De Warenne Dynasty: The Prize Part 28

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 s.h.i.+p, 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 s.h.i.+p.

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

He sighed. "Askeaton has been in my family for centuries. I thought to do what Sean is doing."

She became still. Suddenly she realized that she was touching his wrist. Desire crashed over her but she ignored it. "And then your father died and it all changed."

"My brother has a big mouth. What else did he say?"

"He said you used the navy to become rich, so you could destroy your father's murderer-my uncle."

He looked directly at her. "And he is right."

She stared boldly back. "If you expect me to swoon with hysteria and fear, then you do not know me at all."

He seemed to smile in the darkness. "I would never expect you to swoon, Virginia," he murmured.

She went still. She had not misheard the s.e.xually seductive tone of his voice, oh no. And she trembled, reminding herself that she must never allow herself to wind up in bed with him again. He truly thought to hand her off to his brother and a few moments of pleasure would not change anything.

He cleared his throat. "And what will you do after the ransom, Virginia?" he asked, surprising her with the question.

But she knew what he was doing-he was changing the subject to distract her from the attraction she could not ignore. She met his careful regard, wetting her lips. "I will go home, of course."

He turned and stared at her. She stared back. It lay there unspoken between them-his desire to wed her to Sean. She said, low and careful, "I will not return to Askeaton, no matter how I have come to love it, and even view it as my home."

He looked ahead, into the slightly frothing waves beyond the frigate's prow. "And if Sweet Briar has been sold?" he asked after a long moment.

They were actually having a serious and sincere conversation. She hesitated. "It can't be sold. It simply can't, Devlin. It has been my entire life-it belonged to my parents-it belongs to me. It is my birthright," she added firmly.

"You must face the fact if it has been sold," he said, glancing at her. "I made some inquiries in London. As of last month, it was still available for purchase."

She smiled, thrilled. "Thank G.o.d!"

"If you have no home to return to, you may have to stay in England with your uncle."

"No!" She stared at his hard profile. "Never," she added fiercely. She hesitated and said, "I would return home, anyway."

"To what possible life?"

She tensed. "I really don't know." She looked up and found him watching her now, closely. "It's been five months, Devlin, since I first came to Ireland. A child set sail on the Americana, a cosseted, stubborn child, filled with naive hope, and a woman will return, a grown woman who has experienced something of the world. If Sweet Briar has been sold, I will go home anyway and find some kind of livelihood."

It was a moment before he spoke, and when he did, his voice was calm. "You are still a child, Virginia, and hardly experienced. You are not suitable to take employment as a schoolteacher or a governess," he said, "and I cannot see you as a seamstress, either. Your best recourse would be marriage."

She inhaled harshly. "To Sean?"

He seemed rigid. But his gaze locked with hers. "To Sean-or to some fellow American."

"If I ever marry, it will be for love."

He made a harsh sound. "As I said, you are still a child, and a naive one at that."

She tensed, anger flaring. "Of course I appear a child in your worldly, jaded eyes. But then, you did not think me much of a child when you had me in your bed."

His hands tightened on the helm, his knuckles turning white.

She hesitated, torn, the anger instantly vanis.h.i.+ng. The evening had turned into a pleasant one. Her only complaint was that she still felt a raw and terrible attraction for this man. She did not want to argue, to fight. She wanted to continue a light but sincere and pleasant conversation. She wanted to be friends.

His face seemed flushed. For one moment-until he spoke-she did not know if it was with anger or embarra.s.sment. "Will we forever dredge up the past?"

She knew she had made a terrible mistake. But she could no more stop herself from speaking what was in her heart than she could from seizing his arm. "Please tell me one thing, Devlin," she heard herself say quietly, with dignity and pride. "It is very important to me. How could you leave me like that afterward?"

There was no mistaking the flash of silver in his eyes. "I had business in London," he said smoothly, and they both knew it was an utter lie.

"Coward," she cried.

He straightened as if shot. Slowly he turned wide, incredulous eyes on her. "What did you just call me?"

Her heart raced with some real alarm. "You heard me," she managed.

"A man would die for such an utterance," he said very softly, as if he hadn't heard her plea.

"I suppose I am lucky I am not a man," she said as lightly as possible.

He did not smile at her lame jest. "I have faced entire fleets alone, Virginia, choosing to engage, not run. I may be a ruthless b.a.s.t.a.r.d, but I am not a coward."

She wet her lips. Her heart pounded with destructive force. Her ears rang. "You are a coward when it comes to personal matters," she said firmly. "And you sail this sea merely to run."

His eyes widened with more disbelief.

She decided she had gone too far. She backed up. "But you are only heartless because of the terrible circ.u.mstance of your father's murder, which you unfortunately witnessed. That would scar anyone, Devlin," she cried in a rush. "But I understand you now, I do!"

His gray eyes huge and disbelieving, he leaned over her. "If you are such an expert on my character, Virginia, then you will know that you expect more from me than I can ever give. I sincerely hope that you will return to Askeaton after your ransom, that you will marry Sean-who loves you-and that the past will be forever buried, where it belongs." He straightened. "Red!" he barked. "Escort Miss Hughes below."

The first mate materialized from the deck below.

"No!" She stood her ground, refusing to move, although a terrible dismay and hurt claimed her and she doubted herself, in spite of the conviction with which she spoke. Because she wished to save this man, but feared it was impossible. "I understand now! I understand your anger toward my uncle, your obsession with revenge! No matter what you say and do, I am not the enemy, I am your friend!"

Very grimly, Devlin said, "Take her below."

"Aye aye, sir. Miss Hughes? Captain says-"

"I am not afraid of you, Devlin O'Neill," she flung, cutting the sailor off. "But apparently, you are very afraid of me."

He had placed his broad back squarely to her; now he whirled. "Why do you think to provoke me?" He leaned close, actually leaving the helm, which Red seized with a gasp of horror. "I suggest you rethink your position, Virginia, because you had d.a.m.ned well better be afraid of me."

"I'm not," she lied, because now her heart was slamming in fear. "I'm just sorry, I am so sorry about your father, and that's all I wanted to say!"

Devlin took her arm and handed her over to Red. "Get her off of my quarterdeck," he said.

October 29, 1812 Eastleigh Hall, the south of Hamps.h.i.+re WILLIAM HUGHES, LORD STUCKEY, heir to the earldom of Eastleigh, strode into his father's suite of rooms without knocking. He was a man in his mid-thirties, already a bit thick in the middle, dressed in a fine scarlet coat, britches and stockings. He wore a number of rings, his hair was thick and black and his attractive face was flushed. "Father!" he demanded, his pale blue eyes flas.h.i.+ng. He had a wife whom he did not care much for and two children whom he adored.

The Earl of Eastleigh, Harold Hughes, had once looked exactly like his son. Now he was a very heavy man, hugely overweight, and because of it-and his penchant for tobacco-his complexion was distinctly pasty. He wore his gray hair pulled tightly back, his sideburns thick and long. At first glance, he seemed a well-dressed and wealthy man. Only a second glance revealed that his once-fine gold velvet frock coat was tired and worn. Only a second glance showed that his britches boasted several stains that the laundress could not remove, that his stockings were carefully turned so as to not reveal the beginning of a fine run or two. His patent shoes gleamed but were heavily scratched, the soles so thin a hole might soon be in the making.

Eastleigh sat at the desk in the sitting room that adjoined the master bedroom and William could not imagine what he was penning that was so important. William ran the estate-or what was left of it-along with the steward, Harris. Any regrets to be proffered due to the social engagements his father refused to attend fell to his wife. His father looked up, setting his quill aside.

"Father!" William paused beside the desk and with some disgust, he saw that his father was composing a letter to a male friend, and the subject was horse racing.

Eastleigh clasped his hands calmly in front of his face. "You seem upset, William. Do you bring me poor tidings?"

William was furious. They hovered on the brink of real dest.i.tution because of a single man-and he did not know why Sir Captain Devlin O'Neill had decided to bring the Hughes family down. But last month they had received an absurd letter from the man. He claimed to have William's American cousin at his home in Ireland, as his guest. Apparently he had taken her off the Americana as it foundered, saving her life. "As graceful as my hospitality shall be, the time soon comes when Miss Hughes shall wish to go forth to meet her British family," he had written. "I am certain that such a reunion can be arranged to all parties' satisfaction."

William had no clue as to what that odd statement meant. His father had read the note, torn it up and put the pieces calmly in the fire. He had been utterly dismissive and refused to discuss the subject at all. In fact, he never discussed anything having to do with O'Neill, not since he had been forced to sell the man their Greenwich home.

"The Defiance has just sailed into Southampton port, Father, with that lunatic O'Neill. I can only a.s.sume he has come to visit his new country home! What if he thinks to stay in residence for a while, with Wideacre but miles from Eastleigh?"

Eastleigh stood and laid his hand on his son's shoulder. "He has every right to reside at Wideacre, if that is what he wishes to do."

Impatiently, William tore free and paced. "G.o.dd.a.m.n it! I knew it was only a matter of time before that sc.u.m of the earth would appear here, to taunt us beneath our very nose! He must intend to take up residence at Wideacre. d.a.m.n those stupid fools at the Admiralty! d.a.m.n them for letting him off the hook again! I do not understand how this hearing failed-Tom swore it would not!"

Eastleigh folded his hands in front of him. "I don't understand why you are so upset. It is not our affair if he resides so close to us."

William whirled in disbelief. "The man stole our home in Greenwich! He lives there like a G.o.dd.a.m.ned king! He stole Tom's mistress and flung it in his face! I happen to know that the countess-" He stopped.

"The countess what?" Eastleigh asked mildly, his brows lifted.

William stared, trembling with his rage. Then he drew himself up stiffly, his mouth pursed. He had discovered a year ago that his stepmother was having an affair with the man he so hated. It was beyond belief and he had been outraged, enough so to confront her about it. She had denied the entire affair, but he had managed to hire a spy to confirm what he had already guessed. He didn't know why that, at every turn, the G.o.dd.a.m.ned pirate-and that was what he was, a pirate, not a naval captain-was always there, a huge thorn in his side. It was as if O'Neill were an avowed enemy of the Hughes family, but that, of course, made no sense.

And what did that insane letter mean?

William grimaced. "Nothing," he said. "Have you forgotten that absurd letter?" he said more calmly.

"Of course not. Perhaps he thinks to bring my brother's daughter to our doorstep? If she is alive, if she truly lives and did not drown, we are indebted to him for saving her, are we not?"

"Virginia Hughes was on the Americana and it sank, Father, it foundered in a huge storm, and there were no survivors." William confronted his father angrily. "Devlin O'Neill has dared claim she lives, as his guest, in his home, and I begin to suspect a fraudulent plan! She must think to pose as my cousin in order to secure some kind of allowance from us! Of course, we have nothing to spare," he added in warning.

"We have nothing to spare, but if she is alive, perhaps he deserves a reward," Eastleigh said idly, toying with the letter opener on his desk. It was a small, pearl-handled dagger.

William felt like pulling his hair out. "Father! O'Neill has been trying to wound this family for years. He has stolen everything we most love, but we do not know why! And now you think to give him a reward? This is some scheme, Father. Virginia Hughes is dead, there were no survivors, so some actress comes forth at O'Neill's prodding to leech us of more blood."

"You have a fanciful imagination, my boy," Eastleigh said, walking over to the window, the small dagger in his hand. He stared outside at lawns that had once been manicured but were now overgrown, as they could not afford more than one gardener, and the gardens, once a riot of color and bloom, were now decayed and devoid of life. He touched the dagger to his finger and was rewarded with the gleam of his blood. He smiled.

"I shall send for Thomas," William decided, "because I have no doubt that O'Neill will invite us to Wideacre in a neighborly gesture to meet the impostor. But our cousin is dead. And we do not have the means to support her, anyway, am I not correct, Father?" And William cared not one whit if the girl were his cousin or not. As far as he was concerned, his cousin was dead-a very fortunate circ.u.mstance, given their financial state and her being a sudden orphan and not yet of an age to wed. As far as he was concerned, O'Neill was up to no good and the woman was an impostor.

But why?

Why did O'Neill, as controversial as he was, choose to toy with the Hughes family?

Eastleigh turned. "Fine. Summon Tom. The two of you can put your heads together and bemoan our loss of fortune." He smiled, and it did not reach his eyes.

Making a sound of disgust, William turned and rushed from the room.

Fury exploded then. Eastleigh jammed the dagger into his wall, a wall that badly needed painting. And he stared at the quivering weapon.

"So you think to stab me again, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d?" he said. "If my niece lives, I hardly care, and I will not pay the ransom you so politely request."

He tore the dagger free of the plaster. "My sons are fools. I am not. This war is not over yet."

And he imagined beheading Devlin O'Neill as he had his father, so many years ago. It would please him to no end.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

"I DON'T SEE WHY WE COULD not have stopped at your estate before calling on my uncle," Virginia said, her tone purposefully low. It had taken two and a half days to reach Southampton and it was late in the evening. Since she had dared to bait Devlin upon his quarterdeck two nights ago, she had not been given the chance to do more than greet him before he would walk away. Unlike her first voyage on the Defiance, he had not dined in his cabin, slept there or used it for any purpose whatsoever. Every time Virginia had gone out on deck, hoping to attempt another civil conversation, he had been at the helm of the s.h.i.+p. Apparently he had given orders that she was not allowed on the quarterdeck anymore, as her way had been quickly barred.

He was, she thought, either very afraid of her or absolutely disinterested in her company.