Chapter 13 #3
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.
“And you may pretend indifference toward her but I can smell the lust,” Sean retorted with anger.
“You are so wrong,” Devlin said softly, but they both knew it was a huge lie. “And I do not want to argue with you. You’re my brother. We are on the same side.”
“We are not on the same side anymore, not when you have done this. Free her, Devlin, let this ransom go. Free her and leave Askeaton.”
“I can’t. I’m taking her to Wideacre tomorrow.”
Sean’s face tightened. “If you hurt her again, I will kill you.”
Devlin stared, trying to decide if Sean meant it, if he could love Virginia so much that he would put her ahead of his family.
Sean flushed.
A terrible silence descended.
“I do hope you did not mean that,” Devlin finally said. “After the ransom, she can return here—to you.”
“I meant it. I suggest you stick your cock elsewhere.”
Devlin smiled, but it felt like a grimace.
He wandered the room now, very disturbed.
This was what he wanted, he tried to remind himself, a match between Sean and Virginia, but now, his reminder was hollow and so obviously a pretense.
He hated the idea of them together, no matter how he fought that hate.
But then, hatred was what he knew—and did—best.
Finally he sighed and sat down. If Virginia decided to return to Askeaton to be with Sean after her ransom, he would give them his blessing, pretense or not.
“You know, I have spent the past three months patrolling the coast of Spain by day and preying upon the few remaining French privateers by night. We seized four ships in that span of time, four ships and eight hundred in crew.”
“Are you making a point?”
Devlin glanced at him. “Yes, I am. In all that time, I never spared a single thought for Virginia. Out of sight, out of mind.” He did not tell Sean how much discipline that had taken.
“How proud of yourself you must be.”
Devlin met his brother’s stony gaze. “I am sorry I did what I did. My regret is vast.”
“Then maybe you should tell her that!”
Devlin started. “And what would that accomplish?”
Sean snorted in disgust. “What would it accomplish? You broke her heart. Perhaps you can help to mend it!”
“Sean, I beg to differ. I could not possibly break her heart. She is my prisoner—not my lover.”
“Now I beg to differ. She is in love with you,” Sean said.
Devlin stared, so stunned he could not think coherently, not for a long moment.
“You are such a fool,” Sean said, quietly now.
“No,” Devlin said, shaken. “You are wrong. Virginia is curious, independent and passionate. That is all. If she thinks she loves me, she is wrong—it is lust, nothing more, and any fondness on her part comes from the fact that I was her first.”
“You know,” Sean said slowly, “it is possible that a woman might want more from you than your body.”
“Yes, a woman might want the wealth, power, position and security I could give her.” He was annoyed now. He leapt to his feet, flinging the bloody rag away. “I never expected this, and not from you!”
“Then what did you expect? To do the deed and simply walk away? To have her now choose me? Or hand her off to me, with no regard for her feelings? She is not Elizabeth! She is nothing like Elizabeth! Virginia could not pretend to be anything that she was not, not even for a moment. Virginia wears her affections openly—she wears her heart upon her sleeve! What did you expect?”
“Unfortunately, I wasn’t thinking at all, much less expecting anything,” Devlin said, abruptly sitting down.
His heart dared to race and mock his cool demeanor now.
His body trembled. Did he dare to confess the real truth, not to his brother, but to himself?
“I lost all control,” he said slowly. “I swore I would not do it. I swore I would not touch her that way. That night I lost all control. I have never lost control before. Damn it, I ruined an innocent young woman!” And he felt the anguish then as it was simply impossible to ignore.
Briefly he covered his face with his hands.
He had abused an innocent young woman—he had ruined Virginia Hughes. Gerald must be rolling in his grave, and dear God, his mother’s heart would break if she ever learned the truth.
“Then you are human after all. Tell her what you told me—that you are sorry, that you have regret, and that you found her so beautiful you could not stop yourself.”
He cursed. “I am not a poet, Sean.”
“Then say something kind in your own words!”
“I already have.” His intention would not waver now. He was not going near Virginia again and certainly not to bring up the ugly subject of the past.
“Tell her again.”
“Absolutely not.”
Sean sighed, as if admitting defeat. Then, slowly, he said, “Perhaps you should think about what such lack of self-control signifies?”
Devlin stood. “It means she provokes me in an unnatural way.”
“How convenient your theory is,” Sean murmured.
But Devlin was pacing now, back and forth, as if on his deck, and he really did not hear. “I have spent these past months exorcising every thought of her from any and all existence,” he said, almost to himself. “If I can defeat any French commander, I can defeat myself.”
Sean smiled a little. “Maybe it is a slip of a woman whom you cannot defeat.”
“Like hell.” And he was, finally, furious.
Virginia debated not going down to supper but decided that would make her appear childish and as if she were sulking.
And she was not sulking—she was hurt and angry and determined not to allow him to know just how hurt she was.
She looked through her four gowns, already knowing there was no choice, and she took out the rose silk with the low-cut bodice and black lace trim.
In this dress, she looked her best, in this dress, she knew she was beautiful, and she hoped he would look at her and regret everything.
Then she held the dress tightly, turning to face the mirror. What was she doing?
If only he hadn’t come back!
Things had been fine recently, for she had been content and almost happy, having managed to forget and bury the past. Now she was ill, her stomach so tight and knotted she could barely breathe, and once again, he consumed her every thought and moment, against her very will.
At least, she thought rigidly, her reflection unearthly and pale in the mirror, he had admitted that he had deserved her slap.
At least he was moral enough to know that what he had done was wrong.
But she would never accept his apology, sincere or not.
She should not be wearing her only seductive gown.
But she wasn’t trying to seduce him—Virginia had no intention of ever going there again.
He might remain the most interesting and disturbing man she had ever met, not to mention the most magnetic, but she would never make the mistake that she had.
Sex is not love. She had been a fool once, but never again. How those words hurt.
She had wanted an admission that he had been stunned by their passion, too, that he had cared, that he still did.
But none of those sentiments would be forthcoming, not ever, and she remained a fool, to think he might admire her at all in her dress, when it was clear that he didn’t find her attractive anymore.
Virginia rang the bell pull, wanting a bath. An icy fear seemed to grip her now. And she dared face her darkest thoughts: he hadn’t admitted anything that she had secretly hoped for because he was a man of the world, and she was only one more woman out of the hundreds he had already used.
Virginia knew she was growing up because she did not shed a single tear.
If Devlin was surprised to see her, he gave no sign.
He nodded politely, sitting on the emerald-brocade sofa, legs crossed in soft beige britches that delineated his every muscle, not having bothered to change his Hessians for stockings and shoes.
He wore a navy-blue velvet coat, a sapphire blue and silver-brocade waistcoat beneath, his ivory shirt exquisitely ruffled at the cuffs and throat, the jabot carelessly tied.
He did not even glance at her; instead, he sipped his red wine as if deep in thought.
But Virginia stared. He had been in a fight. His left eye was swollen and bruised, as was the same side of his jaw. What in God’s name had happened?
She was diverted when Sean leapt to his feet and rushed to the threshold to escort her inside. He smiled but glanced searchingly at her.