De Warenne Dynasty: The Prize Part 24

"No!" Abruptly Mary sat up, her eyes wide.

"No? Darling, Devlin has kept her against her will," he said gently, refusing to actually call Virginia Hughes either a prisoner or a hostage. He and Sean had chosen their words around her very carefully.

"Devlin abducted her and holds her hostage," Mary said flatly. "You need not think to mince words around me now!"

He smiled grimly and squeezed her hand. "I only wish to spare you any further hurt," he said.

"I know," she cried. "But what about Virginia? Should she not be spared any further hurt? Should she not have justice?"

He searched her blue eyes. "What do you have in mind?"

"Devlin will do what is right," she said flatly. "He is going to fix this in the only possible way."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

HE SQUINTED INTO THE GRAY day.

Ahead of him the country road from Limerick wound away, disappearing into the now-harvested fields and rolling hills, crisscrossed with stone walls. For one moment he stared, and as he sat his mount, he was very, very careful not to allow any feeling to creep over him. He succeeded. This time, there was no warmth within him in coming home. It was merely another mission he must accomplish.

Devlin spurred the liveried gelding into a canter, well aware that around the next bend he would be able to see his fields, his pastures, his land. But it didn't matter. He had an iron grasp on himself-he had never been more in control.

He rounded the bend and finally took some small, idle pleasure in the sight of the harvested fields that lay bare and brown ahead of him. As he pa.s.sed the first farmhouse, he noted, almost indifferently, that McCarthy must have had done well that year-his flock of sheep seemed twice the size and his house had been recently whitewashed.

A stone wall cut across the field. Devlin rode his mount at it, and when the animal wavered, he spurred him on, clamping hard with both legs. The gelding took the wall, landing roughly. When he'd recovered his stride, Devlin gave the animal a pat for his courage. The skies finally parted and a light drizzle began.

A field lay ahead, the earth being turned over by a laborer. Devlin saw two horses grazing by its border and he instantly scanned the area for the riders. When saw two figures standing by the edge of a stream, apparently in conversation, he halted his horse abruptly. His heart quickened but he ignored it. One of the figures was small enough to be a child-or a very pet.i.te woman-and he knew beyond any doubt who she was.

He was grim. His legs tightened so hard around the horse that the animal shot forward. Instantly he jerked to a halt, causing the gelding to rear. He could not look away from his brother and Virginia.

He reminded himself that he controlled his men, his s.h.i.+p, the enemy. That he had done so for a good ten years, and never more effectively than this past summer and autumn, while patrolling the coast of Spain, while guarding the Straits. His heart mocked him, hammering hard and fast.

He had also controlled his thoughts. He had not thought about anything other than his mission, his s.h.i.+p, his men and the enemy in the course of the past five months. With an iron fist, he'd beaten each and every unwanted thought back into the shadows of the past, where they belonged.

He had come back for one reason and one reason only, and he had come back knowing he was in absolute self-control.

He told himself, very firmly, that he did not care what they were discussing. Let them debate the merits of the Irish soil. He held the impatient gelding at a halt, continuing to stare.

They were too far away for him to make out their features, their expressions or anything other than the fact that Sean's s.h.i.+rt was white, his boots black, and that Virginia also wore pale britches and knee-high riding boots. Her hair seemed to be pulled back-left loose or braided, he could not be sure-but the ma.s.s of dark hair fell down her back. He strained, looking for some telltale sign of any pregnancy, but at this distance, it was simply impossible to tell.

His mouth twisted grimly. The insane attraction lay in the past, he felt certain. When they came face-to-face he would feel no differently toward her than he did Elizabeth or Fiona or any other woman. He was through with thinking-he was wasting his time-there was nothing more to think about.

He whirled the bay and galloped to Askeaton.

"IT'S A SECRET RECIPE," Virginia said, smiling, as they walked into the house. "Not my mother's, but Tillie's great-grandmother."

"Tillie, your best friend, the slave?" Sean asked, following. He was carrying a dozen ears of corn.

Virginia nodded, flushed from the mad gallop they'd just had. She wasn't sure who had started to gallop home first, but suddenly they were both flat out and clearly in a race. Sean had won-but only by a length. As a result, they were both covered with red dust.

"I'll supervise the cooking," Virginia said. She was salivating just thinking about the corn pudding they would share that night. "We are lucky we still have any corn," she added.

Sean smiled and said something, but Virginia failed to hear him as she rounded the corner. Standing in the hall was Devlin.

She halted and Sean collided with her back.

Virginia hardly noticed. For her heart had stopped and she failed to breathe. He was back.

Devlin stood there nonchalantly, staring calmly at her, clearly having expected her. His hard thighs were braced as if he rode his s.h.i.+p. His gaze never wavered from her face.

Virginia gulped down air and it burned her lungs and chest. He had come back after all. Her heart now slammed, causing more burning, more pain. She began to shake. She turned, realizing Sean had dropped the corn, and managed to glimpse his shocked expression. She bent, inhaling hard, saw how terribly her hands were shaking. As she reached for an ear of the scattered corn, she tried to think, but her thoughts were wild and incoherent.

Oh G.o.d, what did she do now?

Images afflicted her, images of Devlin O'Neill getting up from the bed they had shared, not looking at her.

"Devlin," Sean said quietly, but as he spoke he bent and seized Virginia's arm, hauling her to her feet. "We didn't know you had come back." He did not release her, clearly knowing that she might not be able to stand if he did.

There was no response to his remark.

Virginia half turned, fully panicked now, and saw him smiling at them both. Instantly their gazes locked. "The corn," she said, her voice low and husky, incapable of looking away from him.

He hadn't changed. He was seductive and powerful and magnetic; he remained mesmerizing. If only he had changed...

"Leave it," Sean snapped, also staring at Devlin as if hypnotized. "You didn't send word of your arrival."

"I didn't realize you needed to be warned of my return," Devlin said calmly.

Virginia could not look away from him. Almost every moment she had spent alone with him crashed over her then, from their first debate in the confines of his cabin upon the Defiance to the last time she had seen him, walking out of her bedroom.

I'm sorry I hurt you, he had said.

"h.e.l.lo, Virginia," he said now.

She couldn't speak so she tried to nod.

"Sean," he added with an inclination of his head.

Sean finally moved, coming forward slowly. "Father was here the other day. I heard about your tour-and the hearing. I'm glad you're back."

"Are you?" Devlin asked rather coolly.

Sean stiffened. "Yes, I am." He now glanced back and forth between his brother and Virginia. Virginia realized that she was paralyzed and that she continued to openly stare. Although she remained stunned, her mind began to work. She hadn't really ever expected to see him again. And she had been fine with that. He had hurt her beyond words, but she was certain she had recovered, that time did heal all wounds. But now he was back, standing just a few feet from her, and nothing had changed. It was as if the months had never pa.s.sed. Her wounds, once tightly sewn up, split asunder. How could he have left her the way that he had? How?

Suddenly Sean made a sound and walked out of the hall, leaving the two of them standing there, staring.

"You look well," he commented, his tone neither indifferent nor interested. "Other than the dirt."

She inhaled. Did he remember anything, anything at all? But how could he possibly forget!

He strolled forward. "I take it you and Sean are getting on?"

She stiffened. He had once suggested, absurdly, that she would marry his brother. "He has become a good friend."

He didn't seem to care and he shrugged.

She wet her lips. "Did you really tell him...that we should marry?"

"Actually, yes, I did."

"Have you no heart at all?" she whispered.

"I think we both know the answer to that."

"Then can you not show me any sign of compa.s.sion?"

"I hardly know what it is that you wish of me, Virginia. I'm sorry you have been so long in my brother's care, but the war delayed my return," he said levelly.

She reeled. He didn't remember, did he? Was it possible that she was so insignificant, so unmemorable?

"What were you and Sean doing?" he asked casually.

"I...what?" She blinked hard. "We were making corn pudding. I mean, we...I was going to show the cook how to make a recipe."

A tawny brow lifted and he said nothing.

Virginia didn't move. Was it possible, she wondered in dismay, to still have some feelings for this man? She hadn't seen him in five months. He had callously left her after the most significant moment of her life. He had given her no sign of warmth, no personal greeting, since he had arrived. But she could feel a desperate tension in herself and she knew, miserably, what it meant.

It meant she wanted him to tell her that he cared, that he remembered every moment of their lovemaking-as she did-and that he wished to beg her for forgiveness.

"Corn pudding," he murmured. "How interesting."

She stiffened defensively and held her head high. But he wasn't going to say anything about their past. She now knew it. "It happens to be delicious. If you're planning on staying for supper, you will certainly enjoy it." How hard it was to keep her voice even, to keep her pride gathered about her.

Now both brows lifted. He seemed amused and mildly incredulous. "This is my home. I had intended to dine before leaving tomorrow."

Her heart slammed to a wild halt. "You...you're leaving...tomorrow?"

"We're leaving tomorrow," he said, and finally his gray gaze moved over her, from her eyes to her mouth, lingering briefly, across the white cotton s.h.i.+rt covering her chest, past the thick brown belt, knotted and not buckled, and down the britches encasing her slim thighs. "I'm truly surprised Sean lets you run about like that."

If he felt any attraction, there was simply no sign, not in his tone of voice, not in his expression, and most important, not in his eyes. They were flat and opaque, lifeless.

"We're leaving tomorrow?" she gasped.

"Yes." He finally turned and walked over to the wide, tall windows where he stood, his back to her, gazing out, apparently at the sweep of lawns and the distant hills. "Eastleigh doubts your existence."

She was reeling. "What?"

He didn't turn. He continued to stare out of the window, and no inflection was in his tone as he spoke. "I sent the ransom note from Cadiz. Eastleigh claims you drowned with everyone else aboard the Americana. We are going to Southampton to prove once and for all that you are very much alive."

So the time for her ransom had finally come. Virginia was so overwhelmed with hurt and confusion that she could not deal with that matter, even though it meant she would be that much closer to going home. And oddly, in some ways, Askeaton had become her home. She had enjoyed the slow days spent farming and tending to the estate. She had enjoyed the cool days, the mist, the rain. She had enjoyed Sean's company.

But it wasn't her home. Sweet Briar was her home and there was still a chance that it hadn't been sold, which meant that maybe she could find a way to save it. She no longer hoped for her uncle to save the day.

And clearly, Devlin's plans, although delayed by the war, hadn't changed. She did not know what to say-because the ransom was not what she wished to discuss. "Will Sean come with us?" she finally asked miserably.

"Do you want him to?"

Was there something odd in his tone? "Of course I do," she said, searching his gaze, but he turned away.

"I need him here," Devlin said. "Be ready right after breakfast." He walked out.

In shock, she stared after him. And then the enormity of what had happened hit her. He had come back and had not said a single word about them. And with that comprehension came anger.

Virginia strode after him.

She found him pouring a Scotch in the salon. Not looking up, he held up an empty gla.s.s. "Would you care for a drink?" he said lightly.

Virginia didn't stop until she was in front of him, forcing him to look at her. "No, I don't want a drink! And I insist that Sean come with us."

He slowly set his gla.s.s down and looked up. "You are not in a position to insist upon anything."

"He will be my chaperone," she said tightly. "I refuse to spend one minute alone with you."

He slowly stood, and of course he dwarfed her, making her feel small and vulnerable. "You have nothing to worry about."

"I have everything to worry about," she cried, and she realized she was panting. But the truth was, she doubted she had anything to worry about, as this man didn't seem to recall ever touching her, much less making love to her.

He held her gaze. "Sean stays here."

"Then I'm not going," she cried, as foolishly as a child.

"Don't worry," he muttered, lifting his gla.s.s and drinking. "You will be reunited-when I am done."

"You don't remember, do you?" she asked, her teeth starting to chatter. The salon had become frigidly cold. She was cold. Frozen over, in fact.

He sipped his Scotch as if he hadn't even heard her.

She seized his arm, shocking herself and spilling whiskey over them both. "The night we spent in bed together? The night you made love to me?" she demanded wildly.

His jaw tightened and he removed her hand from his arm. "Is there a point?"