Chapter 10
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 ship.
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 ship.
She hadn’t imagined her passionate 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 lust. 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 worshipped 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 passionate 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 buttons 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 shirt 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, God, 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 whore—he was a whoremonger!
She didn’t care—she had her maidenhead intact, thank God—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, brushing 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?