alarm, renewed anger flooding her. The stallion was tied up in front of the farmhouse with four big-bodied country hacks. Three buggies were parked in front as well. What was going on? She didn't think the farmer was having an afternoon tea.

She reminded herself that she didn't care what Devlin did and whom he did it with. She started to turn the bay to return to the woods, when she looked at the other mounts tied in front of the house. Wasn't the heavyset chestnut Sean's?

What was going on?

Virginia hesitated. Something odd was happening-her every instinct told her that. She dismounted, tying the mare to a tree and letting her graze. Scrambling down the ridge, she ran hard to cross the clearing until she reached the safety of the farmhouse walls. Virginia crept up to a window, her heart pounding with unbearable force. It had no gla.s.s and the shutters were wide open.

Inside, many men were shouting in an uproar.

What could this be? If she were lucky, she was going to catch Devlin O'Neill with his hand in someone else's cookie jar. She fervently hoped so. Virginia straightened until her chin was level with the sill and she could peek inside.

Instantly she saw two dozen men, maybe more, most of them peasants and farmers. The second thing she saw was Sean standing on a dais with a Catholic priest, holding up his hands and asking for order in the room. She quickly spotted Devlin, seated in the front row of the crowd. Bewildered, she could not even begin to imagine what kind of meeting was in progress.

"Please, everyone has a turn," Sean was saying with authority.

The shouting turned into disgruntled murmurs and mutters.

"Tim McCarthy," Sean said. "Would you like a chance to speak your mind?"

A big man with s.h.a.ggy gray hair stepped forward. "It's just more lies, it's always been lies, it's all the English are good for, that and stealing our land!"

"Here, here!" everyone roared.

Virginia stood up, stunned. Was this a political meeting?

"They promised us our rights, the same rights as any Protestant, back in 1800, with the Union. And what have they given us? Does a Catholic sit in Commons? Does a Catholic serve the king? An' I still got to take the unG.o.dly oath if I want to buy my land-land that is really mine!" Tim McCarthy cried.

Everyone began speaking at once, clearly in furious agreement.

Sean held his hands up again. "One at a time."

"I ain't done," McCarthy said.

"Fine, do go on," Sean returned.

"We been meeting for two years now, and for what? We need to get them d.a.m.ned b.l.o.o.d.y British out of Ireland, yes we do, and the time is now! Because nothing will ever change unless we show 'em the day of steppin' on Catholics is over. We need to b.l.o.o.d.y a few noses and get all of our rights, just the way the French did!"

A huge cheer sounded.

Virginia bit her lip so as not to cry out. This sounded very dangerous-it sounded like treason. And what in G.o.d's name were Devlin and Sean doing there?

Virginia didn't know very much about Ireland, but she did know a lot about the revolution in France, which most Americans had fervently supported, at least until Napoleon had begun his campaign to conquer Europe. She wasn't sure what rights Tim McCarthy referred to, but she knew that Ireland was a part of Great Britain, and an Irishman shouldn't speak about driving the English from their midst. That sounded like an impending revolution to her. It was certainly seditious speech.

Suddenly Devlin stood. Before he could even step forward to join Sean, l.u.s.ty cheers rang out. "O'Neill!" someone cried.

"The O'Neill," more men answered.

"O'Neill! O'Neill! Hurrah!" everyone boomed.

Virginia slammed back against the wall, shaken and shaking. Was Devlin involved in this unpatriotic, antigovernment conspiracy? But how could he be! He was a captain in the British navy!

Devlin had joined Sean on the dais. "May I?" he asked his brother, confirming Virginia's suspicion that Sean was in command of this group.

"They are waiting for your words of wisdom," Sean said seriously.

The room had become silent. Virginia gripped the sill and stared inside, mesmerized.

"I understand your frustrations," Devlin said slowly, his gaze roaming over the room, making eye contact slowly but surely with everyone there. "But a rebellion will only bring pain and death. My family knows that firsthand."

There were some grunts of agreement-and there were murmurs of anger as well.

"But what can we do?" someone cried. "I can't pay my rents, which are triple what they were last year!"

A chorus of agreement sounded.

Sean held up his hands for silence, and instantly the crowd became still. Devlin began to speak, his focus still moving from man to man-and that was when his gaze finally found Virginia.

His eyes widened.

As did hers.

Then she leapt away from the window and back against the wall. d.a.m.n it!

And then there was no more time for thought. As she began to sprint away from the house, she heard Sean adjourning the meeting. She ran across the clearing, tripped and fell. As she got up, she looked back.

Devlin was just a few lengths behind her. His expression was one of savage determination. And she realized that a dozen men were streaming out of the house, all angry, and a chorus began-a terribly frightening chorus.

"A spy! It's a spy! An English spy!"

Virginia bolted. In terror, she took another step when he leapt upon her from behind. The force of his tackle took them both instantly to the ground.

As she went down he twisted sideways and she landed in his arms instead of on the hard ground, where she would have surely broken a bone. A moment later she was on her back, however, and he was on top of her. "You followed me here?" he demanded, and she saw rage in his eyes.

And for the first time since he had captured the Americana, she felt real fear. "No! I was out riding-I saw your horse-I thought there was a party!" she cried.

"You little fool!" he gritted.

Virginia looked past his angry silver eyes. They were surrounded now by the angry mob of men, some of them holding muskets, others with pikes. Each and every man present looked as if he wanted to use his weapon on her. Sean stepped through the circle. "It's all right, boyos," he said lightly, smiling. "This is just a little misunderstanding."

Virginia's fear knew no bounds. She knew what she had witnessed and what she had heard. These men wanted to rise up against the English government and throw it out of Ireland. That was treason. She also knew what she had just seen in their expressions. She had seen far worse than anger-she had seen fear.

They were angry and desperate and they were afraid of what she knew.

"He's a spy!" someone shouted.

A rumble of affirmations sounded.

Virginia looked into Devlin's eyes, trying not to panic. He wouldn't let anything happen to her, would he?

He gave her a very angry look. Then he stood, hauling her to her feet.