Hughes was wary. “What is this?”
“A deed,” Devlin said, and took a deep breath of the sweet Virginia air. It felt different, tasted different, smelled different—it was somehow clean and fresh.
“I have no use for Sweet Briar!”
“The deed is to Waverly Hall. I don’t want it. It’s yours.”
Hughes gaped.
Devlin gestured to a seaman who came running. “I am going ashore,” he said. “Prepare a dinghy.” And his heart raced as he thought of seeing Virginia again.
“Aye, sir!” The sailor ran off, barking orders.
“You are returning Waverly Hall to us?” Hughes had followed him to the railing of the ship. He was clearly in disbelief.
“Yes, I am.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He stared at the sandy beach and the forest beyond, thinking of Virginia again.
“It matters!” Tom Hughes cried. Then he lowered his voice. “My father murdered your father. You have committed your entire life to revenge. You have stolen our home, bedded my stepmother, made a mistress out of my cousin, beaten me to a near pulp and I almost murdered you the other day! So it does matter!”
Devlin didn’t even bother to look at him, for the dinghy he had requested was being lowered into the swells and his heart raced with excitement. “I no longer want revenge,” he said. “I want something else.”
VIRGINIA FELT BEATEN.The buggy paused before the house and she was so tired she just sat there, staring at the white columns on the porch and the pink roses growing up against the railing. At least Devlin was not among the dead left at Hampton.
But he was a prisoner now, a prisoner of his own people.
Tillie patted her arm. “We’ll send a letter to Admiral Cockburn right away. You’re his wife. The admiral has to tell you how he is and where he is,” she said firmly.
Tears filled Virginia’s eyes. “He was protecting me. He only killed those soldiers to protect me. Surely if I tell that to Admiral Cockburn, he will let Devlin go.”
“First we have to write him,” Tillie said as firmly. And suddenly she stiffened.
Virginia saw her surprise and turned back to the house, following her gaze. And standing there on the porch in a simple shirt, britches and high boots, was the most welcome sight she had ever seen. She cried out, incapable of movement, as Devlin came slowly down the porch steps, his gaze upon her, intense and unwavering.
“Devlin,” she managed, beyond relief.
He came to the buggy and clasped her hands. His face was strained with emotion, his eyes wide with anxiety. “Thank God you’re all right,” he said roughly.
Virginia could not speak. She was stunned—for his eyes were also shining withtears.
He smiled a little and cupped her cheek. “I have never known so much fear, Virginia, as when I found Frank in town and he said you were there….” He could not continue. He choked.
Virginia watched in amazement as tears rolled down his cheeks. “You’re crying,” she whispered, shocked. She felt certain that this man had not cried since he was a small boy, watching his father die.
He nodded, still unable to speak, and the tears continued to slide down his sun-bronzed cheeks. He opened the carriage door to help her out, but he pulled her into his arms instead. He held her hard against his tall, powerful body. “You almost died, Virginia. It was my fault. Because of my damned need for revenge, you could have died yesterday in Hampton. Everything that you have suffered, you have suffered because of me and my revenge.I am sorry. I am so sorry.But a mere apology is not enough.”
She touched his damp cheek as more tears fell. “Devlin, I cannot regret anything we have shared!” And somehow, it was true. She loved him so much that she treasured every memory, both the good and the bad, the bitter and the sweet.
He shook his head. “We both know that you are being kind, and I do not deserve your kindness.” He hesitated and beneath her hands, his body trembled. “When I saw that marine attack you, I went mad with rage, I was truly mad—I was ready to kill every redcoat in my path. I have never been so blinded with rage—except when I saw Tom Hughes assaulting you at the ball. I felt the same murderous intent then—because I love you, Virginia,” he said.
She went still. Her heart beat hard. She trembled wildly. How she had yearned to hear these words from him, and now, finally, after so much loss and grief, after so much time, so much pain, her time had come. “You love me?” she whispered, dazed. And elation began.
He nodded, smiling through his tears. “In truth, I have loved you for a very long time, from almost the beginning, when we first met. I was so afraid, Virginia—I was so afraid of you. I was afraid to choose love and joy, because I only knew revenge and hate.”
“And now?” she managed, stunned.
