She couldn’t fathom why he should be so interested in her personal matters, and while she did not think sharing her burdens would soften him toward her purpose, she could not think of a reason to remain secretive. She sighed heavily, thought of her parents, and felt a familiar wave of ancient grief. “I was born at Sweet Briar,” she said, her voice low, not looking up at him. “It is heaven on earth, a plantation near Norfolk, Virginia.” She smiled a little, for in spite of the ship’s odors and the scent of the sea, she could smell honeysuckle and lilac and freshly harvested tobacco. “My father built our home with his own two hands, planted the first crops alone.” Finally she looked up, smiling sadly at him. “I loved my father and my mother. Last fall they both died on a stormy night in a foolish carriage collision.”
He said nothing. If he was at all moved by her plight, she could not see it in his expression, as not a muscle in his face changed.
“I am the only child. Sweet Briar is mine. But my guardian, the earl, is selling it in order to pay off my father’s debts.” She laid her hands flat on the table, gripping the smooth wood until her knuckles turned white. “I won’t allow it.”
He stared and it was a moment before he spoke. “I see,” he said flatly. “You will beat the earl about the head until he agrees to pay off your father’s debts and hand you the keys to the plantation.”
This was her last remaining chance.Virginia seized both of his hands and was stunned at the feel of them in her small palms and against her fingers, stunned enough by the contact not to see the surprise leap in his silver eyes. She looked up and spoke swiftly, hoarsely. “If my uncle has to ransom me, he will never be moved to pay my father’s debts. As he decided to sell the plantation without even consulting me, it will be hard enough to persuade him to change his mind without your ransom! Captain, don’t you see? I cannot survive without Sweet Briar. I have to go to the earl. There can be no ransom! Please, Mr. Harvey told me you are a wealthy man and that you hardly need this ransom. Please, let me go—take me to London where I hope I am expected. Please. I beg you.”
Devlin removed his hands from hers and stood. “I’m sorry,” he said flatly, “that you will lose your inheritance, but my plans are not flexible.”
She leapt up with a cry. “I am an orphan now! Sweet Briar is all I have!” she cried.
He walked to the door.
“God, you just don’t care! You don’t care about anything or anyone!”
He opened the door.
“I am losing Sweet Briar because of you and your damned plan to ransom me,” she shouted.
He didn’t turn. As he left, he said, “No, Miss Hughes, you are losing Sweet Briar because, apparently, your father was a very poor businessman.”
Virginia choked on the insult, but before she could fling some equally wounding barb back at him, he was gone, the hatch closing on the graying twilight sky.
SHE HAD DECIDED THERE WOULDbe one final attempt to thwart him.
Virginia stood by a porthole, which remained open in spite of the blustery day, and watched the Irish cliffs passing. High rock cliffs towered above a strip of sandy beach beginning to give way to more gently rolling country. She had decided not to antagonize O’Neill further and had remained in his cabin since the day before. But hours ago, when the first gulls had appeared overhead, she had cracked the cabin door to overhear that they were already sailing up the river toward Limerick within mere hours.
Well, several hours had since passed. The frigate was moving swiftly up the River Shannon. Here and there she could make out a manor or a cluster of huts. The Irish countryside was now lush and green, at times sheep dotting the hills.
How long would it take to go up the river and reach the port at Limerick? She had no idea. A glance at his maps told her nothing. But she was afraid to delay any longer, because if she waited too long to commence her new plan, it would fail.
Virginia went to the cabin door. There was no sign of the young blond man, Gus. But she did see Jack Harvey, looking sad and severe, standing below the quarterdeck. “Mr. Harvey! Please, sir, I would speak with you!”
Harvey glanced her way, incredulous.
Above him, a tall, leonine figure at the helm, Devlin half turned and nodded, saying something to Harvey that Virginia could not hear. Harvey approached so slowly she began chewing on her lower lip. Then she smiled brightly at him. “I must beg a favor of you,” she said.
“I am not participating in any of your schemes,” he began.
“Would you please find Gus and send him to me? I need to bathe before I step off of this ship. I only wish to ask him for some wash water.”
Harvey looked relieved that she had not asked for something else. He nodded and went off.
Virginia closed her eyes after shutting the cabin door, wishing there could be another way—but Gus was scrawny, and while he was a few pounds heavier than herself and a few inches taller, too, he would have to do. She took one of O’Neill’s silver candlesticks in hand, and positioned herself so that when he came in, she would be behind the door.
She now prayed he would come in alone.
Upon the sound of his knock, she told him to enter, and quickly saw that another sailor was with him. She moved away from the wall, holding the candlestick behind her back, smiling, while they filled the tub with steamy water. As they began to leave, Virginia called out, “Gus? Please wait. I have never been to Ireland before and I must ask you some questions. It’s terribly important.”
As usual, he avoided looking at her, while telling the seaman to go. The other sailor left. Virginia, her heart pounding, walked to his side. “I heard most of the country is Catholic. How will I find a Baptist minister?”
Gus seemed confused by her question. He hesitated. Virginia walked behind him. He said, “I’m sure the captain—”
Wincing, her desire to escape overcoming her reluctance to hurt him, she hit him with the candlestick on the back of the head. Instantly, he crumbled to the floor.
She froze, terrified she had hit him too hard, terrified he was dead. She dropped to her knees and saw that he was breathing, but blood was staining the back of his blond head. “I am so sorry,” she whispered, reaching for his belt buckle. She undid it and tugged his rather dirty pants down. The sight of his skinny legs and calves did not affect her at all. In fact, he wore no drawers, but she didn’t even bother to glance that way. She did decide to take his dagger—it might prove useful, indeed. She proceeded, with more difficulty, to get his shirt off. Then she dove under the bed where she had stashed a good length of rope. She tied his ankles, then used the same length to tie his wrists. She gagged him with a stocking.
