Virginia knew she would not give up on him, not ever.
THE WEDDING MARCH BEGAN.
Devlin felt his heart lurch and then it picked up a maddening beat. He stood before the altar in the chapel at Harmon House, his brother Sean acting as his best man. The only guests present were his family—Tyrell, Rex and Cliff stood in the front row with Mary and his stepsister, Eleanor, who had just returned from Bath. He turned, strangely breathless, and it was as if time had somehow become suspended.
Virginia was coming down the aisle, escorted by his stepfather.
He could only stare. And suddenly he was terrified of his bride, the most beautiful woman he had ever beheld, her violet eyes huge and bright and riveted upon him as she slowly approached. He could not breathe. He was about to be married and his life would never be the same.
The tumult in his heart increased. Terror ran rampant. He need not fall victim to her allure, he told himself in panic, nothing need really change. He had promised her long walks and country hacks and conversation, but in two days he was going to war, and it would be six months before he returned.
He was relieved; insanely, he was even more disappointed.
She was a vision in the glittering white gown, a sheer veil covering her face, her long hair braided with diamonds and curling riotously about her shoulders. He simply could not look away. There were so many memories. Virginia, standing at the rail of theAmericana,aiming a pistol at his head. Virginia in his cabin, proud and defiant, demanding to know his intentions. Virginia at Askeaton, too lovely for words, offering him her body, beseeching his love with her eyes. Virginia that morning in her nightclothes, as slender as a child, offering him a truce and a real marriage if he dared accept it.
He did not deserve such a woman. He never had and he never would.
But it was too late to back out now! He closed his eyes, sweating. He would play her game, follow her rules. He would honor her, be her companion, her lover, father their children, but he needed neither joy nor love.
Virginia paused at his side, while Edward moved away. She gazed up at him expectantly. He was too stunned to even offer her the smallest smile. Instead, he nodded at her. Appearing uncertain, she faced the priest.
Father McCarthy gestured and they both went down on their knees as the mass began.
Devlin heard not a word the priest said. Instead he was acutely aware of his bride, and as acutely aware of the opportunity being presented to him. He was at a crossroads. It was glaring at him. There were two directions his life could take.
Joy and love…or revenge and hate.
THE SMALL WEDDING PARTYhad been removed to one of the salons at Harmon House. A long table had been set up with a buffet offering enough food for fifty, including a resplendent, multitiered wedding cake. Servants passed silver trays containing flutes of champagne and a small orchestra played from one corner of the room. Virginia remained stunned and she could not speak; in fact, other than to say, “I do,” she had not said a word in hours.She and Devlin were married. It had really come to pass.
She blinked at her left hand where a simple gold band declared the fact. She was weak of knee, it was hard to breathe, and indeed, she almost felt faint.
She was married to the man who had abducted her from the high seas, who had held her hostage, who had flaunted her in society as his mistress, and who now, finally, had forced her to the altar. She could summon up no regret. But she wondered what the future held for them and foolishly prayed that all of her dreams might one day come true. She looked across the room.
In his full dress uniform, Devlin sipped a flute of champagne, surrounded by his stepbrothers. She had met Rex, the middle one, and Cliff, the youngest, a few hours before the wedding. Like Tyrell, both brothers were tall and dark of complexion. Rex was in the army and he wore his scarlet uniform, decorated with gold epaulets and numerous medals. Like Devlin, he was a captain, but his regiment was cavalry, and like Devlin, his aspect was a bit forbidding. She vaguely recalled that he had been wounded at Salamanca last year. As vaguely, she heard he had been in the Russian theater, having only returned home recently.
Cliff she knew little about. His hair was almost golden-brown, and he had a somewhat arrogant air. She had overheard something about his ships and the Caribbean, leading her to believe that he was a merchant of sorts. He did not appear to be a trader, but his rakish look also reminded her of Devlin. All three de Warenne brothers were dangerously attractive, each in their own way.
Devlin suddenly looked across the room at her and her heart stopped. They stared, neither one smiling.
Tonight was their wedding night.It felt like it had been an eternity since she had been in his arms and she was hollow inside at the prospect of lying with him.
A huge wave of desire threatened to make her faint. She looked at him as he stood there across the room, politely conversing with his stepbrothers, resplendent in his navy blue tailcoat and white britches, at once powerful and charismatic, at once seductive and dangerous. And he was now her husband.
“He is so handsome! I can’t imagine having such a husband.”
Virginia blinked and looked at a young girl perhaps two years her junior. The girl was terribly beautiful, with high cheekbones, amber eyes and dark blond hair that was almost the color of honey. She was smiling hopefully at Virginia.
“I am Eleanor de Warenne,” she said with a graceful curtsy, her cheeks flushed. “Devlin’s stepsister.”
Virginia curtsied. “Forgive me,” she managed, her eyes moving back to Devlin again. He was speaking with Cliff but his gaze veered instantly to her. The hollow feeling of immense desire increased. She needed to be in his arms now. She tried to smile at his stepsister. “How nice to finally meet you. Haven’t you been in Bath this season?” She had vaguely heard that the de Warennes’ daughter had spent the last season there as another young lady’s companion.
Eleanor murmured an affirmative.
Virginia took a closer look at her. She was gazing at Sean, her cheeks far more pink than before.
Then Eleanor turned. “Are you nervous about your wedding night?” she asked quite directly.
Virginia was taken aback. But she was nervous, very nervous, if she dared be honest with herself. “Frankly, I am,” she said softly. And she glanced at him again.
