“This time!” She knew she was hysterical, but she was so afraid now for Devlin that she could not think straight. And she was even more afraid for their child. “But what about next time?”
“He is not my first enemy to wish me dead—or attempt to do it, either,” Devlin said grimly, reaching for her hand.
She jerked it free and backed away, hugging herself. “This has gone too far! You started this and look at what has happened—you are now in jeopardy!”
Anger blazed. “I did not start this, my dear, he started this fifteen years ago!”
“And that makes it right?”
He was flushed. “I am not in any real jeopardy, Virginia,” he warned. “I have been living by my wits for a long time now. No hired thug shall bring me down.”
Virginia wanted to weep. So this was how they would live? With Devlin hounding Eastleigh, and Eastleigh hiring assassins to kill him in return? And what would happen when the baby was born? Would she one day find an assassin in her room, too? What if Eastleigh took his hatred of Devlin out on their child?
She inhaled but she could not breathe. She could not live this way.
Devlin turned abruptly back to the window, clearly angry with her. Virginia turned as abruptly and hurried out of the salon, beginning to cry. She found herself next door in the library. It was filled with Devlin’s powerful and masculine presence, but she needed no reminder to know how much she loved him.
If she told him about the child, would he change his ways?
Surely he would be able to see that they could not bring their child into a world filled with hatred and revenge.
She was so afraid.
DEVLIN STARED OUT OF THEwindow but saw nothing but blackness. He was shaking with rage and could not stop, but there was a hollow feeling in his chest. He understood the feeling—it was dread. Although he hadn’t turned, he was well aware that Virginia was distressed and that she had run from the room and him.
Did she finally see him as the man he really was? A man filled with ice-cold blood and a heart of hate?
The past few days had seemed like a fairy tale or a dream. He had not recognized the man who laughed and smiled so frequently and who thought of little other than his wife. He had tasted happiness; he had even felt the glimmer of joy. The feelings had been unfamiliar and strange, at once frightening yet oddly welcome, too. For the first time in his life, he felt cherished, and more important, for the first time in his life he knew he was not alone.
And now Virginia was upset and afraid. The most courageous woman he had ever met wanted love and laughter, not war and hate. He had seen the truth in her eyes a moment ago. She had just run from him, and if he dared face his own truth, he was terrified that he would lose her now, when he had only just found her.
He knew he did not deserve such a life. He knew it was a dream, and he would one day open his eyes to find it all gone—the joy, the peace, Virginia.
He reminded himself that he was a soldier first and last, that he knew only a life of constant battle, constant war. He had married her intending to change nothing, and in the few days they had been togethereverythinghad changed—almost. She had shown him a different kind of life, and a part of him desperately wanted to seize it. But that other part of him felt stronger, more ruthless and more dedicated to revenge than ever. That part of him knew he must finish Eastleigh once and for all and finally allow his father peace.
He had never been more torn. Inhaling harshly, he started after his bride. He could not allow her to weep over her damned uncle in the other room.
Devlin paused on the threshold of the library. Virginia stood by his desk, gripping it as if for support. Tears streaked her face when she turned to meet his gaze.
He wanted to take those tears away, but he made no move to do so, as if his body refused to obey his mind. “I am sorry your uncle had to ruin your birthday, Virginia,” Devlin said cautiously.
She wet her lips, the knuckles on her hands turning white. It was a moment before she spoke, and then, she did so hoarsely. “Devlin? These past few days have been wonderful, have they not?”
He started, wondering what this tack meant. “Yes, they have.” Wariness filled him now.
She forced a smile. “Isn’t it time to forgive and forget? Isn’t it time to think about all that we have—all that we could have? A wonderful future awaits us—”
“You go too far,” he warned abruptly. Did she think to deter him now? He was not a man to be led around by his bride as if a puppet on a string!
She stiffened. “You haven’t heard me out.”
“There is nothing to discuss. Not on the subject of Eastleigh. That battle must be waged—and it must be finished, Virginia, to my satisfaction.”
She stared at him with her huge, moist eyes, impossibly pale.
He wished he had spoken in a softer, less masterful tone. “He wanted to distress you,” he began, but she interrupted.
“Devlin, there is something I haven’t told you.”
