Virginia bit her lips, tears forming in her eyes. She wasn’t even beautiful, although he clearly found her attractive. She wasn’t a lady, either, which he already knew. How could she think to entice such a man?
But what was the alternative? To be ransomed and set free, so she could go home or stay and marry his brother?
Virginia trembled and it had nothing to do with being wet and cold. Somehow, sometime, somewhere between theAmericanaand Wideacre, she had fallen in love with Devlin O’Neill, and nothing was ever going to be the same. There was no choice. She was going to have to do whatever she had to do in order to save his soul—and make him love her, too.
ASVIRGINIA WENT DOWNSTAIRS,she was very preoccupied and very somber. Her terrible new comprehension—and her new plan—consumed her thoughts, and her steps were faltering and filled with trepidation.
“Is there anything that you need, Miss Hughes?”
At the sound of Mrs. Hill’s firm voice, at once condescending and obsequious, she started, turning. “My blue day gown and the matching pelisse need laundering, if that is at all possible,” Virginia said with a pleasant smile.
“Of course. I’ll send the maid up.” She smiled tightly at Virginia. How strained her expression seemed.
And her dark eyes were twin mirrors of disapproval. Virginia smiled back, said thank you, and added, “Where is the captain?”
“In the library,” she said.
Virginia met her regard and thought that it was far too knowing, as if she suspected that Virginia wished to find her captor for a very illicit and carnal reason. As Virginia walked away, she was disturbed. She was surprised to realize that she did not like being judged and disliked—but she reminded herself that she did not care what people thought of her and the housekeeper’s opinions meant nothing. After all, everyone had looked down on her as a country bumpkin at the Marmott School, and she had not given a damn.
But it was terribly familiar, the condescension. Her entire childhood she had been accused of being more like a boy than a girl, of being a wild child in her britches and on horseback. Those asides and snide glances had bewildered her then, although there was nothing bewildering about the rigid housekeeper’s thoughts now.
Virginia quickly dismissed the unpleasant memories. Her childhood was far behind her and only a very uncertain future remained. Not to mention an even more tenuous present, she thought somewhat grimly.
She passed the open doors to a shabby salon with a faded gold velvet sofa, the draperies a sober mustard color, the chairs a grim brown paisley. The next door opened to a study where a medium-size desk was in one corner, a dark green sofa facing the fireplace. All of the walls were lined with bookcases crammed with books, and with the dancing fire and the sun setting outside behind the overgrown lawns, the room became a pleasant one.
Except for Devlin, sitting on the sofa, a glass of Scotch in his hand. He had been staring as if entranced into the hearth; now he turned and their gazes locked.
Her heart careened and crashed. Oh, ho, his mood was dire, indeed, and what did it mean? She went on alert. Worse, he continued to stare, his expression quite harsh and very forbidding, and then his gaze dipped and slipped over her, causing an instant tightening within her, and a heightening of her already profound tension. “You are in a fine kettle,” she murmured, standing in the doorway, not brave enough to enter.
Did she really think to play his game and win? Did she really think to make him fall in love with her?
But he stood and inclined his head. “Care for a Scotch? I’d offer you wine but the stuff in the cabinet has turned.”
She thought about the sip or two of Scotch she’d shared with him in his cabin on theDefiance.“No, thank you.” She smiled cautiously at him.
His eyes widened and she knew he sensed some purpose on her part; then he eyed her with far too much speculation, like a big, slothful lion sunning himself—not quite sated and not quite starving, but very capable of pouncing for his evening meal. “Are you no longer inclined toward good Scotch whiskey, or are you suddenly afraid of me, Virginia?”
She stepped into the room, never one to refuse a challenge. “I am sure your Scotch is fine.” She smiled again. “I remain taken aback,” she said, and it was true. “Not only can I not fathom you, your impossibly dark humor has somehow become even darker.”
He merely gazed at her, as watchful as before. He had shed his uniform and wore only a silk shirt of the finest quality and his britches and boots. As usual, the britches fit far too suggestively and he had left the shirt carelessly unbuttoned at the throat. “The Earl of Eastleigh hardly brings out my best mood.”
“You are not enjoying the hunt? You are not enjoying stalking a poor, fat old man?”
He eyed her as he moved to the sideboard, a huge and heavy piece of furniture that was simply ugly. “I am enjoying the hunt. Of course I am enjoying it. But if you dare to pity that murderer, I suggest you keep your feelings to yourself.” He handed her a glass of Scotch.
“I don’t pity him,” she said softly. “It is you I feel sorry for.”
For one moment he stared and she expected his temper to flare. It did not. Instead he shrugged and said, “You have said so before. If you think to arouse me, you will not. Feel what you will and do sit down. I won’t bite. Besides, the servants are expecting you to enjoy my company.” He drained his glass and poured another one.
“I am only joining you because there is nowhere else to go and nothing else to do,” she said quietly, sitting on the far side of the sofa, although that was as far from the truth as could be.
He finally smiled at her and sat as well, his big body dominating the sofa, the room, herself. “Really? Frankly, I believe you enjoy my company,” he said. His gaze became hooded. “Although I cannot think why,” he added in a silken murmur.
Virginia started and became even more rigid and more breathless. “Are you in your cups, Devlin?”
He saluted her. “Only a little.”
“Only a foolish woman would want and enjoy your company,” she said, flushing, aware of how many women must leap at his beck and call.
