De Warenne Dynasty: The Prize Part 15

The carriage paused in front of the manor house. Virginia didn't wait for the driver, leaping out instead. Devlin stood with his fists on his hips, staring at the house, the lawns surrounding it, the buildings they had just pa.s.sed, and then back at the house again. Virginia could not imagine what he was thinking, although perhaps he was taking an inventory of his holdings. The manor, which was three stories, looked very new, except for the two chimneys and an outer wall. Vines crept up the walls and a gazebo was to one side. She smiled. He had such an enchanting home for such an ill-tempered man.

The front door opened and a man stepped out, tall, lean and dark. "Dev!"

Her captor whirled. Virginia caught his expression and she inhaled, hard, for it was one of bright, pure joy. She stood very still as the younger man rushed down the stone walk. "Sean!" Devlin said hoa.r.s.ely.

He strode forward. The two men embraced, tightly clinging. Virginia inched forward. This had to be a brother, as they were close in age and Sean was very handsome, too, with the same unmistakable silvery-gray eyes, although his hair was nearly black.

The two men pulled apart. "It's about G.o.dd.a.m.ned time," Sean exclaimed, but he was smiling.

"Yes, it is," Devlin said, his tone rough. "The house looks good, Sean. Clearly it has been well-built, and I like the new door."

"Wait till you see the hall. I think you'll be pleased." Suddenly he stopped, eyes widening as his gaze landed on Virginia. "We have a guest?"

Devlin turned and Virginia received the warmth of his genuine smile. It made her heart speed and spin and then a terrible yearning began. "Yes, we have a guest," he said, extending his hand.

Virginia didn't move. That smile wasn't meant for her, it was meant for his brother. But it was a smile that could melt most of the North Pole. Why didn't he use it more often?

"Virginia, come. I'd like you to meet my brother, Sean," he said, the glorious smile fading. But his tone held a lightness she hadn't heard before.

Virginia summoned up her own smile and came forward. "h.e.l.lo," she said.

"I wish I'd known we were having company," Sean said with worry. His gaze was wide and went back and forth between Virginia and Devlin. "But Fiona can have the yellow room ready soon enough, I think."

"This is Miss Hughes, Sean. Miss Virginia Hughes of Sweet Briar, Virginia."

Virginia started, stunned he would introduce her so, and then she noticed that Sean seemed even more shocked.

"Miss Hughes?" he echoed.

Why was Sean so surprised by her name? Virginia wondered in sudden confusion.

"Let's have a drink. We have a lot to catch up on," Devlin said, clapping his back.

But now Sean stared at Virginia-and he didn't look pleased, either.

A feminine squeal sounded.

Virginia started and saw a dark-haired woman rushing from the house. For one instant, Virginia saw only thick, straight black hair, a voluptuous figure and a huge smile, while more happy cries sounded. She stiffened as the woman halted right in front of Devlin, her heaving bosom mostly revealed by her low-cut blouse. She was dark and sultry enough to be a Spaniard or a Gypsy. "My lord! Welcome home! Oh, Captain O'Neill! Welcome!" she cried, looking an instant away from jumping into his arms-and his bed.

Virginia folded her arms across her own nondescript chest and scowled.

A look of recognition crossed Devlin's face. "Fiona?"

"Yes, it's me, my lord!" she cried, clapping her hands together. "My lord, it has been so long, and I am so happy you are home-we all are, my lord Captain! The hero of Askeaton has returned! We are so proud of you!"

Devlin said, "Thank you." His tone was polite.

"Fiona," Sean interjected. "It's Captain or Sir Captain or Sir Devlin now."

Fiona nodded, grinning. "What can I do for you, my lord?" she asked, and there was no mistaking her meaning. In fact, Virginia felt certain the other woman had already enjoyed Devlin's lovemaking in the past and intended to do so again, very shortly.

"Please show Miss Hughes to a guest room," Devlin said, "and bring her a tray of refreshments once she is settled in." His gaze wandered past the house and settled on the ruins of the castle.

Fiona blinked, glancing at Virginia for the first time, clearly not having even noticed her until then. Her gaze met Virginia's, slid down her figure and back up and instantly became dismissive. She turned back to Devlin, beaming. "Yes, of course, my lord. I am so happy to see you again." She curtsied and Virginia expected her b.r.e.a.s.t.s to fall free of her blouse, but they did not. The woman clearly wore no underclothes, not even a corset.

"I am very happy to be home," Devlin said. He was gazing at the house now, as if inspecting every inch, and not at the maid. His expression was just a bit softer than usual and it made him far less intimidating-it made him seem human.

Virginia almost relaxed. He hadn't seemed to notice that Fiona was pretty and very voluptuous and wishful of being in his bed. And why should she worry? Last night, she was the one who had enthralled him. Virginia didn't have to have any experience with men to know that Devlin O'Neill had been swept up in the same rapture as she.

"Connor, Miss Hughes's bags," Sean instructed another servant, this one an older man. "Fiona, please show Miss Hughes to the yellow room. Bring flowers," he added.

Fiona nodded, never even looking at him. She only had eyes for Devlin.

Suddenly Devlin turned and strode to Virginia. She didn't move. "There is nowhere to go. You know that."

She didn't-just as she wasn't certain she wished to go anywhere, not just yet-but she nodded, anyway.

"As far as the eye can see, the land belongs to me or my stepfather, the Earl of Adare. Do you comprehend me, Virginia?" he asked softly, with real warning.

She thought about how easily he had thwarted her escape in Limerick. She had no doubt that escaping him in the heart of his holdings would be as futile. She smiled at him. "I won't try to escape again," she said as softly. She was far too curious to think of attempting another escape now.

He started. "What I wish to say was that here you will be treated with the utmost respect, your every need will be met, and I will try to see to it that your stay is brief."

She heard him but added, "You have my word."

He stared at her for a very long moment. "Whatever you intend, I suggest you rethink it," he said tersely.

"How do you know that I intend anything?" she asked sweetly. But she did intend something. Before she left Askeaton and Ireland, she wished to experience all that she had thus far discovered in her captor's powerful arms-and even more. The urgency he had awakened was simply too great to ignore or even resist.

"Because you are too clever and too stubborn to simply roll over upon my command," he said slowly.

She hesitated. "Perhaps that was then-and this is now. Perhaps I await your command, Sir Devlin," she murmured.

He leaned close. "Do not even think to tempt me again!"

"Why not?" she whispered back.

He seemed utterly taken aback. "Because I am far stronger than you, Virginia, and I suggest you never forget that." He gave her a hard look and started toward his brother, who was listening raptly to them.

But Virginia was beginning to understand her captor. She smiled as sweetly as she had before at him. "I never said you weren't," she murmured.

He flinched but did not halt. Sean appeared very distressed now, and he finally followed his brother inside. Virginia began to grin. Oddly, she felt as if the tide were turning in her favor-somehow, it felt as if she had won that last encounter. And then she looked up into Fiona's hostile black eyes.

CLEARLY THE "YELLOW ROOM" hadn't been used in years. As Virginia stood in the doorway of a large bedroom where the walls were painted a soft, muted shade of gold, she watched Fiona angrily plump the pillows, dust billowing from them.

Virginia glanced around. This room was far more luxuriously appointed than her own bedroom at Sweet Briar or the two guest rooms there. The canopied bed in its center had gold velvet coverings and matching drapes were held back with gold ta.s.seled cords, while a brown-and-gold Aubusson rug covered much of the scarred but polished oak floors. The ebony wood mantel over the fireplace was intricately carved, a lush chaise and ottoman adjacent to that, and several old portraits and landscapes adorned the walls. Virginia walked over to one window and actually cried out with delight. The view was stunning. Her eyes swept across the rolling fields of corn to an endless series of green pastures and hills and finally to the bare edge of the river itself. The ruins of an old and crumbling stone keep were just to her left.

Virginia gripped the sill. Ireland somehow called out to her the way that her home had, although the country was so very different. She wondered how she would feel if she were at Askeaton under other circ.u.mstances. She might never want to leave.

Fiona had stopped fussing with the bed. Virginia turned away from the window and found the other woman staring at her with open hostility. She was, Virginia thought, about twenty-five. "I should like some sandwiches and tea," Virginia said as if she were Sarah Lewis and back at the Marmott School for Genteel Young Ladies.

Fiona stiffened. "Be right up." But she didn't move.

"And I'd like some roses from the gardens," Virginia added, increasing her intonation, so she sounded more like a queen than a genteel young lady. "Oh! This gown. Do help me remove it. It needs pressing immediately. I'd like it back for supper, please."

Fiona looked ready to scratch her eyes out. "Are you to be his wife?" she asked with scalding anger.

Virginia started, then, indifferently, she shrugged. His wife. One day, Devlin O'Neill would settle down, take a wife, have children. Why did this notion mesmerize her? When that day dawned, she would be home at Sweet Briar, in fact, she might even be old and gray.

The confusion that had so recently begun and that seemed to crop up now whenever she thought about her captor swept over her with full force. She finally looked up. "Perhaps," she managed to say lightly.

Fiona started, scowling.

"And you? Were you his mistress? I thought so at first-but he didn't recognize you, so I am no longer sure."

Fiona stalked forward.

Virginia held her ground, even though the other woman had a stone or more on her.

"He hasn't been home in six years," she hissed. "I was a child back then, I was only fifteen but I loved him and I gave him my maidenhead. I'm a woman now, and I know a trick or two I am certain he will enjoy! In fact, I cannot wait until tonight, my lady, I cannot wait to pleasure him in every way I can think of! By tomorrow he will not even know your name."

Virginia stiffened, afraid the other woman might be right. But now she had to wonder what kind of man stayed away from his home for six long years?

And Virginia began to worry on another score. Devlin had been eighteen, she thought, when he and Fiona had carried on, and she hated the fact that he had been her first lover. Nostalgia might be attached to their affair.

"How old are you?" Fiona asked with scorn.

"I'm twenty," Virginia lied.

Fiona rolled her eyes. "I'd wager you're sixteen. Let me tell you something, my lady. He won't ever look at you the way he looks at me. You're too skinny! A man likes meat on the bones, a man likes this." She cupped her heavy b.r.e.a.s.t.s and then she smiled, sighing and clearly thinking of Devlin fondling them instead.

Virginia turned her back on the housemaid. Her confidence, never high, vanished completely. Who was she fooling? If Devlin had a choice, he would seek out the older woman. She had no doubt.

She should be thrilled. She wasn't. She was upset, distressed, bewildered and even hurt by the prospect.

Fiona laughed at her distress. "So set them eyes somewhere else, my fancy lady," she hissed. "Here at Askeaton we got no use for the English and them royal airs. Here at Askeaton we got no use for you and your kind. Go back to where you came from!" Fiona left the room triumphantly.

Virginia ran after her. "I'm American, you fool. I'm American, not English!"

But if Fiona cared, she gave no sign. She never faltered as she hurried down the hall.

Virginia stepped back into her room, closing the door. Too late, she realized Fiona hadn't helped her undress, she hadn't taken her awfully soiled gown and she hadn't intended to bring water, refreshments, flowers or anything else.

Virginia took a small chair and pulled it up to the window. There she sat in dismal silence, staring out at the countryside, thinking about her captor.

DEVLIN POURED TWO WHISKEYS. Sean faced him with dark, angry eyes. Devlin handed him a gla.s.s, ignoring his brother now, his gaze moving around the library, then to the French doors and the terrace beyond. He relished the view, the moment. G.o.d, it was good to be home.

Gerald smiled conspiratorially at him. "Don't breathe a word of this to your mother, you hear?"

Devlin walked toward the French doors, no longer smiling, drinking instead.

His father's eyes, wide and angry, staring up at him from the b.l.o.o.d.y stump that was his head.

"Are you going to explain? Is she Eastleigh's daughter? It isn't enough that you bed his wife?" Sean demanded furiously.

He saluted Sean, forcing the brutal memories aside. "She's his niece. His orphaned American niece." He had expected Sean to be outraged, but that did not mean he liked it.

"So that explains everything. What the h.e.l.l are you doing!" Sean cried. "And how old is she? Have you seduced a child?" He was disbelieving.

He studied the contents of his gla.s.s as if indifferent. "She's eighteen, and no, I haven't seduced her," he said, wondering how his righteous and oh, so moral brother would react if he told him that she might well decide to seduce him. "I'm ransoming her, Sean." He smiled, real mirth returning. "Eastleigh is on the verge of debtor's prison. He can ill afford a ransom, much less the one I will demand." He actually chuckled. "I shall, of course, toy with him a bit first. However, to free his niece he may very well have to sell off Eastleigh itself. This may be the moment we have been waiting for."

"And vengeance is mine, said the lord," Sean said harshly. "Vengeance belongs to G.o.d, not you, and this moment you have been waiting for-not I!" He slammed his drink down, untouched.

"You may not share my enthusiasm, but I am doing this for you as much as for myself," Devlin said. He pushed open the door and inhaled the clean, floral and gra.s.s-scented Irish spring. He did not want to debate Sean on the merits of his revenge against the Earl of Eastleigh. The subject was an old and tired one. It came up every time he saw his brother, once or twice a year, depending on how often they met in London or Dublin.

"You do this only for yourself. G.o.d, when will you let our father rest in peace?" Sean cried. Then he added, "Thank G.o.d Mother and Adare are in London!"

Devlin turned, his temper igniting. "Gerald will never rest in peace and you know it. As for our mother, she doesn't need to know about this."

Sean stared. "If his spirit wanders, it is because you will not allow him peace! Dear G.o.d, you have destroyed the man financially, when will you stop? When will you let go of this obsession and find some peace of your own?"

"Perhaps, if your memory served you as well as mine did me, you would be as bent upon revenge as I am," he said coldly.

Sean's own silver gaze chilled. "Do you think I don't wish that I could remember that day? You speak as if you think I willed my memory loss! I do not know why my mind has failed me so, but do not accuse me of complaisance when it comes to the fact that I cannot remember anything of that terrible day our father was murdered!"

"I'm sorry," Devlin said, but sometimes he resented the fact that he alone was the one haunted by Gerald, for neither his brother nor his mother seemed to suffer as he did.

"And what of the navy? Is the Admiralty going to let you get away with this, the abduction of an American woman, an attack upon the English aristocracy?" Sean demanded.

"Eastleigh will never allow word of this abduction to come out. He already plays the fool and his pride will ultimately make him pay for Virginia's freedom. I feel certain no one will ever know about this little game, other than ourselves."

"Little game? You abuse an innocent young woman and it is a little game? Father must be turning over in his grave right now. You have gone too far!" Sean cried. "And what about Miss Hughes herself? If she goes to the authorities, you could lose your head! And I do not speak figuratively now."

Devlin laid his hand on Sean's rigid shoulder. "I have no intention of losing my head, Sean," he said softly.

"You think you are invincible. You are not."

"Trust my instincts. Eastleigh will conclude this affair swiftly. His pride is all he has left."

Sean stared, his expression harsh and agonized. "I don't approve, Devlin. I simply cannot. G.o.d, I don't even know who you are," Sean suddenly despaired, "and frankly, I never have."

"I'm your brother."

"Yes, my brother. A stranger whom I never see, as you clearly abhor the soil and the earth-as you cannot spend a fortnight on land, it seems. You are a stranger with a pa.s.sion for vengeance and little else. I pity you, Devlin."

Devlin made a mocking sound, although his brother's words made him very uncomfortable. "You should save your pity for one who needs it-perhaps the beautiful Miss Hughes?"

Sean did not flinch. "I won't deny I find her attractive beyond comparison. I only hope she does not need my pity, ever, Dev."