“If we had Captain O’Neill here, I would know it,” the warden said. “I know these men by name.”
Virginia turned away. If he wasn’t dead, wounded or a prisoner of war, did that mean he was back on theDefiance?She trembled with relief. Maybe Tillie had been wrong. Maybe the shot had missed him and maybe he hadn’t been seized after all.
“Virginia?” A familiar male voice called.
She slowly started to turn, stunned.
“Virginia Hughes? Is that you?”
One of the prisoners, his wrists shackled, was approaching. Her eyes widened as she recognized him. It was Jack Harvey, the man who had once been the ship’s surgeon on theDefiance.“Mr. Harvey!” she cried, rushing forward.
He smiled at her as if glad to see her. “You are a sight for sore eyes, Miss Hughes.”
“Mr. Harvey, are you all right? Have you survived that terrible battle?”
“I am unhurt—and I have tried to offer my services numerous times to the Americans, but no one wishes to avail themselves of my medical expertise.” His dark eyes were now bleak.
She turned. “Warden! This man is a fine doctor as well as a surgeon! He must be allowed to help attend the wounded!”
The warden just grunted.
Sergeant Ames came to life. “I’ll speak with Captain Lewis,” he said. “We need every doctor we can get.”
Harvey smiled wanly at Virginia. She smiled back and squeezed his hand.
He said, “What are you doing here, Miss Hughes?”
She was grim. “It is Mrs. O’Neill now, Mr. Harvey.”
His eyes widened in real surprise. Then he shook his head, smiling just a little. “And so it all begins to make sense. I had never seen Devlin so agitated, not by anyone or anything, as he was by you.”
She gripped his hand with her free one. “Have you see Devlin? I heard he was shot! I am desperately trying to find him—I am praying he is alive.” And she inhaled hard, seeking to keep hold of the last shreds of her composure.
Harvey hesitated.
And Virginia saw from his eyes that he knew something. “What is it! What is it that you know and are afraid to tell me?”
“I heard he was arrested, Virginia. Arrested by Admiral Cockburn himself. Apparently he went berserk and killed his own troops.” Harvey winced. “It makes no sense and obviously cannot be true, but that is the rumor around here.”
“He’s been arrested?” she gasped, though she rejoiced because he was alive. “Where would they send him? Where would he be?”
“I heard he’s in the brig—on theDefiance,” Jack Harvey said.
“I’M AFRAID YOU’LL LIVE,Captain,” Paul White, his ship’s most recent surgeon, grinned.
Devlin was shirtless, seated on the narrow pallet behind bars in the tiny cell that was his own brig. White had just finished bandaging his right shoulder, which hurt like hell, but he did not give a damn. He knew the wound was not a serious one. Fortunately, his senses honed by a dozen years of battle, he had felt the attacker behind him and had turned just in time. If he had not, he would now be dead, murdered by Tom Hughes.
He knew with every fiber of his being that Hughes had followed him to this war to assassinate him. He did not care.
Because this last battle had reduced his life to one thing, and one thing only: his wife. He kept seeing Virginia as she turned the corner and came face-to-face with him, her visage pale with exhaustion and marred with blood, her eyes huge with fear, the fear of a hunted animal. He kept seeing her as she aimed her musket at him, her hands shaking wildly. He kept seeing her as she was assaulted by those soldiers, her belly swollen with his child. And even now, the memory was enough to terrify him.
If he lost her, he could not bear it. If he lost her, he knew he would never recover from his grief.
Once, long ago, powerless and afraid, he had watched the redcoats murder his father. Yesterday he had seen Virginia being assaulted by the British marines, and for one moment, it had been as if he were a child of ten again. For one moment, the fear and horror had unmanned him and he had been powerless again, watching the woman he loved being assaulted, about to be raped and slain.
But the paralysis gripping him had only been for an instant—because he was not that ten-year-old boy anymore: he was a powerful man, a captain and commander. And then the rage had come, a rage that knew no bounds. To save Virginia, he would have murdered every redcoat in Hampton if that was what had to be done.
Devlin closed his eyes, trembling. But Virginia had not been raped, she had not been slain, and dear God, no man had been as foolish as he had been. He had sacrificed her love and their marriage for his damned revenge. He had given thanks to a God he had stopped praying to long ago a hundred times in the past twenty-four hours, and he could not be grateful enough that Virginia was alive. Before he had been arrested, he had seen Frank and Tillie carry her safely away.
