The Prize (32 page)

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 shirt 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 glass. "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
glass 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 die 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 glass 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?"

"Do you remember
or don't you?"

"Barely,"
he murmured.

She struck him as
hard as she could, across the face.

The slap resounded in
the hollow silence of the room.

Virginia
backed up, shocked at what she
had done. But finally a light had appeared in his eyes, even though it was not
the light she had wished for. His gaze blazed furiously. At least,
Virginia
thought, his eyes were no longer
opaque and lifeless.

She flinched, panting
heavily, expecting to be struck in return.

But he only said,
very hard, "Sex is not love."

She gasped, his words
far more brutal than any real blow.

"I suppose I owe
you an apology," he said tersely.

It was too late.
Virginia
shook her head, the tears
spilling, and she turned to run. But he seized her wrist and somehow she was
facing him again. "Let me go," she warned on a sob.

His jaw flexing
repeatedly now, he said, "I am sorry. I believe I said so before. I am
saying so again."

"How foolish I
was, to think 'sex' meant something to you!"

His gaze flickered.
"I deserve your reprobation. I had no right trespassing where no man had
gone. Now," he added firmly, "may we allow the past to rest where it
belongs—in the past?"

"Yes, please,
let's do just that!" she cried, trembling, both hands fisted at her sides,
her anger so huge it felt suspiciously like hatred. But the hurt continued to
tear her apart inside. She only knew now that she had to get away from him.

Tension rippled
across his features and he began to walk out of the room, saying,
"Tomorrow after breakfast,
Virginia
."
And it was a warning that she be ready.

She stared, but only
for a moment. "And what if I'm pregnant?" She knew full well that
she was not, but how she wanted to hurt him, just a little, in return for how
he had hurt her.

He froze, and slowly,
he turned. "Are you?" he asked, his jaw muscles revealing a slight
spasm, his eyes now a stormy and threatening shade of gray—an indication, then,
that he had some emotion to share after all.

"No," she
gritted. And then, her pride lost, she cried, "You left without even
saying goodbye!"

Now his entire body
seemed to flex and coil with a very real anger—one he seemed determined to
contain. "Why are you doing this?" he demanded. "Have you no
pride? I am a bastard, it is quite simple, really. There is a saying, Virginia,
one you should heed: let sleeping dogs lie."

"I am not a dog
and what we did had nothing to do with sleep!"

"I am taking you
to my home outside of
Southampton
, where Eastleigh is but five
miles north. I shall prove your existence, collect your ransom and send you on
your way. Is that not enough for you? You shall have your freedom," he
ground out.

"It's not
enough," she heard herself say. And her pride mocked her now.

He started.
"Then I am truly sorry, for that is all I have to offer you." This
time, his strides were long and determined, and this time,
Virginia
sank down on a chaise. She
covered her face with her hands and struggled not to cry. He had not wanted to
discuss the past and the answers he had given were answers she had not wanted
to hear. But it was simply too late. The truth—his truth—was brutal.

                             
265

* * *

Devlin entered the
master bedroom and halted hard. He was shaken, enough so that he could not
ignore it, but goddamn it, he intended to ignore it. Now was not the time to
give in and allow a pair of huge, hurt violet eyes to haunt him...again.

He trembled somewhere
deep inside his body and refused to think. Instead, he gripped the post of the
bed.
If he had known his control would begin to shatter, he would have never
come back. He would have ordered Sean to bring her to
Southampton
.

"You should have
sent word that you were coming."

Devlin turned,
relieved at the interruption, and found his brother on the threshold of the
room, looking angry and displeased. "You have nothing to hide. I gave you
permission to do as you please. Are you fucking her?" he heard himself
say.

And a sordid image
assailed him, of Sean straining over her, pumping into her.

Sean attacked.

In a way, Devlin had
known he would—and this was exactly what he needed. His brother's tackle sent
him back onto the bed, where they grappled as if they were still boys. Devlin
had always loved a good fistfight. So did Sean. Using all of his strength, he
managed to turn his brother onto his back, but the effort cost them both,
sending them to the floor. Sean grunted, as he took most of the fall.

For one moment,
Devlin straddled his brother, and he smiled coldly. He said, "A yes or no
would do."

"You heartless
bastard," Sean cried, and Devlin found himself launched onto his own
back, a hard blow landing on his jaw.

Sparks
emanated behind his eyes and he
welcomed them. But he raised his knee and caught Sean in the gut. Sean

gasped, bowled over,
and Devlin quickly stood, hauling Sean up and pushing him backward until he hit
the wall. There, the two men strained at each other, panting like enraged
bulls.

Sean managed to
slither tree and land another blow to the very same jaw.

Devlin stepped back,
pleased as pain exploded in his face. He simply stood there and his brother hit
him with all of his strength in his midsection, causing him to gasp and buckle
over.

"Fight back, you
son of a bitch," Sean shouted.

He no longer wanted
to fight. He preferred the beating of a lifetime. He straightened, smiling
lopsidedly, realizing his lip was split. "Do you enjoy her cries?" he
purred. "And whose name does she keen in ecstasy—yours or mine?"

Sean hit him again.
His head snapped back, into the wall, pain exploding in both his eyes.
I'm
sorry,
Virginia
,
he thought suddenly, and anguish pierced his
heart.
But lam not the man you want me to be.

Sean had grabbed him
by his shirt. "Do you really think my beating you will make what you did
to her right? Damn you, Devlin, damn you!"

He smiled at his
brother. "One more blow?"

"Like
hell," Sean gritted, releasing him and walking away.

He tested his lip and
found it bleeding. Sean was in love with
Virginia
, how clear it was, far more so than before.

Were they sleeping
together?

He walked over to the
mirror above the bureau, ignoring for a moment the rag dipped in ice water that
Sean was offering. His eye was swelling but might not close. He finally took
the rag and held it to his eye.

He reminded himself
that he wanted her to fall in love with Sean; he approved of the match. It
solved a dozen problems and left him utterly free to do as he pleased for the
rest of his life.

Well, not utterly
free. There would be one thing he would never be able to do, not again, and
that was take
Virginia
to bed. But that was the entire
point, was it not?

"I don't like
being manipulated," Sean said.

"Are you
sleeping with her? I approve," he added quickly.

Sean grimaced.
"No."

A surge of
satisfaction filled him—much to his dismay. "Well, you should," he
said. Devlin touched his throbbing jaw. "I expected the blow of a
boy."

"I am not a boy
anymore. Why did you have to surprise us?" Clearly Sean did not want to
discuss bedding Virginia Hughes.

"So it is an
'us'?" he asked quickly.

Sean grimaced.
"I care deeply for her, Devlin, but no, there is no us. You hurt her
terribly when you left. She needed warning, not I."

"Somehow I am
not sure I believe that," Devlin said, staring closely at him.

"You can believe
whatever it is that you wish to," Sean said roughly. "I am only her
friend."

"You don't look
at her like a man looks at his friend," Devlin remarked.