She shivered, hoping the image was not in any way a premonition.
“I am sorry about your father’s murder,” she heard herself say.
He shrugged, coming forward, giving her a cool and indifferent glance. “Life is filled with surprises, is it not?” His gaze moved slowly over her face, her hair, her bare shoulders and finally across her décolletage.
And his look warmed her the way his lovemaking had the previous night. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out, as her thoughts were preoccupied with how she hoped the night would end in his bed, in his arms.
“Sean, escort Virginia in,” Devlin said.
Virginia started, surprised and disappointed, and when she turned, Sean was holding out his arm, looking resigned and grim. She quickly smiled at him, but her gaze followed Devlin, who had moved away from them, his back turned as he poured himself champagne.
“You don’t have to pretend to be pleased,” Sean said. “Your feelings are clear, Virginia.”
She quickly focused on him. “I am hardly displeased, and I do not know what you mean!”
“Virginia? I hope the time comes when I may speak with you frankly, because there is something I fear I must say.”
She did not like his tone or his expression, and she murmured some vague affirmative, not wanting to continue the subject.
“SOME GROWERS PROTECT THEseedlings with a fine net of cotton,” Virginia said happily, her small face animated and her violet eyes sparkling. “But that is far too expensive and not really necessary where we are, as it doesn’t get that cold. We found that mulch works just as well. We use a thin layer of straw and chopped grass. The real issue is transplanting the seedlings, which is done in about eight or nine weeks. The soil has to be pulverized, level, disease-free—which is why we burn the fields every spring—and fairly wet. We plant just under an ounce of seed for every two hundred square yards. It is crucial that the seeds are distributed uniformly, which is why we do so by hand.”
Sean shook his head with admiration. “Is there anything you don’t know about planting tobacco, Virginia?” His eyes were dancing.
“I’m sure there’s something.” Virginia smiled at him.
Sean smiled back.
Devlin lolled in his chair between them at the head of the long trestle table, absolutely silent—the way he’d been all through supper. And while his expression and posture remained indifferent, he was irritated with the two of them. His gaze moved slowly over Virginia, who seemed to have forgotten his presence at supper. But then, his brother was openly admiring, gentlemanly and attentive, and probably the most rapt audience she had ever had. She was as greedy for the attention as a gambler for a single win, he thought sourly.
His gaze took in her tiny upturned nose, her full mouth, the low-cut bodice of her dress and the small breasts thrusting up against the corset she wore. He stretched out his long legs beneath the table, trying to ignore the simmering pressure in his groin. Only he knew how passionate she was, how fiery and hot, how easily ignited.
I have never been kissed before, Devlin.
The pressure felt explosive, just like that. He shifted in his seat as Sean said something and she laughed. Her bedroom was at the other end of the manor, which he considered fortunate. Because in spite of his determination not to repeat last night, he was very tempted. One touch and she would not be thinking about his brother.
He grimaced. They’d been regaling each other with stories of Sweet Briar and Askeaton all night. However, he did admit that her stories were somehow interesting and even refreshing. Knowing her now, even the little that he did, not a single story of her life in Virginia surprised him. But what father raised a woman to shoot, ride and swim, allowed her to roam a hundred acres freely, allowed her to wear britches, work beside the slaves, forgo teas and dances—in total, what father raised such a little hellion?
Randall Hughes had probably been an interesting man. He had surely been unconventional.
“I still can’t believe your father taught you to shoot a musket when you were seven,” Sean remarked.
Virginia laughed for the hundredth time that night, the sound as bright as bells. “Mama was furious when she found out. Papa had to bring her trinkets and gifts for a month afterward, to return to her good graces.”
Sean laughed as well.
Virginia sobered. “I do miss them,” she said.
Devlin started as Sean reached across the table to cover her hand. He stiffened as Sean said, “This is a terrible cliché, but it will get easier with time.”
She smiled slightly now. “It has gotten easier, but I think I will miss them until I die. Sweet Briar will never be the same, not without them.”
Sean withdrew his hand. “Do you miss the plantation very badly?”
She nodded. “Sometimes—usually in the middle of the night. But—” she brightened “—I do like Ireland! There’s something about it that reminds me of home, even though the climate is so different. Maybe it’s the green. Everything is so rich with life here—it’s that way at home, too.”
“I should like to visit Sweet Briar someday,” Sean said suddenly.
“I should love for you to come,” Virginia cried, clearly delighted.
